By Marylin Schultz
My Father In Front Of The Family Ford — Earl Russell Biggs II, vintage family postcard, circa early 1900’s, photo scan © 2011 by Marylin Schultz. All rights reserved.
Images from long ago—letters, photographs, postcards, communicate family history, like ribbons tying up bundles of memories. I look into the sweet innocence of children’s faces and reflect on what I do know of their lives. Little Earl Russell Biggs, II, my father, placed in front of his family’s first automobile by a proud papa. There would eventually be four generations of men in the family, given that name. Family tradition had each generation alternating the names they were “known as.” My grandfather was called Earl, my father went by Russell. My brother was called Earl and his son was known as Russ, or the nick-name,” Rusty.”
The baby, Frances Louise Oliver, my mother, was as fair in complexion as E. Russell was dark. Their childhoods would also be in stark contrast. He was born in 1910, and she was three years younger. Frances was the adored, pampered baby of her family, with three brothers and a sister, much older than she. Frances always got what she wanted, I’m told, and became a woman who maintained that expectation from life.
My Mother — Frances Louise Oliver, family photo scan
© 2011 by Marylin Schultz. All rights reserved.
Russell’s life probably began happily enough. His father and mother, Mary Dickens Biggs, lived in Childress, Texas, where he was a successful businessman in banking, and insurance, as well as owning a cattle ranch, where the family lived. Russell was big brother to Emma Ruth, five years younger than he was. In 1920, tragedy struck the young family. Mary Dickens Biggs, who was expecting their third child, died from the dreaded Influenza that took over 20 million lives in Europe and America.
The parents of E. R. Biggs, Sr. were no longer living, and Mary’s parents offered to care for the children, so the devastated father agreed. Russell and Emmy spent the next two years with the Dickens family, who were living on the Red Lake Reservation in Minnesota, where Felix Dickens, Mary’s brother, was the BIA Agent.
E. R. Biggs married his second wife, Lillian, and the two children were moved back to their Texas home. Very soon, however, Russell, at the age of twelve, was sent off to a Military Academy, and spent the rest of his school years there, only home for the summers and holidays. E.R. and Lillian had another son and daughter. It was one of those cases of a step-mother, whose “own” children could do no wrong, and the older children felt deeply, the deprivation of approval and affection. Emma, while still a teenager, had a baby, who was immediately placed for adoption, never experiencing even one embrace of the young mother who so desperately wanted to love and be loved.
(L to R) Paul, Harriet, Eloise, Mildred, & Grace Dickens, Russell Biggs (My Father) on right, Seger Indian School, Colony, Oklahoma, March 17th, 1912, vintage family postcard, photo scan © 2011 by Marylin Schultz. All rights reserved.
I always wondered what it must have been like to grow up on Indian reservations, which the five Dickens children experienced. As we know from the postcard, they were in Oklahoma, then Minnesota and later in Washington State. As a child, I remember my father’s Uncle Felix visiting us a few times at our home in California. I have a few letters that he wrote to my Aunt Emma, which were from a reservation in South Dakota. These were at a much later date, when Emma was an adult.
Side B: Back of the Postcard of Seger Indian School, Colony, Oklahoma, March 17th, 1912, vintage family postcard, photo scan © 2011 by Marylin Schultz. All rights reserved.
I finally met some of my Dickens relatives in an unusual way. After the deaths of my mother and father, I received all the family documents. In going through the papers I learned that Mary Dickens was born in McGregor, Iowa. My husband and I were scheduled to drive from our home in Bismarck, No. Dakota to La Crosse, Wisconsin, for a convention, the very next day. I looked at a map and saw that McGregor was only a few miles south, and across the Mississippi River from Prairie du Chien. I decided to see if I could find a trace of the Dickens family in the small, riverside town of McGregor.
It was a cold, gray November Saturday. The trees along the river were bare, but the drive along the river was peaceful and I was feeling hopeful. When I entered the town, I saw a building marked “Museum,” and I parked. The sign on the Museum door said something like “Closed. See you next Spring.” The only place open was the Hardware Store, so I went in. The woman behind the counter gave me a warm welcome. I told her of my quest for family members and asked if she knew of any Dickens who were still living in the area.
