Often on horseback, we rode on hurried calls by relays. I have visited patients thirty or forty miles, changing horses three or four times, riding at top speed, and usually found the patient dead. Night or day, sunshine or rain, cold or warm, never kept us from visiting our patients on call. This was the life of the Country Doctor in those days.

At the time of my Medical School training, I was taught by all Medical Textbooks and Medical Professors that you could cure disease by the administration of drugs and medicines. Naturally true to my teachings, I started out as a young doctor believing I could cure diseases by medicine properly administered. With this faith and belief, I answered all calls promptly, and rode far and fast to save my patients, and I did, by rational and medical treatment, saved many lives, and relieved much suffering, and I do not recall a single instance where my patient was any worse off after my visit and treatment. Many might have suffered from omission, but not commission. I found by time and experiences that many of my patients got well with or without the doctor, and many died with or without, or in spite of, the doctor, just the same as they do nowadays. In my experience of eighteen years as a country doctor, studying each case, and keeping up with the advance and research of the medical profession, that there was not so much in curing diseases as there was in their prevention.

Studying these facts after due consideration, and reflecting back over my years of experience, I began to slow down, and gradually lost faith in the power of medicine to cure diseases.

In my practice, I had been true to my teachings, and had worked hard and faithfully in my profession, and was true to my patients in the age and time when the laity and the doctor believed in the power of medicine and the ability of the country doctor to cure all human ailments by medicine. I still feel that the old family doctor did little harm, but much good, and brought great happiness and consolation to the family and patients, as the family or country doctor was loved by all in the Community, and their presence, kind words, and treatment carried many over the top, and they recovered.

Yes, the family doctor is gone forever, but still loved by all. How often, even yet, in our afflictions and sickness, we wish for the presence and kind words of the old family doctor, but he is gone, who can take and fill his place today?

Our career as country doctors, in the early days of the Indian Territory, was filled with many trials and tribulations, hard work and many thrills. The Indian Country was beginning to grow, and developed very rapidly into a young and new State, and things were moving very fast. Hence, it became necessary that the Country Doctor must move and progress in like manner, and be able from necessity to do things to meet the many increasing infectious diseases, (scarlet fever, diphtheria, measles, whooping cough, chicken pox, influenza, small pox and typhoid), that began to infest the country as they had elsewhere, it being the stage of the passing of the Country Doctors, and, from the peerless pill peddlers or the Country Doctor, we had to become doctors in all lines, and for all new ailments, as is now done by the many specialists.

At the appearing of the specialists in the present Medical Age, the Country Doctors were replaced by the specialists in surgery, abdominal specialists, specialists in diseases of children, and specialists in all kinds of ailments, such as obstetrician, the optician, the opthomologist, the optometrist, the orthodontist, osteopathologist, the urologist, and all other specialists that could be imagined, commencing with the letter "O". But many of our early Country Doctors kept abreast with the times, and after doing general practice for several years, became very eminent in special lines, and also laid the true and solid foundation for the Medical Profession in the new State of Oklahoma. We covered more ground and worked harder, which gave us a general experience which enabled us to become more proficient in their special work than the present day specialists. Necessity, the mother of invention, made some of the ablest and brightest medical men in the country out of the Country Doctor. We used antitoxin for diphtheria and croup, vaccination for smallpox epidemics and treated other diseases practically the same as they are treated today. We organized Medical Societies, took post graduate courses in Eastern Medical Colleges, and laid the foundation for the honorable Profession of Medicine at the organization of the new State.

A few of these grand old Country Doctors, I wish to mention: Dr. F. Fortner, a wonderful surgeon of Vinita, Indian Territory; Dr. Oliver Bagby, of Vinita; Dr. F.F. Fite, of Muskogee; Dr. J.C.W. Bland; Dr. Fred S. Clinton; Dr. S.L. Reeder; Dr. Leroy Long and Dr. Blush Guthrie, all of Tulsa; all developed from the Country Doctor into Medical men such as the Medical Profession of today is proud of, and seldom excelled by the Modern and present medical M.D..

I shall not attempt to describe the many incidents and hardships during my eighteen years of practicing medicine in the early days as a Country Doctor in the Indian Territory. We opened up abdominal abscesses and drained them, and patients got well, and ignorantly performed appendicitis operations before even the Medical Profession had learned about appendicitis and appendectomy. We performed abdominal surgery, sewing up holes in the intestines, from a gunshot wound, and the patient recovered.

