Elsie’s StoryJourney of a Cowgirl

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JULY 2nd 1937

I was born on December 17th in 1902. That was one year before the Wright brothers flew their airplane across the beach at Kitty Hawk. Clarence always told me that it meant something, that I was destined for great things. I never believed him. Clarence always had that sense that something grand was going to happen; he was always waiting for it. Right up until the very end.

I’m still not makin’ much sense, am I?

Enough about the past. What matters now is the present. I’m finally on my way to see her. I’m going to meet Amelia. I got to thinking, and I figured, this might be the last trip I ever make, and I should write down some of the events in my life. Just the important stuff. Emma always told me I had led the most interesting life and she wanted to know all about it. I thought maybe it would make her happy if I wrote some things down for her. I’m not very good at this sort of thing, and I don’t remember everything, but I’ll do my best.

Le’ me back up.

My name is Elsie Miller. I was born in eastern Arkansas on my pa’s farm. Oh, the farm, it was so different when I was growing up than it is now. Everything was green and golden, now everything is dead and choked with dirt and dust. Pa loved the farm. After ma died pa was married to the farm instead. I always felt that I had been a cause of grief for him. He never said so, but I always knew he blamed me for her death. See, Ma died giving birth to me.

Kitty Hawk

Pas farm,

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1902 - 1916The first thing I remember is Pa’s Farm:

Pa had always wanted a son, but he got me instead. That sure didn’t stop him from treating me like a boy though. Even though Ma was gone, I was expected to help Pa out with all the chores.

I remember the animals, the Arkansas summer heat, the acres of tall prairie grass,

During the day I helped out with the animals and harvesting. In the evenings I would cook dinner for the two of us. We worked in the fields Monday though Saturday. Sunday Pa got to rest and I cleaned the house and took care of the laundry. Day in, day out, the only thing that changed were the seasons and the chores. I never really expected anything to change. I accepted my existence beneath the endless blue sky with apathetic indifference. I had little imagination as a child, except where flight was concerned. For the most part I was content. I didn’t want things to change.

The happiest days of my childhood where those days when I was free to run for as long and as far as I wanted. The sea of prairie grass seemed to go on forever and I was completely free. I can still remember the feeling of the wind in my hair and my heart beating so fast and so hard from running I was sure it would burst. I was sure this was how birds felt when they flew.

the smell of the rain in the spring, the crackle of fire in the woodburning stove, the sweet smell of hay during harvest time...

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In March of 1916 my entire world turned Pa had gotten sick earlier that winter. Instead of getting better, he just kept getting sicker and sicker. It was late November when he got sick, but it wasn’t until March that he finally gave up fightin’ it.

Pa’s death made me realize how alone I was in this world.

I had no idea if I had any distant relatives. We certainly had no friends. Pa and I had lived alone and depended on no one but ourselves.

I set fire to our house and rode away on Pa’s horse.

I knew I couldn’t take care of the farm on my own. With spring on the way, I was confident I could make my way in the world. I packed all the clothes and food I could carry, I let the animals go,

down upside .

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MARCH 21st 1916I didn’t know exactly where I was headed,

except that I wanted to head West.I wanted nothing but open plains ahead of me and blue sky above me.

So I set off in the direction of the

and didn’t look back.

s e t ti n

gs un

Going West

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After two weeks of riding west I found myself in Tulsa, Oklahoma.Everywhere you went the word was

oil,Oil,Oil

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It was too big a town for my taste, but I lingered for a spell, just taking in the sights. I had never seen anything other than the open country of the farm of the humble collections of shacks that made up the nearest town. Here the buildings rose four, even five stories high. It was incredible. More cars than I had ever seen in my life rumbled up and down the streets. People passed them by like it was nothing.

After I’d had my fill of gawking, I headed towards t h e o p e n p l a i n s a g a i n .

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Finding WorkMARCH 24th 1916

I found a ranch willing to hire a girl to help with the work. They were a family called the Johnsons. They had just moved out west and purchased a heard of cattle and were in desperate need of help. They couldn’t afford to be picky. I had a place to stay and food in my belly. I had never worked with a large heard of cattle before, but I found it quite enjoyable. The big blue sky above me and the open endless plains before me; what more could a girl ask for?

