The Curious Case of the Black Bovines

No job is as boring as being the "Backsight" on a survey traverse crew. Since GPS has come into vogue, I would reckon that a survey traverse is used less and hence, the WBL (World Boredom Level) has greatly reduced.

For all the non-surveyors (and young sprout surveyors) out there, let me explain what the "Backsight" does. He is the man at the tail end of a three or four man traverse crew. He has a target set on his tripod and when the instrument man calls on the radio "Move up!", he picks up his tripod and moves it to where the instrument man just vacated. Then he sits and waits for the next "Move up!" Borrrring! In the days when we used backsight poles and had no radios, I would set up the pole, lay down, and go to sleep. After about five minutes, through the fog of slumber, I would hear a holler, "MOVE UP!!!" I would jump up, grab the pole, cover the traverse nail with a rock and RUN up the where the instrument man was. I would impatiently wait for him to get off the point and then set up my backsight pole... and lay down and sleep. Day after day...hours on end.... I attribute this training to be responsible for my being able to sleep at stop lights (but that's another story!)

I worked up through the ranks from backsight, to brush cutter, to frontsight and finally...Instrument man. This job was never boring because usually, you were in charge of the crew and had to make sure the work was done swiftly, efficiently, and correctly.

On a particular bright, warm, spring morning, we were traversing on a U.S. Forest Service project near Sterling, Missouri. If you're not familiar with Sterling, it's on the old highway 63, northwest of Willow Springs, near the "weigh scales".

We had some long traverse shots, so, over the radio, I told the backsight guy (we'll just call him Rob) to  kick back and rest a bit. His tripod was set up in a huge field that was home to a couple hundred black Angus yearling steers. Now, in my estimation, there is only one creature that is more curious than a cow and that's a horse. These steers had come up to me while I was where Rob was at, but I just "buggered" at them and they took off for Douglas County!

It took quite a while for me to walk to the next traverse point so Rob had been at the backsight for at least twenty to thirty minutes. While I was getting set up, I hear my radio crackle but no voice was heard. In a few seconds, I hear it again...but no voice. So I un-clipped my transmitter/receiver mike and put it up to my ear. It crackled again and a tiny whisper of a voice says "ray?" I say back "Is this Rob?" and again the whispery voice "yes...i need help!" It was a whisper but you could hear the urgency in his voice! I asked "What's the problem?" Rob - "it's taken me ten minutes to get my radio up to my mouth...i've had to move so slow." By this time I'm getting worried, thinking he has fallen and broke something...or someone's holding him at gunpoint...or?? He finally "whispered" me the whole story.

It seems that when he got his tripod set up, he took my comments to heart and laid down and went to sleep. In the meantime...remember the curious, black Angus yearling steers? It seems that they recovered from their fright, returned from their foray into parts west and found "Gulliver" sleeping in their field! They had finally worked their way in close enough until they had formed a circle completely around him several steers deep!

Just think about it...you wake up from a blissful nap, on a warm sunny day, the smell of spring in the air...and from ground level, you're looking at a wall of black all around you and this wall has eyes...two hundred pairs of eyes! There are two hundred slimy, slobbering mouths! No wonder Rob didn't dare move!

I finally convinced him to just sit up. I said "When you sit up, they'll scatter like a herd of...steers!" I wasn't wrong. In about two or three seconds, we heard a loud thundering and bawling from the east (the steers were bawling, not Rob) and Rob had rescued himself from the black death!

I don't think Rob ever slept on the backsight again. He was too busy watching out for curious Black Bovines!

Brother DC

Most of the recollections from my childhood, center around three areas; Play, Work, and Church. I do have many memories about holidays, school, and the occasional vacation, but mostly...it is these areas.

The church I grew up in (and still attend) is the Junction Hill Pentecostal Church. Our church being what many would term "Old Time Pentecostal Holiness", makes for some interesting church services and the opportunity to meet many quaint and unconventional characters.

Sometimes of a warm Sunday evening or Wednesday night, we would pull up into church parking lot (always early...none of this late business for the Riggs') and someone had beat us there! Not a regular member, now mind you, but a car that was unlike any other. It could have been a Nash Rambler car or station wagon, maybe an old Studebaker, I really can't remember the brand. But I do recall the general appearance... There was a huge sign, strapped to the top of the car with the words "REPENT!" or "JESUS IS COMING" lettered on it. The old car would be plastered with sticker signs of scripture verses and sundry other slogans of warning or assurance.

Inside the car, kicked back, with his head resting against the seat, asleep, was Brother D.C. Williamson. Now...we never called him Brother Williamson, in the time honored tradition...Certainly not Reverend Williamson (although he was a preacher.)

It was simply "Brother DC" (although we didn't know what the "DC" stood for).

Note the tract "Jesus (is) Coming Soon" in his pocket!

Brother DC was a street preacher. He went from town to town, community to community, state to state, passing out tracts and preaching the Gospel message on the sidewalks, in city parks, at street intersections, on the roadside...anywhere there were people to hear his message! I remember a conversation relayed to me by a former pastor, that he had had with Brother DC. They were talking about the "good" places to street preach and Brother DC gave this tidbit of information; "Now Brother Leon (Farley), you know that stop light at (streets in Tulsa or Oklahoma City)? That light stays red for almost a minute! You have a whole minute to preach to them while they're just sitting there waiting for the light to change!!" That, my friends, is dedication and a burning desire to reach for the sinner!

I always loved to see Brother DC stop by the church but it wasn't because of his preaching ability. What he lacked in eloquence he more than made up for by having a sweet and humble spirit. He would preach with tear-filled eyes and you couldn't help but respond to his gentle invitation.

I don't remember a lot about his physical appearance, except that he appeared to be part Indian and was always kind of bedraggled and wrinkled looking. The reason for this could have been that his *wife did not travel with him. Oh...the one thing I'll ALWAYS remember about his appearance...He had a big "growth" on his left ear!

Not only was he a "Soldier of the Cross" but he also served in the United States Army during World War II. He is buried in Hartville Cemetery, near the town of Hardesty, in the Oklahoma panhandle.

My heroes are not sports figures, actors, duck call makers and certainly not the present crop of political windbags... My heroes are men like David Clovis Williamson - "Brother DC"... Men that go about their business without fanfare or applause, knowing their payment is not on this earth... But realizing that they will be paid abundantly in Heaven's currency.

*I have visited with several people about Brother DC's martial status. Most believe that he was married but his wife left/divorced him when he started preaching. If someone has more information please comment.

Expressions...

My little Lucas Boy and his expressions....