We delivered children with forceps in their homes without the nurse and hospital, and amputated legs and arms where we found them, with good results. In fact, we grew with the advancement of the time, attending patients far and near, night or day, hot or cold, denying none.

After eighteen years of hardship as a Country Doctor, giving the best I had of my early day experience to my profession and patients, acting as President of the United States Pension Examining Board, believing I had done my part for humanity and the honorable Medical Profession, I retired, giving my attention and energy to the development of the new Country, and assisting in building the Magic City of Tulsa, from a little Indian Village of fifty people to its present population.

THE OPENING OF THE SAC AND FOX LANDS

Having been a Western Kansas Boomer in 1887, and an Oklahoma Boomer in 1889, as heretofore described; hearing of unallotted lands soon to be opened west of the 96th Meridian, the Sac and Fox, Pottawatomie, Shawnee and Kickapoo Indian Reservations east of Oklahoma; having a taste and experience of the West, "where the landscape is a little brighter," aroused the pioneer blood I inherited, and I once more started west to grow up with the country. Having passed through and seen the Indian Country on my way to the opening of Oklahoma in 1889, my objective point was Tulsa, Indian Territory, the place where Washington Irving so beautifully described the bee hunt, and met his rangers, and camped on the east bank of the Arkansas River, October 13 and 14, in the year 1832, near Tulsa, and described in the LAND OF PROMISE, in his works, in Volume VII, and Chapter IX:

A TOUR ON THE PRAIRIES

"The beautiful forest in which we were encamped abounded in bee trees; that is to say, trees in the decayed trunks of which wild bees had established their hives.

It is surprising in what countless swarms the bees have overspread the Far West, within but a moderate number of years.

At present the honeybee swarms in myriads, in the noble groves and forests which skirt and intersect the prairies and extend along the alluvial bottoms of the rivers.

It seems to me as if these beautiful regions answer literally the description of the LAND OF PROMISE, "A LAND FLOWING WITH MILK AND HONEY;" for the rich pasturage of the prairies is calculated to sustain herds of cattle as countless as the sands of the seashore, while the flowers with which they are enameled render them a very paradise for the nectar seeking bee. With my brother, Dr. J.L. Kennedy, we came and pitched our tent or permanent place to cast our destiny in the little Indian Village, and commenced to practice medicine as heretofore described. I decided this time to run and secure a homestead or claim.

Meeting and making the acquaintance of some cowboys from the old Turkey Creek Ranch, Frank Pierce and John Strickland, who had punched cattle for years over the country to be opened, they told and assured me if I would go with them to the opening, they would land me on one of the best quarter sections of land lying outside.

With my friend Perry Baysinger, mounted on a racehorse, I secured myself one of the best and fastest cow horses that could be had, and leaving the little Indian Village, and riding all night, followed the trail to meet our friends at the old Turkey Creek Ranch. Upon our arrival, we found them there, waiting to make the run with us into the Sac and Fox Country.

Before further description, I wish to narrate a little incident which happened while upon the Border with our cowboy friends, and making our plans for the race, we were overheard by a thin, tall middle aged gentleman, his hair prematurely grey, a perfect stranger to us. When all were mounted, waiting for the signal to start, this man was at our side, mounted upon his steed, a mule, which was also thin, tall, and prematurely grey, as we found afterwards from his endurance. The mule seemed to be a little crippled in one leg, or seemed to have a slight hop in running, but he seemed to keep close up with us all the time until he stumbled, and he and his rider came to the ground, but were quickly up and coming again. All feeling kindly for his accident, we slowed down, giving him time to catch up, and encouraging him all the time, but we had no reply from the gentleman. He just kept going at the same speed. After running several miles along towards the end, the hopping mule was leading the bunch straight ahead, and finally, when we reached our destination, and each of us placed on a beautiful claim in a valley by our new and true friends, the cowboys, we had lost sight of our tall, prematurely grey man and mule ahead of us, still going west, and we do not know until this day if he ever stopped, but I believe that this man and mule went on like Tennyson's Brook, forever, still running.

I must say our race and run was a very hard one both upon the riders and horses, as we covered some twenty or twentyfive miles, making the distance in the shortest time possible, keeping ahead of the crowd at all times.

By running as straight a line as possible to our destination, as the cowboys knew well their route, it was a wonderful sight in looking behind us to see the many running at full speed, Band it seemed that every man in the race was setting the prairies afire behind him to retard the others that were following, and it looked like the whole country behind us was a mass of prairie fires.

