Chapter thirty-seven of the Conquest This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Phyllis Vincelli. The Conquest by Oscar Michaud. Chapter thirty-seven. The Progressives and the Reactionaries. It is not commonly known by the white people at large that a great number of colored people are against Mr. Washington. Being an educator and philanthropist, it is hard to conceive any reason why they should be opposed to him, but the fact remains that they are. There are two distinct factions of the Negro race who might be classed as progressives and reactionaries, somewhat like the politicians. The progressives, led by Booker T. Washington, and with industrial education as the material idea, are good active citizens. While the other class distinctly reactionary in every way, contend for more equal rights, privileges, and protection, which is all very logical indeed, but they do not substantiate their demands with any concrete policies, depending largely on loud demands, and are too much given to the condemnation of the entire white race for the depredations of a few. It is true, very true indeed, that the American Negro does not receive all he is entitled to under the Constitution. Volumes could be filled with the many injustices he has to suffer and which are not right before God and man. Yet, when it is considered that other races in other countries are persecuted even more than the Negro is in parts of the United States, there should be no reason why the American Negro allow obvious prejudice to prevent his taking advantage of opportunities that surround him. I have been called a radical, perhaps I am, but for years I have felt constrained to deplore the negligence of the colored race in America, in not seizing the opportunity for monopolizing more of the many million acres of rich farmlands in the great northwest, where immigrants from the old world own many of acres of rich farmlands, while the millions of blacks, only a few hundred miles away, are as oblivious to it all as the heathen of Africa are to civilization. In Iowa, for instance, where the number of farms total around 210,000, and include the richest land in the world, only 37 are owned and operated by Negroes, while South Dakota, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and North Dakota have many less. I would quote these facts to my father-in-law until I was darker in the face than I naturally am. He could offer no counter-argument to them, but continued to vituperate the sins of the white people. He was a member in good standing of the reactionary faction of the Negro race, the larger part of which are African M.E. ministers. Since Booker T. Washington came into prominence, they have held back and done what they could to impede and criticize his work, and cast little stones in his path of progress, while most of the younger members of the ministry are heart and soul in accord with him, and are helping all they can. The older members are almost to a unit, with some exceptions, of course, against him, and his industrial educational ideas. A few years ago, a professor in a colored university in Georgia wrote a book which had a tremendous sale. He claimed in his book that the public had become so over-enthused regarding Booker T., and industrial education, that the colored schools for literary training were almost forgotten, and, of course, were severely handicapped by a lack of funds. His was not criticism, but was intended to call attention of the public to the number of colored schools in dire need of funds, which, on account of race prejudice in the South, must teach classics. This was true, although industrial education was the first means of lifting the ignorant masses into a state of good citizenship. Immediately following the publication of the volume referred to, thousands of anti-Booker T.s proceeded to place the writer as representing their cause, and formed all kinds of clubs in his honor, or gave their clubs his name. They pretended to feel, and to have everyone else feel, that they had at last found a man who would lead them against Booker T., and industrial education. They made a lot of noise for a while, which soon died out, however, as the author of the book was far too broad-minded and intelligent in every way, to be a party to such a theory, much less to lead a lot of reckless people who had never and never would do anything for the uplifting of their race. The Reverend and I could not in any way agree. He was so bitter against industrial education, and the educator's name, that he lost all composure in trying to dodge the issue in our argument, and found himself up against a brick wall in attempting to belittle Mr. Washington's work. Most of the trouble with the elder was that he was not an intelligent man, never read anything but Negro papers, and was interested only in Negro questions. He was born in Arkansas, but maintained false ideas about himself. He never admitted to having been born a slave, but he was nearly sixty years of age, and sixty years ago a Negro born in Arkansas would have been born in slavery, unless his parents had purchased themselves. If this had been the case, as vain as he was, I felt sure he would have had much to say about it. He must have been born a slave, but, of course, had been young when freed. He had lived in Springfield, Missouri, after leaving Arkansas, and later moving to Iowa, where, at the age of twenty-seven years, he was ordained a minister, and started to preach, which he had continued for thirty years or more. He never had any theological training. This was told me by my wife, and she added despairingly, poor papa.  He reads nothing but radical Negro papers, and wants everybody to regard him as being a brilliant man, and you might as well try to reason with two trees, or a brick wall, as to try to reason with him or Ethel.  Mama has always tried to get him to study, but he would never do it. That's all. We went up to the claims, taking the elder along. My sister had married, and her husband was making hay on the claims. I might have been more patient with a reverend, if he had not been so full of pretence, when being plain and truthful would have been so much better and easier. I had quit talking to him about anything serious, or anything that interested me, but would sit and listen to him talk of the big preachers, and the bishops, and the great Negroes who had died years before. He seemed fond of talking of what they had done in the past, and what more could be done in the future, if the white people were not so strongly banded against them. After this, his conversation would turn to pure gossip, such as women might indulge in. He talked about the women belonging to the churches of his district, whether they were living right or wrong, and could tell very funny stories about them. In Dakota, like most parts of the West, people who have any money at all carry no cash in the pocket, but bank their money and use checks. The people of the East and South, that is, the common people, seldom have a checking account, and, with the masses of the Negroes, no account at all. During the summer, Orlean had sent her father my checks, with which to make purchases. The Reverend told me he checked all together, but my wife had told me her father's ambition had always been to have a checking account, but had not been able to do so. I had to laugh over this, for it was no distinction whatever. We discussed the banking business, and the elder tried to tell me that if a national bank went broke, the government paid all the depositors, while, if it was a state bank, the depositors lost. As this was so far from correct, I explained the laws that governed national banks and state banks alike, as regards the depositors in the event of insolvency. I did not mean to bring out such a storm, but he flew into an accusation, exclaiming excitingly, that's just the way you are. You must have everything your way. I never saw such a contrary man. You won't believe anything. But Reverend, I remonstrated, I have no way in this. What I have quoted you is simply the law, the law governing national and state bank deposits, that you can read up on yourself, just the same as I have done. If I am wrong, I very humbly beg your pardon. The poor old man was so chagrined he seemed hardly to know what to do, though this was but one of many awkward situations due to his ignorance of the most simple business matters. Another time he was trying to listen intelligently to a conversation relating to the development of the Northwest when I had occasion to speak of Jim Hill. Seeing he did not look enlightened, I repeated, this time referring to him as James J. Hill, of the Great Northern, and inquired if he had not heard of the Pioneer Builder. No, I never heard of him, he answered. Never heard of James J. Hill? I exclaimed in surprise. Why should I have heard of him? he said, answering my exclamation calmly. Oh, no reason at all, I concluded, and remained silent.  After this conversation I forced myself to remain quiet and listen to common gossip. Instead of being pleased to see us happy and Orlean contented, he would, whenever alone with her, discourage her in every way he could, sighing for sympathy, praising claves and telling her how much he was doing for Ethel, and how much she, Orlean, was sacrificing for me. The contest trial occurred while he was with us, and cost, to start with, an attorney's fee of fifty dollars in addition to witnesses' expenses. I had bought a house in Magory, and we moved it on to Orlean's claim. The reverend helped with the moving, but he was so discouraging to have around. He dug up all the skeletons I left buried in M-plus, and buried them to view in deceitful ways. We had decided not to visit Chicago that winter. The crop was fair, but prices were low on oats and corn, and my crops consisted mostly of those cereals. I tried to explain this to the reverend when he talked of what we would have Christmas in Chicago. Now don't let that worry you, my boy, he would say breezily. I'll attend to that. I'll attend to that. Attend to what, I asked, while I'll send both of you a ticket. Oh, really, reverend, I thank you ever so much, but I could not think of accepting it, and you must not urge it. We are not coming to Chicago, and I wish you would not talk of it so much with Orlean. I would almost plead with him. She is a good girl, and we are happy together. She wants to help me, but she's only a weak woman, and being so far away from colored people, she will naturally feel lonesome and want to visit home. He paid no more attention to me than if I had never spoken. In fact, he talked more about Chicago than ever, saying a dozen times a day, yes, children, I'll send you the money. I finally became angry, and told him I would not, under any circumstances whatever, accept such charity, and that what my money was invested in represented a value of more than thirty thousand dollars, and how could I be expected to condescend to accept charity from him. He had told me once that he had never had as much as two hundred dollars at one time in his life. I did not want a row, but as far as I was concerned I did not want anything from him, for I felt that he would throw it up to me the rest of his life. I was convinced that he was a vain creature, out for a show, and I fairly despised him for it. At last he went home, and Orlean and I got down to business, moving more of our goods onto the claim, and spending about one third of the time there. We intended moving everything as soon as the corn was gathered. As Christmas drew near, her folks wrote that they were looking for her to come home, the Reverend having told them that she was coming, and that he was going to send her the money for her to come. Her mother wrote about it in the letter, saying she didn't think it was right. Just before Christmas she wrote that maybe if she wrote Cousin Sam he would send her the money. Cousin Sam was a porter in a downtown saloon. I felt so mortified that I swore I would never again have anything to do with her family. They never regarded my feelings, nor our relations in the least, but wrote a letter every few days about who was coming to the house to see Orlean Christmas, of who was going to have her at their homes for dinner when she came home, until the poor girl, with a child on the way, was as helpless as a baby, trying to be honest with all concerned. It had never been her lot to take the defensive. My sister came down from her claim and took Orlean home with her. While she was in Tip County a letter came from her father for her, and, thinking it might be a matter needing immediate attention, I opened it, and found a money order for eighteen dollars sent from Cairo, with instructions when to start, and he would be home to meet her when she arrived, suggesting that I could come later. I was about the maddest man in Magory when I was through reading the letter, fairly flying to the post office, enclosing the money order and all, with a curt little note telling what I had done, that Orlean was out on her claim and would be home in a few days, but that we were not coming to Chicago. I would have liked to tell him that I was running my own house, but did not do so. I was hauling shelled corn to a feeder in town when Orlean came.  