I worked for the Johnson family for a long time, they were kind to me and I worked my tail off for them. The time I spent working for the Johnsons was the happiest years of my life.

The world moved on around us, an endless stream of newspaper clippings. The events of World War I were as distant to us as the stars in the sky. They were always there, constantly changing, spinning around us, but never touching us.

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Th e StormMAY 3rd 1925

After years of living in the calm of the eye of the storm my world changed drastically. It was late spring on the plains, tornado season. B L A S T

of thunder spooked the cattle.We were in for a particularly nasty storm and a

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We were desperately trying to bring the cattle back to the barn. The storm was coming in fast and the rain was coming down in sheets. The cattle were terrified and difficult to control, but we managed to get them into the corral near the barn.

LIGHTNING THUNDERIt seemed like we had it made, but as I was closing the gate

streaked above and

boomed so loud it was almost deafening.

The terrified animals began to panic and even my horse reared up in surprise and fear. I lost control of my horse as the cattle charged the gate, knocking it open and into the horse. My horse lost his balance and we fell over into the mud. I felt, more than heard, the crack of my bones breaking. I screamed at the pain, but the sound was drowned out by another rumble of thunder.

The other ranch hands rushed to close the gate and managed to keep the cattle in. My horse had managed to get up and was nosing at me nervously. I remeber the ranch hands trying to help me stand up and screaming for them to stop because it hurt. After that, there was nothing.

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I felt groggy as the pain killers were still dulling my senses. I felt groggy as the pain killers were still dulling my senses.

Broken BonesMAY 4th 1925When I came to I was lying in a bed in the Johnson’s house. A doctor had been called from Tulsa as soon as the storm had passed.

The voices seemed far away and there was a dull throb throughout the entire left side of my body. I swallowed and tried to sit up. Nauseating waves of pain dropped me back to the bed. After several seconds of extreme agony the pain returned to a dull throb. I closed my eyes again and tried to focus on just the voices.

‘She’s broken two ribs for sure, and I believe her femur is at the very least cracked. It will take months for it to heal” the doctor said.

“But, she’ll be alright, won’t she?” Mrs. Johnson’s voice was quaking.

“She should be. I have no way to tell how badly the femur is broken so I cannot guarantee it will heal correctly. I think its only cracked, regardless she’ll have to stay off the leg for at least three months. Certainly no riding horses, as that could aggravate the crack, or even cause the bone to break apart.” The doctor sighed, “to be honest, I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to ride again.”

Upon hearing those words I wept. Every sob, every breath was agony. My side ached, the broken ribs causing unbelievable pain. It was still nothing compared to the thought of never being able to work under the open sky again...

I felt groggy as the pain killers were still dulling my senses.

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RecoveryAUGUST 12th 1925

I don’t remember much about the months that followed my accident. The days crawled by. Most days I lay in bed, doing my best to ignore the sweltering heat of the farmhouse. Other days I sat on the proch and watched the ranch hands work. It hurt me more than all the broken bones not to be out working with them. I was trapped in my own body and I hated it!

At the end of my three month sentence, I walked out to the corral on my own. My legs felt shaky, and I now walked with a slight limp from the way the bone had healed, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to ride. My ribs held a dull ache, but I was confident I was well enough to manage.

OCTOBER 18th 1925It became apparent to me by this point that I had not healed correctly. Riding caused extreme agony, even five months after the accident. My legs were fine, aside from the limp I had, but after even just a few minutes of riding each day my side and back were in complete agony. Something had not healed correctly. I had done my best to cope with it, but I knew this was the end of my career as a ranch hand.

The Johnsons could not afford to employ someone who could not work as hard as everyone else. It was an upspoken parting between us. The Johnsons knew a lady in Tulsa who worked for the Humane Society. They were kind enough to help me get a job there. I left them my horse and anything else I had aquired to work as a ranch hand. I packed only my clothes and few small personal odds and ends I had picked up over the years.

