I was married on the 27th day of August, 1889, to Louisa Schrumpf. She was born close to where I was born in Illinois. Her people came out of Bavaria, Germany. We were married in Illinois. I was engaged to her before I came to Texas and, after staying here three years, I went back and married her.

My father was Christian Hirschi and be came from Canton Bern, Switzerland. Where we call it County here, they call it Canton. Bern is the capitol of Switzerland, but my people were country people. Father died in 1882, when I was eighteen years old, and is buried in Grand Fork, Illinois. My Mother is buried in Grand Fork, too.

My maternal Grandfather was Christian Tontz. He came from a Canton right next to Austria. My grandparents and Mrs. Hirschi’s a parents are buried in Highland Cemetery.

I had eight brothers and sisters, and one little boy was born right after father’s death, but he died. Of the nine children, six are still living. I have two brothers living in Guthrie, Oklahoma; one of them is ninety years old. I have one sister in St. Louis, Missouri, and one in Marine, Illinois, and a brother living in Los Angeles, California

Mrs. Hirschi died December 27, l953, and is buried in Iowa Park, Texas. We were married sixty-four years.

Our daughter, Barbara, married Dr. Paul T. Neely and lives in Portland, Oregon. She and her husband are now in Africa on a tour. They have traveled extensively.

Our daughter, Myrtle, is the widow of Dr. H. P. Ledford, and lives here In Wichita Falls.

Our son, Raymond, married Jean Erite and they live in Westwood, California, a suburb of Los Angeles. He owns a farm north of Electra, Texas.

Our son, Fred, died soon after he came home from World War I. He is buried in Iowa Park, Texas.

Our daughter, Lillian, married Hugh S. Grady, and lives In Dallas, Texas.

My brother, Christian, and I settled first on a homestead in Southwestern Kansas, in the same County as Garden City, and about sixty miles south of that city. We were dried out there. It took about 300 feet to get down to water and that cost a lot of money, so we decided to leave.

We came down here from Garden City; drove here through Mobeetie, down a cattle drive, and came here looking for a new location. It wasn’t the Chisholm Trail; newcomers had to get around the settlers. The Chisholm Trail first went close to Denton, then they got to Wichita Falls and Doan Station, and called that the Chisholm Trail, but whenever settlers came in, they pushed the Trail out away from them so they could get away from the other settlers. Those big herds of cattle had to go where there was grass, and when we came here, the free grass was pretty well gone, but they went through unorganized counties.

When we came here, Mobeetie should have been on the Chisholm Trail, I guess, but we saw big herds of cattle, 1000 to 1200 steers, being driven through to Dodge City, Kansas, for shipping. When they first started shipping cattle, they went to Wichita, Kansas. That was the Chisholm Trail then. They had to get them through where there were no fences - just open prairie. When we came down here from Kansas, we didn’t pass but one wire fence all the way down, and that was known as a drift fence. The cattlemen would trail down from Dodge City to MoBettie and Tascosa, and the ranchmen got their supplies from there. Then the Burlington System was built on through and the Santa Fe came later on. There were no farms at all, nothing but cattle ranches and the ranchmen would drive the cattle to market.

When we went to Kansas in 1885, I took my homestead and settled in Seward County, and a year afterwards there wasn’t a settler there, they all starved out. There were some nice towns, for instance, Fargo Springs, Greenfield, Ivanhoe, all towns of 400 to 600 people, and, every house was empty.

I came here in 1886, in the month of August, but I didn’t stay here. I went on to Dallas and Fort Worth, and then returned to Wichita Falls. That was the year we had the big drought here. We couldn’t raise anything, and couldn’t live, so we thought we would have to go somewhere else, but in 1886, the State sent supplies up here to feed the people. My brother and I were not entitled to it. To be eligible for the help, folks had to be here before 1886. I don’t know how we managed to stay. There were other families here then, the Barwises, Kemps, Huffs and Mart Banta at Beaver Creek, which was south of Electra. They used to call the place "Sidetrack B", but after Waggoner got here, he named it "Electra" for his daughter. The railroad terminal was Harrold, and then they built it on through.

Colonel Herman Specht had the "S" Ranch up at Clara, and he divided it up and sold it to settlers. The settlers come to hin and said: "Colonel, we have got to go". He said: "I don’t ask you for any money". They said: "It isn’t money, but we have got to have something to eat". He said: "Well, I have some credit here and I can furnish some food". Colonel Specht told me this story.

We bought the land in October and I started working on the railroad. We didn’t have much money, so my brother stayed on the farm and I went up on the track-laying. They were laying the track from Quanah to Colorado, and I worked on the railroad and sent him the money.

We didn’t suffer, but we didn’t have any money either, and didn’t have any crops until 1888. We had four good years beginning in 1888, both, here and in Iowa Park.