I got out and kissed her fondly, then told what I had done. My love for her had been growing. She had been gone a week, and I was so glad to see her, and have her back with me. I took the corn on into town, and when I returned home she had cleaned up the house, prepared a nice supper, and had killed a chicken for the next day, which was Christmas. She then confessed that she had written her father that he could send the money. Now, dear, she said, as though a little frightened, I am so sorry for I know Papa's going to make a big row. And he did. Fairly burned the mail with scorching letters denouncing my action, and threatening what he was liable to do about it, which was to come out and attend to me. I judged he did not get much sympathy, however, for a little while after Orlean had written him, he cooled down and wrote that whatever Orlean and I agreed on was all right with him, though I knew nothing of what her letter contained. The holidays passed without further event, accepting a letter from Mrs. Uis to my wife, in which she said she was glad that she had stayed in Dakota and stuck by her husband. The letter seemed a little strange, though I thought nothing of it at the time. A few months later I was to know what it meant, which was more than I could then have dreamed of. We were a lone-colored couple, in a country miles from any of our kind, honest, hopeful, and happy. We had no warning, nor if we had, would we have believed. Why, indeed, should any young couple feel that some person, especially the one near and dear, should be planning to put asunder what God had joined together? It was now the last of February, and we expected our first born in March. My wife had grown exceedingly fretful. Grandma was with us, having made proof on her homestead. Orlean kept worrying and wanting to go to her claim, talking so much about it, that I finally talked with some neighbor friends, and they advised that it would be better to take her to the homestead, for if she continued to fret so much over wanting to be there, when the child was born it might be injured in some way. When the weather became favorable, I wrapped her and Grandma up comfortably, and sent them to the claim in the spring wagon, while I followed with a load of furniture, making the trip in a day and a half. We had close neighbors, who said they would look after her, while I went back after the stock. A lumber-yard was selling out in Kirk, and I bought the coal shed, which was strongly built, being good for barns and granaries. Cutting it into two parts, I loaded one part onto two wagons, and started the sixty miles to the claim. A thaw set in about the time I had the building, as far as my homestead south of Magory. I decided to leave it there, and tear down my old buildings and move them instead. I received a letter from Orlean, saying they were getting along nicely, accepting that the stove smoked considerably, and for me to be very careful with Red, and not let him kick me. Red was a mule I had bought the summer before, and was a holy terror for kicking. My sister arrived that night, from a visit to Kansas, and on hearing from Orlean that she was all right, I sent my sister onto her claim, and hiring more men, moved the balance of the building onto the old farm, tore down the old buildings, loading them onto wagons, and finally got started again for Tip County. That was on Saturday. The wind blew a gale, making me feel lonely and far from home. Sunday morning I started early out of Cologne, planning to get home that night. But the front axle broke, and by the time we got another it was growing late. We started again, and traveled about two miles, when the tongue broke, and by the time that was mended it was late in the afternoon. About six o'clock we pulled into Victor, tired and weary. The next day, when about five miles from home, we met one of the neighbors, who informed me that he had tried to get me over the phone all along the way, that my wife had been awfully sick, and that the baby had been born dead. It struck me like a hammer, and noting my frightened look, he spoke up quickly. But she's all right now. She had two doctors, and didn't lack for attention. On the way home I was so nervous that I could hardly wait for the horses to get there. I would not have been away at this time for anything in the world. I knew Orlean would forgive me, but we had not told her father. Orlean had told her mother and thought she would tell him. He made so much ado about everything we hoped to avoid the tire of his burdensome letters, but now, with the baby born during my absence, and it dead, when we had so many plans for its future, it was to have been the first colored child born on the little crow, and we thought we were going to make history. When I got to the claim, I was weak in every way. My wife seemed none the worse, but my emotions were intense when I saw the little dead boy, poor little fellow. As he lay stiff and cold, I could see the image of myself in his features. My wife noticed my look and said, It is just like you, dear. That night we buried the baby on the west side of the draw. It should have been on the east, where the only trees in the township, four spreading willows cast their shadows. Well, dear, we have each other. I comforted her as she cried. Between sobs she tried to tell me how she prayed for it to live, and since it had looked so much like me, she thought her heart would break. When the child was born, they had sent a telegram to her father which read, Baby born dead, Am well. This was his first knowledge of it. We received a telegram that night that he was on the way, and the next day he arrived, bringing Ethel with him. When he got out of the livery rig that brought them, I could see Satan in his face. A chance had come to him at last. It seemed to say, Oh, now I'll fix you away when the child was born, eh? His very expression seemed jubilant. He had longed for some chance to get me, and now it had arrived. He did not speak to me, but bounded into the room where my wife was, and she must have read the same thing in his expression, for as he talked about it later, I learned the first thing she said was, Now, Papa, you must not abuse Oscar. He loves me and is kind and doing the best he can, but he is all tied up with debt. He would tell this every few hours, but I could see the evil of his heart, and the expression of his eyes leering at me with hatred and malice in every look. He and Ethel turned loose in about an hour. From that time on, it was the same as being in the house with two human devils. They nearly raised the roof with their quarreling. Of the two, the reverend was the worst, for he was cunning and deceitful, pretending in one sentence to love, and the next taking a thrust at my emotions and home. I shall never forget his evil eyes.  And she would tear into a string of abusive words. One day, after the doctor had been to the house, he called me aside and said, Oscar, your wife is physically well enough, but is mentally sick. Something should be done so that she may be more quiet. Is she quite out of danger? I asked. He replied that she was. That night I told my wife of our conversation, and the next day I left from a gory county. Chapter 38 Sanctimonious Hypocrisy I was preparing to seed the biggest crop I had ever sown, with Orlean helping me by bringing the dinner to the field and doing some chores. During the fall we had put the farm into winter wheat, and I had rented the other Magory County farm. I hired a steam rig to break 200 acres of prairie on the tip county homesteads, for which I was to pay $300 an acre and haul the coal from Cologne a distance of 35 miles, the track having been laid to that point on the extension west from Calias. I intended to break 100 acres with my horses and put it into flax. I had figured that with a good crop it would go a long way toward helping me get out of debt. I worked away feverishly, for I had gotten deeper into debt by helping my folks get the land in tip county. After putting in 15 acres of spring wheat, I hauled farm machinery to my sister's claim, and then began hauling coal from Cologne. It was on Friday, I was driving two horses and two mules abreast, hitched to a wagon loaded with 500 pounds of coal, and trailing another with 300 pounds. One of the mules got unruly, going down a hill, swerved to one side, and in less time than it takes to tell it, both wagons had turned turtle over at 15 foot embankment, and I was under 8,000 pounds of coal. With both wagons upside down and the hind wagon box splintered almost to kindling, that I was not hurt was due to the fact that the grade had been built, but a few days previously, had not settled, and the loose debt had prevented a crash. I attempted to jump when I saw the oncoming disaster, but caught my foot in the brake rope, which pulled me under the loads. A day and a half was lost in getting the wreck cleared, so I could proceed to my sister's claim, from where I had intended going home to my wife, 15 miles away. I had left the reverend in charge, after he and Ethel had said about all the evil things words could express, and he, finding that I was inclined to be peaceful, had shown his hatred of me in every conceivable manner, until Orlean, who could never bear noise or quarrelling, decided it would be better that I go away and perhaps he would quit. I did not get home that trip on account of the delay caused by the wreck, but sent my sister with a letter stating that I would come home the next trip, and describing the accident. I went back to Cologne, and while eating supper, someone told me three colored people were in Cologne, and one of them was a sick woman. I could hardly believe what I heard. My appetite vanished, and I rose from the table, paid the cashier and left the place, going to the hotel around the corner, and there sat my wife.  