I thanked them for everything they had done for me, and everything they had given me over the years. They had called for a car to take me to town. I tried to be cheerful and I smiled as I waved goodbye, but once I was out of sight and on my way to Tulsa, I wept.

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In th e CityAPRIL 6th 1926

I worked as a secretary in the office for the Humane Society. That was where I met Emma. Emma was the closest thing I’d ever had to a real best friend. She had oepened her home to me and we shared an apartment. Emma tried to teach me the ropes of city living, but I never quite got the hang of it. My mind was always back on the farm, riding my horse so fast I was practially flying through an ocean of wheat. Emma never seemed to mind. She was always kind and gentle and had the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

I was slowly but surely adjusting, when life decided to start buckin’ like an angry bronco again.

I started to cough.Emma and I were filing paperwork one day when I had a coughing fit. This spell was the worst I’d had so far. I hadn’t thought it was anything but a cold, untill then. When I finally stopped coughing I pulled my hand away from my mouth and it was speckled with blood. Emma looked horrified. She demanded I go see a doctor.

I had just enough money to afford a visit, and after days of incssant worry from Emma and more coughing fits, I finally went.

The diagnosis was Tuberculosis.

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Leaving TulsaJUNE 4th 1926

Emma worried herself sick over my TB. Through the humane society she was able to find a place in Colorado called the Jewish Consumptives Relief Society. This place was unique amoung the sanitoriums in that you didn’t have to pay to be admitted, and if they had an opening, you could not be turned away. She sent in my application right away.

NOVEMBER 9th 1928

It took two years, but the JCRS finally had an opening. Emma and I had been saving for this hopeful, but unlikely moment. She responded via telegram that I would be arriving by train next week. By the time I found out, she had already purchased my train ticket with our saved money. It was decided for me.

I packed my few belongings,

hugged Emma goodbye,

and headed for Colorado.

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Colorado NOVEMBER 14th 1928

I arrived in Colorado to find it snowing. It would get bitter cold in the winter on the plains, but I had never seen it snow like this. It blanketed the entire city in white. The mountains in the distance were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The wild prairie grass on the flat endless plains had always called to me, but the majesty of the mountains towering over the landscape won a special place in my heart.

I made my way to the JCRS where I was checked in and immediately ushered into a doctor’s office for an initial examination. I’d never been in a place like this before, or amoung people like this. The atmosphere was a spiritual one, and the bond between these people was strong. The people were kind and welcoming, and even though it was obvious I was an outsider, I was not made to feel bad about it.

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My room was in the Texas Pavilion for Women. I had a tiny room on the second floor with a window. I remember being thrilled to have a window that faced the mountains. I had arrived late morning and wasn’t in my room for more than a few minutes before I was being called to lunch. A nurse kindly showed me the way to the dining area.

I didn’t understand the habits or customs of the the people here and looked around desperately for somone who looked like they were an outsider as well.

He was walking across the dining area. I can see him now as clearly as that first time, his proud stride, his handsome face, his gentle eyes. I moved towards him, waiting for him to sit, then timidly approaching.

‘Scuse me, may I sit here?

Well certainly miss! He stood while I took my steat.My name is Clarence, Clarence Rutherford, pleased to meet you!

I’m Elsie, I replied shyly, Nice to meet you.

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Th e PilotNOVEMBER 27th 1928

Clarence and I hit it off right from the start. I adored everything about that man. Clarence had been a mail pilot before he was stricken with TB. Every day, all Clarence talked about was flying, the freedom of zipping through the wild blue yonder. He talked at length about popular figures in the field, Charles Lindbergh, Amelia Earhart, Wiley Post, and others. He shared many of his books on the subject of flight with me, and explained the mechanics of the engines and how flight happened. I listened for hours on end to him describe in great detail the inner workings of his airplane. His enthusiasm for the subject was infectious. I had always dreamed of flying, but here was a man who had actually done it. Who did it on a daily basis! We had the same desire to roam free, to go wherever the wind blew us. We were kindred spirits, Clarence and I.