After many miles of hard riding, following our cowboys, we were successfully landed on our claims. After dismounting, I am unable to describe the condition after the run. I am certain I could have used some vaseline or tallow with comfort.

After inspection, we found our claims were all we could ask, and were much pleased and delighted with our locations, and we staked them, at once giving notice of our possession.

Being tired and sleepy, we tied our horses on the grass, and, with our blankets on the ground, we both fell asleep.

Fatigued from our ride and the loss of sleep, we did not awake until the sun was peeping from the Eastern horizon. Getting up and kindling the camp fire, with nothing to cook for breakfast, and having had no supper, we felt a little the sting of hunger, which was rapidly increased by noon.

Luckily, about this time, a Boomer, who had been dis9ppointed in securing a claim, and returning from whence he came, passed by with a prairiechicken, which he had killed, hanging from the horn of his saddle. We hailed him, and, after some persuasion, we bought the feathered game.

Quickly then to the creek, we skinned and washed the bird, and lost no time in dressing it and wrapping it in wet newspaper, and covering it over with hot coals from our camp fire. Soon, without bread, salt or pepper, with water from the creek, we were enjoying the most delicious morsel that ever went down the throats of two human beings. I think, until this day, that is the very best way on earth to cook a prairiechicken.

The prairiechicken alone for both of us did not entirely satisfy our hunger. Spending the rest of the day looking over our claims and wonderful possessions that we were lucky enough to secure, with no contest up to this time, we talked of our possibilities.

With the sun sinking behind the western horizon, and still feeling the effects of our long ride, and race, sore and stiff, without any supper, we retired early upon the same bed and blanket that we slept upon the night before. Upon awakening the next morning very early, feeling again the sting of hunger, we watched closely and searchingly for some one to pass, but not a human being did we see that morning. Noon arrived with our hunger increasing. My mind began to turn back towards Tulsa, thinking of that LAND OF PROMISE, "A LAND FLOWING WITH MILK AND HONEY," where I had decided to cast my destiny, and had left my brother, Dr. J.L. Kennedy.

Until this very day, I am glad I never returned and filed upon my claim, and stayed at Tulsa, the place so beautifully described by Washington Irving.

THE OPENING OF THE CHEROKEE STRIP

SEPTEMBER 16, 1893

The last and the famous run was made under President Grover Cleveland's proclamation for homesteads in the Cherokee Outlet west of the 96th Meridian, South of Kansas, and North of Oklahoma Territory.

This strip of land was 150 miles long and 80 miles wide, and contained as fine a body of land as ever a crow flew over.

Today, it is the finest and richest agricultural land and oil production in the new State of Oklahoma.

August 22, 1893, the President issued a proclamation giving due notice that the lands of the Cherokee Outlet, together with the surplus lands of the Pawnee and the Tonkawa Indian Reservations would be thrown open to settlers on the 16th day of September and prescribed rules and regulations designed for preventing "sooners" to file upon claims or lots.

The regulations established nine registration booths at different points around the Border. The clerk registered your declarations in writing, showing your qualifications to make a homestead entry, and attached to this declaration a certificate for your identification when you appeared at the land office to file your homestead claim.

Vast throngs of people came to the booths, which were insufficient in number to take care of the people. Some stood in line at these booths all day in the hot sun, and all night in the chilly air, that they might reach the booth the next day. There was much suffering while standing in line for hours to qualify to file upon a homestead, if you should be lucky to secure one.

The government had moved all "squatters" and "settlers" off the land to be opened, and the soldiers were strict on the Border, to prevent anyone from being inside of the line until the exact minute of high noon on the day of the opening.

I had been very busy since returning from the Sac and Fox opening up to 1893, and was very happy in the pursuit of my profession, well satisfied with my location in Tulsa, Indian Territory, as heretofore described. During this time, I had traveled over and seen the eastern part of the Cherokee Outlet, a portion of the country to be opened for settlement, in my practice among the Cherokee settlers in Jordan Valley, where Cleveland now stands, and the eastern portions of the strip. Knowing and realizing the great future of this ranch and rich agricultural district, and it would be the richest part of the Territory of Oklahoma, I once more, and for the last time went west to grow up with the country. Having had the experience and love of adventure and excitement and thrill, I again left my brother, Dr. J.L. Kennedy, at the place so wonderfully described by Washington Irving, to look after the practice while I quenched my pioneer thirst once more, and for the last time.