She was still very sick and wheezed when she answered, trembling at the same time. You said I could go home until I got well. Yes, I know, I answered, controlling my excitement. But to leave home in such weather is foolhardy. It had been snowing all day, and was slippery and cold outside. And besides, I argued, you should never have left home until I returned. Didn't you get my letter? I inquired, looking at her with a puzzled expression. No, she replied, appearing bewildered. But I saw Ollie hand something to Papa. I then recalled that I had addressed the letter to him. But I went on. I wrote you a letter last week, that you should have received, not later than Saturday. I—I—never received it, she answered, and seemed frightened. I could not understand what had taken place. I left my wife two weeks before, feeling that I held her affections, and had thought only of the time we'd be settled at last with her well again. The Reverend had said so much about her going home that I had consented, but had stipulated that I would wait until she was better and would then see whether we could afford it or not. Suddenly a horrible suspicion struck me, with such force as almost to stagger me. But calming myself, I decided to talk to the elder. He came in about that time and looked very peculiar when he saw me. The town was full of people that night, and he had some difficulty in getting a room. But had finally succeeded in getting one in a small, rooming house, and to it we now helped Orlean, who was anything but well. As we carried her, I could hardly suppress the words that came to my lips, to say to him when we got into the room, but thought it best not to say anything. Ethel, who was sitting there when we entered, never deigned to speak to me, but her eyes conveyed the enmity within. The Reverend was saying many kind words, but I was convinced they were all pretense, and that he was up to some dirty trick. I was further convinced that he was not only an errant hypocrite, but an enemy of humanity as well, an utterly heartless. When he and Ethel had entered our home three weeks before, neither shed a tear nor showed any emotion whatever, and had not even referred to the death of the baby, but set up a quarrel that never ceased after I went away. Reverend, I said, will you and Ethel kindly leave the room for a few minutes? I would like to speak with Orlean alone. They never designed to move an inch, but finally the Reverend said, we'll not leave unless Orlean says so. In that moment he appeared the most contemptible person I ever knew. My wife began crying, and said she wanted to see her mother, that she was sick, and wanted to go home until she got well. I was angry all over, and turned on the preacher, exclaiming hotly, Rev McCrallan, I left you in charge of my wife out of respect for you as her father, but here I thundered in a terrible voice. You have been up to some low-lived trick, and if I thought you were trying to alienate my wife's affections, or had done so, I would stop this thing right here and sue you, if you were worth anything. At this he flushed up and answered angrily, I'm worth as much as you. He was a poor hand at anything but quarrelling. But knowing we'd made a scene, I said no more. It was a long night. Orlean was restless, and wheezed and coughed all through the night. I had wondered since why I did not take the bull by the horns, and settle the matter then, but guess it was for the sake of peace, that I've accepted the situation and remained quiet. I decided it would be best to let her go home without a big row, and when she was recovered she could come home, and all would be well. My wife had informed me that the claves had kept up the house, paid for the groceries, and half of the instalments, while her father paid for the other half, but never bought anything to eat, nor sent any money home, only bringing eggs, butter, and chickens, when he came into the city three or four times a year. But clave's name was not on the contract for the home, only her father's name appearing. Her father was extremely vain, and I had not pleased him because I was independent, and he did not like independent people. She also told me that her father always kept up a row when he was at home, but always charged it to everybody else. The next morning, just before we started for the depot, I said, I'll step into the bank and get a check cashed, and give Orlean some money. I haven't much, but I want her to have her own money.  I wouldn't think of such a thing, I answered, protesting that he was not able to pay her way. I wouldn't think of allowing her to accept it.  Haven't I told you I have enough? He answered in a tenner voice, trying to appear winsome. Feeling that I knew his disposition, I said no more, but as we were passing the bank, I started to enter, saying to my wife, I'm going to get you some money. She caught me by the sleeve and cried excitedly. No, no, no, don't, because I have money. Hesitating a moment and repeated, I have money. You have money, I repeated, appearing to misunderstand his statement. How did you get money? Had a check cashed, she answered nervously. Oh, I see. I said, how much? Fifty dollars, she answered, clinging to my arm. Good gracious, Orlean, I exclaimed, near to fright. We haven't got that much in the bank. Oh, oh, I didn't want to. And then called to her father, who was just coming with a baggage. Papa, papa, you give Oscar back that money. He hasn't got it. Oh, oh, I didn't want to do this. But you said it would be all right. And that the cashier at the bank, where you got it cashed, called up the bank at Calias and said the check was all right. Oh, oh, she went on, beside herself with excitement, and holding her arms, trembling and repeating, I didn't want to do this.  All the hypocrisy and pretense vanished, leaving him a weak, shamed, faced creature, and looking from one side to the other, stammered out. I didn't do it. I didn't do it.  You told her she should write a check for any money she needed, and she did. She did it. Here again my despair for peace overruled my good judgment. Instead of stopping the matter, then and there, I spoke up gravely, saying, I don't mind Orleans going home. In fact, I want her to go home, and have anything to help her get well and please her. But I haven't the money to spare. Her sickness, with a doctor coming into the country, twice daily, has been very expensive. And we just have not the money, that is all. When he saw I was not going to put a stop to it, he took courage and spoke sneakily. Well, the man in the bank, at Carlin, called up the bank of Calias, and they said the money was there. Oh, I said, as far as that goes, I had five hundred dollars there last week. It has all been checked out, but some of the checks likely are still out. I took twenty-five dollars of the money and gave Orleans twenty-five dollars. Her ticket was eighteen dollars. I went with them as far as Calias to see how my account stood. I kissed Orleans goodbye before leaving the train at Calias. Then I went directly to the bank and deposited the twenty-five dollars. The checks I had given had come in that morning, and even after depositing the twenty-five, I found my account was still overdrawn thirty dollars. Mishaw Chapter 39 Beginning of the End I waited to hear from my wife in Chicago, but at the end of two weeks I had not heard from her, although I had written three letters, and a week later I journeyed to Colombe and took a train for Chicago. When I called at the house the next day, her mother admitted me, but did not offer to shake hands. She informed me Orleans was out, but that it was the first time she had been out, and she had been very sick since coming home. When I asked her why Orleans had not written, she said, I understand you have mistreated my child. Mistreated Orleans, I exclaimed, then looking into her eyes I asked slowly, did Orleans tell you that? No, she answered, looking away, but my husband did. Gradually I learned from her that the Reverend had circulated a report that Orleans was at death's door when he came to her bedside. If he had not arrived when he did she would have died, and when she was well enough to travel he brought her home. It was at last clear to me, as I sat with bowed head and feeling bewildered and unable to speak. I recalled the words of Miss Anken eighteen months before, the biggest rascal in the Methodist Church. I remembered the time I had called and saw him driving his wife, who was now sitting before me and the rest of him. I saw all that he had done. He had abused this woman for thirty years, and here and now out of spite and personal malice, because I had criticized the action of certain members of the race and eulogized the work of Booker T. Washington, whom the elder, along with many of the older members of the ministry, hated and would not allow his name mentioned in his home. I was to lose my wife to pay the penalty. He had disliked me from the beginning, but there had been no way he could get even. He was getting even, spiting me, securing my wife by coercion, and now spreading a report that I was mistreating her, an order to justify his action. Mrs. McCrae-Line, I said, speaking in a firm tone, do you believe this? Evading the direct question, she answered, You should have never placed yourself or Orlean in such a position. And then I understood, when Orlean had written her mother of the coming of the child, Mrs. McCrae-Line had not written or told the Reverend about it. I now understood, further, that she never told him anything, and never gave him any information if she could avoid it. What my wife had told me was proving itself, that is, that they got along with her father by avoiding any friction. He could not be reasoned with, but I could not believe any man would be mean enough to deliberately break up a home, and that the home of his daughter for so petty a reason. It became clear to me that he ruled by making himself so disagreeable that everyone near gave in to him to have peace. He had only that morning gone to his work. On hearing me, Ethel came downstairs and called up Claves. A few minutes later her mother called me, saying Claves wanted to talk to me. When I took the receiver and called hello, he answered like a crazy man. I said, What is the matter? I don't understand what you're talking about. What are you doing in my house after what you said about me? He shouted excitedly. Said about you? I asked. Yes, he replied. I hear you treated my wife like a dog after I sent her out there to attend to your wife, called me all kinds of bad names, and said I was only a 15 cent jockey.  Here I came to and said to myself that here was some more of the elders work. But I answered Claves. I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about. I treated your wife with the utmost courtesy while she was in Dakota. I never mentioned your name in any such terms as you're referred to, and I'm wholly at a loss to understand the condition of affairs I find here. I'm confused over it all. Well, he answered, Suppose you come down where I work and we'll talk it over. I'll do that, I answered, and went downtown where he worked on Wabash Avenue. One thing I had noticed about him was that while he was ignorant he was at least an honest, hard-working fellow, but was kept in fear by his wife and the elder. I saw after talking to him that he, like Mrs. McCrae-Line, did not believe a word of what the reverend had told about my mistreating his daughter, and that he submitted to the elder, as the rest of the family did, for the sake of peace. But they were all trained and avoided saying anything about the elder. During the conversation with Claves, he told me he kept up the house, paid all the grocery bills, and half the payments. He had been advanced to a salary of $18 a week and seemed to be well liked by the management. I went to a hotel run by colored people, and at about 7.30 that evening called up the house to see if Orlene had returned. She came to the phone, but before we had said much, were accidentally cut off. Hearing her voice excited me, and I wanted to see her, so hung up the receiver and hurried to the house, some 10 or 12 blocks away. When I rang the bell, Claves came to the door. Before he could let me enter, Ethel came running down the stairs, screaming as loudly as she could. Don't let him in! Don't let him in! You know what Papa said?  