This is the third and final installment of James Cook’s story of 1870s cattle drives from Texas to Nebraska, drawn from a 1907 interview with Cook by Chadron judge Eli Ricker.  It’s part of new book compiled by Richard Jensen of the Nebraska State Historical Society, “Voices of the American West.” Jensen’s colleague, researcher John Carter, prepared this three-part excerpt for Nebraska Cattleman magazine.  Like an army, the cattle drive moves on its stomach, and this final selection details the critical role played by the cook.

                Another character of the very highest importance upon these cattle-driving trips was the cook. He was the keystone of the arch, the hardest worked of all the men.

His hours of service were generally from 3:00 in the morning till 11 or 12 at night. Good-natured, patient, experienced, long-suffering, addicted to strong drink, nevertheless feeling his dignity as a man for all that, allowed no liberties to be taken therewith because of the service he performed. His high spirit will brook no insult, and a gun-play is a little thing when his honor has been infringed.

This man of the menial position is a factor of such consequence to the business that the caporal (drive foreman) has given more time to his selection than to that of any other one connected with the drive. The cook is the central figure of the group for six months and many hundreds of miles. Throughout the long journey, peace and harmony prevail if he so wills; otherwise he may have all the men by the ears and discord in every breast, so potent are his tongue, his restraint, his judgment, his secretiveness, his friendships. The creature comforts were in his charge. The incumbent of that office which caters with handsome satisfaction to the thirst and hunger of men is a king in the little world where he roams.

Saving cowpies for campfires

Likewise with the cook on the Texas trail, there were some who would belittle his importance or throw out challenges to his power. He was usually one who had been with long expeditions – had crossed the Plains – was sated with manifold experiences – knew the West by heart – was a book of the mysterious frontier and wilderness life. There were worthless as well as excellent cooks; there were poor trailers and incompetent foremen; when a herd went through with an inefficient outfit, the experiences were direful. All the affairs went zig-zag and haphazard. Instead of growing a little better all the time, the cattle got thin, some were lost, many died. And when the end of the journey was reached, all were poor. These were wrecking expeditions signalized by losses from beginning to end.

But we mention more pleasurably the prosperous trips, such fascination is there ever in success over failure. This is said of those devoted to their duty, that every fissure was stopped against the entrance of chance or neglect. The most trivial details had attention. Fresh water was not passed on the road without the barrels were refilled, because it might be 40 miles to the next water, it might be farther. Across those expansive deserts, the trails wound without sight of tree or wood for hundreds of miles. But the faithful cook, mindful of everything necessary to good cheer, success and comfort, carried a large hide beneath his wagon, stretched between the two axles, upon which he carried a store of cow chips for his fire when fuel could not be picked up in the neighborhood of the camp. Some of the riders would add an armful occasionally to the little store swinging under the wagon, but this was no part of their duty, only a friendly act of helpfulness.

It is well to observe that the cook was the highest paid servitor connected with the drive, the foreman alone excepted. There was another distinction attached to his position. More sobering and less alluring; this was his greater danger from the Indians who infested the Plains, and because of his frequent isolation from the rest of the party could easily be cut off, and was always an inviting object of attack.

Of chuckwagons and rivers

One of the most highly interesting transactions of his ordinary experience was the putting of his culinary department across the rivers that traversed the trail. Every conceivable mode of passage was used to meet the ever-changing circumstances. If trees had grown on the banks of streams, it would have been easy to make rafts from them. Such rafts as could be made with parts of the wagon were sometimes put together and small weights taken over at each of several trips. A sack of meal would be carried across on the back of a horse that swam high in the water. The wagon went over piecemeal. Ropes were attached to a wheel or an axle, which was dragged from bank to bank by the riders’ horses. Utensils were transported one at a time. Numerous trips were required to complete the transfer.

When it was possible to get the cook’s outfit over in advance, this was done. It was of some advantage to have the camp across and established so that hot coffee and steaming viands might greet the drenched and chilled laborers when they had brought everything over. [For those not used to arcane vocabulary, which Cook loves to use, we will save you a trip to the dictionary. “Viands” refers to provisions or an article of food.]

