Journal Notes

Some days it seems Abe Lincoln has a brighter future than I do. After weeks of waiting and hoping, AMC has passed on making a film of Thunder Over the Prairie. They could be persuaded to change their minds if there was a prominent actor or director attached to the film project. I phoned Robert Duvall’s company about the material. I sent it to them about four months ago. As luck would have it, Duvall’s project about the Pony Express was just approved by AMC yesterday. So, he’s not interested in working on Thunder. I’m convinced the road to success is under construction. Okay, so I’ll never be a ballerina. I get it. At 47 I’m more convinced of that than ever, but I did have hope and some self-esteem. Now my self-esteem is so low I’m going to keep my keys on me when I walk through airport security just so I can get some acknowledgment. It’s not the end of the world and I know that?I just don’t know where to go from here. I like a plan, a goal. I’ve got book writing projects and I’m thankful for that, but it seems like there should be something more. I know what I want to do for a living I’m just not going to get the chance to do that. There’s no business like show business, but there are several businesses like accounting. If only I wanted to be an accountant. Perhaps I’m suited for a job as a coroner – performing surgery on dead people. What’s the worst that could happen? If everything went wrong, maybe I’d get a pulse. Well, back to the laptop.

I’ve been working with the prison fellowship ministry for three years now and I enjoy getting information about the men and women inside who have changed their lives for the better. In spite of the horrific setting, these individuals have managed to turn it around. One man I read about yesterday was in jail for more than 10 years when a benevolent minister dared to spend time with him. The minister gave the man a dictionary and a thesaurus and challenged him to learn. With a new focus on education, the man threw himself into college classes offered at the prison. He gave his life to God and began working with PFM. He taught himself how to play piano using a keyboard made of cardboard! It’s an amazing transformation and an example of how only God could have conquered his heart and made things better. After 20 years in prison the man is out now and a productive member of society. There is hope. With memories of my visit to Tombstone still fresh in my mind, I got back to work on the Buffalo Bill Cody piece today. Think I found the perfect person to write the forward. He was actually in the movie Tombstone and has portrayed Cody on film. I got to visit with a friend from high school while I was in Tombstone. I had lunch with him and his wife at Big Nose Kate’s. It was fun! I don’t miss high school. It’s interesting to find out what some of the people you knew grew up to be though. My 30 year reunion is coming up. I guess I’ll know more about those people then. I’d like to know what my ex-husband grew up to be. I was so naïve in high school. Nothing I learned in school prepared me for life on any level. My first book should have read, “See Dick balance his checkbook. See Jane leave an unhealthy relationship. Run, Jane, run!”

It’s so good to finally be home. It feels like I’ve been away a long time. I guess travel will do that to you. Tombstone was great! Linda and Nancy at Old West Books are the kind of people every author hopes to work with. They did a wonderful job of staging the store event. There’s no time to rest now. There’s a big book event at the Nevada County library tomorrow I’ll be attending. I’m grateful for the opportunity to promote the books locally. I thought I’d post a review of Frontier Teachers on the site today. As soon as I collect my thoughts I’ll write more about my journey. Till then?. Book review: ‘Frontier Teachers,’ by Chris Enss By Alicia Funk, “Frontier Teachers-Stories of Heroic Women of the Old West” offers an intimate glimpse into the lives of twelve of the 600 women adventurous women who dedicated themselves to teaching in the west between 1847 and 1858. During this time, the only respectable job choices for women were working as a seamstress, nurse or teacher. Prepared and determined, typically single women traveled west in rough wagon trains to build schools, raise money for school supplies and construction, and teach pioneer children and orphans of parents desperately seeking gold. Grass Valley author Chris Enss uses a light, direct tone and easy-to-read language to explore the minds and hearts of these pioneering women, in some cases using their own words through excerpts from their journals. A gun-slinging 22-year-old teacher, Olive Mann Isbell, protected her mission school from the Mexican Army. Her thoughts on life in California on November 14, 1849: “I have all that I want here, and what more could I have elsewhere? I have tried luxury without health, and a wild mountain life with it. Give me the latter, with the free air, the dashing streams, the swinging woods, the laughing flowers and the exulting birds.”The “grandmother teacher,” 66-year-old Tabitha Brown, embarked on the 9-month journey across the plains from Missouri to Oregon to establish and run for ten years the school that became Pacific University, while saving $1,000 from her efforts. The journal entries of Mary Graves Clarke, offer an intimate retelling of the infamous Donner Party. Mary was a beautiful, fearless 19-year-old girl in 1846, when she left Indiana with her family to join the Donner Party and headed for California. By mid-December of 1856, Mary was in the rescue party of 15 who left the camp to get help for the starving party trapped at the base of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Her father died on the way, calling her to his side, “You have to do whatever you can to stay alive. Think of your mother and brothers and sisters in the cabin at the lake. If you don’t make it to Sutter’s Fort, and send help, everyone at the lake will die. I want you to do what you have to …Use my flesh to stay alive.”She later became a teacher in San Jose, but her past cheerful disposition was forever replaced with sorrow. The stories of dedication and personal sacrifice help deepen our understanding of the importance of women in the days of the Wild West. The commitment of frontier teachers to do whatever it takes to educate America’s children remind us to keep their promise alive today. Chris Enss has written more than a dozen books on women in the Old West. She will be a presenter Oct. 24 at “A Moveable Feast” at the Madelyn Helling Library Reading Room, Nevada City. Call 265-1407 for more information. Alicia Funk is a Nevada City author with a Bachelor of Arts in history and a passion for reading.

