Harry Benham is Doing Better

On December 27, 1911, just one hundred years plus two weeks ago, the Sheridan Enterprise reported that H. C. Benham was somewhat improved. His "greatly aggravated attack of quincy" seems to have lifted.

'Quincy' or 'Quinsy' seems to be an archaic term for tonsillitis run amok. A more modern term (and definitely less palatable) is 'Peritonsillar Abscess'. If you truly want the gory details, go here.

Sadly - his father, Jacob died while Harry was sick, as was reported in the Enterprise of December 22, 1911.

The good news is he got better, going on to become (from his bio):

director and v-pres. Sheridan County Bldg. & Loan Assn., since organization, 1912; director and pres. Sheridan Business Men’s Club, 1914; director and v.-pres. Sheridan Commercial club, 1912-1914; first president Denver-National Parks Highway Assn., 1913; pres. Sheridan Good Roads Club, 1913-1914; mem.  Masons, York rite;  Past High Priest R. A.  Masons.

Surfing in Wyoming (in January?)

A lazy Sunday afternoon with too much time on the Internet sometimes reveals nice surprises.  I happened upon wyohistory.org a project of the Wyoming State Historical Society.

I read about the Johnson County War.  It was the baiss of the 1953 movie Shane, with Alan Ladd and Jean Arthur.

When one adopts a place as one’s home, there is always much to learn.  In my case I was also looking for more information on Harry Benham, who built our home.  No luck there, but the web site has a lot of neat stuff.  Check it out.

I Played With the TripAdvisor Travel Map.

I know I missed a lot of spots - especially in India, where I've traveled.  Still it was a lot of fun.

John B. Kendrick

Sheridan County records indicate that John B. Kendrick was the first owner of the property that later became known as Residence Hill.  His influence in Sheridan is still evident.  Sheridan's delightful City Park is Kendrick Park, and generations of kids have splashed in Kendrick Pool.  Kendrick Mansion regally overlooks the old part of town (see Sheridan's Trail End State Historic Site), and visitors can golf at Kendrick Golf Course.

His biography from the Men of Wyoming reads:

John B. Kendrick, governor of Wyoming; cattleman; (Dem.) b. Sept. 6, 1857, Cherokee county, Texas; s. of John Harvey and An.na (Maye) Kendrick; educ. pub. Schls. Florence, Williamson county, Texas; raised on a Texas ranch; cowboy on the Texas Trail, beginning March 17, 1879; trailed cattle from Matagardo Bay, Gulf coast, to the head of Running Water, in Wyoming, 1,500 miles; was employed by chas. W. Wulfjen, whose daughter he afterward married; arrived in Wyoming Aug. 27, 1879; continued in the employ of Mr. Wulfjen until spring 1883 as foreman of his outfit: built what is known as the Ula ranch in eastern central Wyoming during this time; in 1883 he returned to Texas and invested  his savings in a small bunch of cattle and placed them with another  herd belonging to his former employer, trailed them to the head of the Cheyenne river in Wyoming; acted as foreman for and became an owner of the Lance Creek Cattle Co., 1885-7; range manager of the Converse Cattle Co., 1887-97; succeeded the Converse Cattle Co., in business 18097, buying their ranch and herd remnants; has continued actively in the cattle business since; interested in the coal mining fields of Sheridan county and is heavily interested in Wyoming real estate; pres. First National Bank, Sheridan 1900-2; Wyo. State Senator, 1911-15; Democratic candidate for  U. S. senator, 1912; pres. Wyoming Stockgrowers’ Assn., 1909-13; v-pres. National Livestock Assn., 1910-15; governor Wyoming 1915-1919; mem. 32 deg. Mason; Elks. Home Sheridan, Wyo. Address:  Cheyenne Wyoming.

How to Get Here

From I-90 take exit #23 (5^th St. ) West into Sheridan.  At the stop light (Main St.) turn left (South).  Drive through the business district to the Court House and turn right onto Burkitt St.  You will be heading west.  Travel 3 blocks and turn left at the blinking red light onto Thurmond.  At the top of the first big hill is 450 S. Thurmond.

GPS Cordinates:  44.797916,-106.959801

I don’t know what Carrie Benham would think of this….

… but Harry (Bernard -our Harry, not Benham) has finished wiring the five guest bedrooms, our downstairs bedroom, the living room and the kitchen ‘puter for Internet, streaming media, cable and phone.

He thinks our signal from the upstairs might make it as far as the very top of Thurmond Hill.  And he’s installed hardware firewalls, secured login and all the other bells and whistles (of course).

What would Carrie say?

A century ago, when she wanted to talk to somebody, she leaned over the fence or had the operator connect her to another one of Sheridan’s phone.  If she wanted to send a ‘text message’, she wrote it by hand on stationary and stuck a 2 cent stamp on the envelope.

And media?  Streaming?  Well she might have had scratching media - a gramophone.

We’ve got six bedrooms and five bathrooms, an attic and a basement, living and dining rooms, a pantry, laundry room, garage, shed, back yard, front porch and hallways all with WiFi.  So now we can play ‘Words with Friends’ with someone else anywhere in the house without actually talking to them, or seeing them….

What would Carrie think of  this?

A mild Wyoming winter...... so far.

I was just talking with some of the guys at work.  They hail from all over the country.  We agreed that in most places there's a common saying that goes "If you don't like the weather in (fill in the blank), wait a minute" (or five minutes).

This is said in Wyoming too.

Today I'd like the weather NOT to change. 

Sure, we need the snow 'cause it melts and becomes our water supply for the year.  But shirtsleeve weather anytime after the winter solstice is something to cherish - and that's what we've got for a few hours today.

But I have seen the weather change in "five" while hunting in the Bighorns. 

November 1996

It was a lovely late fall day as I headed up to where our elk camp was going to be.  I parked the 'ol truck when it couldn't go any steeper (is steeper a word?), and started walking.  After about 40 minutes under a cloudless sky the sun gave out.  I looked over my shoulder to see a fog bank approaching - - - fast.

Now a winter fog in the Bighorns is not tentative.  It rolls in like a battalion of German Panzers.  Relentlessly.   Unstoppable.  Certain.  Only there's no Panzer noise. It is silent, muting all other sounds as it just rolls over you and keeps on going.  One minute you can see the ridgeline 500 yards in front of you, the next one you can barely see your hand at the end of your arm.

My brain had a tug of war.  "Stay on the path, you'll find the campsite" vs. "Stop now, seek shelter."  I chose door #2 and it saved me from bigger problems.

A night in the bosom of a stand of trees with little food and less water is what happened next.  In the morning I dug my way through 3 feet of new snow to see that blue sky had replaced the fog - and snow was everywhere - stretching from horizon to horizon.

I could see I was only about 30 minutes from our camp - AND it was 90 compass degrees away from where I'd planned to head the evening before.

Thanks to snow up to my whatever, my 30 minute treck took 90, and when I found the campsite I was famished.  And food-less.  I dug around in the ring of rocks we used to contain our fires and found some potato peelings, a charcoaled hunk of onion and a piece of mystery meat still on a bone which looked like a rib.  Venison?  Deer meat?  Human?  Dog?  Didn't matter, it was dead and I wasn't.

Knowing my hunting partners had more knowledge of the mountians than I did,  I gathered fire wood and settled in to wait for them to show up with all the camping gear, some food and some coffee.

They did.  I didn't get my elk that weekend - but I sure got a great story to tell when someone says "If you don't like the weather in Wyoming, wait a minute."