It was inevitable.I soon found myself

very much in lovewith him.

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FEBRUARY 16th 1929

Nothing good can last, and it was in February that Clarence lost his fight against Tuberculosis. If I felt that having to give up my freedom on the open plains had hurt, it paled in comparision to losing Clarence. In all my life I’d never found anyone that had understood me the way Clarence had. Even my dearest Emma who was so kind and loving had not understood my wanderlust. Clarence did. I soon fell into a deep depression. All the progress I had made towards recovery vanished, almost overnight. I began to have coughing fits again, I lost weight, I couldn’t eat. Nothing brought me joy anymore.

I had nothing left to live for.

FEBRUARY 22nd 1929

As I fell into depression my symptoms worsened. I slept less and less. I felt there was no end to my despair. I began to feel as bad physically as I did emotionally. I lay in bed and looked out the window longingly at the mountains. It must be this place I reasoned at the time. It must be the JCRS. I know now that it was a lie, but at the time I told myself anything to externalize the pain.

I began to grow hostile towards the doctors and the nurses. I yelled at them whenever they came near me. I told them it was their fault, they had taken Clarence away from me. I wanted to leave, I told them I was going to run away to die. I threatened over and over again to leave. They pleaeded with me not to go, that if I just stayed a little longer I would get well again. In the end, I don’t think there was anything they could have done to keep me.

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FEBRUARY 28th 1929

I left the JCRS without telling anyone where I was going or even that I was leaving. I had smuggled some food out of the kitchen the night before and packed it into a small bag.

Coming Full CircleI didn’t know exactly where I was headed,

except that I wanted to head away from there.I set off on a walk, and never went back.

I have no idea how long it took them to discover I was gone, or even if they cared. I’d been so cruel and difficult in the days following Clarence’s death I’m sure they were glad to see me go.

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I walked

and walkedand walked.

When I could, I hitchhiked, and when I could not get a ride,

I walked again.

Eventually, after several days of traveling, I found myself back at the place of my beginning. I had made my way back to Pa’s farm in Arkansas.

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Starting OverAUGUST 23rd 1929

It had been a dry summer, but only a taste of what was to come. I had burned down the house and it was completely unsalvageable. So I moved into the barn instead. It felt more like home anyway. I spent that summer fixing up the barn and cleaning the area. The well still worked so I made myself a tiny garden on the leeward side of the barn. I had absolutely nothing, so I stole a few chickens and a goat from the neighboring farms; even though I knew it was wrong.

It was thus I started over: on stolen goods in the ashes of what had been my childhood.

MARCH 12th 1930After I managed to survive the first winter on the farm, I knew I’d make it. This was both a relief and a burden. Part of me didn’t want to make it, I wanted to die, just like Clarence had, in the hopes that maybe, if something existed beyond this world, I could see him again.

I decided instead to build a plane. If I couldn’t physically be with Clarence I wanted to at least experience what had brought him so much joy.

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Th e Dust Bowl1929 - 1936

Everything began to dry up in the years that followed. Dust storms began sweeping the plains. Stricken by the stock market crash as well as failing crops, people began to simply abandon their possessions and head west to California.

I foraged through empty houses and abandoned cars collecting anything I needed. The dirt was the worst of it and I was constantly hunting for new clothes and fabric. Overall I managed relatively well.

I became a scavenger.

I survived quite well in the barn with my chickens and my growing airplane. I had taken all of Clarence’s books after he died and was slowly piecing together my own airplane. It was hard work and slow going as I had to scavenge for parts that were similar and then modify them to fit my purpose. Clarence had often spoken of Amelia Earhart and the Ninety-Nine, her group of female pilots. I wrote Amelia many times over the years, and though I never got a reply, I never gave up the hope that I would one day meet her. The dirt and the dust got worse and my tiny garden struggled to survive, but somehow I made it through the years.

It became my obsession.Night and day all I could think about was the airplane and how happy it would make Clarence if I could finish it and learn to fly.

