James M. Redwine

Osage County

A Tale of Two Counties

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Posey County, Indiana
Osage County, Oklahoma

 

 

America is a wonderful country from the amazing amalgam of cultures in cities such as Miami, New York City, San Francisco and Portland to the majesty of Yellowstone and the Mississippi River. We are truly fortunate to have the privilege to live here. As for Peg and me, we are most familiar with two counties in two states, Posey County, Indiana and Osage County, Oklahoma.

Of course, the basic element of all inhabited areas is the same, the inhabitants, and those inhabitants are more alike than unalike wherever we live. I have found this to be true from Russia and Ukraine to Palestine and Bahrain as I have taught judges from several foreign countries and from every state in America. Of course, I have also physically visited a few places around the world. It has been my great pleasure to discover practically everybody I meet is interesting. I understand why Will Rogers who grew up near Osage County, Oklahoma said he’d never met someone he didn’t like.

But just focusing on Posey County, Indiana and Osage County, Oklahoma, the two places Peg and I call home, I find much to admire in both. In Posey County the soil is so rich and the people are so industrious that enough wheat, corn and soybeans are produced to feed much of the world. And Osage County’s Tallgrass Prairie and hardworking cowhands furnish the accompanying beef. One need never go hungry if he or she spends time in either county.

I hope I have made it clear that I truly appreciate the county where I was born and the county where I have earned a living. On the other hand, just as there was a serpent in the Garden of Eden, both Posey and Osage Counties fall a little short of perfection due to the foibles of Mother Nature. I suppose life just requires that we occasionally find half a worm in an apple. Let me explain.

Neither Posey nor Osage County has unbearable weather. Each gets a couple of snows each year and each has a hot July and August along with a rainy spring and fall. Both experience tornadoes. For Posey County, Big Creek and the Ohio and Wabash Rivers occasionally flood as does Bird Creek in Osage County along with the Arkansas and Caney Rivers. But all in all the climate for both counties is fairly salubrious. In fact, the weather in both helps make them more interesting and for Indiana it gives citizens something besides basketball to talk about and for Oklahoma it expands the topics beyond football. Both states used to discuss politics but recently most rational people do not broach that topic.

However, it is not the occasional weather phenomenon that keeps paradise just out of reach for both counties. No, it is Mother Nature’s diabolical sense of humor. Let’s take up spring in Posey County first. You may know that Osage County, Oklahoma has thousands of roaming buffalo (bison). Well, just to make sure Hoosiers remember who dictates what happens in heaven, each April, May and June millions of biting/blood sucking buffalo gnats (flies) descend on Posey County much like the Biblical hordes of locusts. And like beachgoers after the movie Jaws it simply is not fun to be outside.

But Osage County has its own flies and to add to Mother Nature’s amusement She has supplied Osage County with several varieties of scorpions. Gentle Reader, should you never have been stung by a scorpion, as I have in Oklahoma, trust me, it is an experience you do not want. Peg, who is a born Yankee who spent her childhood in New York, Vermont, Massachusetts and northern Indiana, has now learned to shake out her boots in the morning to be sure some scorpion has not chosen them as a residence. And the ubiquitous sand rock of Osage County appears to be a scorpion’s version of the Garden of Eden where the scorpions play the serpent’s role.

I guess what it comes down to is both Posey County, Indiana and Osage County, Oklahoma are wonderful places to live. But don’t forget to channel Katherine Hepburn in The African Queen and wear screening over your head and carry a fly swatter in Posey and shake out your boots in The Osage nine months out of the year.

Cowboy Up!

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Before October 4, 1957 when the Soviet Union launched Sputnik 1 American boys knew who they admired and what they wanted to be, cowboys. From the days of Hoot Gibson and Tom Mix to Hopalong Cassidy and the Durango Kid until Gene Autry and Roy Rogers boys of all backgrounds dreamed the same dream. Then America watched as our global boogeyman leapfrogged over us and put us in fear of destruction from above. Cowboys’ six guns became obsolete and American boys, girls too, dreamed of being astronauts. John Glenn orbited the earth aboard a new fire-breathing steed and from 1957 until Clint Eastwood’s movie The Good, The Bad and The Ugly that came out in 1966 during the throes of the Viet Nam War American boys left cowboys in the dust. However, since this is America, a sense of emergency and panic can only be maintained a short while before we revert to our roots.

