38 Louie the Duck, Our Family's Quirky Quacker

Louie the Duck

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 38 – September 17, 2025

Prompt: Animals

When I was in the fourth grade (1963–64) in Bartlesville, Oklahoma, my mother worked as a secretary/receptionist at J & S Foundry in Dewey. Across the street from the foundry sat the stockyards, where every Wednesday they held both a livestock auction and a household goods auction. Mom often spent her lunch hour at the household auction.

One week she was the only bidder on a Quaker Oats box labeled “14 white duck eggs.” Her winning bid? Twenty-five cents.

She borrowed a tabletop incubator from a friend, and the duck watch began on our kitchen counter. Every day she sprinkled the eggs with water, and one day we “candled” them to check for life inside. At first, we thought three were rotten—but with more research, we realized those were actually the fertile ones. Three baby ducks! Just enough for the names I had already picked out: Louie, Huey, and Dewey, after Donald Duck’s nephews.

The incubator had a little glass window, so we kept a close eye. Finally, one egg began to crack, and out came a wet little duckling. We named him Louie and tucked him into a shoebox lined with a towel under a heat lamp. But the other two never hatched. We later learned that the first duckling should have been left in the incubator to encourage the others—lesson learned too late.

Still, we had Louie!

When Mom asked what to feed him, I said, “Well, the ducklings in the TV commercial eat Gravy Train.” So that’s what we gave Louie. If you’ve never seen it, here’s the vintage commercial with the ducklings—proof that advertising really does work!

Gravy Train Commercial

Louie thrived on his new diet. In fact, I think he grew up believing he was a dog. Our house sat on the corner of Dartmouth Drive and Frank Phillips Boulevard. Both of our backyard neighbors had dogs: the Pickells’ miniature Sheltie named Mickey (after Mickey Mantle) and the Bakers’ Beagle named Happy. Louie would race the fence line, flapping his wings while the dogs ran on the other side. He was too fat on Gravy Train to fly, but he certainly kept up.

At some point, General Foods “improved” Gravy Train with a new formula. Louie didn’t agree. He flat-out refused to eat it. So Mom wrote a letter to General Foods—on Louie’s behalf—explaining the problem. They wrote back with a coupon for a free bag of Gaines Meal, saying it was the same formulation as the old Gravy Train. Louie was satisfied.

Louie’s antics gave me plenty of material for English class assignments, and he became something of a neighborhood character. Everyone in Pennington Hills and Madison Heights knew Louie the Duck. The bus my brothers rode to College High stopped right in front of our house, and Louie often waddled to the front yard to meet it.

Since he wasn’t fenced in, Louie sometimes wandered. We’d get phone calls about his latest adventures. When we moved to Bentonville, Arkansas, in 1968, Louie almost didn’t let us leave without him. Dad had gone ahead in the spring, but Mom and I stayed until school let out. On my very last day of eighth grade, the movers loaded everything—including Louie’s big galvanized washtub he used for swimming. Then a call came: someone had spotted Louie miles away, eastbound on Nowata Road. He was following the moving van! Mom drove out, scooped him up, and put him in the backseat of her Volkswagen. She then swung by Madison Junior High to get me—where I was in the principal’s office for wearing shorts under a tunic I had sewn myself. Mom apologized to Mr. Littlefield, gave him our forwarding address for my report card, and off we went—Louie in tow.

Louie lived with us in Bentonville for a couple more years. One summer while I was away at camp, tragedy struck. When I returned home from camp Louie had died of blood poisoning. The vet showed Mom an injury under his wing—likely the result of a dog attack. Knowing Louie, I’m sure he was just trying to make a new friend.

Closing Reflection

Louie may not have learned to fly, but he mastered being a dog, a neighborhood celebrity, and even a loyal moving companion. Not bad for a duck hatched out of a 25-cent box of eggs. If the Animals theme teaches us anything, it’s that sometimes the best family pets are the ones who never got the memo about what they were supposed to be.

Louie never learned to fly, but his story still soars on in my memories of him.

37 Horse Races, Headlines, and a Tragedy in Early Tulsa

My Maternal Great Grandmother’s 2nd (or 3rd) Husband Lew N Boon

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 37 – September 10, 2025

Prompt: In the News

When my maternal great-grandmother Lucinda’s husband, Joseph Coon, died in 1907, he left her some property in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I went to the county courthouse to find out what happened to the property. I found that Lucinda and Lew Boone had mortgaged the property and then sold it. I wondered if this was the Lew Boone buried near Lucinda in Oaklawn Cemetery with a baby Boone.