With my brother, a farmer, who was very anxious to obtain a homestead, in a good buggy and team, we started for the booth upon the Border to register a few days before the opening. On arriving at the booth at the Border, we immediately got in line to take our turn. The line was so long we stood all day and night. The next morning, the booth was not yet in sight, but we stood "pat," and registered in time for the last and famous run for a homestead. The misery and hardships endured by all who stood in line to register were criminal. Such methods of opening up a country to its citizens for a homestead entry, in my mind and experience, is one of the most hideous, ridiculous and criminal methods ever conceived by mankind.

After securing a certificate of registration and arriving at the Border on the day of opening, as noon drew near, the excitement and impediment grew, the shouting and cursing and growing roar of human voices like hungry animals a few minutes before high noon, all hurrying and maneuvering for positions like a herd of wild cattle milling in a roundup.

Under this method, thousands who reached the land first, and were clearly entitled to hold it, were driven off at gun point.

Many were killed, and the land taken. A great many settlers in the Cherokee Strip, and other openings in like manner, won their homes with the six shooter, and it might be said that Oklahoma was first settled by the six shooter.

In the openings of all the Indian lands, in none of them was there land enough to supply all those who ran, and a man unarmed and unwilling to fight has a slim chance to hold his own, even if he was there first.

This last and famous run, about which there has been so much written and said heretofore, I shall not attempt to describe. It being the richest part of Oklahoma, the reward of a homestead was looked upon by many as the chance of a lifetime, but the excitement then upon the border has not yet been fully described.

I lined up on the Border in my buggy with a good team, intending to make the run. A few minutes before the signal was given, and at the highest point of excitement and maneuvering for positions to get in line, a large team of mules, drawing a big schooner, got excited and, becoming uncontrollable by the driver, stampeded, coming in my direction. The back end of the wagon caught the back wheels of my buggy, and turned us over, spilling us upon the ground, and leaving outside of the line, while the schooner wagon with its big team of mules, and my team with its buggy turned upside down, were on the inside, and the race started while I was left on the Border outside of the Cherokee Strip, with a broken arm and dislocated shoulder, while only my team made the race, and I was left behind after all the hardships I had endured during registration. I was, after all, lucky in escaping being run over and killed by the wild, mad rush.

After getting myself together, I found the Border almost clear of the mass of humanity rushing forward, almost out of sight, racing to secure their reward.

Getting the aid of a couple of Doctors from Ingalls, they succeeded in reducing my dislocated shoulder, and had me well bandaged up that evening.

Gathering up the team, harness and buggy, getting them in shape, and realizing we had lost our opportunity to secure our reward or claim, I once more turned back from whence I came, with a crippled arm and shoulder, and no homestead.

I once more came to the conclusion that the advice given by the famous Horace Greely, "Young man, go west and grow up with the country," was not always profitable, and, on returning to Tulsa, Indian Territory, came to the conclusion that I was too old to go west and grow up with the country, and that really, when he said "young man" I was not applicable.

Since then, I have endeavored to grow up with Tulsa.

TRAILS AND ROAD

I wish to describe the trails passing through the little Indian Village, when I first came to Tulsa in 1891.

First there is the Star Route Trail from Baxter Springs, Kansas, Vinita and the Eastern part of the State. It extended West and crossed the Arkansas River at Mutt Lukey's Ferry where Tulsa now stands, through the Old Stage (at Kellyville), ran near Oklahoma City and on to Fort Sill in the Cheyenne and Arapaho Reservations. The stages ran along this route and the mail was carried to the forts and Indian Agencies in the West. Highway 66 now runs along this route.

Another route from Tulsa and Red Fork was called Turkey Track Trail. It ran South of the Arkansas and Cimmeron Rivers, connecting with the Turkey Track ranches and other cattle ranches in No Man's Land. Along this trail Highway 11 now runs.

Another trail that lead from Tulsa ran on the North bank of the Arkansas River, crossing the River near the United States Ferry close to the mouth of the Cimmeron, extending up the Arkansas River to Jordan's Valley where Cleveland now stands, on West to Pawnee Agency and on Northwest connecting with the Chisholm Trail, afterwards called the Albert Pike Highway, which is now designated as Highway 64.

Another trail leading Southeast from Tulsa to We olocka Mission, Tullahussee Mission, Muskogee, Fort Gibson and Talequah, is now Highway 11.

Another trail leading by way of Skiatook, Pawhuska and Arkansas City, is now Highway 11.

