Family, Inherited

  Chapter 12

  IN THE MID-60s, ELLIE FINISHED HER TERMS AS HARMONY SCHOOL SCHOOL board member, president of the Arabian Horse Club of Wyoming, and president of and instructor at the Laramie American Kennel Club. Sire Derry and bitch Minx, renowned for her excellent care of a fourteen pup litter, continued to put forth beautiful and desirable German Shepherds. Gay Collier, raised on Long Island and the daughter of a reputable artist, huddled in the evenings with Ellie to outline the chapters of a book that Ellie planned to title “Basic Horsemanship.” Sensible school horses continued to find Ellie, the stallions were proving their fine lineage, and the Sodergreen Horsemanship School enrollment climbed significantly with each unfolding summer.

  Up in Wood’s Landing, Gay and Roy Collier’s closest friend and long-time New England neighbor, Bill Prince, was living in a trailer with his teenage son Carleton, felling logs in Fox Park for a salary and dealing with grief. His two younger children, Lynn and her little brother George, remained in New England with Bill’s parents. Bill’s wife, Corinne, had been killed a few years earlier in a horse-riding accident at their small family farm in Windsor, Vermont. George had witnessed the fatal accident when he was only three years old. The grieving family needed a fresh start, and just up Route 230 seemed to be the place for it. In Windsor, Bill had logged, raised beef and dairy cows, and helped his then-neighbors Gay and Roy with the many chores at their place. It was only neighborly that Gay and Roy, living in the small cabin near Ellie’s house, would help Bill get settled in Wyoming.

  When Gay did another neighborly thing and introduced Bill Prince to their neighbor with the new powder-blue Dodge pickup, Ellie Smith saw much to like in Bill Prince. He wasn’t crazy about dogs, although a dog had traveled west with him, but Ellie appreciated that in the mornings, before Bill went to work, Bill and Carl, as he preferred to be called, came by to help Ellie with chores. Ellie enjoyed Bill’s sense of humor, especially his jokes. “He wasn’t handsome,” she said, “but he was physically attractive, a big, rugged guy.” She also admired his strength, his vast knowledge of farming, and his love of reading. “Bill went only through eighth grade,” Ellie explained, “but he read voraciously, especially nonfiction and biographies. You could say that he was self-taught in so many subjects. And of course, besides farming and logging in Vermont, he had also worked at the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Factory and in machine shops.” Ellie was quick to notice that both Bill and his son “had a good work ethic. They were good people to be around. And we all liked the same thing—animals.”

  According to Ellie, what Bill didn’t like and what was probably the worst thing about living on the Big Laramie River was mosquitoes. Back then, there was no spraying for these blood-thirsty swarms. The mosquitoes were so horrible at the ranch that Ellie bought woolsacks used to gather shorn sheep fleece and made nearly full-body coverings for her horses from them. “I made a cut from one end of the long part and then fitted the long part over the horse, securing what was the open end of the sack around the horse’s neck. I secured that open end with lacing. Then I pulled and tightened the created pocket at the sack’s bottom over the horse’s hindquarters. The sacks were thick enough to keep the mosquitoes off.” These woolsacks, purchased for only one to five dollars apiece, became a critical part of Ellie’s horse care during the mosquito months.

  Mosquitoes were so bad that if anyone placed their hand on a horse’s neck, a bloody imprint would result. Bill created a get-up for making it through the haze of mosquitoes while he did his chores: winter coat, heavy gloves, thick boots, hat, and mosquito net over hat and head. If he had to work on an outside project, a car, or a truck, a smudge pot was the additional accessory. The mosquitoes lurked in bulk in the tall hay, and before it was cut, the horses suffered the most. After the hay had been cut and put up, life, especially in the evenings, was somewhat better for both horses and humans.

  Mosquitoes aside, there was much to appreciate in this new Western world, and on Monday, August 29th, 1966, Eleanor Fracker Smith and William Raymond Prince were married. Neither went in for all the trappings of a wedding, so the ceremony was simple, with the Albany County Justice of the Peace officiating. Bill’s gift to Ellie was practical and, in her estimation, wonderful. “He gave me a big, sturdy metal horse gate. It was lovely.”