And continued screaming as loud as possible. I heard my wife crying in the back room. Claves had his hat on and came outside, saying, For God's sake, Ethel, hush up! You'll have all the neighborhood out. She continued to scream, and to stop her he closed the door. We went together on State Street, and I took a few scotch highballs and cocktails to try to forget it. The next day, being Sunday, Claves said he would try to get Ethel off to church, and then I could slip in and see Orlene. But she refused to go, and when I called up, about the time I thought she would be gone, she was on guard. My wife was at the phone and told me to come over, and she would try to slip out, but when I called, Ethel had made her go to bed. It seemed that she ran the house and all in it, when the elder was away. Mrs. McCrae-Line came outside, took me by the arm, and led me over to Groveland Park, near the lake. Here she unfolded a plan whereby I should find a room nearby, and she would slip or lean over to it. But this proved as unsuccessful as the other attempt, to steal a march on Ethel. She held the fort, and I did not get to see my wife but one hour, during the four days I was in Chicago. That was on Tuesday following, after Claves had tried every trick and failed to get Ethel away. This time he succeeded by telling her I had left town, but when I had been in the house an hour, Ethel came and started screaming. I had to get out before she would stop. The next day I called up and suggested to Orlene that I bring a doctor and leave her in his charge for I must return to Dakota. She consented, and I went to a young negro doctor on State Street and took him to the house, but when we arrived Ethel would not admit us. The doctor and I had roomed together before I left Chicago, while he was attending the Northwestern Medical School, and we had always been good friends. He had been enthusiastic over my success in the West, and it made me feel dreadfully embarrassed when we were refused admittance.  Why, Papa has never had a negro doctor in his house. Dr. Bryant is our doctor. Dr. Bryant, a white doctor, is said to have the biggest practice among colored people of any physician. That recalled to my mind some of the elders' declarations of a short time before. He had said on more than one occasion, I am sacrificing my life for this race, and would appear much affected. After I returned home, my wife began writing nice letters, and so did Claves, who had done all a hand-packed husband could do to help my wife and me. He wrote letters from the heart declaring his intention to be more than a friend. He would be a brother. I received a letter from him, which read, Chicago, Illinois, May 30th, 19. Dear friend Devereux, your kind and welcome letter was received a few days ago, and the reason you did not receive my last letter sooner was because I left it for Ethel to mail and she didn't do so. I am glad to hear you are getting your flax in good shape, and the prospects are fair for good crop, and now I will tell you about Orlene. She seems happier of late than she has been at any time since she came home. Now I don't know how you will feel, but I know it relieves my conscience when I say that your wife loves you and talks of you to me all the time. Those papers and pamphlets you sent telling all about the display Nicholson Brothers had on at the Omaha Land Show. She had opened it and when I came home she told me she could not wait because she was so anxious to hear about the little crow. She told me that Nicholson Brothers were your best friends. I imagine they must be smart fellows for every paper in the batch you sent me had something about them in it. She took the money you sent her and bought some shoes and had some pictures made so as to send you one. Mrs. Warner was over the next day and said where did you get the shoes? And she answered my husband sent them to me. Now I hope you will not worry because she told me as soon as she was well enough she was going back to Dakota and as for me I intend to be more than a friend to you. I am going to be a brother. From your dear friend E. M. Claves. My wife had written at the same time and used many we and ours in her letter and I felt the trouble would soon be over and she would be at home. That was the last letter I received from Claves and when I heard from my wife again it was all together different. Instead of an endearing epistle it was one of accusation, downright abusive. I made no complaint nor did I write to Claves to inquire why he had ceased writing. I had always judged people by their convictions and in this I knew the cause. End of Chapter 39 Chapter 40 of the Conquest This is a lever box recording. All lever box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit leverbox.org. Recording by Larry, Johnson City, Tennessee. The Conquest by Oscar Michaud. The Mennonites. During the first half of the 16th century, Men and Simmons founded a denomination of Christians in Friesland, a province of the Netherlands. Many of these Mennonites settled in northern Germany. This religious belief was opposed to military service and about the close of the American Revolution the Mennonites began immigrating until more than 50,000 of their numbers had found homes west of Dienpere near the Black Sea in southern Russia around Odessa. These people were fanatical in their belief, rejected infant baptism and original sin, believing in baptism only on profession of faith and were opposed to theological training. In Russia, as in Germany, they led lives of great simplicity, both secularly and religiously, and lived in separate communities. The gentle rolling lands with rich soil responded readily to cultivation and history proves the Germans always have been good farmers. The Mennonites found peace and prosperity in southern Russia until the Crimean War, being opposed to military service when Russia began living heavy taxes on their lands and heavier toll from their families. By taking the strong young men to carry on the war, the Mennonites became dissatisfied under the Russian government and left the country in great numbers, removing to America and settling along the Jim River in South Dakota. Among these settlers was a family by the name of Weisenberger who had grown prosperous, their forefathers having gone to Russia among the first although they were not Mennonites. Christopher, the youngest son, was among those drawn to go to the war, but the Weisenbergers were prosperous and paid the examining physician twelve hundred and fifty rubles about one thousand dollars to have Christopher made sick and pronounced unfit for service. With the approach of the Russian-Japanese War, when it was seen that Russia would be forced into war with Japan, the boys having married and with sons of their own who would have to draw, the Weisenberger brothers sold their land and set sail for America. At the time the war broke out, John and Jacob were living on homesteads in the county adjoining Tip County on the north, Christopher having settled in western Canada. It was while they were breaking prairie near my sister's homestead that I became acquainted with the former who at that time owned a hundred and fifty head of cattle, seventy-five head of horses, hogs, and all kinds of farm machinery besides the steam prairie breaking outfit and fifteen hundred acres of land between them. During rainy days along in April to pass the time away I would visit them and while sitting by the campfire was told of what I have written above but where they interest me most was when they discussed astrology and meteorology. They could give the most complete description of the zodiacal heavens and the different constellations. It seemed that astrology had interest their ancestors before leaving Germany nearly one hundred and thirty years before and it had been taught to each succeeding generation. They seemed to know the position of each planet and on several occasions when the nights were clear with a powerful telescope they would try to show them to me but as I knew little or nothing of astrology I understood but little of their discussions concerning the heliocentric longitude of all the planets or the points at which they would appear if seen from the sun. Before many months rolled around I had good reason to believe at least part of what they tried to explain to me and that was that according to the planets we were nearing a certain Jupiter disturbance and what does that mean I asked that means they explained it will be dry. Jupiter said John as he leisurely rolled a cigarette. Circum navigates the sun once while the earth goes around it twelve times. In Russia Jupiter's position got between the sun and the constellation Pisces, Aries, Taurus and Gemini and it was invariably wet and cool and small grain crops were good but as it passed on and it got between the sun and the constellations Libra and Scorpio it was always followed by a minimum of rainfall and a maximum heat which caused a severe drought. They had hoped it would be different in America but explain further that when they lived in Russia it commenced to get dry around St. Petersburg Warsaw and all northern Russia a year or so before it did in southern Russia. They had relatives living around Menon in Hutchinson County South Dakota who had witnessed the disastrous drought during Cleveland's administration. Jupiter was nearing the position it had then occupied and would in 60 days be at the same position it had been at that time. While few people pay any attention to weather, dobsters, I did a little thinking and remembered it had been dry in southern Illinois at that time and I began to feel somewhat uneasy. According to their knowledge if the same in southern America as it had been in southern Russia it would begin to get dry about a year before the worst drought, then a very dry year. The third year would begin to improve and after the fourth year conditions would again become normal but the consensus of their opinion was there would be a drought. Or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org A cloudy and threatening day in May, there came an inch of rainfall. I had completed sowing 250 acres of flax a few days before and soon everything looked beautiful and green. I felt extremely hopeful. During the six years I had been farming in Dakota I had raised from fair to good crops every year. The seasons had been favorable and if a good crop had not been raised it was not the fault of the soil or from lack of rainfall. The previous year had not been as wet as others but I had raised a fair crop and at this time had 410 acres in crop and 110 acres rented out from which I was to receive one-third of the crop. I had come west with hopes of bettering my financial condition and had succeeded fairly well. Around me at this time others had grown prosperous. Land had advanced until some land adjoining Magori had brought $100 per acre and land a few miles from town sold for $50 to $80 per acre. Before settling in the west I had read in real estate advertisements all about the wheat land that could be bought from $10 to $25 per acre that would raise from $25 to $40 bushels of wheat to the acre. While all this was quite possible I had never raised over $25 bushels per acre and mostly harvested from $10 to $20. I had wondered before I left Chicago how at a yield of 30 bushels per acre and for the last seven or eight years prices had ranged from $0.70 to $1 per bushel for wheat the farmers could spend all the money. Of course I had learned in six years that $25 to $40 or $50 bushels per acre while possible was far from probable and considerably above the average. The average yield for all wheat raised in the United States is about $14 bushels per acre but crops had averaged from fair to good all over the northwest for some 15 or 16 years with some exceptions and the question I had heard asked years before will the drought come again was about forgotten. During the three years previous to this time poor people from the east and around Magorri and Callis as well who were not able to pay the prices demanded for relinquishments and deeded lands in Magorri, Tip County or the eastern states had flocked by thousands to the western part of the state and taken free homesteads. At the beginning of this my seventh season in Dakota the agricultural report showed an exceedingly large number of acres had been seeded and the same report which was issued June 8th reported the condition of all growing crops to be up to the 10-year average and some above. It was on Sunday. I had quit breaking prairie on account of the ground being too dry and while going along the road I noticed a field of spelt that looked peculiar. Going into the field I dug my fingers into the soil and found it dry. I could not understand how it had dried out so quickly but thinking it would rain again in a few days it had been but 10 days since the rain I thought no more about it. The following week although it clouded up and appeared very threatening the clouds passed and no rain fell. On Saturday I drove into Ritten and on the way again noticed the peculiar appearance of the growing plants. It was the topic of discussion in the town but no one seemed willing to admit that it was from the lack of moisture. The weather had been very hot all week and the wind seemed to blow continually from the south. In past years after about two days of south winds we were almost sure to have rain. The fact that the wind had blown from the south for nearly two weeks and no rain had fallen caused everybody to be anxious. That night was cloudy. The thunder and lightning lasted for nearly two hours but when I went to the door I could see the stars and the next day the heat was most intense. The Wessenburgers had said the heavens would be ablaze with lightning and resound with peals of thunder but that they were only solstice storms coming up in unusual directions and that such storms were characteristic of a dry season. Furthermore that heavy abnormal rains would occur in scattered localities at the same time but they would be few and far apart.  