Bud & Me

by Alta Abernathy

  “We don’t want any fuss made,” he said. “And we can’t be bothered by reporters and cameramen. We’ve got to get to Trenton to meet our father.”

  Maybe Bud was a little too harsh on the reporters who’d been so good to us all along the trip, but it worked. The disappointed committeeman took us back to the blacksmith shop. I tried to ease the awkward situation by raving about how wonderful his car was, and how few we saw in Oklahoma. As we parted, I added that he was still our friend.

  A surprise awaited us back at the blacksmith shop. A man named Mr. F.R. Rutherford introduced himself as a representative of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and announced that he was checking Sam Bass and Wylie Haynes. Seems there’d been a report that they were in poor condition and needed attention. Bud and I were dumbfounded. Why would we be cruel to Sam Bass and Wylie Haynes? And who would say such a thing?

  Mr. Rutherford put us at ease when he said, “I’ve never seen two finer, healthier horses, especially considering they’ve traveled 2,000 miles.”

  He waved us on, and we headed for Trenton.

  Seventy-five miles is a long day’s ride no matter what, but this time it was made longer by our delay in Philadelphia. Tired as we were, we pushed on, eager to see Dad, and finally around eight o’clock in the evening, we trotted wearily into Trenton.

  A crowd greeted us—nothing new about that by now. But as we neared our hotel, the Trenton House, I spied Dad and dived from the saddle into his outstretched arms. Bud did the same, maybe a little more restrained since he was older, and then we posed for photographers. Bud and I were so glad to be with our father, we didn’t even mind all those cameramen.

  Finally we made it to the privacy of our room. Dad had read all the newspaper accounts, so he knew much of what had happened to us. But, he wanted to hear it all again, straight from us, and we talked late into the night.

  Next morning, Bud and I left around 6:00 a.m., and Dad went on ahead of us by automobile, which gave me a twinge of jealousy. The possibility of leaving Wylie Haynes and riding with Dad went through my mind, but I knew I couldn’t leave Bud, and I didn’t really want to. It’s just that I was so fascinated by automobiles!

  We rode through New Brunswick and Newark, where thousands of cheering people lined the streets. At 6:00 p.m. we reached the Pennsylvania Ferry at Jersey City. Dad met us at the ferry and joined us for the crossing.

  We got our first look at the New York skyline from that ferry, and the sight was etched into my mind forever. We had ridden two thousand miles to get to New York, and there it was before us in all its magnificent glory! The massive buildings seemed to rise up out of the water and mist. All I could say was, “Ahhh...!”

  Bud laughed softly. “I know what you mean, Temp.”

  A huge crowd greeted us on the New York shore, and it took 17 mounted police, including the Police Chief of New York City, to escort us to the Breslin Hotel. Near the hotel, we had to wait while the police cleared a path for us to the entrance, and then arrange for a livery stable to care for our horses. While we waited, some people who wanted souvenirs got really bold. They wanted hair from our horses’ tails, and they didn’t bother to cut it, they just yanked it out! Every time a hair was pulled out of Wylie Haynes’ tail, he jumped. I grew increasingly angry, wishing that Mr. Rutherford from the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals was there with us.

  Finally I stood up in my stirrups and yelled, “The next one to try it is going to get my quirt.”

  It didn’t do any good. Next thing I knew, a crazy woman reached up and pulled a wad of my hair for a souvenir. That was too much!

  Finally a big, burly policeman put me on his shoulders, Dad took Bud on his shoulders, and we pushed our way through the crowd and into the hotel lobby. We made a beeline across the lobby and once in the elevator were whisked nonstop to the fifth floor and our room. Finally, the door closed behind us, and Bud and I each breathed a huge sigh of relief. We were safe at last, but now there was a big tender area on my head where that woman had pulled out my hair. I decided to get a haircut immediately.

  When the bellboy told me the nearest barber shop was in the basement, I took the elevator straight there. The operator had been told not to stop while I was his passenger.

  I had four bits, or 50 cents, in my pocket, but I never heard of a haircut costing more than a quarter. The barber told me this one would take the entire 50 cents, but I was so desperate I climbed into the chair anyway.