  Bill supplemented his income as a logger by cutting firewood to sell in Laramie. Ellie recalled that this money was usually spent for groceries. She kept a little book with their customers’ names, and it wasn’t long before these customers became friends. One of them was the agent at Laramie’s Farmers Insurance, who would prove in future years to be of utmost assistance to the Princes.

  Bill realized that if he was going to make any kind of money as a logger in Wyoming, he would need to work for himself. Thus, he would need the logging truck that he had left behind in Vermont. He had made the trip east after he and Ellie married, to gather daughter Lynn and son George, so he thought little of making the trip again. Besides, what he really wanted to retrieve from his parents’ farm, on which sat the partially finished house he and Corinne had planned to someday live in, was his 1904 McCormick tractor. Roy Collier offered to travel with Bill, and Ellie insisted that Bill drive her reliable blue Dodge.

  The logging truck loomed high with the tractor and odd pieces of family furniture, and Bill set out on the return trip to Wyoming. He feared that the sometimes-unreliable logging truck might give him some trouble, so the plan was for Roy to follow Bill in Ellie’s truck, to help Bill with repairs if necessary. Repairs were indeed necessary during that long stretch between Vermont and Iowa, and Roy proved to be all-the-time unreliable. He woke up each morning long after Bill had left and followed too far behind, his absence during the repairs aggravating to Bill. Eventually the logging truck broke down and couldn’t be fixed. A helpful farmer in Iowa offered to let Bill stow the logging truck at his farm. He even offered some tools. Bill knew that what he needed for repairs was back in Wyoming, so he thanked the farmer, left the truck, and headed west in Ellie’s pickup, with a nonchalant Roy riding shotgun. On the return trip to Iowa, by bus, Bill had his reliable son Carl with him. The logging truck repaired, they headed for home. There would be no permanent return to New England for Bill and his new family. For the rest of his life, though, as a landowner immersed in the constant complications and frustrations of Wyoming ranching, when Bill talked of home, he was imagining Windsor, Vermont.

  When asked if she ever wanted to have her own children, Ellie’s response, after a long pause, was, “Well, yes and no. Children would have been nice, but I had so much to do.” Yet it had become an obvious matter of fact that Ellie loved and nurtured any living creature placed in her care, no exceptions. She set out to do what she could to create quality time with Bill’s children, absorbing them into the world she had established for herself, one that involved the love of horses.

  Trail riding was a significant part of Ellie’s school curriculum. It also became a way for Ellie to introduce her new family to the beautiful land that surrounded them and, of course, to the joy of days on horseback. As a string of excited students and Bill’s sons and daughter mounted up, Bill set out for Sheep Mountain in the old brown 4-wheel-drive Dodge carryall, loaded with sleeping bags, drinking water, and assorted other provisions including slippers and cameras.

  These trips were icing on the cake for the students as well as for Ellie’s new family. She made sure that the rides were adventurous and fun. The route took the school’s riders and the Prince family up Route 230 to Fox Creek and then south to north along the high ridges of Sheep Mountain. From that vantage point, the riders could see forever into the wide valleys and high hills that stretched out from the mountain’s base. They could see nearly to the small town of Centennial, situated on Route 130, the only town between Laramie and the Snowy Range peaks.

  Streams were frequent on Sheep Mountain’s summit, and one such lovely stream posed a problem. It had to be crossed to get to the designated camp for the night. Eight-year-old George was riding Ranger, who, regardless of the number of times he had crossed a creek, saw the water and stalled in fear until he realized he could jump it. With an overly enthusiastic leap, Ranger cleared the stream with room to spare. George, as Ellie remembered, “shot about five feet above the horse but managed to land in the saddle when he came back down. We later thought of the moment as comical, but it could have been a disaster. I was proud of George. He did just fine.”

  In the midst of thick pine trees, the party made their camp for the night. Before any other activity occurred, the horses were grained and cared for. All slept well in the chilly night air of a Wyoming summer, lulled to rest by the pines’ occasional whispers, the sweet nickers of the horses, and the occasional settling stomp of a hoof. In the morning, an experience of a lifetime tucked into the riders’ memories, the group turned toward home.

