October 11, 2009
Babe Mansbridge - Champion Bronc Rider
A year ago, I posted some of my Dad's recollections of Babe Mansbridge here. Babe, who's real name was Ralph, was a champion bronc rider from what I call the Thunder Butte area. My Dad knew Babe, who among other things was famous for riding the local legend, Tipperary, who was one of the most famous bucking broncs of the early 1900's.
On a recent visit to California, I found the above print in my Dad's basement. The print is framed and inscribed (barely legibly in the upper right hand corner) by Babe with a note to my Uncle Joe (now deceased), which reads:
"To my friend Joe
a real cowboy
and
a real friend
Your Pal
Babe M."
I'm not sure whether the print represents a colorized photo, a painting, or some other form of caricature, but brush strokes seem evident on the horse's underbelly. But, this print does give us a sense of Babe in his heyday and perhaps gives us an idea of what Babe may have looked like while riding a bucking bronc in competition.
The print shows Babe riding the bucking horse, Sure Fire, in finals at the Black Hills Roundup in Belle Fourche, South Dakota, in 1924.
In the lower left of the print, the printed inscription reads:
"Black Hills Roundup
Babe Mansbridge
Champion Bronc Rider, British Columbia
Riding "Sure Fire" finals at
Belle Fourche - 1924"
I believe that Babe Mansbridge died in January 1968 a couple of months short of his 66th birthday, but here is some additional information about Babe that I found in a newspaper clipping in my grandmother's photo album:
"Babe Mansbridge Dies At Spearfish
Funeral services for Ralph "Babe" Mansbridge will be held at 1:00 p.m. today, (Wednesday) at the Masonic Temple in Spearfish, with Rev. Arthur W. Westwood of the United Church of Christ officiating. Burial will be in the Rosehill Cemetery under the direction of Fidler Funeral Chapel.
Mansbridge, a well known rancher, cattle buyer and rodeo rider, died in the Lookout Mountain Hospital, Spearfish, Jan. 21 following a siege of pneumonia and other complications. He was about 70.
Babe was a true westerner at heart although he was too young to take part in the activities of those days of "Cattle Barons and Roundups." As a little boy of 5 or 6 he learned to ride a horse and became the cowboy of the Mansbridge estate at the old Bismarck Trail crossing on Rabbit Creek where his father ran cattle in connection with his general store and postmaster duties. In 1923 he won the saddle bronc championship belt of British Columbia and according to Charles Wilson, of Buffalo, made the best ride on the famous bucking horse "Tipperary" at a Lemmon Fair. For several years he sponsored a matched saddle bronc ride at the Faith rodeo."
While the clipping isn't dated, if Babe passed away on January 21, 1968, the clipping probably ran in a local paper and funeral services were held on Wednesday, January 24th.
--Mike Crowley
Editor's Note--Apologies to any copyright holders for the above newspaper clipping. I have no information as to the newspaper or the clipping's provenance other than that it was in my grandmother's photo album.
October 03, 2009
Walking Sam
On July 15, 2009, I was on a business trip to the area and attended a Tribal Council meeting at Eagle Butte on the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation. There was a visiting delegation of federal officials, and the Council wanted to have a session with the people from Washington, which turned into a long 2-1/2 hour procession of speeches by local tribal members about all of the various needs and complaints on the reservation. It appears to be traditional for tribal elders to be allowed to speak before the real business begins. But, so many community members were interested in speaking that this turned into the primary business of the meeting. A long litany of grudges with Washington were expressed, many of them perfectly understandable.
Anyone with a knowledge of the government's interaction with the Lakota over the years – especially in the early years when people were rounded up and placed on the reservation, and later when the reservation lands were chipped away to be sold off for white settlement – would understand that many historical wrongs were committed. One such wrong -- the Wounded Knee Massacre -- occurred in December 1890 when U.S. troops got a little too trigger happy during a roundup of tribal members and killed over 300 men, women, and children. The massacre still resonates strongly, and one of the things tribal members asked for on July 15th was a formal apology from Washington for the Wounded Knee Massacre.
People at the Tribal Council session also asked for federal help with some things that sounded strange to non-tribal ears. For example, one local woman, who left before I could talk with her personally, asked Washington for help dealing with Walking Sam. The woman, who was elderly but otherwise quite lucid, described Walking Sam as a big man in a tall hat who has appeared around the reservation and caused young people to commit suicides. She said that Walking Sam has been picked up on the police scanners, but that the police have not been able to protect the community from him. She described him as a bad spirit. She wanted help from Washington with foot patrols for the tribal communities to protect them from Walking Sam.
