01-29-01

During our 50^th Anniversary Celebration at the Methodist Church last week, my cousin Billie McCauley came up from Galveston island and brought her daughter Molly, and a story about the Merrylands Farm that I had asked her to write about for me. Billie brought a well prepared article and I will relay this local historical information to you during the next few weeks.

The Merrylands Farm was just about a couple of city blocks to the northwest part of the city limits and is currently being restored with a beautiful green and yellow barn has just been built by the new owners. One of the original rock buildings is still in use at the farm. The following story about the Merrylands Farm takes place during the 1920's and 1930's.

by Billie McCauley

Merrylands lies just northwest of Aubrey on the old road to Blackjack. By the 1920's it was considered one of the worst examples of soil erosion in the Cross Timbers area. Some of the sandy, yellow clay hills characteristic of that region had melted away under a neglectful farming system until gullies had formed deeper than a man was tall. It had been considered unfit for farming for nearly twenty years.

There was a house on the property that had lasted fifty years and its’ hand hewn woods stood the test of time among the post oaks.

My dad, H.D. McKinney, bought Merrylands Farm from grandad, Wood Mize Goin, for $300 in the 1920's when daddy and mother, Lillian Goin McKinney, returned to Texas from Oklahoma City.

They were only in Oklahoma City long enough to have my brother, Joe Horace McKinney. This was a birth defect of major proportions when you grew up in North Texas where all things Oklahoman were cause for derision. This was where my brother learned to reinvent himself. He did such a good job it stuck. He is nearly 80 and still tells people he was born in Denton, Texas.

There was actually a piece of sheet music from this time that had as it’s full title "Hey, Arkie, Tell Okie That Texas Has Got A Job For Him Out In California Pickin’ Prunes, All You Need Is A Shovel."

Much of the dry, arid land that could be claimed by veterans was also cause for a song. Greer County was quite popular -

"Hurrah for Greer County, the land of the free,

The home of the grasshopper, the bedbug and flea,

I’ll sing of its’ praises and shout of its’ name,

While starving to death on my government claim."

Farming methods of the time ruined land that was barely arable and created the dust bowl of the thirties. Soil Conservation was a new term then and had its’ opponents. That seems odd in the light of its’ widespread use now, but I can remember hearing some of my great uncles speak with amusement about all the trouble daddy was going to on the worthless patch of land that was leached out. They were sure it would not sustain a crop until it had been turned back to nature for many generations.

In one steep eroded field, daddy built a huge retaining wall with the help of three mules and hired hands who were paid in canned goods that mother put up. This abandoned field was built up eight feet and produced twenty bushels of corn per acre the first year, which was dry. As organic matter was returned to the soil, the yield increased.

As well as poor soil, there were other indigenous things about the place, also. Many snakes, particularly Copperheads. In fact, that was the local name for it, Copperhead Hill. Mother gave it the name Merrylands. She was terrified of snakes in general and refused to let anyone call the place that terrible name.

My brother, Bub (Joe) and I were quite proficient at catching snakes. I liked them, hid them out and played with them. I remember showing my Uncle Jim Goin a handful of baby Copperheads. I thought they were quite pretty and since he and his brother, Uncle Joe Goin, liked critters, I thought he would admire them. He quietly asked me to put them on the ground and stand back. I did, thinking he was going to enjoy them too, but he then stomped them into mush with his boots. It was years before I forgave him.

But none of us were ever snake bitten. We had a dog that tangled with a couple of rattlesnakes and was bitten badly, then disappeared. We figured the poor thing went off to die, but about two weeks later old Spot dragged in, covered in a coat of mud particularly found near the flowing well. He was very skinny, but had a complete recovery.

Aunt Margie Collier was putting some laundry in a dresser drawer one day when she startled a rattler who had come in from the cold. She jerked the drawer completely out, threw it in the air and ran outside, all the while screaming very, very loudly. Enough to draw the men from the fields at a run and, Uncle Oss swore, broke glass jars in his still two miles away.

I always figured my brother put the diamondback in the drawer – he liked rattlers better than I did. We caught the snake easily and took him out by the stock tank. I don’t recall Aunt Margie visiting again till we moved into Denton.

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