The telegram was not answered. Next morning my sister left for Kansas and that afternoon a heavy downpour of rain fell all over Magory County and as far west as Victor but north of Ritten where I had my flax crop there was scarcely sufficient rain to lay the dust. On that day the hot wind set in and lasted for seven weeks the wind blowing steadily from the south all the while. I had never before, during the seven years, suffered to any extent from the heat but during that time I could not find a cool place. The wind never ceased during the night but sounded its mournful tune without a pause. Then came a day when the small grain in Tip County was beyond redemption and rattled as leaves in November. The atmosphere became stifling and the scent of burning plants sickening. My flax on the sod which was too small to be hurt at the beginning of the drought began to need rain and reports in all daily papers told that the great heatwave and the drought in many places were worse than in Tip County. All over the western and northern part of the state were localities where it had not rained that season. Potatoes, wheat, oaks, flax and corn in the western part of the state had not sprouted and it was said in a part of Butte County where seed had been sown four inches deep the year before there had not been enough rain since to make it sprout. The government had spent several million dollars damning the Bell Forge River for the purpose of irrigation and the previous autumn when it had been completed the water in it had been run onto the land to see how it would work and since had been dry. No snow had fallen in the mountains during the winter and all the rivers were as dry as the roads while all the way from the gulf to Canada the now protracted drought was burning everything in its wake. At Kansas City where the treacherous caw empties its waters into the Missouri and had for years wrought disaster with its notorious floods drowning out two and sometimes three crops in a single spring was nearly dry and the crops were drying up throughout its valley. I spent the fourth of July in Victor where the people shook their heads gravely and said Tip County will never raise a crop. The crops had dried up in Tip County the year before. I had read that the railroad men who run from Kansas City to Dodge City reported that the pastures through Kansas were so dry along the route that a louse could be seen crawling a half mile away and parts of Iowa the farmers commenced to put their stock in pens and fed them hay from about the middle of June there being no feed in the pastures. Through eastern Nebraska western Iowa and southern Minnesota the grasshoppers began to appear by the millions and proceeded to head the small grain. To save it the farmers cut and fed it to stock in pens. The markets were being overrun with thin cattle from the western ranges where the grass had never started on account of lack of moisture. I watched my flax crop and early in July noticed it beginning to wilt then millions of army worms began cutting it down. On the eleventh I left for Magory County with my stock to harvest the winter wheat there. It had been partially saved by the rain in June. The 285 acres of flax was a brown sickly looking mess and I was badly discouraged for outside of my family trouble I had borrowed my limit at the bank and the flax seed breaking and other expenses had amounted to eleven hundred dollars. About this time the settlers all over the western highlands began to desert their claims. Newspapers reported Oklahoma burned to a crisp and Kansas scorched from Kansas City to the Colorado line. Homesteaders to the north and west of us began passing through the county and their appearance presented a contrast to that of a few years before. Fine horses that marched bravely to the land of promise drawing a prairie schooner were returning east with heads hanging low from long stringy necks while their alkali hoofs beat a slow tattoo as they wearily dragged along drawing in many cases a dilapidated wagon over which was stretched a tattered tarpaulin. While others drew rickety hacks or spring wagons with dirty bedding and filthy looking utensils. These people had not made a dollar in the two years spent on their homesteads. At Pierre it was said seven hundred crossed the Missouri in a single day headed east while in the settlements they had left the few remaining settlers went from one truck patch to another digging up the potatoes that had been planted in the spring for food. One day I crossed the White River and went to visit the Whisenburgers who live seventeen miles to the north. On the way out of forty seven houses I passed only one had an occupant. The land in that county is underlaid with a hard pan about four inches from the surface and had not raised a crop for two years. The settlers had left the country to keep from starving. As I drove along the dusty road and gazed into the empty houses through the front doors that banged to and fro with a monotonous tone from the force of the hot south winds I felt lonely and far away. The only living thing in sight being an occasional dog that had not left with its master or had returned but on seeing me ran with tucked tail like a frightened coyote. Merchants were being pressed by the wholesale houses. The recent years had been prosperous and it is said prosperity breeds contempt and recklessness. The townspeople and many farmers had indulged lavishly in chug-chug cars. Bankers in wholesale houses, who had always criticized so much automobile-ism, were now making some wish they had never heard the exhaust of a motor. In addition to this the speculators were loaded to the guards with lands carrying as heavy mortgage as could be had, which was large, for prosperity had caused loan companies to increase the amount of their loans. No one wanted to buy. Everyone wanted to sell. The echo of the drowth seventeen years before and the disaster which followed rang through the country and had the effect of causing prices to slump from five to fifteen dollars per acre less than a year before. Now what made it worse for Tip County was that it had been opened when prosperity was at its zenith. The people were money-mad, reckless from the prosperity which had caused them to dispense with caution and good judgment. They were brought suddenly to a realization of a changed condition. The new settlers, all from eastern points, came into Tip County seeing Tip County claims worth not six dollars per acre, the price charged by the government, but finding ready sales at prices ranging from twenty-five to forty-five dollars and even fifty dollars per acre. They had spent money accordingly and now when the parched fields frowned an old Jupiter Pluvius refused to speak the community faced a genuine panic. Came a day sultry and stifling with excessive heat when I drove back to the claims. Everywhere along the way were visible the effects of the drowth. Vegetation had withered and the trails gave forth clouds of dust. Late in the afternoon clouds appeared in the northwest and the earth trembled with the resounding peals of thunder. The lightning played dangerously near and then, like the artillery of a mighty battle, the storm broke loose and the rain fell in torrents, filling the draws and ravines and overflowing the creeks which ran for days after. All over the north country the drowth was broken and plant life began anew. My wheat threshed about eight hundred bushels and when marketed the money received was not sufficient to pay current expenses. Therefore I could not afford the outlay of another trip to Chicago, but wrote many letters to Orlean imploring her to return, but all in vain. During the summer I had received many letters from people in Chicago and southern Illinois denouncing the action of the elder in preventing my wife from returning home. The contents of these letters referred to the matter as an infamous outrage and sympathized with me by hoping my wife would have courage to stand up for the right. I rather anticipated that with so much criticism of his action by the people belonging to the churches in his circuit he would relent and let her return home, but he remained obstinate. The months continued to roll by and my wife stayed on. I had not written her concerning the drowth, which had so badly impaired crops. I knew her people read all the letters she received and felt that with the knowledge in their possession that my crop had been cut short, along with the rest, would not help my standing. They would be sure to say to her, I told you so. The last letter that I received from my wife that year was written early in the fall in answer to a letter that I wrote her, and in which I had sent her some money, with which to buy some things for my grandmother. When Orlean had been in Dakota she had been very fond of my grandmother and had asked about her in every letter whether the letter was kind or abusive as regarded me. My wife's letter stated that she had received the money and thanked me also stated that she would get the things for Grandma that day. Neither grandmother or I received the things. I was so wrought up over it all, yet saw no place where I could get justice. In order to show the Reverend that he was being criticized by friends of the family, I gathered up some half-dozen or more letters, including the last one from Claves, and one from Mrs. Uis, and sent them to him. The one from Mrs. Uis related how he had written to her, just before he took my wife away, saying that she was in dire need and wanted to borrow twenty-five dollars to bring her home. Needless to say she had not sent it, nor assisted him in any other way in helping to break up the home. As a result, she said, he had not spoken to her since. I learned later that the letters I had sent had made him terribly angry. I received a letter from him, the contents of which were about the same as his conversation had been, accepting that he did not profess any love for me, which at least was a relief, but from the contents I derived that he had expected his act to give him immortality, and expressed surprise that he should be criticized for coming to Dakota and saving the life of his child, as he put it, from the heartless man that was killing her in his efforts to get rich. He seemed to forget to mention any of the facts which had occurred during his last trip, namely, his many declarations of undying love for us, of how glad he was that we were doing so much toward the development