WESTERN GEMS < After answering the door and telling Wayne of my arrival, Pearl Lee busied herself in another room. Wayne, in his brown, western-embroidered shirt, smiled pleasantly as he offered me a seat in one of the living room chairs. He, then, took a seat himself and wondered aloud what people would want to know about him. So, the questions began. > Wayne, when and where were you born? I was born on July 2, 1917 on a farm at the west end of Chase County (south of Lamar). My parents, Dave and Rosa Lee, were both pioneers. Please tell us more about your family. My mother was born in 1875 and had half English and half French blood. She became a teacher. My father was born in 1869 and had a mixed heritage of Scottish, French, English, and Irish. He was a farmer. My paternal grandfather fought in the Civil War. Did you have brothers and sisters? There was quite an age spread in my family. I had a brother, William, 20 years older than me. A sister, Nellie, was 18 years older. Another brother, Robert, was 8 years older. <Just then, Pearl came into the room and settled quietly into a nearby upholstered rocker, politely listening. Once in a while, when asked, she helped Wayne remember a fact here and there.> Wayne, what was farm life like for you as a kid? We raised all of our own food. We had garden produce, chickens, and cows. I grew up thinking I'd be a farmer. When I reached college age, I stayed home. By then, my parents were elderly. I was the youngest child; therefore, it was just understood back in those days that the youngest stayed home to take care of the folks. That was how it was done. Nowadays, the older folks go into the nursing homes. What did you do for fun? We had a band where we went around the area and played for different functions. We started it in 1937. At first, we were called, "Five Little Pennies and a Nickel's Worth of Rhythm." Later, we changed the name to "Nosy Neighbors." I wrote and arranged our music. Lowell Ferrel was the saxophone player. His sister, Margie Dean (Ferrel) Marchert was the pianist for a while. At different times, Zelma Covert, Verna Johnson, and Maxine Beard accompanied, too. Wayne Harvey (trombone), Harold Harmon (guitar), and Lester Lock (trombone) participated at various times. The band ended when my brother, Robert, died in 1965. He was the drummer. What instrument did you play? Trumpet. I was not exceptional, but they let me play anyway. < modest smile > We all enjoyed playing. Our songs were the typical music of the 30's. Lester Lock and I used to go all around and play duets together when we were teenagers. He was an excellent trombone player and won lots of awards -- got State honors. He was a wonderful person…one of my best friends. He died in World War II in a B-24…went down over the Adriatic Sea.
What happened? His B-24 squadron -- Lester flew the lead plane -- was flying out to bomb the Ploesti oilfields of Rumania. On the way, they received orders to abort the mission, due to cloud cover. They were to turn around and return to base. Lester had turned his plane, but discovered that another plane on the far left wing had not turned. The two were headed for a collision. Lester saw this and put his plane into a dive. The B-24 was not built like the B-17. A B-17 could come out of a sharp dive. A B-24, fully loaded with bombs, certainly could not. But, to save the others, he put the plane into a dive. He couldn't pull out of it, and they went down. The other pilots in the squadron saw the whole incident and reported on it later. Were you in World War II? I volunteered about the same time Lester did. I went through the physical, but I didn't pass. It was determined that I was color-blind. I had wanted to be a bombardier in the worst way, but it didn't work out. They did eventually call me when they needed some help, though. Toward the end of the war, I did clerical work in the Signal Corps. I never went overseas. Were you a farmer when you came back? I farmed for six years after I came back. Then, since I had been in the military, I got into the postal service and became a mail carrier. That was a real turning point for me because it gave me time to write. I worked, then came home and wrote until 11:00 p.m. each night. Then, I got up at 4:00 a.m. to go to work. It was a good schedule. What did you write? I started out writing songs, but stopped after I figured out that songs just don't sell. How many songs did you write? I wrote about 400 songs in all. You are involved in a band now, aren't you? Yes. I play trumpet in a local band that plays once in a while at the senior center and manor. I arrange the music for it, too. Lowell Ferrel plays the saxophone. Herbert "Hoot" Minick plays drums. Verna Johnson plays piano. You are also in a singing group, right? Yes. Our group consists of four or five people: John Buckner, Pat McNair, Rod Einspahr, Jerry Swesey, and myself. We call ourselves the "Harmonnaires." With five of us, it gives us a little room to be versatile. If one cannot be there, we still have a quartet. What part do you sing? I am a baritone. We harmonize mostly inspirational songs. You write western books. How many books have you written? Who knows how many I've written... <chuckle> ...I've sold 56 books. I just got done with the 56th. I've sold 750 short stories and serials. In all, that adds up to about six million words. Fifty-five of those books were pounded out on an old #5 Underwood typewriter. Pearl typed them all. I use a word processor now. The latest book was done on that. Didn't you also write plays? Yes. I wrote a play each year for ten years. All of my plays were slap-stick comedies. The plays were performed on a simple stage and taken all around the area. Fire departments and local civic clubs sponsored us. Which play do you feel was the best? "Bachelor Bait" went very well. <He looked over at Pearl and asked, "What were the names of some of the other plays?"