“Harvey Dickens lives about five miles west of town,” she replied. “Would you like to call him from here?” I answered in the affirmative just as the phone rang. She spoke to the person for a few minutes, and then I heard her say, “There’s someone here who wants to speak to you,” and handing the phone to me, with a big smile, she said, “It’s Harvey Dickens.” I gasped in amazement at the coincidence, and took the phone. I gave a very brief explanation of who I was. He invited me to come to his home, and I scribbled down the directions he gave, handed the phone back to the woman and thanked her. She smiled and wished me good luck, and I hurried to my car.
Harvey had given good directions to his farm, and I found it with no problem. The plain, two story home, painted a soft yellow, with dark green shutters at the windows, was well cared for. There was a row of pine trees to the west of the house, offering a buffer from the prevailing prairie winds, and a hedge of Lilac bushes between house and out-buildings. The tires of my car made a crunching sound on the neatly graveled driveway. Harvey opened the door of the house before I started up the steps. His smile was wide.
“Come on in, little lady, it’s cold out there!” He introduced me to his wife, Louise, and immediately I felt the genuine warmth of their welcome. They already had a box of old papers and photographs for me to look at. Harvey was a slightly built man, about 70 years old. Louise, looking comfortable in sweater and jeans, offered me coffee, as we sat down around the kitchen table.
“We have four children, but they’ve all moved away,” Louise said, filling my cup.
With a sigh, Harvey added, “Not much to keep them in a small town in Iowa, and none of ‘em was interested in farming.” Harvey took photos out of the box, pointing out each individual by name. “Better write down those names on the back,” Louise gently chided. “No one but you can identify them anymore.” I listened carefully, not recognizing any names until he said, “And this is Uncle Felix.”
“Yes,” I said, now excited, as he handed it to me. “Did he have three daughters, who lived in Washington?” He smiled broadly, and replied, giving me their names. We had made a connection, as it turned out that his grandfather was my great-grandfather. We looked at more photographs and he gave me the names and addresses of other cousins that had done more research into the family history.
We were engrossed in each others’ family anecdotes, laughing at the funny little quirks that all families have, and the morning flew quickly by. I turned down an offer of a noon meal, and told them I needed to get back to La Crosse.
“Now, if you can come back, I’ll take you to the cemetery; quite a few Dickens there,” Harvey said.
“You keep in touch,” Louise whispered in my ear, as we exchanged a hug.
“I promise I will, and thank you so much. It was a great pleasure to meet you. I feel like I’ve been with old friends,” I replied.
“Nope, better than friends, we’re family!” Those were Harvey’s last words to me as I got into my car. That brief visit opened up a whole new chapter in my family history, and as I drove across the bridge over the wide Mississippi, I felt truly blessed.
Editor’s Note: In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, professional photographers offered customers the choice of placing photographs on postcards, like the “packages” they sell today. Some were taken in a studio and others at different locations. The photo of Frances was taken in a studio, and the other two at the homes of their clients. Images From The Past was partly inspired by conversation on the postcard piece Joshua Trees & Desert Sands — Jan 25 1947.
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About Marylin: Marylin (aka oliverowl) is a freelance writer living in Wyoming. She has written essays for a weekly column in the Ventura Star Tribune and collaborated with her grandson on two picture books for children. She currently writes with the Cody Writers. Her previous pieces for red Ravine include the travel essay Rollin’ Easy and a Writing Practice, Kindness.
In 2010, Marylin was published in the book, From the Heart — Writing in the Shadow of the Mountain, a collection of work from members of Write On Wyoming (WOW), a group of authors and aspiring writers living in northeastern Wyoming. Her contributions to From the Heart include two works of fiction, To Love Bertie Lou and The Appointment Book, and a collection of haiku, Seasons in Wyoming.
Marylin,
I enjoyed reading this post and seeing the pictures. Life wasn’t perfect back then, but these kind of photos make me long for a simpler time.
The moving around (for your father) in addition to losing his mom is heartbreaking. I, too, wonder what it would have been like to be a white boy suddenly living on Red Lake Reservation. And to move all the way there from Texas! What a shock for him and Emmy.
Thanks for sharing a piece of your family story with us.