One last thing for today. Let me say how very much I miss my brother and how I wish he was still here.

I’m heading to Arizona tomorrow. I look forward to visintg Linda’s Books in Tombstone where I’ll be signing copies of Frontier Teachers. I envy Linda. That seems like the life. Living in Tombstone and running an Old West bookstore. I’ve been working on the first chapter of a new western book for Bethany House Publishing. I thought I’d post it here to find out what visitors to the site think. Here goes…. A belt of timber green and vast hugged the banks of a swift river tumbling out of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Ward Hubert, a dusty, travel-worn miner in his early 20s, knelt beside the water’s edge and plunged his face into the icy liquid. After washing a layer of grime out of his eyes and ears he plopped himself down in a clump of grass. His tired mule gnawed on the vegetation near him then sauntered away to chew on a flowering oleander bush.
Many more hours beyond the dense pine and oak was a line of tall, craggy rocks sweeping the horizon. The prospector considered the patch of landscape he occupied then slowly began to gather chunks of wood for a fire. In a matter of moments wisps of smoke rose up from a pile of kindling and the smell of bacon frying in a skillet permeated the air.
Ward didn’t notice the four riders walking their horses into his camp until it was too late. The pounding of the rushing river drowned out the sound of the animals hooves. He pushed his meal aside and turned to face the unfriendly looking men. Rowe Jurgens, a tall man with intense black eyes and a boney face, halfway smiled at Ward and leaned forward in his saddle. “Where you headed,” he asked rhetorically? “Carson City,” Ward responded hesitantly. Rowe climbed off his horse and walked over to the fire. He picked up a coffee pot balanced over the hot embers and poured himself a cup. “What’s at Carson City?” he asked coolly. His eyes slowly scanned the possession in Ward’s small camp. They rested on a letter jutting out of the saddlebag lying near a bedroll. Rowe reached for the bags. Ward almost stopped him, but thought better once he caught a glimpse of the guns on the intruder’s hips.
Rowe opened the letter then began reading it aloud to his fellow riders. “Attention, Mr. Allen, owner of the Borat Stamp Mill in Carson City. Enclosed please find ore samples taken from the Mustard Seed Mine near Fairplay, California. My young partner in the venture and myself hope to transport the gold we pull out of the Mustard Seed to your mill for processing?.” Rowe’s voice trailed off as he carefully refolded the correspondence. Ward watched Rowe sit the letter aside and shove his scarred fist into the saddlebag. He lifted out four chunks of ore samples at the same time Ward spotted his gun on the other side of the camp.
Rowe shuffled the glittery rocks around in his hand, then grinned a big, toothy grin at Ward. He noticed the prospector’s gun as well and was taking great delight in watching Ward try to determine what to do next. “By all rights,” Rowe told him, “Otto Hackett is entitled to seize your mine now. He holds the mortgage on the property. Ward took a small step towards his gun. “A deal was struck between you and the others,” Rowe continued. “Hackett’s is the only stamp mill you’re to use.” Ward inched a little closer to his weapon. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to remind you of that,” Rowe snapped. Ward made it to his gun and in one fast motion picked it up and leveled at the men. Rowe was quicker on the draw and aimed the barrel of his six-shooter at Ward’s head before the miner could pull the hammer back on his own gun. “And now things need to be handled differently,” Rowe announced.
Ward choked down his anger and with great resignation, lowered his weapon. He glanced over Rowe’s shoulder at the armed men pointing their rifles at him. “Well, if you’re planning on getting me back to Fairplay fast you better have a horse,” Ward warned. “My mule is strictly a pack animal and she’s tired at that. Rowe studied the scene then turned and smiled at the nervous prospector. “Looks like we’re one horse shy,” he announced. “Wonder how we’re going to fix that.” Suddenly, Rowe’s gun belched as it cleared leather and Ward flipped backward into the water as the slug hit his chest.
The rapid current carried the dead man’s body over an outcropping of rocks and pushed it into an embankment. Rowe’s riders watched the lifeless figure wash onto a shallow chaos of gravel and remain there. “What do we do with his body,” one of the men asked? “Nothing,” Rowe responded without remorse. “Leave it. Buzzards have got to have something to eat.”
After placing the gold ore back inside the saddlebag with the letter, Rowe mounted his horse and rode away from the site. His men eagerly followed along behind him.