Another trail leading from Tulsa ran Northwest to Bartlesville and George Keeler's Store on to Coffeeville, Kansas. This trail is now Highway 75.

Knowing the old Trails that were traveled in early days and the highway that has been constructed by State and Government in recent years, recalls to mind how true, when it was said, "The path of least resistance is the best route to travel." that was made by the instinct of animals paths followed by the Pioneers and made highway by education engineers

THE PASSING OF THE INDIAN TERACRIACTORY

In the thirtyeight years of my experience in the IndianTerritory and Oklahoma, since 1889, I have seen many things come and go, and many changes.

I have seen the passing of the wild prairies of both Western Oklahoma and Indian Territory, replaced by modern farms, growing all varieties of grains and vegetables.

The passing of tens of thousands of longhorn Texas cattle, that roamed and fattened on the wild prairie grass, replaced by improved pure blood of all classes.

The passing of the bountiful of the most wonderful supply in the world, at that time, of deer, wild turkeys, and prairie chickens with the streams teeming with most all kinds of fish; catfish, bass, crappies and perch.

The passing of the cow trail to paved highways, the cowpony, chuck wagon, ox teams, covered wagon, and buggy teams, replaced by the hundreds of automobiles.

The passing of the many Indian Villages and Trading Posts, replaced by modern towns and skyscrapers in the best cities. The passing of many Indian Mission Schools, which are replaced by Colleges and Universities of all kinds, and good grades and high schools at the doors of all children.

The passing of few laws to many thousands of laws to govern our citizenship. The passing of little or no tax to a tax on everything, even the air you breathe.

The passing of no jails to many hundred, filled with many thousands confined therein.

The passing of the village blacksmith, replaced by garages, and the horseshoe replaced by rubber casing, your means of conveyance.

The changing of village merchandising to the great department stores in every line.

The passing of no laws, no lawyers, no troubles, replaced by thousands of all three; the passing of no highjackers, no stick up men, replaced by so many of them that they are at your front door on returning from Church. The home and business doors unlocked at night, replaced by a Yale Lock and a Watchman. The passing of the American Indian from their last Stomping Ground, most pathetic of all.

The Five Civilized Tribes had many fullbloods, who, with a pony, a gun thrown across the horn of his saddle, with a feather in his hat, searching for game, the source and means of living.

The mixed blood with their cattle on the rich prairie grass. The many Tribes of blanket Indians, living in their tepee villages, who lived from the natural resources of their country.

Their Tribal Laws and customs taken away from them, their land, their property and country had passed from them. The Indians have scattered, left their last stomping ground, from which the white man has made the youngest and richest State in the Union, the State of Oklahoma.

A NARRATIVE OF ONE OF THE MANY

T0 VISITS I MADE TO THE SICK IN PIONEER DAYS, 1892

I wish to narrate one of my trips as a pioneer doctor to administer to the sick.

This narrative is only one of the many thrilling and hazardous trips I was compelled to make in the pioneer days when I was located in Tulsa. This visit was made in the cold winter of 1892. The trip I am writing about occurred before Western Kansas was settled and no obstruction from the blizzards from the Northwestern Mountains was furnished. It seems to me that in those days we had more severe blizzards than we have had in recent years. As I have said before, this visit to aid the sick was made in the last part of January, in the cold and severe winter of 1892.

It had been storming most all day. The snow in Tulsa was about 24 inches deep and the blizzard was still raging. About nine o'clock that night most of us were gathered around a warm stove in the drug store, talking and telling stories. A man rode up and hitched his horse to the porch post. He was all wrapped up, tired and exhausted, and seemed to be almost frozen. He came into the drug store and asked for a doctor, saying that his sister, the wife of Colonel J. W. Jordan, who lived in the Jordan Valley, had pneumonia fever and was seriously ill and wanted a doctor to go at once and see her.

This was fifty miles up the Arkansas River in the Cherokee Strip, directly against the storm, and there was only a one way trail leading to the destination in Jordan's Valley. I had been over the trail before. The messenger said his horse was exhausted and he could not return with me, but would follow in the morning as soon as his steed was rested.