  For Ellie, marriage would bring its changes, but she and Bill, from the first, chose to be open and honest with each other. Because of the circumstances of his wife’s death, Bill shared that he was leery of Ellie’s animals. Ellie told him that horses were her focus and that she was not, in any way, going to alter what was most significant in her life: her animals, her school, and her goals. Bill said that would be fine. He would not interfere with her work with her horses. Ellie agreed that she would not interfere with Bill’s raising his children.

  It was impossible, though, for Ellie not to grow fond of the children. Although she respected that Bill alone was to raise and discipline his sons and daughter, Ellie could not help but be drawn into their lives. In fact, Rosemary McIntosh observed that Ellie’s gentle manner might have been a balance to Bill’s strict ways with the children. “Ellie worked at keeping her distance from the kids, as if she were restraining herself. I always wondered if she had really wanted to have kids, since she always seemed to be wanting to show her loving side to them. It was foreign to her nature not to be open and loving, a big adjustment for her. This was a hard time for Ellie.”

  Ellie gradually discovered that she and Carl shared a similar work ethic and liked the same things, which, of course, included animals, especially horses. When Carl, who she described as a likable, self-sufficient, and inquisitive teenager, expressed an interest in learning to drive something more than a tractor, Ellie jumped at the chance to help teach him. Bill agreed to the arrangement but insisted that Carl take his lessons in Ellie’s Dodge Power Wagon. Bill wouldn’t trust any other brand but a Dodge. Ellie loved that vehicle as well, the growing joke between the two of them that each married just to keep the Power Wagon “in the family.”

  Behind the wheel, Carl headed out east on Route 230 in the Dodge. Nearing the few buildings that constituted the town proper of Harmony, Carl somehow hit the gas instead of the brake, and according to Ellie, they roared into Harmony Station, Carl scared to death. Bill decided that Carl had learned quite a bit about driving from the incident, and he granted Carl permission to use the family’s Dodge Dart station wagon to drive to and from Laramie High School.

  Sad memories had accompanied Carl to Wyoming, but in reminiscing, he indicated that life at Sodergreen Ranch was pretty ideal for a teenage boy. “I remember that June of 1965, Dad meeting Ellie, the green of Jelm Mountain, and the water standing in the fields, from irrigating. Before I had to enroll at Laramie Senior High School, we explored ghost towns, saw the Rawah Mountains in Colorado, went on picnics up the Snowy Range and on the Laramie River, and hiked Jelm Mountain.” Carl spent a good deal of time helping Ellie with the ranch while Bill worked at the Fox Park sawmill. In turn, Ellie taught Carl the basics of horsemanship as he rode on Ranger, Red, or Mouse. She took him to the Estes Park Horse Show and to dog shows. Carl even contributed to the herd by buying Goldie from a neighbor, Mr. Phillips. Goldie fit in well and soon became a favorite mount of Carl’s dad.

  Carl recalled that he was on the University of Wyoming campus on one of the last days of August in 1966, waiting for a ride home with Margaret Johnson. “My dad and Ellie swung by to let me know they’d just been to the Justice of the Peace. It wasn’t long after they married that my dad and Ellie went back to Vermont to bring George and Lynn out to Wyoming.”

  “I was twelve or thirteen, going into eighth grade,” shared Lynn, “when Dad drove back to get me and George. I was scared of leaving my home, my grandparents, and my friends, but Wyoming, with its horses, was exciting. The ranch was big, and there were a lot of horses. Everything was different from what I’d experienced in New England.”

  Lynn credited Ellie with making her and her brothers feel welcome. “She was super friendly and outgoing. There was a lot to do on the ranch, and she kept us busy with chores and new things to do with the horses and dogs. We fed the horses and cleaned out their corral. We fed and played with the dogs. We went to horse shows and dog shows. Everything was horse-related or ranch-related. She didn’t do any girl things with me, and I never called her ‘Mom,’ but I thought of her as a mom. And that was great.”

  Lynn recalled that every summer, her dad took the kids back to Vermont to visit his parents. “Ellie couldn’t go because one of them always had to be at the ranch. It was fun to go back, but I was getting used to Wyoming, where there was so much more to do. I was making friends at Harmony School, which was a much more relaxed setting than I was used to, and the teachers were all nice.” In the summers, Lynn enjoyed being a part of Ellie’s horsemanship school and remembered that she loved all the horses. “And Ellie was such a good teacher, even when I was having so much trouble trying to figure out how to make my horse take the proper lead during a canter. She never scolded or yelled. She worked hard to figure out how to help all of us. Riding was just a good feeling, a free feeling. Especially out there with Ellie, in Wyoming.”