> "Poison Ivy" and "Willie's Waterloo" are two others. You can tell by the titles that they are slap-stick. How many kids do you two have? Two. Sheldon and Charles. Shelley is the oldest and is a preacher. He helped me on the word processor when we first got it. Now, he thinks we need to get a computer and get on the Internet, but I'm just getting used to the word processor. It'll be a while. <smile> Charles is a hog rancher 7 miles south and 7 miles east of Holyoke, Colorado. He has always enjoyed pigs and has a total of 14,000 in the barn he oversees. He is in charge of finishing pigs. How did you two meet? <Wayne and Pearl smiled at each other. Then, Pearl diverted her attention out the window, perhaps anticipating Wayne's comments.> We probably met in high school, but don't remember it. She was a freshman when I was a senior. The seniors didn't pay much attention to the freshmen, you realize. After I got back from the Signal Corps, she and I happened to be at the same social function. My sister knew Pearl's twin sisters. A mutual acquaintance of both families came up to me, pointed at Pearl, and said, "There's a girl I bet you can't make talk." I'd never met a girl before that I couldn't get to say anything, so I
took the bet. I went over to her and….I lost the bet. Her sisters knew that Pearl
didn't want to talk; so, every time I asked something, they answered.
<"And, he hasn't gotten me to be quiet since," Pearl remarked with an amused grin. Wayne chuckled.> Pearl, we got Wayne's version. Why didn't you talk? When you are quiet and just listen, you hear the funniest stories. And, you stay out of trouble that way. <She softly giggled, and a mischievous twinkle could be seen in her eye.> Wayne added: I did get her to talk, though, and I am sure glad I followed up on the bet. She's the best thing that has ever happened to me. <Pearl repositioned in her chair and busied herself with some paperwork.> She was a professional typist...did well over 100 words per minute. She is a great proofreader, too. Pearl can spot a mistake in a manuscript better than anyone I ever saw. She typed all of my manuscripts and many of those of other authors. I could always tell when she was getting to a good part in the story because her typing would speed up. Pearl was just as responsible for my ability to write as I was. We are as good of a team as you can get. If someone wanted to see me, they would have to get through her at the door. She answered the phone, too. That way, I could keep writing when I was really into a story. When I get involved in the character and the plot and get interrupted, it takes a while to climb back down into the book and pick up where I left off. She is the buttress who allows me to keep going. She is a big help in the research for the books, too. We travel to the different towns and visit their libraries or other storehouses of information. She takes one section while I take another, then we start reading. There are interesting facts and stories I would not have found without her help. Pearl, what would you say is Wayne's best trait? Probably his kindness or his thoughtfulness. What do you two do together for enjoyment nowadays? "We have had opportunities to travel," said Wayne. "We don't smoke or drink or have any other bad habits, so we spend our money on traveling. We've been to every continent except Africa and South America. We will still probably go. We used to go to Western Writers of America conventions and slept in the station wagon to save money. The first convention we attended was in 1959." Wayne, what was your favorite place of all you've visited? "Switzerland. That is a beautiful place. Australia was fascinating along the coast, but the outback is for the birds," Wayne said with a smirk. "We both have quite a bit of English blood, so we enjoyed going to England. We've been on an Alaskan cruise and a Caribbean cruise, too." Pearl, what was yours? Probably New Zealand. Pearl, where were you born? Are you originally from around here, too? I was born and raised 30 miles southwest of Imperial. Actually, I lived just 12 miles south of Wayne's house. <They looked at each other and smiled, probably from amusement that they hadn't met earlier in life.> Wayne, do you have a favorite author? I have always liked Zane Grey. A good friend who is a writer is Wayne D. Overholser. He's good. Lewis B. Patten is one of the very best…just keeps the reader on edge throughout the whole book. Ralph Moody, who wrote "Little Britches," is also good. Louis L'Amour is good, and he really knew how to sell his own books. That's what it takes, I think.