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DesperateJULY 7th 1937

Thats everything I remember up till now.

As it stands, I can wait no longer.

I have to go find Amelia one way or another.

My TB is getting worse.The dirt and the dust seemed to have agitated it over the years.

I know I don’t have much longer.

I need to find Amelia. I am going to to beg her to teach me to fly. This is my plan, its desperate, but I’m alone and out of hope. Its the one thing that I want to do before I die, the one thing I have left to hold on to. I have saved all the money that I could find on my scavenging excavations and no matter what it takes I’m going to make Clarence proud. I’m going to fly.

Today, I made my way to the nearest town and found the local telegraph office. I wired the nearest airport for information. After several attempts I found out that the headquartes of the Nintey-Nine was in Oklahoma city, Oklahoma. It wasn’t so far away, I could manage that. I’d ridden to Tulsa before, and I’d walked here from Colorado. It would be a long and wearisome journey, but it’s one I am going to have to make.

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JULY 10th 1937

I walked.I hitchhiked.

I coughed and coughed and coughed.I bewildered anyone who allowed me to travel with them. I tried to hide the blood as best I could, but I know they saw. My chest hurts constantly. I managed to make it to Oklahoma city. The

buildings are magnificent. I am in complete awe of everything that is going on around me. These buildings tower over the ones I remember from Tulsa.

From here I must find the airport, and Amelia.

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JULY 11th 1937

I am utterly

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devistated.

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Amelia Earhart left months ago to make a world journey.

Worse still, her plane has gone down in the Atlantic and she was pronounced missing on the 2nd of this month.

I am too late.

I have nothing left.

I want to die.I don’t give a damn anymore. I’m going to go home and fly my plane. I don’t care if the damn thing blows up when I start it. I want to be with Clarence and nothing will keep me from flying that thing.

Nothing.

29I’m comin’ Clarence, I’m coming.

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Author’s Note

The Jewish Consumptives Relief Society, though it played a small part in Elsie’s story, played a large part in the lives of many other Tuberculosis patients. The JCRS was located in Spivak, Colorado. It was founded in 1904 and remained the Jewish Consumptives Relief Society untl 1954 when it changed its focus to cancer research and became the American Medical Center. Later the land was purchased by the Rocky Mountain College of Art and Design. Classes are housed in the same buildings and rooms that JCRS patients lived and worked in.

While the majority of this story is fiction, Elsie Miller was a real person. She was born in Arkansas in 1902, she was at some point in her childhood orphaned, she really did move to Tulsa in 1925 where she worked for the Tulsa Humane Society. A year later she contracted Tuberculosis. Someone from the Tulsa Humane Society sought help on behalf of Elsie and on November 14th of 1928 Elsie was admitted to the JCRS. She left without consent for unknown reasons on February 28, 1929 and was never heard from again.

One of the required classes in the Graphic Design curriculum is Visual Sequencing. The main focus of this class is to research the history of the campus, mainly the JCRS. Students are required to go to the Penrose Library at DU and look through the patient archives. Students must select a patient and then spend the entire semester telling that patient’s story, first with type, and then with pictures.

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Bibliography

http://www.penlib.du.edu/About/collections/SpecialCollections/Jcrshttp://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/dustbowl

Colophon

Type: Sabon LT Std, Roman, Bold, ItalicFutura, Book, Bold, Extra Bold CondensedDearJoeAngryBlue

Images:http://images.google.com/hosted/lifemccvelorution.wordpress.com/category/velorutio-2008/

Printed at: Rocky Mountain College of Art and Design.

Bound:By hand by Tiffani Sprague

Edited by: “Grammy” Maryka Sprague

Credits

Patient Records Courtesy of Dr. Jeanne AbramsJCRS CollectionBeck Archives Special CollectionsPenrose Library and Center for Judaic StudiesUniversity of Denver, 2009with many thanks to Dr. Jeanne Abrams

Wings over the Rockies Air and Space Museum7711 E Academy Blvd # 1Denver, CO 80230-692

Tiffani SpragueVisual SequencingSummer 2009