CHAPTER TWO

A CHANGE COMES ABOUT

At the beginning of the winter of 1886 Jimmie found a new friend in Clarence “Skinny” Hill, a new boy who had moved into the neighborhood. Despite this newly formed friendship, “Whistling Jeanne” remained Jimmie’s great comfort. For no matter how tired he might be at the end of the day he could always turn to her for encouragement and fun.

Usually their nightly visits would begin just as darkness would settle over the Ohio countryside. In the winter they would sit before the great open fireplace and talk and plan. By summer they would be sitting on the Fisher’s front porch steps and watch the sun sink beneath the western horizon and twilight creep upon the world.

For it was there on the Fisher front steps that Jimmie and his Jeanne would dream and plan for the future. Many are the nights that these two were to be found there, with Jeanne telling him what would be the wisest thing to do and how to set about doing it. He always listened attentively and throughout his life he never forgot what she told him. To him her words were words of wisdom and law, and he knew she was right. She never told him anything that wasn’t true. Of this he was sure.

It was just about this time in Jimmie Curwood’s life that everything which was to prove itself worthwhile later in his life’s work began to unfold.

Through constant reading, thinking and planning he had developed a mania for wanting to see stories of his own in print by setting the words down himself. Many were the times that his parents would have to speak to him a dozen or more times a night in order to get him to turn out the lights and go to bed. Seldom did Jimmie mind them on this account if he could get around it, for by now he was deeply engrossed in his childish writing career.

As for his ravenous reading, the boy could not put a book down until he had read completely through it and thoroughly understood it. He craved to express himself on paper and tried desperately to develop characters such as those of famous writers whose stories he had read.

His appreciative sense of good writing at that age was truly unusual.

Like every other youngster Jimmie had to have his play as well as his work. Thus his playtime had to cut in on his writing somewhat. So he alternated his time between Jeanne, Skinny, his writing and his working hours. Through this routine he managed to keep himself quite busy throughout the day. At times he felt as if he had too much to do, but still he enjoyed it all for life had taken on a new meaning.

As each succeeding day passed by the little farm began to mean more to him than just a place in the country where hard labor was prevalent; it became, instead, a place where one’s creative and imaginative powers could function more properly. At that age little Jimmie Curwood, the former “Tom Sawyer” of Owosso, was hoping for solitude so that he could think more clearly and thus be able to turn his characters into more lifelike people.

The remainder of that year passed rather uneventfully until the day of his eighth birthday. On that day his father presented him with his first gun, a brand new rifle.

* * * * *

The most amusing and yet the most serious incident that occurred in all of Jimmie’s young life while on the farm in Ohio, was the night that he “got religion.” He was nine years old.

It seems that a certain “Parson Brown” was holding revival meetings at the little town of Joppa, which was just a mile distant from the Curwood farm. Jimmie decided to see what it was all about. He had heard his parents speak of “the meetings” that were being held in Joppa, quite often. That night he trudged across the open fields, half afraid and hardly knowing what to expect.

That night at Joppa, in the little country church as the excitement grew to a fever’s pitch, Jimmie sat back and listened intently until he could no longer suppress himself. He jumped up from his seat and ran to the front of the church proclaiming that he had been saved and that the Holy Ghost had entered his body and soul.

Young Jimmie was truly inspired and this incident played an important part in his later life.

Until that moment his ideas concerning God and Heaven above had been practically the same as those of any other normal boy or girl. That heaven was just a place where all good people go, and that God was their protector. Tonight all this was changed and at the age of nine years Jimmie Curwood had already found God. It was a wonderful thing for this lad to be able to do, and it must have remained as an inspiration with him all the days of his life. Little did he realize, however, the predicament it would get him into in the days to come.

At that meeting when he rushed to the front of the church to Parson Brown proclaiming his faith and his belief, all eyes, of which there were many, were focused upon the figure of the small boy. Pleasing smiles came to every face when they discovered that a small boy was claiming his Maker. It was a wonderful sight as the Parson led the congregation in prayer and in song for the young boy as he knelt there before the improvised altar. This was the important thing in his young life that led Jim Curwood to the heights of success he later attained. For he admitted to the public many years later this same admission of faith.

“It was only through God Almighty that I have reached the pinnacle of fame and success that I have.”

Shortly after the meeting had been adjourned, with the usual benediction, Jimmie cut across the fields and through the dark woods that he had heretofore been afraid to cross at night. He felt no fear, for the spirit of the Holy Ghost was strong within him. He was reported to have said a few days later:

“An angel went with me.”

From all indications one is led to believe that the angel that guided and went with him was none other than the lovely Jeanne Fisher.

The following morning Jimmie awakened still feeling strong with the religious spirit.

He felt strong with the spirit which had entered his body the night before and he wanted the whole world to know all about it. Little did he realize the blow that his inflated and loving disposition was to receive in a short time. His parents thought it fine for this thing to have happened to their son, but at the same time felt that other people might object to it. Unfortunately enough, Jimmie could not control himself and so to his schoolmates he told of his wonderful experience. As he spoke of the new faith that had become his, his schoolmates promptly laughed in his face.

