Extracted from Sparks, Oklahoma – 1902-2004
Fred Bishop was born September 5, 1913, in Sparks, Oklahoma to Ethel and Worl Bishop. He had an older brother, Guy and a younger brother, James, and two younger sisters, LaHoma and Patricia. They lived on a farm and his father was water foreman on the Fort Smith and Western.
He won many medals in track, pole vaulting, and basketball. I was told his awards are in the old Sparks High School History Museum (high school basketball team, Fred is third from right).
Worl and Ethel Bishop ran an active farm with article in the newspaper congratulating them on their crop production. Worl also worked on the railroad, was active on the school board, a member of the Masons, and was active in the community. Ethel was a great cook and homemaker and instrumental in keeping the farm running when Worl was away on the railroad. She also found time to be in the Eastern Stars and even played piano for the church.
Dad received a college scholarship from the Baptist University. Fred served in the National Guard at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma. Following in his father’s footsteps, he became a member in the Sparks Local Masonic Lodge. He was an active mason for over 60 years.
In 1937, he marred Ollie Finley from Camdenton, Missouri in a double wedding with Ollie’s sister. They had one daughter, Donna in 1943. After the Depression, he worked on painting bridges in Florida and Chicago. Times were hard.
They came to California around 1940, and he worked in several businesses: dry cleaning, restaurant fry cook, and auto body and fender repair in Downtown Los Angeles. He then settled at Douglas Aircraft in Santa Monica as a machinist in the foundry forming airplane parts during the war. They worked seven days a week to keep up with the war effort. He retired after 33 years and eventually moved to a little country town in Atascadero, California, where he lived until he passed away on November 14, 2002.
He would have loved the idea of this history book because he constantly referred back to the good ol’ days in Sparks where he had a wonderful childhood with many “Huckleberry Finn” adventures never to be duplicated in today’s world. He loved his little home town.
My father was a great storyteller about the wonderful adventures in Sparks. One summer, he and a friend decided to jump the railroad cars and travel like Huckleberry Finn. They knew the rail routes since his father was the water foreman for the Fort Smith and Western Railroad. They were gone for about six or seven weeks, stopping at the hobo camps along the way. He told us of secret places where the hobos left their pots, pans, and utensils for each hobo that traveled the system. After using these utensils, they were was and very carefully put back into their safe place. They heard many stories told by the hobos and eagerly heeded their hints on how to make their own adventure successful.
At each town, they would approach the local farmhouses and offer to work for money and food. The housewives would give them a list of chores to do and upon their proper completion make them a hot meal and often a great apple pie.
On one occasion, Dad and his friend decided to split up as not to burden the local farms. He told the lady he was by himself and where he was going next. He did his chores, she prepared him a hot meal and also a “to go” meal (which was for his friend). She proceeded to put him in her buggy and take him to the next town to his “alleged” destination. Well, he and his friend had agreed to meet at the bridge just out of the first town! Dad had to walk all the way back to the pre-designated meeting place by the bridge to meet his friend. Indeed a very long walk and very dark by the time he arrived. His buddy was very hungry and concerned.
On their way back home, they somehow came into town the back way so that no one would see how messy they were. They stopped by a pond and washed their hair and faces. I asked if they got in trouble and wasn’t Grandma so worried about them. His response was, “No, Mom was just glad to see us!”
Dad had a great love for animals and how they should be properly cared for. He had a wonderful dog named “Old Smokey.” They spent many hours hunting together and just hanging around. There were many adventures where Smokey got Dad out of trouble and visa versa. They were inseparable. Smokey was well-behaved and very protected of his farm. While in town, he was very polite and well mannered, but just don’t walk onto the farm. He was a mastiff and would tear you up.
One day, during the winter Old Smokey was hunting and was after something on the railroad track. For some reason, he did not hear the oncoming train and was killed. Dad was heartbroken, but his memories of the adventures with Smokey always lived on. He had many other dogs, but none as wonderful as Smokey.
Dad and his Grandpa Bishop found abandoned baby squirrels with their eyes still closed. Dad decided, much to his mother’s dismay, that he would have one the of the babies. This was “Gip.” He trained him very well. Gip stayed in Dad’s bedroom and would sleep in his bed in the winter under the covers down at the foot of the bed. Gip grew and so did his range of the house.
One day, Dad’s mother caught Gip in the pantry getting into nuts and flour and all of her staples. Ethel gave Dad an ultimatum that Gip could not stay in the house any longer. Dad reluctantly made Gip a comfortable bed just outside the screened in porch.
The following spring, Dad realized that Gip needed to be with his friends. So he went down to the barn and let Gip go near the corn bin. Gip just loved corn. There were lots of squirrels in that area so he was certain Gip would find friends. Well, Gip did find friends and very cordially invited them all into the corn bin.
As the summer wore on, and Dad walked down to the barn, he would see lots of squirrels playing around the corn bin. He chased them away, but Gip would always linger a little longer to say “hello.”
As time went on, when Dad made the daily trip to the barn, he didn’t see Gip waiting around a little longer to say “hello.” Dad was sad, but he knew that Gip had found a partner and was probably very busy with his new family.
There was Old Bess, the buggy horse. He described her as a very large horse with great strength. She helped with the plow and always pulled the buggy. When Dad’s father, Worl, would go to work on the railroad, he would take the buggy and tap old Bess and tell her to go home. Old Bess would go directly home and somehow learned to unlatch the gate to let herself in. She would be waiting at the barn with buggy intact, having a well-deserved drink of water. Dad would unharness her and wipe her down and give her oats as her reward.
There are many more stories, but not enough space in your book. Dad always looked for the wonderful country life. He moved from the city after retirement to a small town in California, always trying to duplicate what he had as a child. Of course, it was never quite the same.
Sparks left an indelible mark on his life. He took my mother and me back to one of his school reunions in 2000. I had the opportunity to relive some of those wonderful years through his eyes. The town may be very tiny now, but through his eyes, he recreated a picture of the entire hustle and bustle of a successful railroad town in its glory. The buildings were old, gone, or just mere framework, but in his eyes, they were perfect.
Submitted by Donna Bishop, daughter