My Mother was Louise Foose Daugherty, who was born in Indianola, Illinois. My father and mother are buried in Riverside Cemetery, here in Wichita Falls, Texas.

I was married on March 23, 1910, to Virginia Moore Schnelle, daughter of Dr. Isaac Moore, the first doctor in Wichita Falls. He came on the first train to the town lot sale and bought a lot. My wife died in 1954, and is buried in Riverside Cemetery here.

Her daughter, Erma Schnelle, married Edward Mansill, and lives in Midland, Texas.

Our son, W. H. Daugherty, Jr., married Miss Elizabeth Wilson, and they now live in Austin, Texas.

R.M. Daugherty married Miss Ethel Bayne, and they live in Wichita Fa11s.

E.M. Daugherty married Miss Lucille Lewis, of Archer City, Texas, and they live in Wichita Falls.

My brother, Frank, married Miss Mollie Kean, of Wichita Falls. He is buried in Riverside Cemetery here in Wichita Falls.

My sister, Elizabeth Daugherty, who never married, is buried in Riverside Cemetery in Wichita Falls.

My sister, Mary, married James Custard. She is buried in Los Angeles, California.

Her daughter, Louise Custard, is single and lives in Los Angeles, California.

Her daughter, Ethel, married a Mr. Green, and she now lives in Los Angeles with her sister, Louise Custard.

My sister, Carrie Daugherty Yantis, is also buried in Los Angeles.

My brother, Russell Daugherty, married Miss Minnie Baker, of Eureka Springs, Arkansas. He and his wife are both buried in Los Angeles.

My father moved to Arkansas when I was a year old. and homesteaded quite a body of land there in Boone County.

My brother Frank came to Wichita Falls in 1886 and bought the Wichita Herald, the first paper published in Wichita Falls. I came when I was eighteen years old, or in 1888.

My family and I lived on Austin Street between Seventh and Eighth Streets, next door to what was afterwards known as Paulk’s Busy Corner. Dr. Burnside, owner of the house, charged $25.00 a month rent. We thought that was awfully high, but it was the only vacant house in town and we were glad to get it.

When I came to Wichita Falls, I went right to the Herald Office to begin my apprenticeship, which I took under Fred Miller. He had charge of the Mechanical Department, and he taught me the boxes, and what I knew about the printing business at that time, and started me off. The office was on the corner of Seventh and Ohio Streets, upstairs over the M. Marcus Store at 700 Ohio. There were a lot of offices up there and we had the front office. There was a porch on the Seventh Street side, with banisters upstairs.

We had a quartette in the office composed of my brother Frank, Milton Norwood, Fred Miller and Lovick Webb. They would often sing in the office or out on the porch, and when they sang out on the porch, crowds would congregate on the street to listen to them.

I hadn’t been working very long, but was able to handle the press. One night I went down to the Presbyterian Church, it was a little early and we had not gone inside yet. A fellow came up and asked if I could print a funeral notice. I told him I never had, but I thought I could. We went to the office and when he handed me the copy, it announced the death and hour of the funeral service of Mrs. Allan Parmer, a sister of Jesse James. It was customary to distribute these notices in the business district, since our paper was a weekly. We used to print handbills for special announcements, such as ice cream suppers, sales, or anything that took place before the paper went to press.

Just as soon as I got here, I organized a band. Dr. Burnside played in it, also, my brother Frank, and Fred Miller. We didn’t know but about three pieces and when they celebrated the Seventh Anniversary here in 1889, they wanted us to play, so we just played those same pieces over and over all day long. I played the euphonium, or double-bell baritone. I also played in the Presbyterian Church, with Mrs. H. B. Patterson often as my accompanist, while she was organist. I had all kinds of music and, when we would meet for rehearsal, we would play and play, sometimes for a couple of hours; they had just gotten the pipe organ at that time.

Not long after I got here, they had the County Seat election, and Wichita Falls won. That night, the band played out on the porch. Bert Bean and a bunch of fellows went to shooting Roman Candles and the town went wild. I was playing the tuba that night and somebody on the ground shot a Roman Candle and hit me right in the neck. That was the sorest spot I ever had.