  It was during one of her early Wyoming summers, during a family drive and hike up to the summit of Jelm Mountain, about ten years before the University of Wyoming assumed the operation of the newly built Wyoming Infrared Observatory, that Lynn received an honor she never forgot. “When we got to the lookout tower, the forest ranger, a woman who might have been Native American and who might have been named Charlie, gave me the materials to fill out to become an Honorary Squirrel, probably because I had climbed up that steep mountain. Somewhere I still have all the paperwork that says I am an official Honorary Squirrel.”

  In the spring of 1963, ten years after Walter and Maxine Fracker had moved permanently to Freedom, New Hampshire, they made a cross-country trip in their 1963 Blue Chevy Impala to visit their daughter. After Ellie and Bill were married, Ellie’s parents again visited Sodergreen Ranch, in the fall or early winter of 1966, to meet the family Ellie had inherited. Ellie’s fond memories of their visit included the late-night spotlighting excursions. Ellie, Bill, Carl, and Walter Fracker Jr., who Carl remembered as “a neat old guy who snuck cigarettes when Ellie’s mom wasn’t looking,” piled into the old carryall and headed out onto the Lewis’ ranch prairie, where they had been invited to hunt the rabbits that were overrunning the ranch. Ellie drove, but not because she lacked marksmanship. To the contrary, her aim was as excellent as her eyesight, at 20/20.

  Ellie did not believe in killing for the sake of killing, “but these rabbits were like rodents, plentiful and destructive. We were overrun. They were doing a lot of damage to the ground, and they were bothering the hay by eating the grass roots. We made use of the animals, selling the hides in West Laramie, at McConnell’s, for 35 cents. After the shoot and the sales, we went home for hot chocolate.”

  Whereas Ellie’s father was exuberant about his daughter’s new life, Ellie’s mother was worried about her daughter’s choices. She feared that someday Ellie might come to her senses and realize that what she had was not really what she wanted. Although Maxine Griffith did not grow up in the opulence of her parents-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Walter Fracker Sr., she took advantage of her new station in marriage, became a member of the Freedom Club of Boston, and was elected its President in 1945. She was also in the inner circles of the Freedom Community Club, the Freedom Historical Society, the Church Society of the First Christian Church, and the Effingham Women’s Club. It was this societal life that Mrs. Fracker wished upon her daughter.

  Deb Matthew, who met the Frackers on one of their trips west, wondered if Ellie’s mother “thought that Ellie could have chosen another way of life. She couldn’t understand that the path Ellie had chosen was what made Ellie happy. Ellie’s mom was horrified by all the hard work her daughter was doing and worried that Ellie might not be able to manage it. Interestingly, Ellie was really a lot like her mom: successful at business, resourceful, able to juggle all her responsibilities, and just accepting what came by if she truly couldn’t change it.”

  Maxine Griffith’s genealogy revealed that Ellie and her mother’s lives were woven together with other common threads. Maxine’s ancestry can be traced back to the 1700s, with the records of John Grimes Jr. clearly exposing the thread of working the land and working with animals. At Grimes’ death, items that were sold to pay the farmer’s debts included a yearling heifer and a hog. The items he bequeathed to his wife, Tryphena Razey Grimes, included a horse, a pair of oxen, a cow and calf, most of John’s farming equipment, a horse wagon, and a harness. He bestowed as well to his wife “the use of all my estate, both real and personal” for “her natural life.” The Grimes’ daughter and Maxine Griffith’s direct ancestor, Mahalah, who married the established farmer Samuel Griffith, was bequeathed the “equal shares of John [Grimes]’s remaining estate” upon the death of Tryphena.44

  Thus emerged a second thread. Not only was Mr. Grimes, of Cheshire County in what would become New Hampshire, an established farmer, but the family recognized the women as those who could skillfully run or become involved in a business. Maxine Griffith’s mother, after her divorce from Charles Griffith, obtained, in the mid-1950s, a clerk position at the Fanny Farmer Candy Shop in Boston. Maxine herself, at the age of 19, became a bookkeeper at a bank in the Boston metropolitan area.45