How long does it take you to write a book? A fiction book usually takes me 3-4 months. I can do it more quickly, if I'm "under the gun." I wrote "Showdown at Sunrise" (copyright 1971; Avalon Books) in two months. The non-fiction books take me longer because of the vast amount of research needed. They usually take me 2-3 years. On the short stories, I can usually average about three per week. I would write one on Monday, correct it on Tuesday, write one on Wednesday, correct it on Thursday…it goes on from there. What was the first piece you ever had published? The first story I ever sold was to Lariat Magazine. It was published in the January 1945 issue. They named the story, "Death Waits at Paradise Pass." The first novel I sold was "Prairie Vengeance." It was published in 1954. In my writing, I include stories I heard from my folks. My mother didn't like prairie fires. She was in the blizzard of '88, too. What is your latest book? "Deadly Days in Kansas." You knew I had written, "Wild Towns of Nebraska." This is a book like that, but it is about Kansas. ============================================================================ At this point, Wayne and Pearl gave me a tour. A bookcase in the back room was the first stop. The first shelf contained all of his published books. Other shelves held family photographs. They had arranged small souvenirs from their travels (one per country) on a middle shelf. There, a 3-4" native doll in a grass skirt caught my eye. "It is from Fiji," said Wayne. Pearl has a small collection of unique dolls and stuffed animals. "Handy to have around when kids come visiting," she explained. She also makes quilts for the needy. When she and Wayne go to Texas for the winters, she belongs to a quilting club that makes 250 quilts every year. We, then, visited another hub of activity, Wayne's office. One wall, top-to-bottom, had book shelves loaded with rows of western books (some he had written and some written by other authors), tidy stacks of plays he had written, many magazines carrying his stories, and neat piles of the Sunday School class lesson papers containing his work. On another wall, under a mounted set of long horns, plaques silently told of the organizations in which he had been involved over the years. One gold plate read, "Western Writers of America, President, 1970-71." He talked about the 5,000 apples a tree in their backyard had yielded this year, and that Pearl had been busy canning and juicing them. "That is a lot of apples from one tree," I said. With an amused twinkle in his eye, Wayne responded, "Yes, it is. When we were still on the farm, we had 44 different kinds of fruit. I was once told that no one could grow fruit in Nebraska; that it just wasn't possible. I wanted to know if that was true."
After thanking them for the interview/tour and departing from their quaint abode, one central thought remained in my mind. I had just enjoyed a visit to a peaceful home full of warm companionship, strong work ethics, and well-nurtured beliefs. It occurred to me that I'd received a gift of treasured memories. Indeed, southwest Nebraska has received a gift, too. Two wonderful gems. These talented folks are our gentle and witty reminders of a bygone era. They are also beacons of hope that, as we grow older, we can still make a difference in the lives of others. |
