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Over the Back Fence By HANK HENRY Dad had wild ride in Oklahoma Land Rush My father was a "taciturn" man. Webster's dictionary says the word means "temperamentally disinclined to talk," and that fit my father to a T. He lived during the beginning of the greatest change in American history: when the country's economy base shifted from agricultural to industrial. I can remember only one time when my father talked about what must have been a defining time of his childhood, namely the Oklahoma Land Rush. His remembrance made such an impression on me that I can recall most of the details some 60 or more years later. Dad was born in 1881, which made him 8 years old when the biggest of the land rushes took place. It was the most amazing way for the government to get rid of surplus land -- to have a horse race for it -- but that's what it did. The land had belonged to Indian tribes who were forced to give it up because they had supported the South during the Civil War. They were given token payments of 15 to 30 cents an acre. These became in government parlance "the unclaimed lands." The U.S. Army was called up to oversee the race for these unclaimed lands. A starting line stretched for several miles. Waiting eagerly were men on horseback ready to race to a certain piece of land the family had picked out during an earlier inspection tour. During the darkness of the night before, hundreds of horsemen came into the unclaimed lands from the other side. Others had sneaked onto the lands as much as a week or more ahead of time. When the Army caught them, they were simply disarmed and led back to the starting line. It was the most porous line in history. My dad remembered that it was a warm April day in 1889 as hundreds milled around or went visiting other wagons while waiting for the race to start. The horsemen stood near the line, the reins in their hands. The dust was awful, and it got even worse when the horses were frightened by several cannons fired to signal the opening of the race. What mattered was when the horse and rider arrived at the spot picked out, not when the wagons showed up. But everybody's blood was up, and the wagons bounced over hills and gullies with such abandon that it was all the passengers could do to hang on. On Dad's wagon, everybody got down on the floor and stayed there. My father said he would never forget bouncing around in that wagon as they headed for a point about 20 miles from the starting line. There probably was never another race anywhere that was as crooked as the Land Rush. Dad's mother and his older brothers approached the land they had chosen with apprehension, but they were lucky that no one had arrived there before them. Dad said that occasional shots from areas nearby indicated that others had found the land they wanted already occupied. Legend has it that the term "sooner" was coined that first day for a man who by chicanery had hidden out to be on the land "sooner" than anyone else. No one knows how many of them were killed by legitimate settlers. Not all of those in the race wanted to be farmers. Many wanted to claim lots in cities which already had been laid out. Oklahoma City, Guthrie and Enid all grew to towns of more than 5,000 people within six hours. Somebody in government must have finally decided that distributing lands by horse race was nonsensical. When the time came to distribute Kiowa-Comanche lands, they did it by lottery. (Hank Henry is a retired Jackson County commissioner and a former radio and television announcer. Call him at 772-9055.) Prime Times front page Mail Tribune front page Copyright � The Mail Tribune 2000, Medford, Oregon USA