of the Great West, and his remarks that if he was twenty-five years younger it was where he would be. He also suggested that he would try to be transferred to the Omaha district so that he might be nearer us. And Chapter 41. Chapter 42 of The Conquest. This is a LibriVox recording. A LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Betty B. The Conquest by Oscar Michel. A year of coincidences. Although the drought had been broken all over the north, it lingered on to the south. My parents wrote me from Kansas that thousands of acres of wheat sown early in the fall had failed to sprout. It had been so dry. The ground was as dry as powder and the winds were blowing the grain out of the sandy soil, which was drifting in great piles along the fences and in the road. The government's final estimated yield of all crops was the smallest it had been for ten years. As a result, loan companies would allow interest to accumulate for one in two years in the hope that the farmers and other investors would be able to sell, such having been the conditions of the past, now began to threaten foreclosure and money became hard to get. From the south came reports that many counties in Oklahoma that were loaded with debt had defaulted for two years on the interest and county warrants that had always brought a premium sold at a discount. The rain that had followed the drought in the north as the winter months set in began to move south and about Christmas came the heaviest snows the south had known for years. With the snows came low temperatures that lasted for weeks. As far south as Oklahoma City, zero weather gripped the country and to the west the cattle left on the ranges froze to death by the thousands. A large part of those that lived few were fit for the market. They were so thin were sold to eastern speculators at gift prices due to the fact that rough feed was not to be had. The heavy snows that covered the entire country from the Rocky Mountains to the Atlantic and the bitter cold weather that followed made shipping hazardous. Therefore, the rural districts suffered in every way. Snow continued to fall and the cold weather held forth until it was to be seen. When warm weather arrived the change would be sudden and floods would result. Such was the case. It was a year of coincidences. The greatest drought known for years followed by the coldest winter and the heaviest snows and these in turn by disastrous floods will live long in memory. To me the days were long and the nights lonely. The late fall rains kept my flax growing until winter had set in and snow fell before it was all harvested. All I could see in my crop was little white elevations over the field. There was no chance to get it threshed. My capital had all been exhausted and it was a dismal prospect indeed. I used to sit there in my wife's lonely claim house with nothing else to occupy my mind but to live over the happy events connected with our courtship and marriage and the sad events following her departure. During my life on the little crow I had looked forward joyfully to the time when I should be a husband and father with a wife to love and a home of my own. This had been so dominant in my mind that when I thought it over I could not clearly realize the present situation. I lived in a sort of stupor and my very existence seemed to be a dreadful nightmare. I would at times rouse myself pinch the flesh and move about to see if it was my real self and would try to shake off the loneliness which completely enveloped me. My head ached and my heart was rung with agony. I read a strange story but its contents seemed so true to life. It related the incident of a criminal who had made an escape from a prison not for freedom but to get away for only an hour that he might find a cat or a dog or something that he could love. It seems he had been an author and by chance came upon a woman during the time of his escape who permitted him to love her and during the short recess to her he recited a poem entitled the right to love. The words of that poem burned in my mind. Love is only where is reply I speak you answer there am I and that is life everlasting. Love lives to seek reply I speak no answer then I die to seek reincarnation. As the cold days and long nights passed slowly by and I cared for the stock and held down my wife's claim the title of that story evolved in my mind and I would repeat it until it seemed to drive me near insanity. I sought consolation and hope and the winter days passed at last but I continued to hope until I had grown to feel that when I saw my wife and called to her name she would hear me and see the longing in my heart and soul then would come the day of redemption. End of chapter 42 Chapter 43 And Satan Came Also Came a day when the snow had disappeared my threshing was done I had money again and to Chicago I journeyed. During the winter I had planned a way to get to see my wife and took the first step toward carrying it out immediately following my arrival in the city. I went to a telephone and called up Mrs. Uis. She recognized my voice and knew what I had come for. She said I am so glad I was near the phone when you called up because your father-in-law is in the house this very minute. On hearing this I was taken aback for it had not occurred to me that he might be in the city. As the realization that he was it became clear to me I felt ill at ease and asked how he came to be in the city at that time. Well and from her tone I could see that she was also disturbed. You see tomorrow is election and yesterday was Easter so he came home to vote and be here Easter at the same time. Now let me think a moment she said nervously. Finally she called Oscar I tell you what I will do. Ph is sick and the reverend has been here every day to see him. Here she paused again then went on. I will try to get him to go home but he stays late. However you call up in about an hour and if he's still here I'll say this is the wrong number. See. Yes I said gratefully and hung up the receiver. I had by this time become so nervous that I trembled and then went down into custom house place. I had talked from the poke street station and took a couple of drinks to try to get steady. In an hour and a half I called up again and it was the wrong number so I went out south and called on a young railroad man and his wife by the name of Lilis who were friends of Orleans and mine. After expressing themselves as being puzzled as to why the reverend should want to separate us Mrs. Lilis told me of her. During the conversation Mrs. Lilis said after you left last year I went over to see Orleans and spoke at length of you of how brokenhearted you appear to be and that she should be in Dakota. Mrs. McCrae lion looked uncomfortable and tried to change the subject but I said my mind and watched Orleans. In the meantime I thought she would faint right there. She looked so miserable and unhappy.  Everybody is wondering how her father can be so mean and continue to keep her from returning home to you. But Mrs. U.S. Ken and will help you get her because she can do more with that family than anyone else. She and the elder have been such close friends for the last fifteen years and she should be able to manage him.   But I cannot for my life see why if Orleans loves you she lets her father keep her away from you. Now here is my milly she went on turning her eyes to her daughter and bell too why I could no more separate them from their husbands than I could fly even if I was mean enough to want to. But why does he do it mama the Reverend wants to break up the home of Orleans and Oscar Mrs. Lillis put in anxiously.  I have known N. J. McCray Lyon for thirty years and he has been a rascal all the while. I am not surprised at anything that he would do. Well said Mrs. Lillis with a sigh of resignation it puzzles me. I then told them about calling up Mrs. Uis and what I had planned on doing. It was then about 9.30 as they had a phone I called Mrs. Uis again. While talking I had forgotten the signal and remembered it only when I heard Mrs. Uis calling frantically from the other end of the wire. This is the wrong number Mr. this is the wrong number.  On the street the effect of what had passed began to weaken me. I was almost overcome but finally arrived at Mrs. Anken's. Just before retiring at 11 o'clock I again called up Mrs. Uis and it was still the wrong number. I went to bed and spent a restless night. I awakened about 5.30 from a troubled sleep, jumped up, dressed, then went out and caught a car for the west side. I felt sure the elder would go home during the night. It is always very slow getting from the south to the west side in Chicago on a surface car and it was after 7 o'clock when I arrived at the address an apartment building where Mrs. Uis's husband held the position as janitor and where they made their home in the basement. She was just coming from the grocery and greeted me with a cheerful good morning and do you know that Rascal stayed here until 12 o'clock last night? She laughed. She called him Rascal as a nickname. She took me into their quarters, invited me to a chair, sat down and began to talk in a serious tone. Now, Oscar, I understand your circumstances thoroughly and I'm going to help you and Orlean in every way I can. You understand Reverend McClayline has always been hard-headed and the class of ministers he associates with are more hard-headed still. The elders never liked you because of your independence and from the fact that you would not let him rule your house and submit to his ruling as Cleves does. Now Oscar, let me give you some advice. Maybe you are not acquainted with the circumstances for if you had been in the beginning you might have avoided this trouble. What I am telling you is from experience and I know it to be true. Don't ever criticize the preachers to their faces especially the older ones. They know their views and practices in many instances to be out of keeping with good morals but they are not going to welcome any criticism of their acts. In fact, they will crucify criticism and persecute those who have criticized them.  His family admire the educator and so do I but we don't let on to him. Now I have a plan in mind which I feel a most plausible one and which I believe will work out best for you, Orlean and myself. Before I mention it I want to speak concerning the incident of last fall. When you sent him that bunch of letters with mine in it he fairly raised Cain. As a result the family quit speaking to me and Orlean has not been over here for six months until she and Ethel came a few days before Easter to get the hats I have always given them. Now she went on seeming to become excited if I should invite or lean over the elder would come along which I knew to be true. When you wrote me last summer in regard to taking her to a summer resort so you could come and get her I told Mary Arling about it. Now to be candid Mrs. Arling and I are not the best of friends you know she drinks a little too much and I don't like that but Mary Arling is a friend of yours and a smart woman. Is that so I asked showing interest for I admired Mrs. Arling and her husband. Yes Mrs. Uis reassured me she is a friend of yours and you know all the McCrae line family admire the Arlings and Orlean goes there often. Well as I was saying she went on. Last summer out at a picnic Mrs. Arling got tipsy enough to speak her mind and she simply laid the family out about you. She told the Reverend right to his teeth that he was a dirty rascal and knew it always had been and that it was a shame before God and man the way he was treating you. Yes she said it she reassured me when I appeared to doubt a little. And she told me she wished you had asked her to take Orlean away that she would not only have taken her away from Chicago but would have carried her back to Dakota where she wanted to be instead of worrying her life away in Chicago in fear of her father's wrath. So now my plan is that you go over to her house see you know the