As a one-time American boy I made the same progression. I fell back from my completely unrealistic dream of becoming a physicist to my only somewhat unrealistic, albeit subdued and hidden yearning, to be a cowboy. Returning to the days of Gene Autry was much easier than facing the reality that I will not be helping to settle Mars. However, the declining dreams of a young boy are themselves sometimes painful to reconstruct when one is separated from them by time. But the fates did recently allow me an opportunity to kind of revisit those thrilling days of yesteryear. I got to herd one cow.

Now, when I was playing cowboys and Indians with the neighborhood boys in Pawhuska, Osage County, Oklahoma in the 1950’s several of my friends were, in fact, real Indians and several of them were, in fact, the sons of real cowboys. Of course, since we boys had not yet had the advantage of adult myopia we were unaffected by the niceties of who was supposed to be what. We all were whatever the scenario we thought up called for. Alas, we grew up, sort of.

However, let me return to my recent opportunity to turn back the clock to the dreams of grade school days. When Peg and I bought a cabin in rural Osage County a few months ago we not only found a new home but also a new friend who was the prior owner and a real cowboy. How lucky was that? Anyway, Johnny runs some cattle on our place and those cattle are like the rest of us; they do not always stay put. Occasionally a cow will find its way out onto the public road. Such was the case yesterday. So, as my brother and I were heading to Bartlesville about 20 miles from our cabin to run errands for Peg, we encountered a large black cow with a white face happily munching on the right-of-way bluestem grass. I saw my chance to live that five-year-old boy’s dreams.

I jumped out of my pickup and approached that cow with a confidence that can only come from ignorance. As I got closer and closer to the bovine behemoth, instead of her fearing me as I anticipated she took the attitude of a large animal upset by someone interrupting her dinner. Having neither horse nor rope nor the ability to use either had I had them I retreated and called for backup on my cell phone.

“Johnny, it’s Jim. One of your cows is out.”

“Jim, I’m in Oklahoma City.”

“Johnny, what the devil do you want me to do?”

“Why, nothing Jim, unless you want to. I’ll be back in The Osage in a few hours and I’ll deal with it. This is cowboy work.”

Well, Johnny is obviously a true psychologist as that last statement cut deep into my boyhood psyche. I just clicked off my phone and girded my loins up about me as I ran towards Miss Bossie and waved my arms. Apparently she was so amused she decided to amble back into her pasture and I shut the gate behind her.

Now I know some of you Gentle Readers are probably thinking this event may not be quite as impressive as The Lone Ranger cleaning out a nest of rustlers. But to me it’s just a matter of degree. They both qualify for cowboy status. My dreams have finally come true. I’m going to buy a hat and boots and find a drugstore where I can prop my boots up on the bar rail, tip my hat back and sip a sarsaparilla.

It Would Be An Honor, However …

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Jim Redwine July 4, 2019

Peg and I and several members of the Redwine family were fortunate to have been included in last week’s New Harmony, Indiana Fourth of July Celebration. It was a community effort with fine music, an excellent reading of the Declaration of Independence by our friend and neighbor Chuck Minnette and copious amounts of hot dogs and ice cream. I was honored to be included as a speaker.

Reporter and photographer Lois Mittino Gray of the Posey County News did an excellent job of capturing the essence of America’s Birthday celebration and I truly appreciated her kind remarks. I also understand how someone named Redwine who was born on the Osage Indian Nation in Pawhuska, Oklahoma and who wore an Osage inspired patriotic vest could be assumed to be a member of the great Osage Tribe. While such an honor would be a source of great pride for me, alas, while I have numerous Osage, and other Indian tribe friends, I am not a tribal member.

Growing up in Osage County I played sports with and against Osages. I attended church and public schools with Osages. I count Osages among my best friends and treasure our memories and current relationships. I have always felt accepted and respected as a friend, teammate, schoolmate and competitor by my Osage friends. But the great privilege of being an actual Osage must remain in the realm of desire, not reality.