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Teri, Thanks for your comment. My father always had a sadness that I could see in his eyes, although he never talked about his childhood. My Aunt Emmy, however, shared with me that she thought he blamed himself, in part, for his mother’s death, as he had the flu first and his mother nursed him through it before she fell ill.
It did not make him bitter, though. He was a kind, gentle, loving man!
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Marilyn, LOVED the photos. They are amazingly crisp and clear, especially that first one. Also a fascinating life story. Did you ever go back and see Harvey again or keep in touch otherwise?
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I can imagine your dad did have deep sadness. I see you got his brown eyes, eh?
Children need to be reassured about things we don’t think about–to imagine he carried the blame for his mother’s death! That’s a desperate load for him to carry. It sounds like he didn’t allow himself to grow bitter(despite it). And, I know he produced a fabulous daughter.
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Marylin,
Great historical post. It looks like the Seger Indian School was integrated. That surprises me for 1912. Is that what it looks like to you, too?
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Great story, Marylin! I’m glad you were able to make that connection and find new family members!
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Roma, I never got back to McGregor, but we kept in touch with cards and letters every Christmas until they both passed away, 5 – 7 years ago.
Sinclair, I don’t think the school was integrated, except for the Dickens children, whose father, (my great uncle,) Felix, was the BIA Agent there. I’m sure they lived on the Reservation where the school was located. My father was just two yrs. old at the time this photo was taken, and I assume that the Biggs family was visiting.
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Marilyn,
I loved reading about all the places you and your family have lived and visited in the US. Places like the Red Lake Reservation in Minnesota, Oklahoma, South Dakota, Mississippi River… Being the only member in my entire family who has never visited the US, these places are only known to me through films, books and postcards (and recently redRavine!) I enjoyed reading a first hand account of your country and real people who lived there; the pictures of your parents really added to the poignancy of it all. It also made me realize how lucky my generation of ‘baby boomers’ are with the advances of science and medicine. I really do admire how past generations, who survived two world wars, managed to pick themselves up and move on without bitterness. Your dad was a very good example of this.
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Annie,
Thank you for your kind comment. Where do you live? It is true that the best way to learn about a different country is through becoming acquainted with individuals. My husband belonged to Rotary International, and we had guests from several different countries who stayed with us. It was a wonderful way to learn that we all have more in common than we have differences!
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The photos are wonderful, and I very much enjoyed the story of your family. I almost felt I was with you as you drove up to Harvey’s place. How great it must have been to make that connection.
I often wonder what it’s like to have such a sense of family history and stories. I come from people who prefer not to tell their stories.
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Marylin,
I loved reading your piece, especially the part about your visit with the Harvey couple. It must be a very joyful moment, especially at an elderly age, to have people come visit, ask about family memories and have others actually be interested in what they have to share and say about their lives. Writing has the ability to deepen everyone’s experience as humans, to help us belong to each other and feel more connected, “family” or not.
I look forward to reading more of your work.
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Robin, thanks for commenting. Actually, my own parents did not share much. I had to ask other family members for background. It does take effort!
I only wish I had begun 20 years earlier. There are so many questions I may never have answers to. Dates and places only tell us so much. WHY people moved to different places, I can only now guess at the answers.
Teresa, thank you…my day job, as a curator in our county historical archives, gives me glimpses into many of the pioneer families in Wyoming. Every family’s history is unique, and they all fascinate me. Many people plan their vacations to come and delve into their family’s history here.
It is my favorite part of this work, as finding pieces that fit into their puzzle is so appreciated by them and rewarding to me!
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Marylin,
I come from Scotland, and when I manage to get out of subsidizing my kids jaunts abroad, I might just make it to the US 🙂
The Rotary International idea sounds great – I’d love to hear some of your stories about the experiences you had with the different people – something to look forward to in the future?
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annie, Thank you; I would enjoy sharing some of our experiences with our guests from abroad.
My mom and I had a great trip to Scotland, Wales and England. We had Britrail passes. Our first stop in Scotland was Edinborough, which we loved. We stayed at a B&B, and we were going to go farther north, to see “Nessie” in the Loch, but other tourists had just come from there and said it was snowing! (This was early October!) So we took the train to Glasgow, instead, then back down into England. We were invited to spend the first and last weekends at the farm home of one of our Rotary guests, in Kent.