The White Elephant Saloon was across Seventh Street, owned by Gus Newby. Nearly all the crime that happened around here was hatched up in the White Elephant. We had a lot of gamblers here and they gambled upstairs over the saloon. Young fellows would often come in to town with a load of wheat and these gamblers would get them drunk and take their money away from them, or cheat them out of it. So my brother and I talked about making a fight on those gamblers. Everybody was kicking about what the gamblers were doing. Well, we finally did.

The first thing we did was to jump on the Peace Officers through our paper, of course. When we jumped on the City Marshal about them, he went up there to arrest them. The man who ran the gambling house said: "I have authority from a higher officer than yourself to run my business". The Marshal asked him who it was, and he said: "Your Mayor". The Marshal just sat down and wrote the Mayor a note and asked him if he had given authority to run such a business. The Mayor wrote on the bottom of the Marshal’s note, that he had said they would not be arrested for the month of May, so the Marshal came to see us. Then Frank published the note and asked the Mayor to resign, since he had violated his Oath of Office by allowing gamblers to operate in Wichita Falls. That made the Mayor mad and he came down one morning and he and Frank had a fight, and Frank came out ahead.

We thought that the good people of Wichita Falls would be behind us, the business men I mean, but there were only three of the merchants that came to our side; they were J. C. Ward, R. O. C. Lynch and N. Marcus. Each of these men came and doubled their space in the paper for their ads, and all of the gamblers, and people that wanted gambling to run, went to see the people who advertised in the Herald and, if they didn’t quit, they would boycott them. It got awfully hard, and people that we thought would be our friends and would want to see good Government, seemed to think more of their business than they did of good government.

We then moved our office from Ohio to Indiana Avenue. Shortly after that, Frank and I were going to the Dallas Fair and had started to the depot to catch a train. Before we got to the corner of Seventh and Ohio, here came the fellow who ran the gambling house. He weighed about 225 pounds and, without saying a word, he hit Frank over the head with his cane and knocked him down.

Anyhow, we broke up that gambling entirely end there never has been an open gambling house from that day to this. That is one thing I have always been proud of.

I wasn’t present at the bank robbery, but I helped to take care of Frank Hardesty. I was in the drug business then, next door to C. H. Nicholson’s store in the 700 block on Ohio Avenue. Tom Collins was standing outside talking to me when we heard a shot. That was when the bank robbery began. The next thing I saw was P. P. Langford running from the bank across the street. He had been hit over the head with a pistol and was bleeding, and they shot him in the hip as he ran out.

The robbers had their horses hitched in the alley back of the St. James Hotel. There was a vacant lot on Ohio Avenue, about where the Gem Theatre is now, and Frank Hardesty was standing there; I was standing right next to him at that time. Then the robbers came to get their horses, Frank started shooting at them. I was standing back where I wouldn’t get hit, but I heard a bullet hit him.

I said: "Frank, are you hurt?" He said: "Well, he hit me, but I don’t feel any pain." Somebody was standing there, and we took Frank into my drug store and, when we removed his clothing, the bullet fell to the floor and we found it had hit his watch. His wife, who is still living, has the watch.

My other sold a half interest in the Herald to Ed Howard and, when he went out, Frank gave half interest to me, and then it was Daugherty Brothers.

A.D. Matheny owned the Wichita Herald before my brother did. Frank bought it in 1886. Mr. Matheny then operated a printing business. Eventually he and Frank decided to put the two businesses together and become partners. They were located about the middle of the 700 block of Ohio Avenue. I was at Newport, Texas, teaching a band at this time. That was when Frank had his stroke of paralysis and I was called back here. The town was down to nothing, and business was bad. I bought out Mr. Matheny and took charge of the paper.

When the daily paper was started here, I could not compete with it, especially when they continued their weekly and could get their news from the daily over to the weekly paper, so I moved the business to Iowa Park and continued the job printing part of the business and disposed of the paper.

I was elected Wichita County’s first Tax Collector. I believe it was in 1910.