At the time, I was thinking that this may have been a reference to Bigfoot sightings. Yes, some people have claimed sightings of big hairy ape men in the Dakotas. Many of these sightings have taken place on the Standing Rock and Pine Ridge reservations. Or, perhaps it may just have been a plea for help with teen suicides – a plea that needs to be translated through a cultural filter. The woman was from Red Scaffold, which is a small community on the reservation.
The following evening found me perusing the bookshelves at Prairie's Edge, a large Native American arts, crafts, music, and bookstore in Rapid City. I looked through quite a number of books trying to find any reference that I could to Walking Sam. I found nothing. I did ask the clerk behind the counter if she knew of any appropriate books or had ever heard of Walking Sam. She appeared to be Native American. She wasn't familiar with Walking Sam, but advised me that there really are bad spirits out there on the reservation, and you need to be careful. She said that if you go looking for them, you might just find them.
Well, I didn't go looking for Walking Sam, but I did stay in a town that weekend that straddles the edge of the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation. I also ended up talking with the town's police chief and emergency services manager. (I won't name the town or the police chief because I haven't had a chance to ask whether he would mind being identified.) We got to talking about the local Native American beliefs and I mentioned the incident at the council meeting in Eagle Butte. He immediately was interested in knowing who had mentioned Walking Sam because he thought he probably knew the woman. He knows many of the locals in Red Scaffold and is familiar with the stories about the Walking Sam sightings and the connection to teen suicides. He often runs ambulances down to Red Scaffold and over time has gotten well acquainted with the locals.
Following the incident, I corresponded with Loren Coleman, a cryptozoologist who has written many books on the topic, and he thinks that it's a good bet that Walking Sam represents sightings of Bigfoot, more commonly spotted in the Northwestern U.S., but also often sighted elsewhere.
It's an interesting story, but shouldn't distract the reader from the fact that people on the reservations are distraught about teen suicides. Whether Walking Sam represents Bigfoot, an evil spirit, or is just a manifestation of the fear that people have about losing their loved ones to what seems an incomprehensible type of event, the teen suicides are real.
--Mike Crowley
Editor's Note--Another blogger here has a much more expansive take on the notion of cultural filters that is a valuable one. While we westerners to tend to see things in the black and white (e.g., a report of a strange creature is an animal, or it is not) and through our own cultural filters, we do lose sight of the fact that cultural filters are strong and may cause us to lose sight of an underlying message which could be something that we could easily relate to. For example, believe in "bad spirits" as a causative mechanism for untimely events among the Lakota is strong. Walking Sam may be just one such explanation that resonates among some of the Lakota for teen suicides. Alternatively, it is intriguing that Loren Coleman has pointed out that police thermal imaging scanners have picked up a heat signature from one possibly related sighting in the past here. Loren also posts some additional thoughts on the matter here.
Anyone with a knowledge of the government's interaction with the Lakota over the years – especially in the early years when people were rounded up and placed on the reservation, and later when the reservation lands were chipped away to be sold off for white settlement – would understand that many historical wrongs were committed. One such wrong -- the Wounded Knee Massacre -- occurred in December 1890 when U.S. troops got a little too trigger happy during a roundup of tribal members and killed over 300 men, women, and children. The massacre still resonates strongly, and one of the things tribal members asked for on July 15th was a formal apology from Washington for the Wounded Knee Massacre.
People at the Tribal Council session also asked for federal help with some things that sounded strange to non-tribal ears. For example, one local woman, who left before I could talk with her personally, asked Washington for help dealing with Walking Sam. The woman, who was elderly but otherwise quite lucid, described Walking Sam as a big man in a tall hat who has appeared around the reservation and caused young people to commit suicides. She said that Walking Sam has been picked up on the police scanners, but that the police have not been able to protect the community from him. She described him as a bad spirit. She wanted help from Washington with foot patrols for the tribal communities to protect them from Walking Sam.