The draft oxen swam over with the herd. It was a slow, tedious, and painstaking task to effect this crossing, and all sorts of mishaps were to be expected, and they were borne with that fortitude which, with every possible aid, could alone make these arduous trips to the north attractive and beneficial both to the cowboys and the cowmen.

 On a certain occasion, a herd belonging to John, Billy and Charley and their father Ben Slaughter ascended the Frio River in southwestern Texas to its source, where it terminated amid such impassible declivities that, although the cattle could scale the barriers, every particle of the wagon, utensils and provisions had to be raised out of the gorge to the summit of the rocks by ropes drawn up by the men to a height of 150 feet.

[Note:  As a young man, Cook worked for Ben Slaughter on his ranch in New Mexico.]

Having spoken of the “smoking viands,” it ought to be explained that the food enjoyed by these men consisted of black coffee without sugar, corn bread baked in a Dutch oven, and fried pork. This menu was occasionally varied with fresh meat when an antelope or a buffalo was killed. Or more rarely, a fat cow that had been picked up along the way and smuggled into the herd was shot down to garnish the plain ration of these men with abnormal appetites. In their riotous cheer, when they drew up in a little circle around the coffee kettle, sitting upon the ground or resting on their knees, and loaded their tin plates with Johnny cake and grease and long slices of ancient hog meat, they would merrily sing:

    “Corn bread is rough

    And corn bread is tough

    But let us thank the Lord that we have corn bread enough.

    Three pieces for four of us.

    Bless the Lord there are no more of us.”

Some ending notes

The drives of stock cattle to the north began in 1868. The first to send a herd was John Chisholm, whose cattle made the first trail from Fort Worth to Wichita, driving north through the Indian nation into Kansas and this was known as the Chisholm trail. Colonel Myers was one of the first to enter into this business. J.W. Snyder was another. John Iliff was another; later he started a big ranch on the Platte River in Colorado. His widow married Bishop Warren of Denver. James Ellison and John Dewees and two brothers of Dewees created a firm known as Ellison & Dewees. Others who sent cattle over the trails were the Blocker Brothers, Butler Brothers, Shanghai Pierce, Captain John W. Lytle, Mr. Fant, Bishop & Hallf, Millet & Mayberry, King & Kennedy, Driscoll Brothers.

Numbers of the men who began life on the Texas trail as cowpunchers saved money and grew into stock owners. Many become foremen and advanced to cowmen; many of these have succeeded in life and became prominent and wealthy. Among these are Addison A.. Spaugh of Manville, Wyo., on the headwaters of Niobrara River; R.G. Head, Trinidad, Colo. Mr. Cook does not remember others of whom there were many; Spaugh and Head were associates with Cook in early driving.

The cowboy was a product of the Texas trail. Driving from the south preceded the gathering of the big herds in the northwest. He became the hero of the western wilds and was the leading spirit there till the Indian power was broken and the railroads penetrated his domain and immigrants at large came and occupied the broad country over which he had ranged immense herds, and made his occupation impossible. Driving from the south lasted till about 1882.

The average cowboy was paid $15 a month. [Judge Ricker failed to complete this line, so we have to guess what else the cowboy was furnished]

Buffaloes travel in a straight line. When they were moving and encountered a herd of Texas cattle, they invariably bored right through the herd, turning neither to right nor left. It was just the same if but one or a dozen buffaloes were on the move – they walked straight through.

James Cook’s narrative clearly runs out of steam at the end, but we should be grateful that he took the time to write in detail the day-to-day grind of pushing Texas cattle north. This is not just the story of the birth of Nebraska’s cattle industry, it is the story of the birth of a truly distinct American character.

–         John Carter, Nebraska State Historical Society.

Photo Caption #1: Cowboys, thought to be in Sioux County, Neb., gather for a meal on the range around 1900. (Photo by Mabel Souther. Nebraska State Historical Society)

Photo Caption #2:  James Miller of Gordon, Neb., took this picture of cattlemen around 1890, about a decade after the Texas-to-Nebraska cattle drives had ended. It’s part of the personal collection of Chadron judge Eli Ricker, who interviewed James Cook in 1907 for this historical series. (Nebraska State Historical Society)