Gentle Reader, should you wish to encounter a culture where the Osage Tribe and several other justly proud Indian peoples will welcome you as they always have me and my family, I recommend you plan an excursion to Pawhuska, Oklahoma. You will find buffalo (bison), miles of virgin prairie on the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve, the Osage Tribal Museum, the Osage County Historical Museum, Woolaroc Museum, cowboys of the non-drugstore type, rodeos and the Pioneer Woman’s Mercantile among just some of the fun and enriching things to experience. You may even encounter Peg and me and other members of the Redwine family as Osage County and Pawhuska may not officially designate us as Osage, but we all have always proudly claimed the culture and heritage of that special place.

A Yankee Girl Does Rodeo

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America consists of four countries: (1) everything east of the Mississippi River excluding Florida; (2) Florida, (3) everything west of the Mississippi River excluding California; and, (4) California. Rodeos are the province of people in country (3) although some folks in Florida and California do know there is no accent on the term rodéo except for a certain drive in Beverly Hills frequented by the frou-frou set.

Yankees, that is almost all of those people in countries (1) (2) and (4) snub their noses at those of us from country (3). Yankees tend to talk funny while casting aspersions on the pleasing western drawls of those of us from country (3), and Yankees dress odd while failing to appreciate western wear. In sum, some Yankees want to ignore country (3) even to the point of eliminating the Electoral College and bribing their way into colleges most of those in country (3) would not wish to attend. After all, could real Americans root for colleges whose colors are pastels?

It was important issues such as these that coursed through my brain as Peg, who was born in New York, and I attended a rodeo in Osage County, Oklahoma last week. I was left with the conclusion that Yankee girls and rodeos may not be the best fit. Perhaps you will agree once I relate Peg’s take on the Roy Clark Memorial Championship Rodeo held April 26 and 27, 2019 in Pawhuska, Osage County, Oklahoma.

Peg was fine with and impressed by the opening ceremonies that started with a cowgirl mounted on a horse and carrying the United States flag. That cowgirl was followed by another mounted cowgirl carrying the state flag of Oklahoma then by five more cowgirls riding around the arena with flags of the Air Force, Army, Marines, Navy and Coast Guard. As the flags were displayed “The Star Spangled Banner” was sung, the Pledge of Allegiance was recited and a long prayer was given. Then the rodeo events began. That’s also when Peg began to inquire about such things as calves, steers, horses and bulls feeling put upon by such things as cowboys, cowgirls, ropes and stock handlers.

“Jim, that cowboy roped that calf around the neck while it was running full speed and abruptly jerked it to a stop by reigning in his horse. Doesn’t that hurt and isn’t that cruel and inhumane?”

“I suppose so, but not ever having been roped, I don’t know. I note the calf jumped up and trotted off looking fine.”

“Well I beg to differ, you chased me until I roped you in, although sometimes I wonder why I did. Anyway, Jim, the announcer said the cowboy tied up three of the calf’s legs with a ‘piggin string’ he carried in his teeth. Where are the pigs?”

“There are no pigs in rodeos unless you are on a farm back east. It’s just a term of art.”

“It seems like almost all the cowboys who try to ride the bucking horses and bulls get thrown off. Doesn’t that hurt? And, where’s the art in that?”

“Yes, it hurts about like getting hit by a 300 pound football player. However, if they hang on for 8 seconds they can win prize money. It’s all part of the rodeo experience, Peg.”

“Jim, I don’t think it’s fair they penalize the cowgirl barrel racers for knocking over a barrel. Why don’t they set the barrels up so they won’t fall over?”

“Because then the cowgirls would go flying over the saddle horns when the horse hits a barrel.”

“Jim, in that team roping thingy why don’t they just set a large circle of rope down on the arena floor and shoo the steer’s hind legs into it?”

“Because that is not what happens on a ranch when cattle are being worked. Rodeos are based on actual ranch work and steers have to be rounded up on a ranch.”

“Jim, do you think we’ll see Sam Elliott here tonight?”

“Are you ready to leave? Maybe we’ll go see a movie. Perhaps you’ll see Sam there.”