At the time, I was thinking that this may have been a reference to Bigfoot sightings. Yes, some people have claimed sightings of big hairy ape men in the Dakotas. Many of these sightings have taken place on the Standing Rock and Pine Ridge reservations. Or, perhaps it may just have been a plea for help with teen suicides – a plea that needs to be translated through a cultural filter. The woman was from Red Scaffold, which is a small community on the reservation.
The following evening found me perusing the bookshelves at Prairie's Edge, a large Native American arts, crafts, music, and bookstore in Rapid City. I looked through quite a number of books trying to find any reference that I could to Walking Sam. I found nothing. I did ask the clerk behind the counter if she knew of any appropriate books or had ever heard of Walking Sam. She appeared to be Native American. She wasn't familiar with Walking Sam, but advised me that there really are bad spirits out there on the reservation, and you need to be careful. She said that if you go looking for them, you might just find them.
Well, I didn't go looking for Walking Sam, but I did stay in a town that weekend that straddles the edge of the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation. I also ended up talking with the town's police chief and emergency services manager. (I won't name the town or the police chief because I haven't had a chance to ask whether he would mind being identified.) We got to talking about the local Native American beliefs and I mentioned the incident at the council meeting in Eagle Butte. He immediately was interested in knowing who had mentioned Walking Sam because he thought he probably knew the woman. He knows many of the locals in Red Scaffold and is familiar with the stories about the Walking Sam sightings and the connection to teen suicides. He often runs ambulances down to Red Scaffold and over time has gotten well acquainted with the locals.
Following the incident, I corresponded with Loren Coleman, a cryptozoologist who has written many books on the topic, and he thinks that it's a good bet that Walking Sam represents sightings of Bigfoot, more commonly spotted in the Northwestern U.S., but also often sighted elsewhere.
It's an interesting story, but shouldn't distract the reader from the fact that people on the reservations are distraught about teen suicides. Whether Walking Sam represents Bigfoot, an evil spirit, or is just a manifestation of the fear that people have about losing their loved ones to what seems an incomprehensible type of event, the teen suicides are real.
--Mike Crowley
Editor's Note--Another blogger here has a much more expansive take on the notion of cultural filters that is a valuable one. While we westerners to tend to see things in the black and white (e.g., a report of a strange creature is an animal, or it is not) and through our own cultural filters, we do lose sight of the fact that cultural filters are strong and may cause us to lose sight of an underlying message which could be something that we could easily relate to. For example, believe in "bad spirits" as a causative mechanism for untimely events among the Lakota is strong. Walking Sam may be just one such explanation that resonates among some of the Lakota for teen suicides. Alternatively, it is intriguing that Loren Coleman has pointed out that police thermal imaging scanners have picked up a heat signature from one possibly related sighting in the past here. Loren also posts some additional thoughts on the matter here.
July 27, 2009
Neal Crowley
Mr. and Mrs. Tom Crowley homesteaded near Thunder Butte, Ziebach County, in 1910-12. They had four children; three boys, Joseph, Neal, Eugene and one girl, Cecil. They all attended a country school.
The Crowley's raised cattle and horses. There were a lot of range horses in those days, and quite often, the Crowley boys would help to gather and brand them.
When Neal Crowley was 16 years old, he went to work for an early day rancher, John Barthold. Randy Foster now lives at what was the Barthold headquarters.
Bartholds (John had a brother Fred, who moved to a place on the Cheyenne River south of Faith) ran cattle and a lot of horses. Neal enjoyed the years that he worked there, as he did most of the riding.
Neal was tall, weighed 200 pounds and carried himself well. He had an interest in and had learned some about boxing.
Following is the way he told of an early boxing event: “I thought I was pretty good. The boys at the ranch were an easy mark for me. One day at noon there was a stranger among the group of men (haying crew). That evening, I said, 'Come on someone, go a round or two with me'. No one offered. I looked at the stranger, Billy Cavin, and asked, 'Do you know anything about boxing?' Billy, a smaller man than I, said that he did. 'Well come on, I need a workout.' Rather slowly, Billy prepared himself and we squared away. When our little bout was over, I was more confused and deflated than I had ever been. I hadn't been hurt physically, but my pride has been severely damaged. Bill was well scienced and later that evening offered to help me if I cared to go on. I admitted that I would like to learn. Bill Cavin was a real nice fellow and a good instructor.”
The first time that I saw Neal Crowley box was in an outdoor ring at Usta, SD, July 4, 1933. He was matched with Babe (Thomas) Joyce from Faith. Babe got the decision, which was no dishonor for Neal, as Babe, a good fighter in general, had also taken boxing lessons.