I discovered that Lucinda and Lew N. Boone were married in Neosho, Missouri in February 1909.

What happened a few months later was revealed in the newspaper. I found several accounts. This one made the front-page headline in The Tulsa Tribune, May 15, 1909.

Mr. and Mrs. H. F. Newblock in a horse-drawn buggy, c. 1906. Sheriff Newblock later took charge of the crime scene after Lew Boone’s shooting. While not related to the event, this buggy would have been similar to the one Oliver Davis and his wife were sitting in as they watched the horse race near Oaklawn Cemetery. (Courtesy of Museum of Tulsa History)

WHAT THE INQUEST DEVELOPED

Hot Blood of the Young Indian Led to the Tragedy Yesterday.

DAVIS SHOT VICTIM WITHOUT WARNING

Resented Alleged Cursing of His Wife By Horse Trader Lew Boone—Preliminary Hearing before Judge Slack Monday Morning—Three Witnesses Examined Who Told Similar Stories—Boone Had Been Drinking Heavily.

The preliminary trial of Oliver Davis the young Indian who yesterday afternoon shot and instantly killed Lew Boone, a horse trader, near Oaklawn cemetery east of town, was not held this morning as was expected. The arraignment has been postponed until Wednesday morning at 10 o’clock. No witnesses have been summoned and none of the attorneys have prepared to enter a plea. If he pleads guilty to having fired the fatal shot it is up to Judge Slack, justice of the peace, to decide whether he shall be released on bond or held without bail for the grand jury.

A short time after the killing took place yesterday an inquest was held in the undertaking parlors of G. W. Mowbray at Second and Cincinnati, Judge Slack acting as coroner. The news of the killing spread like wild fire and a crowd was soon gathered at the place where the inquest was held. The verdict of the coroner’s jury was that Lew Boone had come to his death by a bullet fired from a pistol in the hands of Oliver Davis. The jury was composed of the following men: W. F. Purdy, B. C. Otmier, G. A. Lewis, Ed Richett, Silas Thurman and D. R. DeHaven.

Only three witnesses were examined by the coroner’s jury. These were H. A. Stout, A. H. Orcutt and H. C. Morrow, all eye witnesses to the shooting. Stout’s story was as follows: “A horse race was being pulled off in the road near the cemetery. Davis and his wife drove up in a buggy and watched the race. There was a dispute at the conclusion of the race and it was run over again. Boone was cursing about the result of the race. He was drinking and very abusive. He made remarks to curse Davis’ wife, but Davis and his wife drove away and in a few minutes returned. Davis walked up to the buggy in front of Boone and said him, ‘Are you going to take back what you said about my wife?’ He did not wait but drew his revolver immediately and fired one shot. Boone staggered a moment and then fell in the road. Davis then drove up the road. When a short distance away he turned around and fired again. He again drove on and again fired another shot from his revolver. There seemed to be a scuffle in the buggy. Mrs. Davis was trying to hold her husband’s arm.”

Orcutt told a similar story to that related by Stout. He spoke of the fuss over the horse race and of Boone’s condition. “I asked him to keep quiet himself when he was talking to me over the bar in the joint. He cursed Mrs. Davis. When Davis drove up and asked Boone to retract his statements, Boone took a step back, put his hand in his pocket and took another step back. He did not say a word. Davis then drew his pistol and shot Boone.” Orcutt testified that he only heard two shots fired.

The third witness, Mr. Morrow, was rather contrary on the witness stand. He refused to answer questions put to him by one of the jurors and only did so after being ordered to by Judge Slack. His story was like that of the other witnesses in part but he contradicted himself several times in giving distance.

The bullet fired from Davis’ revolver entered Boone’s upper lip and ploughed its way through his brain causing instant death. Davis immediately drove to town and gave himself up to Sergeant Henry Price at the police station, telling him he had shot Boone. Davis did not know at first that Boone had been killed.

Sheriff Newblock, Chief Thompson, Assistant Chief Hall, Coroner Slack and others went to the scene of the killing and took charge of the body. When killed Boone had in his pockets $54.37 in money, eight 38-caliber cartridges, a long bladed pocket knife and other trinkets.

