One Million Years of Happiness!

When I first saw this oh-so-sweet sentiment written on an original check drawn on The Citizens National Bank of Edmond (which has been open and serving the citizens of this OKC suburb since 1901), I thought that Abbie was another of Josephine’s many suitors. However, as I began searching, I quickly found out that he was a she, and she and Josephine must have been best friends when they both attended Central State Teachers’ College beginning in the fall of 1925. Curious about this girl (who was obviously quite taken with Josephine and her charms), I decided to learn more about Abbie Erwin.

 

Born on March 13, 1907 in Oklahoma Territory, Abbie entered the world during the last rough and tumble days before Oklahoma entered the Union as the 46th state on November 16th of that year.

 

We in Oklahoma have Thomas Jefferson to thank for being part of the United States, for it was through the Louisiana Purchase in 1803 that the U.S. acquired over 825,000 square miles of land, including what would eventually become our state, from France for the paltry sum of $11,250,000. The land was rugged and untamed, the weather often mercurial, and, although several European expeditions and American Indians traveled through the state, there were few permanent settlements until the U.S. government began removing Native peoples from their homelands across the South to Oklahoma in 1831. Known as the Trail of Tears, thousands of Native Americans died from disease, exposure, and starvation as they made the long and arduous trek by foot to their new, Government-assigned home in Indian Territory, but soon, more than 30 tribes called Oklahoma home.

 

As American expansion creeped further and further west in the ensuing decades, many white people saw opportunity in Oklahoma and wanted to claim some of the state’s fertile land for themselves. The U.S. Government agreed, and the Land Runs soon began. The first and most famous one occurred on April 22, 1889, when over 50,000 “boomers” and “sooners” lined up to claim some of the two million acres in the Unassigned Lands that were available for settlement. What was an open, empty land on April 21st became overnight towns scattered along the prairie (Oklahoma City boasted 10,000 citizens literally overnight). Homes, schools, and churches soon sprouted up, crops were planted and sewn, and life was good and bountiful if you worked hard enough.

 

William M. Erwin was a hard-working man looking for just such bounty. He was born and raised in Missouri but always seemed to be looking toward the horizon for something more. He lived in various small towns throughout Missouri then moved on to McKinney, Texas, where he worked as a school teacher, met his bride, Sarah, and sired three daughters in as many years. But, William was restless in Texas and looked toward Oklahoma for a new start, so, in 1903, he packed up his young family and headed north to the fertile land and rolling hills of Pauls Valley in the center of the state.

 

In an old directory, Pauls Valley is described as having a population of 3,000 with “4 strong banks, a flouring mill with a daily capacity of 125 barrels, a cotton compress, grain elevator, ice plant, 3 cotton gins, local and long distance telephone facilities ….” Soon after his arrival in town, William started two local newspapers – the Pauls Valley Enterprise and Valley News – in April 1904. He must have found what he was looking for in Oklahoma because spent the rest of his life here publishing and editing the newspapers, serving as postmaster from 1915 – 1922, and participating in several civic organizations.

 

Soon after William got the papers up and running, the Erwin family expanded to include three more children, Abbie, Allen, and John. Abbie was eight years younger than her next oldest sibling, Helen, so I imagine that she was doted on and well loved by her three older sisters. They probably spent lazy summer afternoons pinning Abbie’s hair into the latest Edwardian styles with lots of curl and height or read to her while rocking on their white painted, creaky porch swing. With two brothers that were two and four years younger than Abbie, I can also see her being quite the boss and leading those unsuspecting lads into all kinds of kid trouble.

 

Since he had been a teacher, I’m sure that William and Sarah had high educational expectations for all six of their children. After Abbie graduated from school in Pauls Valley, she moved to Edmond, OK, to attend Central State Teachers’ College, with her goal of becoming an educator as her father had once been.