address. I knew the house well and she put it down on a piece of paper you go over there she will help you and ask her for God's sake she implored with tears in her eyes do be careful. I know Orlean loves you and you do her but the Reverend has it in for you and if he learned you were in the city Orlean would not be allowed to leave the house. Now she added I will get him over here as soon as I can and you do your part goodbye. I took a roundabout way in getting back to the south side keeping out of the colored neighborhood as long as possible by taking a hostage streetcar south got a transfer and took a 35th streetcar. I was careful to avoid meeting anyone who might know me but who might not be aware of my predicament and who might thoughtlessly inform the McCray lines. I arrived at Mrs. Arling's without meeting anyone who knew me however. They owned and occupied an elaborate flat at an address in this 37th block on Wabash Avenue. I rang the bell which was answered by a young lady unknown to me but who I surmised roomed at the house she inquired the name and when I had told her she let out an oh and invited me into the parlor she hurried away to tell Mrs. Arling who came immediately and holding both hands out to me said I am so glad you came at last Oscar I am so glad. After we had said a few words concerning the weather etc. I said in a serious tone Mrs. Arling I am being persecuted on account of my ideas. I know it Oscar I know it she repeated nodding her head vigorously and appeared eager. I then related briefly the events of the past year including the reverence trip to Dakota. Raising her arms in a gesture she said if you remember the day after you were married when we had the family and you over to dinner and you and Richard her husband talked on race matters that the elder never joined well when you had gone Richard said Oscar and the elder are not going to be friends long for their views are too far apart when he brought Orlean home last year I said to Richard Reverend McCrae line is up to some trick continuing she went on to tell me you are aware how bitter most of the colored preachers are in regard to Booker T. Washington yes I assented Mrs. Ueson I talked the matter over and she said the Reverend had it in for you from the beginning that is he wanted to crush your theories and have you submissive like Ethel's husband he was more anxious to have you look up to him because you had something but after he found out you were not going to well this is the result now Oscar whatever you suggest if it isn't my power to do so I will carry it out because I am sure Orlean loves you she always seems so glad when I talk with her about you she comes over often she went on and we get to talking about you now before I tell you more you must not feel that she does not care for you because she allows her father to keep her away from you Orlean is just simple babylike and is easy to rule she gets that from her mother for you know Marianne is helpless I nodded and she continued as for the Reverend he has raised them to obey him and they do to the letter the family with claves thrown in fear him but as I was going to say Orlean told me when I asked her why she did not go back to you well I don't know you know how she drags her speech Oscar loves me and we never had a quarrel in fact there's nothing wrong between us and Oscar would do anything to please me the only thing I did not like was that Oscar thought more of his land and money that he did of me and I wanted to be first isn't that deplorable I put in shaking my head sadly of course it is she replied with a shrug why that could be settled in 15 minutes if it were not for that old preacher she always likes to talk of you and it seems to do her good now my plan is I started with a determined expression to have you call her up see yes yes she answered anxiously and invite her over on pretense of accompanying you to a matinee yes yes and then her face seemed to brighten with an idea and she said why not go to a matinee why yes I assented I had not thought of that then why sure fine and dandy we will all go yes indeed I replied with good cheer she went to the phone and called up the number in a few minutes she returned wearing a jubilant expression and cried I've fixed it she is coming over and we will all go to matinee won't it be fine she continued jumping up and down and clapping her hands joyfully beside herself with enthusiasm and I joined her two hours later mrs. height the young lady that answered the door when I came that morning called from the lookout where she had been watching while mrs. Arling was dressing and I too nervous to sit still was walking to and fro across the room that or lean was coming we had been uneasy for fear the elder might hear of my being in the city before or lean got away I rushed to the window and saw my wife coming leisurely along the walk entirely ignorant of the anxious eyes watching her from the second story window I could see at first glance she had grown fleshy she had begun before she left south dakota it was a bay window and we watched her until she had come up the steps and pulled the bell mrs. Arling had told me my wife did not have any gentleman company I had not felt she had for in the first place she was not that kind of a woman and if her father by his ways discouraged any men in coming to see her while she was single he was sure to discourage any afterward but mrs. Arling had added I told her I was going to get her a bow so you could get behind the door and when she comes in I will tell her that I have found the bow I obeyed and after a little or lean walked into the room smiling and catching her breath from the exertion of coming up the steps I stepped behind her and covered her eyes with my hands mrs. Arling chirped that is your bow so you see I have kept my word and there he is is I withdrew my hands and my wife turned and exclaimed oh and sank weekly into a chair we had returned from the theater where we witnessed a character play with a moral a romance of the underworld we had tickets for an evening performance to see Robert Mantell in Richelieu mrs. Arling ushered us into her sitting room closed the door and left us to ourselves I took my wife by the hand led her to a rocker sat down and drew her down on my knee and began with now dear let us talk it over I knew about what to expect and was not mistaken she began to tell me of the wrongs I had done her and the like I calculated this would last about an hour and she would begin to relent and she did after I had listened so patiently without interrupting her but before I felt quite satisfied she wanted to go to the phone and call up the house to tell the folks that I was in town don't do that dear I implored I don't want them to know that is just yet the reason I wasn't easy and wanted her to wait a while was that I felt her father would go to call on mrs. us about eight o'clock and it was now only seven but she seemed restless and ill at ease and persisted that she should call up a mother and let her know so I consented reluctantly then as she was on the way to the phone I called her and said now or lean there are two things a woman cannot be at the same time and that is a wife to her husband and a daughter to her father she must sacrifice one or the other I know it she replied and appeared to be confused and hesitant but knowing she would never be at ease until she had called up I said go ahead and she did I shall not soon forget the expression on her face then the look of weak appeal that she turned on me when her father's deep voice rang through the phone in answer to her hello the next instant she appeared to sway and then leaned against the wall trembling as she answered oh papa and seeming to have no control of her voice she now appeared frightened while mrs. Arling and mrs. height stood near holding their breath and looked discouraged she finally managed to get it out but hardly above a whisper Oscar is here well he answered and his voice could be heard distinctly by those standing near well he seemed to roar in a commanding way why don't you bring him to the house what passed after that I do not clearly remember but I have read lots of instances of where people lost their heads where if they would have had presence of mind they might have saved their army won some great victory or done something else as notorious but in this I may be classed as one of the unfortunate's who simply lost his head that is how it was described later but speaking for myself when I heard the voice of the man who had secured my wife by coercion and kept her away from me a year which had caused me to suffer and turned my existence into a veritable nightmare the things that pass through my mind during the few moments thereafter are sad to describe I heard his voice say again why don't you bring him to the house but I could only seem to see her being torn from me while he a massive brute stood over lecturing me for what he termed my sins but what were merely the ideas of a free American citizen how could I listen to a lecture from a person with his reputation this formed in my mind and added to the increasing but suppressed anger I could see other years passing with nothing to remember my wife by but the little songs she had sung so often while we were together in Dakota roses roses roses bring memory of you dear roses so sweet and endearing roses with dew of the mourn you were fresh for a day then you faded away red roses bring memories of you the next moment I had taken the receiver from her hand and called hello reverend mccrayline hello rev mccrayline and a savage tone when he had answered I continued in a more savage voice you asked my wife why she did not bring me to the house yes he answered his voice had changed from the commanding tone and now appeared a little salacious yes why don't you come to the house I seem to hear it as an insult I did not seem to understand what he meant although I understood the words clearly they seemed however to say come to the house and I will take your wife and then kick you into the street I answered with anger burning my voice I don't want to come to your house because the last time I was there I was kicked out do you hear kicked out well I did not do it now I had looked for him to say that very thing I felt sure that he had put Ethel up to the evil doing of a year before and now claimed to know nothing about it which was like him it made me already crazed with anger more furious and I screamed over the phone I know you didn't and I knew that was what you would say but I know you left orders for it to be done where is Orlean he put in his voice returning to authoritative tone she's here with me I yelled and hung up the receiver viciously it was only then I realized that Mrs. Arling and Mrs. Hyte had hold of each arm and had been shouting in my ears all this while Oscar Mr. Devereaux Oscar don't don't and in the meantime fear seemed to have set my wife in a state of terror she now turned on me in tones that did not appear natural the words I cannot to this day believe but I had become calm and now pled with her on my knees and with tears but her eyes saw me not and her ears seemed deaf to entreaty she raved like a crazy woman and declared she hated me of a sudden someone rang the bell viciously and Mrs. Arling commanded me to go up the stairs I retreated against my will she opened the door and in walked the reverend Orlean ran to him and fell into his arms and cried papa I do not know what I would do if it were not for you and kissed him she had not kissed me after a pause I went up to him as I approached he turned and looked at me with a dreadful sneer in his face which seemed to say so I have caught you tried to steal a march on me a and the eyes they were the same the eyes of a pig expressionless feeling strange but composed I advanced to where he stood laid my hands upon his shoulder looked into his face and said slowly Reverend McCreline don't take my wife paused and then went on why could you not leave us for a day we were happy not an hour ago here my stare must have burned my look into his face was so intense and he looked away but without emotion and now I ask you for the sake of humanity and injustice to mankind don't take my wife not answering me he said to my wife do you want your papa yes yes she said and leaned on him then she looked into his face and said he insulted you yes yes dear he answered he has done that right along but you step outside and papa will tend to him she still clung to him and said he has made you suffer he bowed his head and feigned to suffer I stood looking on mechanically he repeated run outside dear and he stood holding the door open then realization seemed to come to her she turned and threw herself into mrs. Arling's arms weakly and broke into mournful sobs her father drew her gently from the embrace and with her face in her hands and still sobbing she passed out he followed and through the open door I caught a glimpse of claves on the sidewalk below the man who had written not a year before I am going to be a brother and help you the next moment the door closed softly behind them that was the last time I saw my wife the end end of chapter 43 and of the conquest by oscar michael


