The Prison Story and the Family Relocation to Oregon


When my Daddy, Fred Owen, was sentenced to one year and one day in Federal Court for not paying taxes on his moonshine, he was sent to a Federal Prison in Atlanta, Georgia. By the way there is no way that Georgia Moonshine can compare to my Daddy's whiskey.

We had no income while Daddy was in prison. We subsisted on canned goods, garden vegetables and what game we could catch or shoot. We ate squirrels, groundhogs, rabbits, deer and other animals too slow to get away. Uncle Robert gave us a big Russian Hog for winter meat. We had an old Jersey cow for a milk cow. We made our own butter and butter milk. My Mother always found a way to put food on the table along with either biscuits or corn bread.
Sometimes a meal would consist of a bowl of buttermilk and cornbread broken into the bowl.

One staple was pinto beans which we referred to as "soup beans". When I got married, I asked Anita to go to the store to pick up some soup beans and she came back empty handed. "I searched every pack of beans in the store and they did not have soup beans" said she. I went to the store with her and pointed out the bag of pinto beans. She still argues that the package did not say "soup beans" which is a minor technicality. Sometimes my Daddy would just spoon the soup from the beans and have the soup with cornbread. My brother Charles would mash the pinto beans up on his plate and mash homemade butter into the beans. To this day when I see a can of what is called "refried beans", I think of Charles.

Without Daddy, my Mother took over management of the 12 children or at least tried. It would be kind to describe us as manageable. Charles, as the oldest of the clan was appointed as the family Sheriff by Mama. He would run down whichever kid needed a whupping and deliver him or her to Mama for the application of a hickory switch. 

At any rate, without the income from selling of Daddy's whiskey, our food and resources dwindled. 

My sister Thelma and my brother-in-law Henson packed us all into a green and white Chrysler and took us to Oregon. What a long and tiresome trip that was with kids stacked to the ceiling of the Chrysler from the floorboard up. Several days later we arrived in Westport, Oregon. Thelma and Henson put us up in a beautiful home that set at the foot of Nicoli Mountain.
They bought the house and several acres from Earnie, the store owner in Westport. Mama went to Earnie's store and asked him where the grits were located. He gave her a strange look  and asked : "what are grits". Well the store started carrying grits. My brother Gerald was with Mama at the store and as he was exploring the store goods, he turned a corner and ran into the bread man who dropped his crates of bread on the floor. As he was picking up the bread, he said to Gerald, "excuse me" and Gerald blurted out "Thank you".

To call Gerald a rascal would be an understatement. At that time we both loved peanut butter and we were racing to the house to get some peanut butter. Gerald beat me to the house, grabbed the peanut butter jar and scooped about 4 tablespoonfuls of into his mouth and tried to swallow. Well, that much peanut butter is hard to swallow. He got a strange look on his fact and started turning blue as he grabbed his throat. I called Mama who rushed in the kitchen and almost beat him to death as she slapped him on the back until enough of the peanut butter went down so he could breath again. I don't think he has had peanut butter since. 

We survived Oregon by picking berrys, stringing bean fields, picking beans and strawberries. We would never have survived without Thelma and Henson's help.

Gerald and I were climbing an English Walnut tree when we saw a strange car coming up the drive. It was a taxicab. We were totally shocked when Daddy climbed out of the taxicab. He was carrying an old brown suitcase and he looked awful tired. He had spent a year and one day in prison and here he was in Oregon after a long train ride and a taxi cab ride. He told Gerald and I to go and get Mama and tell her to bring some money to pay the taxi cab man. We started to climb the hill to the house but we saw Mama running down the hill  flapping her apron up to her face and crying. I could never stand to see my Mama cry so  I shed a tear too. We were finally a family back together again.