Smuggled On The Missouri, Kansas, and Texas Railroad

It was late February on a dark, cold Friday afternoon in a small town in Northwest Iowa. The groundhog had seen his shadow on February 2, which meant, according to the groundhog legend, there would be six more weeks of wintery weather in Iowa! "No more long cold winter," my Dad declared. "We're moving back to Oklahoma!"

The box car had been loaded with farm equipment, household furniture, four horses and two cows. Bales of hay were stacked near the livestock in front of the furniture and farm equipment at the opposite end, a corner was blocked off from view where I was to ride and hide. My bed consisted of a hay mattress on which several quilts served as padding and cover.

At dusk I entered my hidden quarters to which I would be confined for a week. "Now, you are not to be seen by any of the train crew," my dad ordered. "You can get up and walk around and use the port-a-pottie while the train is moving, but no movement or sound while the train is not moving."

The train was scheduled for departure at dark and would travel all night. "Now get in there and don't let anyone see you. Understand?" my father ordered. "Okay, Okay!" I knew there wasn't room for me in Ole Lizzie in which my mother, three sisters, and three brothers would be travelling. Dad would ride most of the time in the caboose. He would come to the freight car to feed and water the animals and bring food for me. That was the plan.

The freighter was late for the departure. I was snugly tucked in my hay high-rise Pullman, sleeping soundly when the freight train hit with a thud. I thought I was being thrown through the roof of the box car. The animals were knocked to their knees. I could hear them trampling to get their balance. I heard excited whinnies from the horses. The cows mooed softly. Two more sharp jolts were felt before the clatter of the iron hitch stopped the jolting. We were now hooked up for the long ride. Slowly the engine gained speed as it seemed to sing I think I can, I think I can, I think I can; then as speed increased the singsong seemed to say I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could. Then the whistle moaned its lonesome warning wails before we speeded across the highway crossings.

The rocking of the box car and clatter of the moving wheels finally rocked me to sleep again. The animals had regained their balance and were quiet.

The fast movement of the train forced the cold air to filter through the cracks creating a cold breeze! I buried myself under the covers. Flaky frost covered the open area where I exhaled the cold winter air. The freighter kept a steady pace most of the night only slowing up at the switches where other cars were added to the cargo train or some cars left at their destination.

At daybreak I heard the box car side door opening. My father had arrived with a warm drink for me. I was to have breakfast from the lunch box, prepared before leaving Iowa. I was ordered to stay put and make no noise until the train started to move again which was an hour or more. No conversation for fear I would be discovered and Dad would have to pay full passenger fare for me. "Solitary confinement," I muttered to myself. Oh well, riding in the dark 24 hours a day offered time for introspect. No radio, no T.V., no reading, no sights to see, no one with whom to talk. Only sleep, eat and meditate!

Sometimes I would maneuver over the top of the load to pet the animals. They seemed to welcome my company, but I would have to scramble back to my den if there was any sign of the train coming to a stop. Through this experience I learned "to never look back." No, never look back.

In silence I planned my future goals! My plan was to finish high school. My school year had been interrupted by this move in the middle of the school year. I planned to finish this current school year, 10th grade, in Oklahoma--that was not to be! The first night and day went fairly well, except for several sharp jolts, shivering cold and half-frozen lunch box food. On the morning of the second day I found myself shivering with chills, a sore throat and aching bones. I was miserable, with no appetite. I had diarrhea. What a life!

The flu had caught up with me. For the next three days and nights I trembled and shook and nursed my splitting headaches and painful bones! Although I had coughing spells and spit up pneumonia pus, I was not discovered by the M.K.&T. bulls!

On the morning of the sixth day, the M.K.&T. line terminated at Fort Smith, Arkansas. We would be switched to the Fort Smith and Western Line. Also known as the Fort Smith and Crooked line. We had a layover until the following day. My father had spent little time riding in the boxcar. He really didn't realize how terribly sick I had been. He rented a motel room for two days and two nights. The third day we would finish our trip, another hundred and fifty miles away.

As I stepped from the boxcar my legs would not hold me up and my head swirled. I was too weak to walk. After two days and nights in a warm room and bed with hot food, I regained my strength for the remainder of the trip. My mother and siblings had arrived at our Oklahoma home the day before the freight load. We were soon unloaded and the freight car contents transferred to our family farm.

But then the flu struck when all family member were reunited. One by one each member of the family came down with the flu. Only my mother and I stayed well enough to carry on the daily activities.

My two older brothers answered the call, "Go west young man, Go west!" as soon as they were able to travel again. My oldest sister went to Oklahoma City to work for a wealthy family where she was house maid for many years.

The spring cultivating, fertilizing and planting had to be done. Since I was the only male strong enough to plant the crop it became my duty to forfeit my school year to do the farm work, otherwise there would be no harvest for the remaining members of the family. My sister, three years younger than me, caught up with me school-wise so we started the 10th grade fall semester together and graduated together, May 28, 1926. I had not started school until I was seven and had lost another year due to ill health. I graduated Salutorian in spite of my battle with pneumonia during my Senior year! Six months after my high school graduation I was enrolled in Willamette University in Salem, Oregon. True to my vow from the 7th grade forward. I would now be within sight of Mt. Hood.

I had determined during my grade school geography study to see and live somewhere new, Mt. Hood. This mountain has held a magnetic hold on me, even today. Nearly every year I travel to see this beautiful mountain. It inspires me each time it comes into my view. My last inspiration from it was only two months ago.

Interruptions and set backs seemed to be an ongoing hinderance to my lifetime goals, set while I was captivated in that solitary box car.

My determination held firm! One day while splitting wood, each time the axe hit the wood block my head and shoulders would be pierced by dreadful migraine headaches and shoulder pain. Suddenly, I threw the axe to one side and shouted to my youngest brother, "There has to be a better way to live than this." I walked away and vowed I would seek a less painful life style.

During my senior year of high school I had raised a good cotton crop and earned enough money to pay cash for my first new car, a 1926 Chevrolet sedan. I knew I was seeking a better life style but I was undecided as to how, where and when the big change would come.

At our graduation ceremony at Prague High School, the speaker told a story which stimulated me to make a decision. The speaker exclaimed, "Where there is a will there is a way." He was relating to college education. His story was about a young graduate who was determined to work his way through college. He went on to say "Hitch your wagons to a star." Then he told another story on which I hitched my star (goal).

According to the story there was a backwoods hunter. He had a young coon hound, Ole Blue, which he was training. To educated the hound to hunt bigger game he started with a rat. When Ole Blue brought in his first rat, the hunter praised him and rewarded him with a meaty treat. Each time Ole Blue brought in a bigger animal he got a bigger treat and more praise. And each time a bigger stretch board was needed for the hide. This went on through rats, squirrels, rabbits, opossums, and raccoons. This training was succeeding!

One day the hunter had to go shopping. Electricity and telephone was recently installed in their humble home. While the hunter's wife was doing the family ironing the telephone rang. She answered but left the electric iron on. Upon her return the hot iron had burned a hole through the ironing board. So she pitched it out the window, under which Ole Blue was sleeping. He got up, gazed at the big board then took off to find an animal whose hide would fit that big stretch board. He is still searching!

At that point I determined I would seek a stretch board large enough to carry a fleet of air planes at sea!

This page is maintained by Dr. Wood's son, Harold W. Wood, Jr., of Visalia, California.
My E-mail address is: harold@planetaryexploration.net

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