  “Cut it all off!” I said firmly. I wasn’t going to have my hair pulled out by the roots ever again.

  Dad had bought us new clothes—long trousers, a starched shirt with a collar, and a colorful scarf for each of us. We even had pink carnations in our buttonholes!

  Becoming celebrities had gotten to be such a problem, with reporters and crazy crowds around all the time, that Dad ordered dinner in our hotel room. One of his friends joined us, and it so happened that the fellow had a walking cane.

  “Are you crippled?” I asked. I was concerned, and it didn’t occur to me that I might be rude.

  “No,” he laughed. “ A cane is fashionable these days.” He twirled it in his fingers and then showed me how to walk with it.

  I strutted back and forth across the room several times, and the man kindly told me to keep the cane. Dad said that was okay, but Bud was fairly well jealous.

  We knew there was a big group of people waiting for us in the lobby, and finally Dad said we’d better go and talk to them. The minute we got off the elevator a woman cried, “Oh, you sweet thing!” and charged toward me with her arms outstretched. I changed my direction and shifted into high gear to escape her. Bud didn’t like it any better than I did when the ladies hugged and kissed him, but he let them get away with it. I absolutely refused. As far as I was concerned, the whole kissing business was disgusting!

  Bud stood on a chair to sign the hotel register and then delivered a speech, still perched on that chair. When he finished, Dad lifted me onto the chair so I could say a few words. I don’t remember what I said, but everyone seemed to be laughing and enjoying themselves.

  And then, all of the sudden, a lady in a black evening gown came sailing out of the hotel dining room, and headed straight for us. Her neckline plunged so low that Bud leaned over and whispered to me, “That lady’s likely to lose her dress!” She breezed through the crowd and shook our hands, but when she tried to kiss me, I ducked. Everyone laughed, and then she said, “Ta-ta,” and whisked out of the room almost as quickly as she’d come in. I never did find out who she was, but I always figured she was somebody famous.

  We were ready for our first sightseeing in New York, and our first stop was at a store that sold canes. Bud bought one for himself, so now we were both happy. Walking along Broadway, I nearly dislocated my neck trying to read the big electric signs and see the tops of the buildings. Before long, we came to a moving picture theater, and since it was beginning to rain, Dad decided to treat us to a movie.

  Just as we were about to go inside, a newsboy pushed a paper in Bud’s face and said, “Look, that’s your picture on the front page!”

  “I’m sick of seeing my picture in the paper,” Bud said emphatically and turned away from the bewildered newsboy. I’m sure he was one of the many New York boys who had never been out of the city, and was fascinated by the idea of our 2,000-mile ride. But we didn’t understand that then, and we were confused and fed up with being celebrities.

  On Sunday, we got to sit in the Rockefeller family pew at church, and after the service, the entire congregation lined up to shake our hands. After dinner, I got the ride in a car that I’d been pestering Dad about. He’d promised me a ride, but he’d been very vague when I tried to get him to promise to buy a car. “It sure would be nice.” I kept trying to tell Dad about the advantages of cars over horses, and how badly we needed to buy an automobile. He didn’t seem to be listening to me.

  On Monday, wearing eastern clothes, round straw hats, blue runab
outs, and long, gray trousers, we called on the Mayor of New York. When we went to his office, we were surrounded by reporters.

  “Where is Temple?” the Mayor asked.

  “I’m right here sir,” I said, maneuvering out from behind the interfering forest of legs. I bowed low before him.

  “What are you going to be when you grow up?” the Mayor asked me.

  “I think maybe, I’ll be a Mason.”

  “ A Mason?” he laughed. “Will you learn all the secret signs?”

  “You bet!” I said enthusiastically.

  “What sort of work will you do?”

  I thought for a moment, and then I said, “I think I’ll be a hotel clerk.” After all, I liked the clerks at the hotels we’d stayed at, and they had nice uniforms.

  “Wouldn’t you rather be a mounted policeman?”

  We made lots of new friends wherever we went.

  “No,” I said. “A hotel clerk, or maybe a marshal like my dad.”

  The Mayor told us to have a good time in his city, and we told him we fully intended to do just that.