Neal Crowley married Dorothy Tidball the summer of 1936. That fall, along with Mr. and Mrs. Dick McCord, they (because of the drought) moved their cattle to Martin, SD. I worked three months for Dick and Neal at their location four miles north of Martin on Bear Creek. Both couples moved back to Faith in the spring of 1937.
The Crowleys stayed on a ranch on the Moreau River until the mid 1940's when they moved into Faith. They had two adopted children. A boy Patrick, and a girl Pamela, (Mrs. Ted Escott) of Box Elder, SD.
Neal had a mail route north west of Faith. He was also Faith's Marshal and Municipal Liquor Store manager and part-time bartender. He served in all three capacities for a number of years.
Neal's scrapping and or boxing abilities, were brought to a test numerous times during his life. As a Marshal, Neal was instructed to carry a pistol. Because he dreaded the thought of shooting and perhaps killing someone, he was reluctant to carry a gun, which he seldom did.
One afternoon in 1953, just seconds after Neal had entered the liquor store's front door, a stranger (A.G. Akin or F.K. Pickett) took a hefty swing at Neal. Crowley dodged the blow and came back with a right to the jaw which put the man on the floor. Neal instinctively dropped down on the fellow with intentions of holding him and getting an explanation. He was suddenly attacked by two more men, also strangers. They were hitting and kicking him and momentarily, Neal was unable to rise. He managed to get on his back and by using both his fists and feet, was able to clear himself enough to regain his footing. Neal worked his way behind the bar. There, George Hoyle, an assistant bartender, handed him the gun which he should have been carrying. Neal walked toward the front door intending to put the fellows out. There was a hand gate at the end of the bar. One of the three men, Darrell Powell, jumped up on the gate expecting to get behind the bar and “clean house”. Neal struck Powell a stunning blow square on the left side of his face with the gun still in his hand. For balance, Darrell had thrown his left arm up and as the end of the barrel struck his temple, the gun fired. The bullet went through the upper part of Darrel's arm severing an artery. Powell fell back on the barroom floor, blood spurting from his wound. His two comrades walked past him, out the front door and disappeared.
First, Neal called the doctor and then John Eggar, Meade County Sheriff. Darrel was taken to the Faith Hospital. The doctor assured Neal that Darrel Powell's injury wasn't real serious and that he would be O.K. When John Eggar arrived, he and Neal went in search of the two remaining troublesome fellows. They found them in their room at the West Hotel. The two surrendered peacefully. The three fellows were part of a seismograph crew, and had the reputation of having had things their own way in some other small towns.
Neal was a temperamental man, but, for those in need, was compassionate and generous. He helped many people in numerous ways during his 25 years in Faith. The Crowleys left Faith in 1968. They spent some time in California where Neal's mother, brothers and sister lived. From there to Redstone, CO.
Neal and Dorothy were divorced in 1972; he married Jennie (Escott) Imslad. They lived two years in Rapid City where Neal managed the Western Bar owned by Mr. and Mrs. Guy Simmons. They moved from there to Presho, SD, where Neal managed the City Liquor Store. He succumbed to cancer in September 1977, and is buried in the Catholic Cemetery at Presho.
– Gene Ulrich
Editors Note – On a visit to Faith the weekend before last, I spoke with Gene Ulrich, who was kind enough to let me post this story on-line, which he wrote a few years ago about one of my favorite relatives. The story was originally published in: Gene Ulrich, Faith Country Heritage: 1910-1985, “Neal Crowley,” page. 386. Gene was a good friend of Neal's for many years and visited him during his final days in the hospital in Pierre. Gene also was one of the pallbearers at Neal's funeral.
The Crowley's raised cattle and horses. There were a lot of range horses in those days, and quite often, the Crowley boys would help to gather and brand them.
When Neal Crowley was 16 years old, he went to work for an early day rancher, John Barthold. Randy Foster now lives at what was the Barthold headquarters.
Bartholds (John had a brother Fred, who moved to a place on the Cheyenne River south of Faith) ran cattle and a lot of horses. Neal enjoyed the years that he worked there, as he did most of the riding.
Neal was tall, weighed 200 pounds and carried himself well. He had an interest in and had learned some about boxing.