Davis was last night turned over to the county authorities. Boone is survived by a widow and three children. The family is in very hard circumstances and live at present in a tent near the cemetery. Davis, who is just nineteen years old, is the husband of one of Clarissa Bell’s daughters.

Closing Reflection

This story in the Tulsa Tribune not only captures a sensational moment in the city’s early history, but also brings to light the personal tragedy that touched my great-grandmother’s life. Just months after marrying Lew Boone, Lucinda found herself widowed once again. The vivid details of the inquest—horse races on dusty roads, tents near the cemetery, neighbors serving as witnesses—paint a picture of Tulsa in its raw beginnings, a place where tempers and hardship often collided.

One of the names that appears in the article is Sheriff H. F. Newblock, who helped take charge of the crime scene. His name lived on in Tulsa history as mayor and through Newblock Park, which was once the site of the city’s old water filtration plant. Years later, I swam there as a child, never realizing the connection. In fact, I believe it was at the Newblock Park pool where my Aunt Sue — the same aunt I wrote about in last week’s post — tried to teach me to swim. I wasn’t a very good student, but the memory makes the connection between these stories all the more meaningful. Today, the same location houses Waterworks Art Studio, where I’ve taken fabric-dyeing classes. A place that once represented tragedy in my great-grandmother’s life has, for me, been a place of creativity, memory, and joy.

36 From Cheerleader to Teacher - Off to School with Sue Nolen Robards

My Maternal Aunt, Martha Sue Nolen Robards

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 36 – September 3, 2025

Prompt: Off to School

My Aunt Sue was the third of four children born to Leonard and Elizabeth Nolen in Sand Springs, Oklahoma — my mother’s little sister.

Sue attended school in Sand Springs and later returned there as a teacher. 

Sue, standing on the left, at Charles Page High School where her energy and school spirit made her well-known.

After high school, she went on to Northeastern State College in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. There she was active in campus life as a member of Alpha Sigma Alpha sorority, Future Teachers of America, and the Women’s Athletic Association. She graduated in 1955 and took her first teaching job in the Eureka, Kansas schools.

Sue Nolen's 1955 college graduation picture.  

Miss Nolen, as a first year teacher in Eureka, Kansas.

In February 1956, Sue became engaged to Billy Paul Robards, who also graduated from Northeastern State. They were married on May 26, 1956, at the First Christian Church in Sand Springs, with their reception hosted at the home of Sue’s sister and brother-in-law, Margaret and Ralph Wallis. The newlyweds made their home in Sand Springs.

Following her marriage, Sue taught physical education and coached the swimming team at Charles Page High, her alma mater. Most of her teaching career, however, was at Garfield Elementary in Sand Springs. Over the years she taught 4th, 5th, and 6th grade homerooms, served as the science teacher, taught physical education, and coached the 5th and 6th grade girls’ basketball team — even taking responsibility for outfitting the team in uniforms.

Garfield Elementary Basketball Team with Coach RoBards. 

Sue’s classroom often included family. Her two daughters, two nieces, and two nephews all attended Garfield Elementary. They weren’t in her homeroom, but they had her for science, gym, or basketball. Family stories say she was the one who realized one nephew was struggling to read, catching the problem when he reached 4th grade.

For a time, Sue taught a 6th grade class that would today be considered special education. These students were often passed along by a principal who preferred to promote them rather than hold them back. Many of the children couldn’t read and some had speech impediments. Her daughters recalled that whenever they went to the grocery store or TG&Y, a voice would inevitably call out from across the store, “You’re Mrs. RoFart’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Mrs. RoBards, a well-known and well-loved teacher. 

Teaching was demanding, both physically and mentally. By the end of the day Sue was drained, and she didn’t want to be around kids after hours. Yet she was popular, and everyone in town seemed to know her. Going to a ballgame often meant she couldn’t sit in peace — too many people wanted to visit with “Mrs. Robards.” It wore on her, but it also showed the impact she had on her community.

Sue taught and coached until 1975, when she was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Because teaching was such a physical job, she never returned full-time, but she retired with 20 years in the Sand Springs school district. In later years, she did some substitute teaching.

Her influence lived on in the next generation. Four of her nieces went to college and earned teaching certificates; three of them became school librarians — one of them back home in Sand Springs. And this year her great great niece is a Charles Page High School Cheerleader, carrying on a tradition that began with Aunt Sue.