Clarence was the second of 5 children born to Lizzie(Hunter) and Frank Rich delivered by his grandfather Dr. A J. Hunter at Hunters Hot Springs. He learned to ride and drive teams from his dad. His son, C.B. said he was a master at matching horses for teams and won any pulling contest he entered. His family relocated to Spokane when he was young and his first job was herding milk cows from the city each day (on his horse Buck) to graze and then bring them back at night. Next he worked for the railroad making 10 cents an hour as machinist. While living in Spokane he joined a baseball team and while playing a team from Mountain Home Idaho, met one of the players sister's Anna Marguarite Barron. They were married in Mountain Home Jan 3, 1912, with Anna'a sister Mary for their witness. Their life in Spokane ended ubruptly when the union workers struck the railroad and the railroad broke the union. The family (including Lizzie and Frank and Clarence's brother Ernest) chose to relocate to Dean, Mt and bought a homestead there. They added acreage to that with the homestead act and the Rich Ranch began. Here at Dean, Anna and Clarence had children; Olive Mary-1915, Clarence Barron "C.B."-1919, Margaret-1920, and Susan-1928
MEMORY LANE TO DAD
Dear Dad, I'm kinda lonesome for the
good old days of yore,
When we rode and roped and worked
and laughed and played,
From our cabin by the meadow, where
it sat long years before,
By the rambling old log house that
your dad made.
Where the sun rose bright at morning
over field and yard and stream.
Where the smell of new mown hay oft
filled the air,
As I wrangled up the milk cows, and the
pasture full of teams
And you filled each manger with it's
daily fare.
Where we rode the range at evenings –
just a father and his boy,
And our horses had their walking race
back home.
Where the hours of family living
overflowed each day with joy,
As we lived there in our valley,
all alone.
Where we fished the streams together,
from a horse or car or bike,
Which included Meadowbrook and
Fishtail, too,
And you showed me how to set the fly in
answer to a strike,
As we loafed beneath those summer
skies of blue.
All the days we worked together at the
cattle, grain and hay,
All the many things you taught me as
we did.
All the days we played together
either August, June or May,
And you joined me like you were
another kid.
Now we know that in life's pattern time
can never quite stand still.
Don't suppose we'd really like it
if it would.
Still these olden, golden memories help
my present life to fill
And to be the kind of man
you'd think I should.
So I'll tell my little family of the
lovely days of yore.
Teach them how to share their life
of work and joy.
And the golden hours will live again,
from years long gone before,
As I ride and rope and fish
with my own boy.
As the years pile up behind you and
and you pass your full four score,
Let me thank you for the days
and hours we know,
And assure you in your shadow
there's another lad, once more,
Living days so like those ones
of long ago.
C.B. Rich
Grandson:Kevin Edward Russell
Grandson:Gordon Richard Russell
MEMORY LANE TO DAD
Dear Dad, I'm kinda lonesome for the
good old days of yore,
When we rode and roped and worked
and laughed and played,
From our cabin by the meadow, where
it sat long years before,
By the rambling old log house that
your dad made.
Where the sun rose bright at morning
over field and yard and stream.
Where the smell of new mown hay oft
filled the air,
As I wrangled up the milk cows, and the
pasture full of teams
And you filled each manger with it's
daily fare.
Where we rode the range at evenings –
just a father and his boy,
And our horses had their walking race
back home.
Where the hours of family living
overflowed each day with joy,
As we lived there in our valley,
all alone.
Where we fished the streams together,
from a horse or car or bike,
Which included Meadowbrook and
Fishtail, too,
And you showed me how to set the fly in
answer to a strike,
As we loafed beneath those summer
skies of blue.
All the days we worked together at the
cattle, grain and hay,
All the many things you taught me as
we did.
All the days we played together
either August, June or May,
And you joined me like you were
another kid.
Now we know that in life's pattern time
can never quite stand still.
Don't suppose we'd really like it
if it would.
Still these olden, golden memories help
my present life to fill
And to be the kind of man
you'd think I should.
So I'll tell my little family of the
lovely days of yore.
Teach them how to share their life
of work and joy.
And the golden hours will live again,
from years long gone before,
As I ride and rope and fish
with my own boy.
As the years pile up behind you and
and you pass your full four score,
Let me thank you for the days
and hours we know,
And assure you in your shadow
there's another lad, once more,
Living days so like those ones
of long ago.