Are We Still Separate?

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Although I wrote the first few Gavel Gamuts in 1990 the every-weekly column began in April 2005, about 700 articles ago. In light of our current political and cultural dissonance I thought it might be interesting to revisit the following thoughts from over a decade ago to assess what changes may have occurred. This Birthday Greeting to America was first published July 04, 2005. I hope those of you who read it then and those who are considering it for the first time will find it worthwhile in our on-going conversation of Separate versus Equal. Also, Peg and I are returning to Osage County, Oklahoma for this Fourth of July. Maybe we’ll find the bus station is now just a memory.

Happy Birthday to U.S.!

Let’s Have a Party and Invite Everyone!

The United States Supreme Court has occasionally succumbed to popular opinion then later attempted to atone for it. The Dred Scott (1857) and Plessy v. Ferguson (1892) cases come to mind as examples of institutionalized injustice with the partial remedy of Brown v. Board of Education (1954) being administered many years later.

In Dred Scott, the U.S. Supreme Court decided that American Negroes had no rights which the law was bound to protect as they were non-persons under the U.S. Constitution.

And in Plessy, the Court held that Mr. Plessy could not legally ride in a “whites only” railroad car. The Court declared that laws that merely create distinctions but not unequal treatment based on race were constitutional. SEPARATE BUT EQUAL was born.

Our original U.S. Constitution of 1787 disenfranchised women, and recognized only three-fifths of every Black and Native American person, and even that was only for census purposes. Our Indiana Constitution of 1852 discouraged Negro migration to our state in spite of Posey County Constitutional Convention Delegate, Robert Dale Owen’s, eloquent pleas for fair treatment for all.

Were these documents penned by evil men? I think not. They were the result of that omnipotent god of politics, compromise, which is often good, but sometimes is not. Should you have read this column recently you may recall that I strongly encourage compromise in court, in appropriate cases.

However, as one who grew up in a state where the compromise of the post Civil War judges and politicians led to the legal segregation of schools, restaurants, and public transportation, I can attest that some compromises simply foist the sins of the deal makers onto future generations.

When I was 6 years old, my 7 year old brother, Philip, and I made our first bus trip to our father’s family in southern Oklahoma.

We lived on the Osage Indian Nation in northeastern Oklahoma. It sounds exotic but our hometown, Pawhuska, looked a lot like any town in Posey County.

In 1950 our parents did not have to worry about sending their children off with strangers except to admonish us not to bother anyone and to always mind our elders.

When mom and dad took us to the MKT&O (Missouri, Kansas, Texas and Oklahoma) bus station it was hot that July day. Oklahoma in July is like southern Indiana in July, WITHOUT THE SHADE TREES!

My brother and I were thirsty so we raced to the two porcelain water fountains in the shot gun building that was about 40 feet from north to south and 10 feet from east to west.

Phil slid hard on the linoleum floor and beat me to the nearest fountain. And while I didn’t like losing the contest, since the other fountain was right next to the first one, I stepped to it.

“Jimmy, wait ‘til your brother is finished. James Marion! I said wait!” Dad, of course, said nothing. He didn’t need to; we knew that whatever mom said was the law.

“Mom, I’m thirsty. Why can’t I get a drink from this one?”

“Son, look at that sign. It says ‘colored’. Philip, quit just hanging on that fountain; let your brother up there.”

Of course, the next thing I wanted to do was use the restroom so I turned towards the four that were crammed into the space for one: “White Men”, “White Ladies”, “Colored Men”, and “Colored Women”.

After mom inspected us and slicked down my cowlick again, we got on the bus and I “took off a kiting” to the very back.

I beat Phil, but there was a man already sitting on the only bench seat. I really wanted to lie down on that seat but the man told me I had to go back up front. And as he was an adult, I followed his instructions.

Philip said, “You can’t sit back there. That’s for coloreds. That’s why that colored man said for you to go up front.”

That was the first time I noticed the man was different. That was, also, the point where the sadness in his eyes and restrained anger in his voice crept into my awareness.

As a friend of mine sometimes says, “No big difference, no big difference, big difference.”