When you come to the U. S., perhaps, if you get far enough west, you could visit me, as I live in Cody, close to Yellowstone Park. Since I am so ancient, I have a “Golden Pass,” which entitles me to free visits to all the National Parks, including all the people I can cram into my car!
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Marilyn, a beautiful piece of writing with details to engage me and pictures to make me want to know more. A very interesting story about your family and so much more to tell from what I can tell. Please keep writing.
Have you read Leslie Marmon Silko’s book, “The Turquoise Ledge”? It is about her childhood growing up in New Mexico and Arizona. She talks about her experiences being a child from mixed cultural backgrounds in the Southwest (Mexican, German, English, several different kinds of Pueblo people) and what life was like to her in such a place. Very interesting. I picked up the book today at the library and had read about a third of it already. You might find it interesting.
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Marylin,
Thank you, I am deeply touched by your kind offer, it really meant a lot to me. And to be sure, if I ever manage across the Atlantic, I’d make a point in travelling West. Not just because I’d LOVE to see Yellowstone Park (WOW!) but to meet you. Again, thank you.
I hope you and your mum enjoyed your visit to the British Isles. Kent really has some beautiful countryside. Maybe, if you ever come back, we could make that trip to see Nessie together 🙂 And, perhaps, you could write about it!
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Marylin, I just love this piece and finally slowed down enough this week to read it again and absorb all of the lovely comments you have received. Thank you so much for sharing your roots on red Ravine. I hope you’ll consider writing another piece for rR in the near future. I want to see where the story goes next!
I had the same question Sinclair had about the integrated school, so I’m glad you answered that question. It must have been such a harsh environment at that time. You can almost see it and sense it in the children’s faces.
You sound like you have the perfect job, working as a curator for part of the Wyoming historical archives. I hope I get to visit you there some day. I really want to get out West again! Maybe Annie will meet Liz and I there! And can you believe, I’ve never been to Yellowstone, even though I lived in Montana for 8 years. Wild.
It touched my heart that you were able to meet with Harvey and Louise, and then connect the dots to Felix. Isn’t it amazing when synchronous events happen like that? I don’t think it’s an accident, but part of the something bigger, the Ancestors reaching out. The way I reconnected with my biological dad’s family was a similar story. My aunts walking into a relative’s insurance agency in Georgia the week before I was going to travel there from Pennsylvania with my mother. Amazing.
Another aspect of your story that I can relate to is how the generations after us carry on our emotional legacy as well. The sadness in your dad’s soul, his eyes. He carried that with him from the past. I believe in generational healing; I think your meeting up with the relatives of Felix was part of that healing.
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What a treat to read this bit of family history. It definitely leaves one wanting the next installment.
I’ve always wanted to go with my mother to the British Isles, the motherland across the pond. Hard to believe that we had such brave relatives who would get on a boat for weeks to land in the wilderness. After tracing the family tree, I know we have some very early settlers who made that treacherous journey. And then to keep going west. Oh my.
Wish I could have met my grandfather, Earl Russell Biggs II. He passed away shortly before I was born, an extra special guardian angel for me though!
I recall you talking about the Iowa trip but what a treasure to have you write about it. Thanks Mom!!!
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By the way, Earl Russell Biggs II’s grandson John has the same breed of dog as in the picture of the Dickens kids. He loves German Shorthair Pointers! Makes you wonder… is that in our genes too?!?
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THANK YOU ALL!!
I would love to play hostess to all of you, especially the ones who have never seen Yellowstone. Although, I must confess that Yosemite is stil my favorite, of those I’ve visited.
Bob, thanks for your kind words. I will definitely seek out the “The Turquoise Ledge,” as I was born in New Mexico, and love the Southwest.
Annie, I hope you can fly directly to Minneapolis, where Skywire, QM and Teri can meet you, (you all might have to rent an RV,) and come to visit me!
Teton National Park is practically connected to Yellowstone, and is also a fantastic place to see!