  A few days later, someone took us to the top of a tall building. To this day, I don’t remember what building it was or who took us there, but there was a ship-to-shore wireless telegraph. The operator said that when a ship was two miles away, or closer, they could send messages back and forth.

  Bud asked if he could contact Mr. Roosevelt’s ship, and the man said he could. So Bud sent a wire that told Teddy that we had arrived in New York safely and were waiting for him to dock.

  “Bully! Will see you soon!” was the answer that came back by wire.

  In the same building a man put earphones on my head and told me to listen. I suppose that what I heard was music, but I wasn’t sure. Someone was singing, but it wasn’t clear and I didn’t like it, even though I usually enjoyed singing. I didn’t want to hurt the fellow’s feelings, so I didn’t say anything. Later I found out that I had been listening to Enrico Caruso, the famous New York Metropolitan Opera singer. It was the first radio broadcast from the Met, but it must have sounded better live than it did through those earphones.

  One evening, Dad took us to a theater on Broadway. We sat in a reserved box close to the stage, where Eva Tanguay, a famous actress of the time, was performing. She danced and sang her way across the stage with us sitting right there in front. Then she sang a song to “the young Abernathy boys,” and I said to Bud, too loudly, “She’s singing about us!”

  Pony Boys, Pony Boys

  Oh, you Oklahoma boys,

  Now you are here

  Let’s give a good cheer,

  For our Pony Boys!

  The audience jumped to its feet, clapping and cheering, and Miss Tanguay went to the side of the stage and picked up a huge bouquet of red roses, five dozen of them altogether. She threw the whole bunch in our laps, and after that I had trouble seeing her through all the flowers. But they smelled as wonderful as she had looked.

  Between acts, Miss Tanguay came down to visit with us and asked if we would come onto the stage. Dad said he thought we’d better not. I never did figure out why, I thought it might have been fun to be on stage. She stayed and talked for awhile, anyway. Although she did take hold of my hand, she never tried to hug and kiss me, so I was glad to talk to her and answer her questions.

  We took the roses back to the hotel, but we didn’t know for sure what to do with them. I wanted them to last forever. Bud filled the bathtub with water, and we put all five dozen roses in the tub, and then we laughed about our funny bathtub filled full of roses!

  June 18, 1910, was the big day! Teddy was to land, and all New York turned out to greet him. There was excitement in people’s voices and contagious laughter everywhere.

  We were up very early for the big day. I was too excited to eat breakfast, but Bud kept reminding me that I’d be hungry later on, so I managed to pile in some eggs and bacon. We wore our new cowboy suits, and of course, our boots. We were going to greet Teddy like the Oklahoma cowboys we were!

  Dad had arranged for Sam Bass and Wylie Haynes to be held for us on the dock, while we rode with him on the U.S. Revenue cutter Dolphin to meet the ship carrying Teddy, the Kaiserlin Auguste Victoria. My excitement grew almost beyond bounds when we boarded the Dolphin, for she was a fine ship with cannons fastened all along the side. I ran all over exploring.

  While waiting for Teddy’s ship to arrive, Dad took us

  on a tour of one of the ships in New York harbor.

  About 7:20 a.m. the Kaiserlin was spotted through the mist, at the lower end of Ambrose Channel. She was escorted by a battleship and five torpedo destroyers. Hundreds of smaller ships and boats filled the waters around her. Everyone wanted to greet Roosevelt.

  The passengers of the Kaiserlin lined the rails of the four upper decks, waving handkerchiefs, and pretty soon we could distinguish Teddy leaning from the large port on the upper promenade deck. When the skipper of a tug blew three long blasts on his whistle, every boat in the harbor joined in, creating a loud symphony of whistles and horns mixed with the sounds of cheering people. From Fort Wadsworth, on shore, a 21-gun salute thundered forth in wel-come, and the Dolphin followed with its own 21-gun salute. I thought for certain, I’d go deaf from all the commotion.