And if all this seems as though it comes from a country far far away and long long ago, Posey County segregated its Black and White school children for almost 100 years after 600,000 men died in the Civil War. In fact, some of Mt. Vernon’s schools were not fully integrated until after Brown was decided in 1954.

And, whether we have learned from our history or are simply repeating it may depend upon whom we ask. Our Arab American, Muslim, Black, Native American, and Hispanic citizens, as well as several other “usual suspects”, may think the past is merely prologue.

Sometimes it helps for me to remember what this 4th of July thing is really about. It’s our country’s birthday party; maybe we should invite everyone.

There is nothing equal about separate.

Have Gun (Class) – Will Travel

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If your life is so bereft of excitement you have actually read this column the past week or so, you may recall I have been helping teach an Internet class for the National Judicial College. Judges from across our great land tune in, sign on and discuss subjects from the currently hot areas of Children in Need of Services to Court Management. This week’s topic was Court Security and the lead faculty member was my good friend from Mississippi, Judge D. Neil Harris.

During the class judges participated via computer and telephone as we delved into many facets of how our courts should be protecting those who use and those who operate them. Gentle Reader, you may not be surprised to hear that it is not just the Judge of the Posey Circuit Court whose decisions are occasionally at odds with the thoughts of those whose lives are affected by them. It turns out that practically every person everywhere thinks she or he could have arrived at a better legal conclusion than the ones delivered by judges. Sometimes these court participants or their supporters get upset.

While there were many opinions and suggestions by the judicial faculty and the judges who were students as to how best to ensure those who must use our courts and those who are privileged to operate them can do so in a calm, reasonable and safe environment, the area of most varied positions concerned the role of firearms.

On a personal note, for the first thirty-five years of my tenure on the Bench, Posey County courts simply relied on the good will of all involved or more accurately, good luck. But in 2016 our sheriff, Greg Oeth, sought necessary additional deputies. The County Council and County Commissioners acceded to his well-documented requests as required by the rulings of the Indiana Supreme Court and provided officers who are available in court. Thank you on behalf of the public who must use the courts and the court staff who work there.

However, extra court security personnel was not the most examined topic in the Internet course. As I mentioned above, it was how or when or if judges and their court staffs should help provide their own security by carrying guns.

This column is not a column about the Second Amendment. The theory of firearm ownership, possession and use is for the legislative and executive branches. The judicial branch’s role is to decide cases that are brought to court. What we in the Internet course were trying to determine was not whether guns should be available to judges and their staffs but whether any guns that are legally available should be carried by judges and their staffs.

Gentle Reader, if you have made it this far I have good news for you. What I plan to do is relate two anecdotes then quit. I hope they illustrate what was the consensus of the judges in the course.

First, let’s delve into the meaning of an instructional video I did in 2014 for a course I taught for the Municipal Court Judges of Missouri. Court Security was part of my lectures.

To make the video I commandeered friends such as Chuck Minnette, Marty Crispino, Greg Oeth, Tom Latham, Jason Simmons and Rodney Fetcher. Jason wore his camouflage fatigues and brought his AR15 with him to the courthouse. He ran into the courthouse at about 10:00 a.m. on a workday, brandished his AR15 and yelled, “Where’s the Judge?” The only reaction from those in the courthouse that day was to point towards the courtroom. One lady walked right by Jason and instead of being alarmed or sounding an alarm simply asked, “Where’s the Clerk’s Office?” In 2014 Posey County’s court security was a little lax.

The second example comes from yesterday as Peg and I were talking to an Osage County, Oklahoma Sheriff’s Deputy who is also a certified instructor on gun safety and court security. His business card is a play on the television series Have Gun – Will Travel that starred Richard Boone as Paladin, a gunman for hire. Paladin’s card read, “Have Gun – Will Travel”. Paul Didlake, the Osage County Deputy, has the following card: “Have Gun Class – Will Travel”.

Paul told Peg and me about a recent Oklahoma case where a woman who had a gun license and carried a pistol in her purse was raped and murdered. She had left her purse in her car.

Paul told us his mantra for personal security is: “The best kind of gun to have is the one you actually carry.”