Following is the way he told of an early boxing event: “I thought I was pretty good. The boys at the ranch were an easy mark for me. One day at noon there was a stranger among the group of men (haying crew). That evening, I said, 'Come on someone, go a round or two with me'. No one offered. I looked at the stranger, Billy Cavin, and asked, 'Do you know anything about boxing?' Billy, a smaller man than I, said that he did. 'Well come on, I need a workout.' Rather slowly, Billy prepared himself and we squared away. When our little bout was over, I was more confused and deflated than I had ever been. I hadn't been hurt physically, but my pride has been severely damaged. Bill was well scienced and later that evening offered to help me if I cared to go on. I admitted that I would like to learn. Bill Cavin was a real nice fellow and a good instructor.”
The first time that I saw Neal Crowley box was in an outdoor ring at Usta, SD, July 4, 1933. He was matched with Babe (Thomas) Joyce from Faith. Babe got the decision, which was no dishonor for Neal, as Babe, a good fighter in general, had also taken boxing lessons.
Neal Crowley married Dorothy Tidball the summer of 1936. That fall, along with Mr. and Mrs. Dick McCord, they (because of the drought) moved their cattle to Martin, SD. I worked three months for Dick and Neal at their location four miles north of Martin on Bear Creek. Both couples moved back to Faith in the spring of 1937.
The Crowleys stayed on a ranch on the Moreau River until the mid 1940's when they moved into Faith. They had two adopted children. A boy Patrick, and a girl Pamela, (Mrs. Ted Escott) of Box Elder, SD.
Neal had a mail route north west of Faith. He was also Faith's Marshal and Municipal Liquor Store manager and part-time bartender. He served in all three capacities for a number of years.
Neal's scrapping and or boxing abilities, were brought to a test numerous times during his life. As a Marshal, Neal was instructed to carry a pistol. Because he dreaded the thought of shooting and perhaps killing someone, he was reluctant to carry a gun, which he seldom did.
One afternoon in 1953, just seconds after Neal had entered the liquor store's front door, a stranger (A.G. Akin or F.K. Pickett) took a hefty swing at Neal. Crowley dodged the blow and came back with a right to the jaw which put the man on the floor. Neal instinctively dropped down on the fellow with intentions of holding him and getting an explanation. He was suddenly attacked by two more men, also strangers. They were hitting and kicking him and momentarily, Neal was unable to rise. He managed to get on his back and by using both his fists and feet, was able to clear himself enough to regain his footing. Neal worked his way behind the bar. There, George Hoyle, an assistant bartender, handed him the gun which he should have been carrying. Neal walked toward the front door intending to put the fellows out. There was a hand gate at the end of the bar. One of the three men, Darrell Powell, jumped up on the gate expecting to get behind the bar and “clean house”. Neal struck Powell a stunning blow square on the left side of his face with the gun still in his hand. For balance, Darrell had thrown his left arm up and as the end of the barrel struck his temple, the gun fired. The bullet went through the upper part of Darrel's arm severing an artery. Powell fell back on the barroom floor, blood spurting from his wound. His two comrades walked past him, out the front door and disappeared.
First, Neal called the doctor and then John Eggar, Meade County Sheriff. Darrel was taken to the Faith Hospital. The doctor assured Neal that Darrel Powell's injury wasn't real serious and that he would be O.K. When John Eggar arrived, he and Neal went in search of the two remaining troublesome fellows. They found them in their room at the West Hotel. The two surrendered peacefully. The three fellows were part of a seismograph crew, and had the reputation of having had things their own way in some other small towns.
Neal was a temperamental man, but, for those in need, was compassionate and generous. He helped many people in numerous ways during his 25 years in Faith. The Crowleys left Faith in 1968. They spent some time in California where Neal's mother, brothers and sister lived. From there to Redstone, CO.
Neal and Dorothy were divorced in 1972; he married Jennie (Escott) Imslad. They lived two years in Rapid City where Neal managed the Western Bar owned by Mr. and Mrs. Guy Simmons. They moved from there to Presho, SD, where Neal managed the City Liquor Store. He succumbed to cancer in September 1977, and is buried in the Catholic Cemetery at Presho.
