FLOUR SACKS AND BLOOMERS

By Frances West

 

Recently I had to shop for some new underwear for myself, which triggered the memories of the days when I wore homemade bloomers. (Younger folks may want to look up exactly what bloomers are.) In those days my mother baked a lot of wonderful bread and would buy flour in 100-pound bags.  These cotton bags had colorful designs and were really quite pretty. So the ladies of the house would make good use of their material by making dish towels, aprons, and pinafores for the little girls’ dresses and other practical things.   My mamma decided that this was the very thing needed for my bloomers. The problem was that, for some reason, they were way too big. She always said it was so I could sit comfortably. But I was constantly pulling and rolling them up so they would not show below my dress. Girls did not wear jeans or long pants in those days.  Also, they were supposed to be long enough to connect with my long cotton stockings.  All of this was, of course, so I would stay warm.

There was only one other girl that I know of who also wore cotton bloomers. Her name was Patty and she lived with an elderly aunt, so we sort of bonded because of our underwear.  It seemed all the other girls had pretty pink silk or rayon panties.  I knew this because of a piece of playground equipment we used at recess. It was a high metal pole that had long chains hanging from the top with hand grips at the bottom which we would grab and run as fast as possible. The centrifugal force would carry is in a high circle and of course, expose our underwear.  It was called the “Giant Strides” and was great fun.

 My mother didn’t escape the bloomer dilemma.  One day she was standing at the stove, cooking dinner (stirring gravy, to be exact) for dinner guests, when her underpants fell down when the buttons came loose. This was during World War two and rubber products were scarce since the war effort needed all of things like that so they had to use buttons....anyway, poor Mom was so embarrassed. I heard a story that this happened to President Roosevelt’s wife as well.  I don’t imagine it was any less embarrassing.

In winter most of us wore long heavy brown cotton stockings. These were usually held up by a circular piece of elastic and were high enough to connect with the bloomers, which also had elastic at the lower leg. Most of us had to wear these stockings all winter or at least until the snow had melted from the hillsides. However when spring began to show we sisters would wait until we were out of our mother’s sight and would roll our stockings down and bloomers up.  It must have been quite a sight to see these little girls walking to school with fat brown “donuts” around their ankles.  Then on the trip home, we would reverse the procedure so that our moms would think we had worn our long sox all day. Looking back, I’m sure my mom knew what we were up to all along.

            To this day I like soft, pretty underwear. Nothing fussy and “age appropriate” for someone 82. Now I buy flour in paper bags and toss the bags into the trash when emptied. Recycling and using everything possible is not a new concept as many younger folks think these days. But then of course they know nothing of flour sack bloomers.

Wagon Train Travel/Civil War

Article 74 

By J.B. West 

June 8, 1973 

My grandfather, William McConnell was born in Virginia on July 12, 1819, the youngest of four children. He did not remember his mother at all because she died when he was very small. He only had a faint remembrance of his father, his three older brothers, and an older sister. At the age of four, he was adopted by another family and never heard from his own folks again. His foster parents raised him as one of their own but could provide him with but one year of schooling. As was the custom in those days when he became 21 they gave him a wagon and a team of horses and set out to make his way. He went to Missouri and by the time he was 30 had acquired a farm and married  Mariah Hurlbert. 

After Mariah’s marriage her parents, with their six young children began their journey to Oregon. On the way, they had another daughter born on the banks of the Blue  River. They named her Ellen Blue. The family settled near Corvallis. Ellen died in her teens. 

Meanwhile, back in Missouri, the McConnells, William and Mariah, prospered until the Civil War began. Missouri was a slave state. Grandfather used slaves on the farm and in the house but he hired them and paid wages to their owners. Missouri did not secede from the Union but was a buffer state between the North and the South. Raiding parties from both sides often came through and helped themselves to anything they wanted. It was hard to tell the friends from the enemies so Grandfather spent many a  night in hiding. The Civil War took its toll and the country became impoverished, the living conditions intolerable. By this time there were six children in the family, all under the age of 15. None of them went to school because there were no schools. 

The exchange of letters between the two families was infrequent but Hurlberts wrote from Oregon describing the mild climate, the plentiful water, wood, and land that was available and cheap. There was a school for the children as well. Grandfather, at the age of 46 decided to pull up roots and to go west to Oregon. There was no market for the  Missouri farm, but an adjoining neighbor agreed to rent it and then buy it as soon as possible, which he did several years later for about half its worth. 

The preparations began for the journey west. Grandfather bought three wagons;  one for the family, the second for farm equipment, and the third for food provisions for the trip which was to take more than six months. He cured quantities of bacon and prepared dried fruits and honey. He sold corn and purchased wheat flour and sold all his mules and all his horses except for two which he kept for riding. He purchased six oxen,  a team of two for each wagon. He also bought a milk cow which provided milk for the long journey.

These preparations took months, and then there was yet another delay because a  wagon train had to be organized for safety. After the war, the Indians had become hostile and would attack small wagon trains. A wagon train of 300 was considered a sufficient number to discourage an attack.  

Tragedy struck during the winter when a cholera epidemic swept the area. Six-year-old Johnny recovered fully but three-year-old Wallace died and was buried in the family orchard. Finally, in February 1865, the trip west began.