“Ha! Ha! You’re crazy, Jimmie Curwood. You’re crazy!”

Then everyone took up the chant. On that day Jimmie found himself involved in a total of five different fights, for he could not stand to have anyone say that he was crazy because he believed in something which was wonderful and something which had taken possession of his mind, body and soul. However, like all youngsters eventually come to find, Jimmie found that the flesh is weaker than the soul. From that day forth Jimmie was still given drubbings from time to time.

During those hectic days one person other than his family stood beside him to comfort and advise him. That person was his “Whistling Jeanne.”

Days lengthened into weeks and weeks into months and still Jimmie continued to pick up stones on his father’s farmlands; stones that were to later prove themselves to be “worth their weight in gold.”

The longer he remained at his daily task the more his air castles grew. His vivid imagination gave rise to dreams and hopes of greater things. All his visions and plans were strictly private and no one was allowed to interfere with the young creative artist’s dreams. Not even little Jeanne nor his pal Skinny was allowed to pierce their sacred portals. What he felt, what he dreamed of, and what he planned to do were all sacred thoughts and now vitally important to this nine-and-one-half year old lad.

Long after the usual supper hour had been completed Jimmie would go to his room to think and to plan and to write. Many were the times that his mother had to beg her puzzling offspring to put his books aside and go to bed in order to get the proper amount of rest. Jimmie’s mind was thoroughly made up and he was really intent upon what he was working for and seeking so desperately.

For six months or so Jimmie Curwood continued with his writing of his childish though well-meant blood and thunder stories, stories which he believed were truly fine.

It really did not matter to him upon what kind of paper he set his stories down, just so long as they were written. He would pick up wrapping paper and cut it into squares, or else if nothing else was available he would write his stories on tissue paper which came in shoe boxes.

As fast as he would complete one of his “swift moving, red-blooded yarns,” he would carefully file it away as best as any young schoolboy could possibly do. Writing was in his blood and it was taking complete possession of his every thought and action.

It was only after he had completed some twenty “thrillers” that he brought the entire stack down from his room and asked his parents if he might read his stories to them. There naturally was no hesitation on their part, for they were anxious to see their youngest child pursue a career such as he was now doing. So for several hours Jimmie’s parents were silent as their “pride and joy” went on with his avid reading. That night the boy read through the entire stack of manuscripts, taking some three hours and a half to complete the job. When he had finished his father walked over to him at the far end of the long kitchen table.

“You’re going to get there, Jimmie boy, you’re going to get there. Just you keep at it!”

The boy smiled, for those few words of encouragement meant a great deal to one who wanted to be a great writer.

He silently picked up his stories, went to his room and filed them away again. Hardly five minutes had elapsed before he was back at his improvised desk to start work on a new story.

At twelve-thirty that night the boy at last put away his pencils and his papers and went to bed. Rather late for a young, growing boy to retire, but his heart and soul were really in his newly-found work. With the coming day he was to have one of his greatest childhood surprises.

In the next day’s mail came the wonderful news that Jimmie’s sister Amy, who had remained behind in her own home in Owosso when the family had gone to Ohio, was coming to visit them. Since he had not seen Amy for a long time he was indeed overjoyed at the prospects of her home-coming. Three days passed until she at last arrived. Only a few short seconds after she had entered the house, Jimmie remarked:

“Gosh, Amy, you’ve changed!”

Almost from the very beginning of her visit Jimmie began telling her of his stories and shyly asked her to help him. He wanted her to read them and to tell him just what she really thought. Sister Amy’s interest in her younger brother’s career as a forthcoming author was not casual, but really of great concern.

She did everything in her power as a woman and as a sister to encourage her kid brother and to help him in every way possible. She even went so far as to check his make shift manuscripts for the errors in punctuation, sentence structure and spelling.

Perhaps the greatest step she took in the furthering of her brother’s career was to arouse the interest of Fred Janette, great newspaperman and contributor to _Golden Days_ magazine.

To Jimmie this “introduction” was nothing short of a miracle. To get the great Fred Janette interested in his writings was indeed a mighty step toward his future as an author.

Now with the noted journalist interested in him, together with his sister’s constant coaxing, Jimmie was at last persuaded to send one of his seemingly impossible creations to the editor of _Happy Hours_ magazine. Amy knew her brother’s work was not of literary quality but merely wanted to see the editor’s reaction and just how the manuscript would be treated. So the hand-written story was posted and within a few days, as was expected, the postman returned it with a neatly printed rejection slip attached to it.

The feature of it all was that the slip bore words of kind encouragement to the aspiring author. For the editor of _Happy Hours_ realized that a child had submitted the script and had judged it accordingly.

The little pink slip assured the boy that if he would keep everlastingly at it he would eventually succeed in having his stories published. From that time on his rapidly maturing mind was on nothing else save that of writing. School and work entered into his everyday routine, of course, but even while he was attending to these duties he still was thinking of writing.

To add to his happiness he received in the mail one day a letter from Fred Janette himself asking the boy to send him one of his stories. Jimmie was jubilant. The very next day Amy mailed out one of her brother’s very best manuscripts which she herself had transcribed for legibility.