We had 369 acres of land about where the Sand. Beach Swimming Pool is, and we bought it at $3.00 an acre. This body of land had been part of a ranch known as the Box K Ranch, and Mr. J. K. P. Smith was Foreman. They used to call him Box-K Smith. His son, Charlie, is still living, and there is also a daughter still here. Another son, Fred, used to be Sheriff of Wichita County. The Smiths had land adjoining ours, or was close to it, but it didn’t belong to them. He couldn’t find the owners of the land. Templeton and Coffield were agents, and we bought the land from them.

I worked nearly three years on the Denver Railroad. I stayed with them until they built to New Mexico. The two ends joined at Folsom, New Mexico, on the Canadian River. There wasn’t a town after we left Quanah. They started Amarillo after that. You have heard of Tascosa, where Boys Ranch is, and where they have Boot Hill Cemetery. When people were killed in a shooting scrape, nobody bothered to take their boots off, but buried them, boots and all, in Boot Hill Cemetery. Mobeetie, of course, had some negro settlers there to take care of the Indians, just a kind of camp.

Christian Hirschi who came to Texas with me stayed here three years, but when I got married, he went back to Michigan and studied law and practiced law in Michigan. He had, gone to school but wanted more education, so he went back to school and graduated and studied law after that. Later, he went to Watseka, Illinois, and married there, and died about two years ago at the age of ninety plus. He practiced law until he was seventy-five or eighty years old, and was pretty well fixed.

About ten years ago, my daughter Lillian took Mrs. Hirschi and me to Colorado. I had always wanted to see my old homestead and I thought that was my chance. Mrs. Hirschi said: "I want to see your old home in Kansas". It was in Liberal. I asked a fellow, "Where is Fargo Springs?" He said: "Well, you go up the Canadian River and you will find a pile of bricks there, that is the town". We drove up into that country and I knew about where my home was in Fargo Springs, but there was no town, nothing but wheat, wheat, wheat, lots of wheat. Everything was flat, no signs of houses, but that was about the place where my land was. Then we drove on to Garden City and drove a long distance. I stopped a man end asked: "Where is the town of Ivanhoe?" It was a pretty little town and I used to have a. homestead there in 1885. He said, "You go on awhile and you will find the cemetery. That’s all that is left of it". Of course, that country is just like here, we have lots or failures here, but when we make, we make!

Now since they have tractors, they are better off, as they don’t have to feed tractors like they did horses. If it were not for tractors, the plains country wouldn’t be as it is now. Sometimes you would make a big crop and eat it up before you made another one. One family in Dakota said: "Some years we made so much we didn’t know what to do with it, and before we made another crop, it was all eaten up." Since they have tractors, it is not that way. When you have horses, you have to feed them. We had horses to work with and sometimes we didn’t make enough to feed them, so just turned them into the field and they ate it up.

I knew the country pretty well here, but I never was so familiar with the folks. Mr. Huff signed the deed to the first tract of land I bought. A lot of those younger men used to be here. A Mr. Sam Y. Ferguson was in the grocery and dry goods business.

We used to play baseball down close to where the mill is now. Nat Henderson was catcher for the Dudes and I was catcher Rough Necks.

Also playing with us were the Jalonic boys, Ed and Ike. P.P. Langford was a catcher, too. I used to have one man who was first catcher, named George Helm. He moved to Charlie and married a girl down there. Finally one day I got to asking around and found out that Helm’s wife was dead and he was living with his daughter. I called him up and we had a long talk. We used to catch bare-handed, no gloves. He died just about two years ago at the age of ninety-four or five. He had three children.

When I went back to Illinois to get my wife, everybody predicted that she would be a widow before long as my health was bad and they thought I would not live long. People told me I would never life to enjoy my money, so why work so hard? I buried them all.

I bought this house nineteen years ago. (1511—11th St.). We lived out on the Iowa Park Road in that big house and one day my wife said. "I want a small house, not over four or five rooms, and I want it close to the (Lutheran) Church, so we won’t have to walk far." And we are just a half block from the Church.

When we built the Church at Eleventh and Holliday Streets, many people said: "What do you want to go out of town for?’ Brook Street was the limit of town then.

I served as President of the Wichita State Bank and Chairman of the Board. I was also President of the First National Bank of Iowa Park, Texas, at the same time.

During the depression, the Government came in here and made loans on property. I got some of that and, of course, I lost some, but the Building and Loan Association had to close up. I did not foreclose on any of my folks if they could not pay and if they offered, to take care of their place. I would much rather have someone in the house taking care of it, than to have it stand vacant. Most of them paid out eventually.

I do not care much about travelling. I have been on the Atlantic and Pacific Coasts, and in Canada, but when I stay a day or so, I’m ready to go on.