  The Kaiserlin dropped anchor about 15 minutes after we’d first sighted her, and the government’s reception committee went aboard, including Captain Archibald Butt, President Taft’s personal representative. Five battleships sailed by, and the marine band on the first one sounded bugles at eight o’clock, or “eight bells” in navy terminology. The band on the Dolphin joined in, and then both bands played the “Star Spangled Banner” while their big national banners were hoisted at the stern. As if by magic, the ships were suddenly decked with red, white, and blue bunting fore and aft.

  It was a little while before Teddy and the government people appeared on the Kaiserlin gangplank, but I didn’t notice the time go by slowly at all. I was completely absorbed by the scarlet uniforms and shiny instruments of the marine band. Everything was a blaze of color. When Teddy and his group were ready to board a cutter to take them ashore, even the gangplank had a crimson carpet and spotless white manropes.

  When Teddy started down that gangplank, the river yachts, ships and tugs gathered around and gave a volley of cheers that must have lasted five minutes. Then there was a final 21-gun salute from the Dolphin. I couldn’t tell if the pounding 1 heard was my heart beating with excitement, or my ears from all the noise.

  Once he was on land, Teddy made a proper speech about how glad he was to be home, and how ready he was to put his shoulder to the wheel. I think many folks hoped that meant he would run for the presidency again. The country had missed this hero, and they wanted to have him back in public office, and as part of their lives.

  When he saw Dad, Bud, and me, Teddy forgot about speech-making and motioned us toward him. I guess the high point of the whole trip was the smile he gave us at that moment. “You made a long ride to come see me,” he said to Bud and me. “Bless you.”

  We told him a few things that had happened on the ride, and then he asked, “Did anyone turn you away?”

  “Yessir,” Bud answered, “a man named Wolfe.”

  Referring back to his wolf hunt with Dad, Teddy said, “I wish I had Mr. Wolfe here. I’d take him by the jaw and give him a good, hard shake.”

  The parade was about to begin, so Bud and I got our horses. We were to ride in a place of honor, right behind the carriage that carried the former president, and in front of the Rough Riders, Teddy’s old cavalry unit, and the Spanish American War Veterans. The crowd was huge, bigger than any we’d ever imagined, and so was the parade. The parade itself, we found out later, was over five miles long, and the crowd numbered over a million people.

  With more than a million people lining the streets of

  Manhattan, we rode Sam Bass and Wylie Haynes

  proudly down Fifth Avenue, just behind Teddy’s

  carr
iage and in front of the Rough Riders.

  Besides the carriage carrying Teddy, which was drawn by white horses, there were 14 carriages, carrying some of the country’s most important people. The 100-piece Seventh Regiment Band marched, along with the St. Johns Drum and Fife Corps, and the Letter Carriers band. Mounted police rode along the curbs and behind the parade to hold back the crowd. People were so enthusiastic, they wanted to rush right out and join us in the parade. They cheered for Teddy, and some called Bud and me by name, all waving and shouting. I loved it!

  Showers of confetti and streams of colored paper fell from the windows of office buildings, and pretty soon there was ticker-tape in the air too. Near City Hall, a woman tossed a bright red peony toward Teddy and it hit him on the head; he laughed and waved to her. A fellow with a megaphone shouted something about “our next president,” and the crowd went wild.

  Teddy recognized faces in the crowd and stopped frequently to shake hands. Someone called out “Bully for you, Teddy,” and the call was taken up by hundreds of others. Teddy stood in his carriage and at each outburst, he would bow to the crowd and they cheered him all the more.

  It was almost one o’clock when the Rough Riders swung into the Fifty-ninth Street Plaza and, wheeling to the left, drew their horses into a line on the north side of the plaza. Teddy’s carriage stopped on the opposite side, and Teddy got out, carrying something in his arms.

  It was a huge teddy bear. “Here, Temple,” he said, “this is for you.

  It was as big as I was! And I was absolutely speechless, though Bud would have told you that was impossible.

  The teddy bear had been named for Teddy because of his love for wildlife and his special interest in the brown bear.

  The bear he gave me had flags draped around its neck representing every nation in the world. And he gave it to me even before he finished his official welcoming duties. Teddy then turned to greet each member of the Rough Riders, shaking each hand and calling them by name and thanking each one for being there to welcome him home. No wonder so many Americans were so loyal to this man!