Hey, welcome back everybody. Today I just wanted to quickly go through this ABC segment that I saw today because it's just so full of lies and misinformation and lots of claims that never get backed up with any sort of evidence, just these sort of broad claims that they throw out there that are part of the narrative and never really get questioned. So I'm gonna go through these segments and try to correct some of the lies and add context to these claims, these broad claims that they make over and over, you know, hoping that just repeating it over and over will make it true because they never actually have any evidence to back any of this stuff up. But it's gone far beyond just media bias at this point. And now they're literally just inciting half the country to violence and justifying it with these broad claims that they make that really, you know, aren't backed up by the stats or the facts. So let's just get started here. You know, when your president can't say black lives matter, when the entire country is saying black lives matter, when he speaks for 76 minutes and does not invoke the name of the young man who was murdered, but then talks about the quote unquote violence is happening as a result of that. Okay. So first off, this is Yvette Simpson. She's supposedly a political journalist over at ABC News, but sounding a lot more like a political propagandist for the DNC. She's worth one to five million dollars. Okay. She's not filthy rich, but she's definitely doing well for herself.  And not only is this woman a millionaire, but her voice is elevated above most in this country. So she's got a lot of power and influence as well. I'm going to get right back to tearing apart this segment. But first, let me take a quick capitalism break to thank this episode's sponsor, Biotrust Ageless Multicollegin. Collegin makes your skin healthy and gives you a youthful look. It strengthens nails, hair, teeth, and gut health, maintains muscle, improves joints, and so much more.  I highly recommend it. As an added bonus, if you order today, they'll give you free shipping, free VIP live health and fitness coaching for life, and a free e-report on the 14 foods for amazing skin. If you order today, you can save up to 51% off Ageless Multicollegin. And rest assured knowing this company offers a 60-day money-back guarantee, even on empty bags. Go to www.healthwithdronetech.com and order today. Or click the link in the description or pinned comment. Next, I'm so tired of hearing about honest conversations from these people. They don't want conversations much less honest ones.  Which is not true. Camilla Harris actually made this exact same claim and was never fact-checked on it, of course. And Joe speaks the words and actually knows how to say the words black lives matter. Contrary to what the President of the United States, the current President of the United States does, which is just so hate and division full-time and has never spoken those words and will never speak the words black lives matter. And black lives matter? Nobody's done better for our black community than me. So the phrase black lives matter is obviously fine. The vast majority of people in the world, in this country, definitely agree with that. Most people think that all human life matters. That's why this wasn't breaking news for anybody. Like, most people understand that human life matters, which includes black lives. But as we all know, there's a big difference between the phrase and the organization. The phrase is benign and it's true, nobody disagrees with it. But the organization, on the other hand, is a far-left extremist, self-labeled Marxist organization. This is like some neo-Nazis getting together and starting an organization called the Good Guys, then getting on TV and demonizing anybody who doesn't want to join up with the Good Guys. I'm not a Marxist communist. I don't agree with dismantling the country, its history, or the nuclear family. I don't agree with making demands and threats of violence if those demands aren't met. I don't agree with blocking traffic and intimidating drivers, keeping them from their right to travel on their way, which is just the height of irony to me. What right do these people have to stand on the road and keep people from going where they want to go? And it's not even like they just stand there, they actively intimidate the drivers and try to exert their authority, their non-existent authority on them. This lady wants you thinking that the phrase and the organization are one and the same, which is why you can't trust anything that you hear from these people. When he speaks for 76 minutes and does not invoke the name of the young man who was murdered, but then talks about the quote-unquote violence that's happening as a result of that? Lastly here, she says that Trump won't say the name of the young man who was murdered. Who is she talking about? Because if she's talking about Jacob Blake, he's not dead. And this is concerning to me because over and over now, I've seen people in the media claim that this guy is dead. But she went even further than that. She said he was murdered. I mean, we don't know all the facts of this right now. All we have is a video that I have to say doesn't look very good for Jacob Blake. But she's proclaiming that he was murdered. That's highly irresponsible, especially for somebody who's supposed to be a professional journalist. You just mentioned in the backdrop, Jacob Blake just died when this march was already planned. So to keep saying, leave it to Congress, that's not working. To say this vote, that's not working because black people are still getting killed every week. Okay, wow, there was a lot, there was a lot wrong in that. So you might have noticed he said that he, Jacob Blake, was dead. So that's twice within the same programming that they claim this guy is dead. And I've heard it on other broadcasts, and I've been reading it over and over on Twitter from news organizations and pundits. And of course, just the people that follow them. Just random people out there saying, Jacob, where are they getting this? They're getting it because the news keeps telling them that this guy is dead. I just did a video the other day about somebody on PBS making the exact same claim. And of course, not being fact-checked on it. And this really gets to my point and why I'm angry about what I'm constantly hearing from these people in the media. Because so much of this rhetoric surrounding BLM and so-called racial justice, whatever that is, it's all based on misinformation and, yes, conspiracy theories. And many times they're pointing to these alleged victims, and these are their martyrs, people like Travon Martin, who they claim is a victim, despite the fact he was the attacker. He's the guy that attacked somebody else and then got shot. A jury felt the exact same way. Or they point to Breonna Taylor, but it's not that cut and dry. They say Breonna Taylor, say her name. She's this hallowed victim, but it's not that cut and dry. She was involved in selling drugs, which is why the warrant was for her address. Because a drug dealer was showing up to her house to either unload the drugs or unload the money. And that's why the police got the warrant. But when the police showed up there and started banging on the door, the boyfriend got up and as soon as they got through the door he shot at them. And so that's what led to the firefight. It had nothing to do with skin color or race or any of that. It's literally the cops busted in, he shot at them, they shot back. So again, it's like there's so much misinformation floating around about that. Sure, there may be an argument for why no-knock warrants are bad, even though they did knock and they did announce themselves in this case. But there are lots of cases like this where innocent people get killed on these no-knock warrants. There was two white people killed in Houston of a false no-knock warrant that two black police officers lied to get and then it resulted in two white people dead. Did you ever even hear about that? No, nobody has. Because if they did talk about that, then again their narrative would shatter. They point to Michael Brown and they scream, hands up, don't shoot, which never happened. I mean, it's literally a conspiracy theory that was popularized by left-wing media. You look at these police shootings, it's incredibly rare that you find a genuine example of murder motivated by racism or murder or murder motivated by racism. It's so incredibly rare. You got to keep in mind there are over 600,000 cops in this country that have millions and millions of interactions with people every year. If this were some really widespread thing, you would literally be seeing it every day. Now, you're going to hear people in the media say that it's happening every day, which is obviously hyperbole. It's a lie. It's not happening every day. I mean, if you want to talk about black lives being lost every day, it's happening in these Democrat-run cities and it's usually related to gang warfare and you really don't hear much about it. I mean, we hear about in Chicago from time to time how many people were shot over the weekend, but it really goes on all over the country along the coastal cities and this gang warfare every day. It's been going on since the 80s.  It's not true.  It's that gang violence I was just talking about. And guess what? White people are killed every week too. Asian people are killed every week. Hispanic people are killed every week. That's just such a broad generalized statement. Do you see what I'm talking about?  But it's like if you came at him about that, he'd say, well, that's true. They are. Oh, but you're talking about white people and cops. Oh, I didn't say that. I didn't say it was white people and cops. See, they make these statements that the people watching may infer something that, you know, he didn't actually say. But my point is, is that all of this rhetoric is not really backed up by the facts and it's dangerous. That's what's driving this violence right now. All these people who think that they're justified in it.  This just increasingly ratcheted up rationalizations for increasingly extremist actions. It's like they say the president is an existential threat. Well, if you really believe that, well, then there's a lot you can justify to yourself doing. Pretty extreme stuff.  I'm protecting the country. So you see what I mean? The media is just being very irresponsible with this rhetoric and they're playing very fast and loose with the facts. That's all I have for today. Please hit that like button, share and subscribe. If you'd like to support this channel, you can do so on one of the platforms listed in the description or pinned comment. Thanks for watching. Keep coming back.