I’ve written twenty-two books and am still trying to navigate my way through the publicity maze. Some of the highly publicized signings I’ve done at big stores like Barnes & Noble in Reno, Nevada resulted in only two interested parties purchasing books. Conversely, I’ve done signings for book clubs where there was no notice but word of mouth and several people have shown up and many copies of the books were sold. Sometimes my website will get hundreds of hit’s a day and other times less than fifty. I do like speaking to book clubs, civic organizations, history groups. That’s seems to always go well no matter how the events are publicized. I do feel a bit like a Ginsu knife salesman at a county fair at times. I wheel my posters, books, postcards, etc. into the event and set it up, shove the empty boxes under the folding table, rearrange my business cards and wait. People stop by to chat about the material or buy a book. Most are very nice, but I have met the occasional odd duck. For instance?one man picked up a copy of the book Pistol Packin’ Madams and began talking with me about the subject matter. As the conversation wound down he asked me, “How much?” I explained to him that the bookstore had their own mark up for the book and he’d have to ask them the price. He then told me that he wasn’t talking about the price of the book. Somewhat taken aback, I then had to explain that I wasn’t a hooker, but the author of the title. What made the exchange even more perplexing was that I was dressed in a floor-length, pioneer costume, complete with a bonnet and high-button shoes. Are there a lot of soiled doves running around these days dressed like Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie? And if so, who does their publicity?

Friday’s meeting with the studio head in Los Angeles didn’t turn out like the meetings I’ve attended usually do. In the past when I’ve traveled to meet someone who said they were interested in my work it generally turned out to be an exercise in ego. The “head of development” usually didn’t have any pull at the company, but rejoiced in luring hopeful, and at times, desperate writers, to their office. They can’t make a movie happen, but they pretend they can. And having someone come to visit them in their office makes them seem much more important than they are. At 25 I had the patience for that act. I’m 47 years-old now and I don’t tolerate it so well. In recent years I haven’t made as many trips to L.A. because of the act. There comes a point and time when you must face the truth that you are not going to be a ballerina, or famous artist, or whatever grand thing you thought you could do. Reality sets in. I didn’t give this visit south much hope, but I wasn’t so disappointed. The woman I met with actually is who she says she is. She was kind and had some good advise. I’ve been working on her suggestions to the Roy Rogers Dale Evans story today. It just might be a go this time. We’ll see. Howard Kazanjian was with me. He’s a bright film maker and he’s been working on this project for years. Hopefully being persistent will pay off. He’s certainly put in the time. I had a book signing the day after the L.A. trip at the Barnes & Noble in Citrus Heights and it was a fun event. The store manager, Mike Troyan, is brilliant! I met many nice people and as a whole the signings was a joy. I met a couple of sisters who shared with me a great story about their 80 year-old mom. Her mother fell in love with a boy from school and had dreamed of marrying him, but it never happened. Each married another. In the last few years, they have both lost their spouses and have reconnected with each other. After all this time it seems they will have a chance to be together. What a sweet dream.

The local launch for Frontier Teachers is this evening at the Book Seller in downtown Grass Valley. I was happy to find out that Globe had paid for an ad to be run about the signing in the paper. I didn’t know they did that. Good to know. I never leave a book store without buying something. Any lull in the signing and I’m shopping. It’s a good thing I’ve never had a signing at a candy store. I’d eat my weight in chocolates and never be able to physically make it out of the business. I hope to have chapter seven of the Buffalo Bill book completed tomorrow. I’ve been racking my brain to think of a the right person I can approach to write the forword for the book. I’m open to any ideas.

I was right in the middle of working on chapter seven of the Buffalo Bill Cody book when I got a call from Clint Black today. He’s currently in New York working on Celebrity Apprentice. I like that show. I watched it last year and thought Trace Adkins was the best player. I hope Clint will do just as well. He wanted to find out if I could purchase a cupcake from him for an episode they are filming for the show. I froze. I know how much something like that goes for on that program. I think the celebrities sold hotdogs last year and someone received an $8,000 donation for one. I gave Clint the phone number of Howard Kazanjian. I think he’ll stand a better chance of making his goal with someone like Howard in his corner. Anyway, it was a memorable call and a nice break from writing. Along with the Buffalo Bill Cody book I’m working on chapters of a book for Bethany House Publishing and adding a few here and there to the Deadliest Accusation. A 7 year-old boy was arrested this week for breaking into a zoo and killing 13 animals. There are a lot of youngsters who do terrible things. They take guns to school and shoot their classmates, they film themselves robbing and vandalizing houses and beating senior citizens. It’s not such a stretch to believe a teenager would accuse their father of rape. It’s the deadliest of all accusations. It’s not difficult to believe at all?just sad. Something to ponder over an $8,000 hotdog.

A phone conversation with Edmonds Entertainment has given me renewed hope that the Roy Rogers Dale Evans movie is a little closer to getting made. Clint Black spoke with the company a few months ago and told them about the project. They asked to see the material and my agent sent it along. Howard Kazanjian and I are supposed to meet with the head of development for the production company next Friday to discuss The Cowboy and the Senorita. I didn’t know what to think at first. I’ve been down this road many times. I called Clint and he had good things to say about the development head. He was positive and that attitude is infectious. Roy and Dale were such wonderful people. They deserve to have a film made about their incredible lives and faith in God. My prayer is that this is a door that leads to the movie getting made. Howard and I have been working on this project for more than five years. I guess that’s a reasonable time period. It took ten years to get the film Forrest Gump made. It’s a funny business. There are no rules and they’re strictly enforced.