– Gene Ulrich
Editors Note – On a visit to Faith the weekend before last, I spoke with Gene Ulrich, who was kind enough to let me post this story on-line, which he wrote a few years ago about one of my favorite relatives. The story was originally published in: Gene Ulrich, Faith Country Heritage: 1910-1985, “Neal Crowley,” page. 386. Gene was a good friend of Neal's for many years and visited him during his final days in the hospital in Pierre. Gene also was one of the pallbearers at Neal's funeral.
July 13, 2009
Author of Thunder Butte Blog Will be in Faith
As many of my readers know, I don't actually live in the Thunder Butte area. In fact, I live far from it. But I will be in the area this coming weekend. With luck, I'll get in Friday afternoon and need to head out by about 11 a.m. on Sunday. I plan to be staying at the Prairie Vista Inn in Faith. I'm interested in talking with people who knew any of my family members, including the Crowleys (Gene Ulrich – are you still around?) or the Shockleys who lived out toward Glad Valley and some of who gravitated to Lemmon and other parts. I'm also interested in interesting stories about the area. Basically, I'm looking to keep this little blog and website going and I need new stories.
If you would like to contact or meet with me, please call me at (605) 593-4530, which should forward to my cell phone. Or please call and leave a message for me at the Prairie Vista Inn, (605) 967-2343, where I'll be staying next Friday and Saturday night, July 17th and 19th. I would really appreciate hearing from you.
My Dad, John – who used to go by the name of Gene – grew up on a ranch out on the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation about halfway between the butte and the town of Faith and left the area to fight in World War II. His departure was followed by my grandmother, who went by Mayme, and my Aunt Cecelia, who typically was called Cece. My Uncle Joe also left the area to join the service during the war. And, my grandfather Tom left the area not long afterward. In contrast, my Uncle Neal stayed on and did some ranching, mail delivery, and law enforcement as Faith's police chief for many years afterward – at least through the 1960's, before he moved on to Colorado, back to Faith, and then ultimately to Presho, where he died in the late 1970's. If you knew any of these people, please let me know. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Neal's adopted son, Pat, I'd like to know that as well.
Again, though, I am interested in stories about other people who live in the area and things happening locally, so please get in touch with me if you'd like to talk. If we can find a place to sit down for a cup of coffee, it's on me.
--Mike Crowley
Postscript--Apologies to my readers, but I got the dates wrong. I actually was in Faith the evenings of July 17th and 18th, not the 19th as I'd previously indicated. Also, my little bit of technology -- the phone number -- didn't work as planned. I am using an internet service called Google Voice, and had intended for any calls to the phone number above to be routed directly to my cellphone. Either I set up the phone forwarding incorrectly, or the service may not work all the time as planned. One kind reader did leave a couple of messages for me, I just discovered by logging into the service. Thanks for calling and I will get back to you!
If you would like to contact or meet with me, please call me at (605) 593-4530, which should forward to my cell phone. Or please call and leave a message for me at the Prairie Vista Inn, (605) 967-2343, where I'll be staying next Friday and Saturday night, July 17th and 19th. I would really appreciate hearing from you.
My Dad, John – who used to go by the name of Gene – grew up on a ranch out on the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation about halfway between the butte and the town of Faith and left the area to fight in World War II. His departure was followed by my grandmother, who went by Mayme, and my Aunt Cecelia, who typically was called Cece. My Uncle Joe also left the area to join the service during the war. And, my grandfather Tom left the area not long afterward. In contrast, my Uncle Neal stayed on and did some ranching, mail delivery, and law enforcement as Faith's police chief for many years afterward – at least through the 1960's, before he moved on to Colorado, back to Faith, and then ultimately to Presho, where he died in the late 1970's. If you knew any of these people, please let me know. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Neal's adopted son, Pat, I'd like to know that as well.
Again, though, I am interested in stories about other people who live in the area and things happening locally, so please get in touch with me if you'd like to talk. If we can find a place to sit down for a cup of coffee, it's on me.
--Mike Crowley
Postscript--Apologies to my readers, but I got the dates wrong. I actually was in Faith the evenings of July 17th and 18th, not the 19th as I'd previously indicated. Also, my little bit of technology -- the phone number -- didn't work as planned. I am using an internet service called Google Voice, and had intended for any calls to the phone number above to be routed directly to my cellphone. Either I set up the phone forwarding incorrectly, or the service may not work all the time as planned. One kind reader did leave a couple of messages for me, I just discovered by logging into the service. Thanks for calling and I will get back to you!