QM, Thank you for the privilege of being on RR, and I will keep writing! BTW, it IS hard to believe you never saw YNP!! On your way back to Mpls. you girls could see the badlands, Teddy R.s National Park, Medora, then go south and take in the Black Hills & Mt. Rushmore! ( Have I made the trip sound irrisistable yet?)
Liz, I remember my Dad saying, “I hope I have so many grandchildren I won’t know what to do!” I too, wish he could have known you! I would LOVE to go back to the U.K. with you!!!!
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Looks like we’re cookin’ with gas, girls (I love that american idiom :-)) Today just happens to be Mothers Day here in the UK. So, to women and mothers everywhere, have a great day!
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annie, Happy Mother’s Day in Scotland! And to all the wonderful mothers who visit here. I wonder how different countries choose which days to have Mother’s Day?
Marylin, you’ve planned a great itinerary for our trip West. It sounds wonderful to me. I also haven’t visited the Badlands and would love to (though I’ve driven by them many times on the way to Montana). Did I ever mention that Liz wants to rent an RV when we get older and travel the country again?
BTW, Marylin, I wanted to mention a couple of other things about these postcards from the traveling photographers. I love the detail of the old Ford in the top photo. If you click on it, it’s enlarged and you can really see how cool that vehicle is. I wonder whose it was?
The last thing — that photograph of your mother looks exactly like the face of our Liz. I told her that this week, and yesterday we held up an old photo of her against the photo of your mother. Almost an exact match. I love how looks are passed down on different sides of the family. I guess it’s the luck of the draw.
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annie, Hope you had a nice Mother’s Day ;^)
What kind of weather are you having now? We are LONGING for Spring-like warmth to return!
QM, A friend here, just sent me an email, saying she has a book by a woman who grew up at the Seger Indian School, and asked if I want to see it. I can hardly wait! I enlarged the photos and was surprised at how good they look! Thanks for cluing me in. You’re right; Liz does look like her Grandmother! I never thought about it before. WOW…both are beauties!!
Can hardly wait for you to drive out here!
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Marylin,
Raining… We had one of the coldest winters on record – minus temperatures but dry days. The temperatures have now risen, but it’s raining cats and dogs – typical! If you ever make that return trip with your daughter, make sure to check the long range weather forecast! (btw, a beautiful idea :-))
Thank you and QM for the kind wishes – I had a great Mothers Day 🙂
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Dear Marylin: I have read the interesting story about your family over and over. The pictures are wonderful. It’s such a beautiful story. You reaIly have a special gift with your story telling. I am sure that I have known you longer than anyone who replied to you. We have been friends since the first grade. You were my first friend when we moved to North Hollywood and to this day we are still friends after so many years. I loved reading about your family in the early 1900’s. What made the whole thing so special is that I knew your mom and dad and sister and brother and Aunt Emmy. Remember her hot dog stand? I think your next chapter in the family story should be about how your parents arrived in California during the war – “riding on the tire rims”. That story always fascinated me. Great job! Brings back memories and tears thinking about how fast the years have gone by. Love, Liz
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Marylin:
You are such a gifted writer and a terrific story teller. I loved your story and enjoyed the pictures you shared. Marylin, the details in your writing engaged all my senses and you left me wanting more. I found your story very moving, interesting and well done. Thank you for sharing it with all of us.
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I must, again, thank all who have commented. Liz, you are, indeed, the one who has known me longer than anyone outside of my family! Thanks for the idea and inspiration for my next piece. It is already bubbling in my brain. I’m amazed that you remember those instances from our childhood!
Karen, thank you for your kind words. I’ll bet you have good stories, and you must have inherited some of your dear Mom’s literary genius, as well as the relative that wrote all the wonderful poetry in her book. (Forgive me, I can’t remember his name at the moment.)
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Marilyn, I enjoyed reading your touching story. I have been researching the Biggs family for many years, and would love to hear from you as we share the same ggg+ grandparents.
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[…] About Marylin: Marylin (aka oliverowl) is a freelance writer living in Wyoming. She has written essays for a weekly column in the Ventura Star Tribune and collaborated with her grandson on two picture books for children. She currently writes with the Cody Writers. Her previous pieces for red Ravine include the travel essay Rollin’ Easy, a Writing Practice, Kindness, and a memoir piece, Images From The Past. […]
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