 

It is there that Abbie must have met Josephine Neill in 1925 when they both would have been freshmen. Abbie lived off campus at 232 E. Hurd in what may have been a girls’ rooming house, and Josephine lived nearby on Normal St. (possibly a dorm building – there is no longer a Normal St. in Edmond). I can just imagine the two girls, on their own for the first time in their lives, having a great time exploring their new surroundings, going to see Rudolph Valentino movies at the cinema, and spending countless hours talking about all of the cute boys on campus. They wrote sweet, best friends notes to each other, like this one in Josephine’s scrapbook, and they certainly dreamed of what adventures their lives held in store for them. It must have been a thrilling and exuberant time, indeed, and one that, sadly, didn’t last long for either girl. Josephine did not return to Edmond for her sophomore year (more about that in another post), and I don’t think that Abbie graduated, either.

 

Sometime around 1927, she met a young man named T.L. Lindsey, fell in love, and got married. In the 1930 census, I found Abbie and T.L. living in a flea-bite-sized town in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma called Sugden, where T.L. was a public school teacher and possibly a coach. It was also that year that the couple had their first child (a boy), with four more to follow in quick succession.

 

The Lindseys spent the Depression years moving from small town to small town as teaching positions for T.L. became available. They lived in Crooked Oak, Geary, and Wynnewood, where Abbie’s second son, Troy, was a standout in high school football.

 

According to the Daily Oklahoman, “the 200-pound guard starred in high school on Wynnewood’s 1950 Class B state champion football team under coach Tex Bartlett. He was an all-state selection that year and was picked to play in the Oil Bowl game between Texas and Oklahoma high school stars in Wichita Falls.” This may have been the last time that William Erwin saw his grandson play; William died within the year, and both of his newspapers back in Pauls Valley died with him. Although she was now alone, Sarah stayed in the house she and William shared for so many years, the house where they raised their six children and enjoyed so many happy times.

 

As for Troy, after high school, he attended college at his mother’s alma mater, Central State, where he was a football star throughout his college career. Perhaps to be closer to their son, Abbie, T.L. and Troy’s siblings moved to nearby Midwest City, and T.L. taught in Luther schools.

 

During Troy’s time at Central State, he was named to the Oklahoma Collegiate conference all-star team three years and was an all-college, all-star athlete his senior year. Upon graduation in 1955, he was signed to the Chicago Cardinals football team (I had no idea there was such a team!). I can imagine that on the warm July day he left for training camp, his entire family gathered at Will Rogers Airport in Oklahoma City to see him off. His grandmother, Sarah, would be there, along with his sister and three brothers, and his parents. I can see T.L. putting a comforting arm around Abbie as Troy walked out onto the tarmac and up the stairs to the waiting Braniff Corvair-340-32 for the flight to Chicago and Troy’s new life.

 

The flight, likely Troy’s first, was routine that afternoon, but, as the plane made its approach to Chicago’s Midway Airport, “the aircraft hit a (gas station) sign and crashed through the airport boundry fence. (The pilot’s) momentary disorientation caused by the loss of visual reference during the final visual phase of the approach resulted in an increased rate of descent at an altitude too low to affect recovery.” The plane crashed just short of the runway and rested a few feet away from the airport’s fire station. The fire crew arrived at the crash site within moments and began pulling survivors out of the wreckage and dousing the plane with water to keep it from catching fire.

 

Of the 40 passengers and three crew aboard Braniff flight 560, 22 passengers and two crew members, including the pilot, died. Among the dead was Troy Lindsey, who had turned 23 a few days before he left his family for what was to be the opportunity of a lifetime.

 

I can’t begin to imagine how Abbie and her family felt hearing the news that her young son, whose life held so much promise, was gone just like that, only a few hours after they put him on the plane. The shock must have been overwhelming, the pain devastating.

 

I couldn’t find much more information about Abbie after her son died. I know that the Lindseys stopped their wandering ways and stayed in Midwest City until Abbie died at the age of 65 in 1972. T.L. followed her in 1986.

 

(The quote about the crash came from this site: www.planecrashinfo.com/1955/1955-27.htm

 

When I was doing this research into Abbie’s life, I wasn’t sure at first that Troy was her son – I didn’t want him to be because I knew what happened to him. But when I found an article about him with his address listed (that matched Abbie’s address), I knew that this was going to end up being a very sad story, indeed. I mourned for Abbie and her family as if this horrible accident happened yesterday and not over 50 years ago. So, so sad.)

 

 

Done