C.B. Rich
Grandson:Kevin Edward Russell
Grandson:Gordon Richard Russell
Clarence was the second of 5 children born to Lizzie(Hunter) and Frank Rich delivered by his grandfather Dr. A J. Hunter at Hunters Hot Springs. He learned to ride and drive teams from his dad. His son, C.B. said he was a master at matching horses for teams and won any pulling contest he entered. His family relocated to Spokane when he was young and his first job was herding milk cows from the city each day (on his horse Buck) to graze and then bring them back at night. Next he worked for the railroad making 10 cents an hour as machinist. While living in Spokane he joined a baseball team and while playing a team from Mountain Home Idaho, met one of the players sister's Anna Marguarite Barron. They were married in Mountain Home Jan 3, 1912, with Anna'a sister Mary for their witness. Their life in Spokane ended ubruptly when the union workers struck the railroad and the railroad broke the union. The family (including Lizzie and Frank and Clarence's brother Ernest) chose to relocate to Dean, Mt and bought a homestead there. They added acreage to that with the homestead act and the Rich Ranch began. Here at Dean, Anna and Clarence had children; Olive Mary-1915, Clarence Barron "C.B."-1919, Margaret-1920, and Susan-1928
MEMORY LANE TO DAD
Dear Dad, I'm kinda lonesome for the
good old days of yore,
When we rode and roped and worked
and laughed and played,
From our cabin by the meadow, where
it sat long years before,
By the rambling old log house that
your dad made.
Where the sun rose bright at morning
over field and yard and stream.
Where the smell of new mown hay oft
filled the air,
As I wrangled up the milk cows, and the
pasture full of teams
And you filled each manger with it's
daily fare.
Where we rode the range at evenings –
just a father and his boy,
And our horses had their walking race
back home.
Where the hours of family living
overflowed each day with joy,
As we lived there in our valley,
all alone.
Where we fished the streams together,
from a horse or car or bike,
Which included Meadowbrook and
Fishtail, too,
And you showed me how to set the fly in
answer to a strike,
As we loafed beneath those summer
skies of blue.
All the days we worked together at the
cattle, grain and hay,
All the many things you taught me as
we did.
All the days we played together
either August, June or May,
And you joined me like you were
another kid.
Now we know that in life's pattern time
can never quite stand still.
Don't suppose we'd really like it
if it would.
Still these olden, golden memories help
my present life to fill
And to be the kind of man
you'd think I should.
So I'll tell my little family of the
lovely days of yore.
Teach them how to share their life
of work and joy.
And the golden hours will live again,
from years long gone before,
As I ride and rope and fish
with my own boy.
As the years pile up behind you and
and you pass your full four score,
Let me thank you for the days
and hours we know,
And assure you in your shadow
there's another lad, once more,
Living days so like those ones
of long ago.
C.B. Rich
Grandson:Kevin Edward Russell
Grandson:Gordon Richard Russell
MEMORY LANE TO DAD
Dear Dad, I'm kinda lonesome for the
good old days of yore,
When we rode and roped and worked
and laughed and played,
From our cabin by the meadow, where
it sat long years before,
By the rambling old log house that
your dad made.
Where the sun rose bright at morning
over field and yard and stream.
Where the smell of new mown hay oft
filled the air,
As I wrangled up the milk cows, and the
pasture full of teams
And you filled each manger with it's
daily fare.
Where we rode the range at evenings –
just a father and his boy,
And our horses had their walking race
back home.
Where the hours of family living
overflowed each day with joy,
As we lived there in our valley,
all alone.
Where we fished the streams together,
from a horse or car or bike,
Which included Meadowbrook and
Fishtail, too,
And you showed me how to set the fly in
answer to a strike,
As we loafed beneath those summer
skies of blue.
All the days we worked together at the
cattle, grain and hay,
All the many things you taught me as
we did.
All the days we played together
either August, June or May,
And you joined me like you were
another kid.
Now we know that in life's pattern time
can never quite stand still.
Don't suppose we'd really like it
if it would.
Still these olden, golden memories help
my present life to fill
And to be the kind of man
you'd think I should.
So I'll tell my little family of the
lovely days of yore.
Teach them how to share their life
of work and joy.
And the golden hours will live again,
from years long gone before,
As I ride and rope and fish
with my own boy.
As the years pile up behind you and
and you pass your full four score,
Let me thank you for the days
and hours we know,
And assure you in your shadow
there's another lad, once more,
Living days so like those ones
of long ago.
C.B. Rich
Grandson:Kevin Edward Russell
Grandson:Gordon Richard Russell