My friend, J. M. Hall, who was present, advised me not to attempt the trip. I was advised by all present not to try to go against the howling blizzard. While I was hesitating, one man, William McElroy, and old friend of Colonel J. W. Jordan, said he would not advise me to try to make the trip, but he would furnish me a pair of young mules well broken on the road, that would take me through the blizzard, if I wished to go. I finally told him I would take a chance on myself if he wanted to take a chance on the miles freezing to death, and that I would attempt to make the trip. He harnessed his miles and hitched them to my buggy, with my medicine case well wrapped and protected from the blizzard, and put a lantern on the dash board. About ten o'clock I started driving up the Arkansas River, the only route to reach the United States Ferry at the mouth of the Cimmaron River. The messenger had arranged with the ferry man to take me across to the West side of the Arkansas as there was no other trail to follow.

The well matched, long legged, young mule team was the best and the fastest ever hitched to a buggy. I made good time to the ferry boat as the road was somewhat protected by the hills on the North. The blizzard and snow still raged and it was getting colder. I found the ferry man at the cabin waiting for me. We crossed the River and I landed on the Western bank in the Cherokee Strip after midnight. As I have said there was only one trail to the Jordan Valley. This was on the divide between the Arkansas and the Cimmaron Rivers. There were many gulches and low places in the route. This district was open prairie with scattered timber, giving the wind a free sweep in forming great snow drifts. Especially filling up the gulches and the low places on the trail.

Often I could not see the trail. My mule team seemed to follow the trail, going in and out of the snow drifts, which were so deep all I could see was the team and the buggy ploughing through, hitting the trail on the opposite side.

I kept going, reaching my destination at eight o'clock in the morning, the home of J. W. Jordan. His wife was very sick with lobar pneumonia. I stayed all that day and all night with my patient.

I returned home the next day, making the hazardous trip against the blizzard without a single accident. I think much of my good fortune was due to the team of mules I was driving. Of course, I was taking many chances as there were no houses or settlements near the trail and had I had an accident I would have had no hope of being rescued in that howling blizzard.

I made a few more visits to see my patient, who made a good recovery. I received a good fee and made an everlasting friend, Colonel J. W. Jordan, who lived for many years afterward, and about whom I wish to give a short biography.

A SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF COL J.W.JORDAN

Colonel J.W. Jordan was a member of the Cherokee Tribe of Indians. He and about 50 other Cherokee citizens moved to the Cherokee Strip. Colonel Jordan located in the Valley of the Arkansas River, 10 years before the strip was opened, in 1893.

He lived and took his Cherokee allotment in the Jordan Valley and helped to organize the town of Cleveland. He and Dr. Sutton and J.R. Durham organized the town site of Cleveland, Oklahoma.

The hazardous trip I made that night to see Colonel Jordan's wife, and helping her to recover from her illness made him a live time friend. I knew him and enjoyed him, many years afterward until his death.

THE GROWTH OF TULSA FROM APRIL,1889 TO PRESENT TIME

I have personally seen Tulsa's and the Indian Territory's growth, herein described, from the above date.

Tulsa, at that time, was a Railroad Station, and a little Indian Trading Post, with two general stores, a hardware and implement store, a small drug store, a post office, a blacksmith shop, a small wooden hotel, a saddle shop, a cider stand, the Presbyterian Mission School and Church, and a small Methodist Church; and contained fifty people, more or less.

The business district was near the Depot on Main Street between Second Street and the Station. The road extended South to the ford crossing on the Arkansas River near the old Creek Stomping Grounds. The road extended West from First Street past the Old Burial Ground to near where the railroad bridge crosses the Arkansas River at the old Ferry Landing. West of Boulder Avenue and South of Fifth Street and South to the Stomping Grounds was in a hog pasture extending to the River. East of Cincinnati Avenue North of First Street was Ed Crowell's farm and orchard. North and East of the Frisco Depot was in a farm, the Burgess Home. West and Northwest of Denver Avenue was in a farm owned by Chauncey Owens.

All of the land that was not occupied by possessory was claimed and owned by Creek Citizens, most of it held by the Perryman, the Owens, the Davis, the Crowell and Childers families.

On the corner of Second and Main Streets was the residence of a licensed trader. South and on the West side of Main Street was also occupied by residences with practically no street, and a very small village.

It is hardly imaginable to know how little territory and space Tulsa occupied in these days. It being mostly a cattle and grazing country, and the many great pastures came almost to the door of the little Village at that time.

The big Perryman pasture extended along the skirts of timber and a little creek between Central Park and Oak Lawn Cemetery, and the main gate to the pasture, where hundreds of thousands of cattle were shipped in and out to market, was on Peoria Street.

This pasture South of the Cherokee from this point East to the Verdigris River, following the River South and extending to the Arkansas River, containing many thousands of acres of grazing land.

Part III