Several days elapsed before the anxiously waiting Curwood family received any word on the judgment of Jimmie’s story. Eventually it came through. Mr. Janette was returning the manuscript but on the fly leaf was the following inscription:

“Keep at it, fellow, you cannot fail!”

Those words meant a great deal to Jimmie, and the manuscript bearing those words remains today, yellow with age, in Curwood Castle.

Now satisfied that she had helped her brother as best she could, Amy returned to Owosso.

From that moment hence Jimmie Curwood could not be held down in the reaching of his ultimate goal. Guided by that ever present desire to become wealthy, famous and to create his own characters on his own pages in his own stories, Jimmie Curwood probably never knew exactly when to quit writing once he had commenced. He drove himself unmercifully toward that which he desired so much. It seems almost unreasonable to think that a lad of his age was capable of such determination, but facts cannot be denied or doubted. Inspiration is one thing, while encouragement and help is still another. That which he knew so well could not be suppressed. It was there within him, germinating his mind, tormenting his soul.

It has often been said that a suppressed thought in the mind of a creative writer is the worst possible thing for him to endure. He may endure all the hardships of life that are thrown in his path, but a suppressed idea or thought germinating in his mind, is fiendish torture. Such must have undoubtedly been the case of Jimmie Curwood at that young age.

Although Amy had returned to Owosso she wrote her brother every week, sending him hope and inspiration. Fred Janette from time to time wrote to the boy urging him to keep at his work. Even between times in his writing as Jimmie would be picking up stones again or else at some other type of farm labor, he experienced thrills that he had not known before. He knew he was accomplishing something, creating that which no one could destroy.

As he continued piling stone on stone and as they began to take form, Jimmie imagined that they were great castles which held gallant princes and lovely princesses. He envisioned heroes who possessed more courage and more valor than any other earthly mortal. They fought long, hard, bitter battles, always to be victorious in the end. The developing of this vivid imagination at this early age in life was one of the direct causes for Jimmie’s rise to fame.

For the first time since his dreams and plans had begun to materialize, Jimmie at last shared his ideas with his “Whistling Jeanne.” She knew all of his fondest hopes and his aspirations, and she prayed for him and fought for him in many of his schoolboy tussles.

She alone stood up for him because he was so much smaller than the majority of the other boys and she was old enough and capable enough to manage most of them. She stood up for him when she knew he was wrong. She even talked Mrs. Curwood out of a great deal of spankings that were due the lad and which he surely would have received had it not have been for her. Although five years his senior, Jimmie looked upon her as being of his own age and even younger, perhaps.

It might be said that Jimmie Curwood had loved Jeanne in his own silent, youthful, schoolboy way. He adored, in silent worship, her great blue eyes, her thick braids of radiant brown hair and her flawless complexion. As a matter of fact everyone loved little Jeanne Fisher, but as Jim Curwood once said later in life:

“Everyone loved her, but none so devoutly as I.”

In the winter of 1884 when James Curwood and his family moved into the little farm in Ohio, Jeanne Fisher took it upon herself to see that the Curwoods became her friends. The lovely Jeanne was lonely and needed friendships besides those of schoolmates.

For, from the time school was dismissed in the afternoon until the following morning, she was entirely alone with her parents. No playmates, no neighbors lived within a mile of her home.

So when the Curwoods came, Jeanne quickly presented herself. It was a strange new land to Jimmie as well as to his parents and consequently they all welcomed her friendly approach. She tried and she succeeded in making the young boy feel at home in his new neighborhood. From that time on, nothing save death could separate the pair.

By the nickname of “Whistling Jeanne,” one would be led to believe that the girl was a “tom-boy,” and so she was, to a certain extent. Her kindness for Jimmie, however, would surely tempt one to believe to the contrary. For when Jimmie nicknamed her “Whistling Jeanne,” he did so because he loved to hear her incessant whistling. She would whistle regardless of how much trouble she might be in, or no matter how low her spirits might be. At times she was very much a young lady of the first rank; but she could become a regular “tom-boy” if the occasion called for it. She was a swift runner, a good tree climber, an excellent shot with a rifle and she could put up as good a fight as most boys of her own age are capable of. Still she was every inch a young lady. Quiet and refined as the occasion demanded. She did not believe in being inactive, believing that one should keep one’s body as well as one’s mind occupied.

Only a few short months after Jimmie had launched himself on a literary career Jeanne’s guiding influence was tossed to the four winds by the reckless, though well-meaning, lad. For at that time he came under the influence and thumb of the school bully. Everything that could have happened to a schoolboy who was being led astray happened to Jimmie Curwood. He was now almost eleven years of age while Jeanne was nearly sixteen.

One morning during the first semester of school Jimmie made a terrible mistake in one of his lessons as well as having been guilty of a boyish misdemeanor.

“Jimmie Curwood, if you don’t correct yourself and apologize for your intended error, I shall box your ears,” the elderly lady teacher informed him. Sitting directly behind him was the school bully.

On more than one occasion he had caused trouble and he was once again up to his old pranks. He whispered to Jimmie and told him just what to do. It is at this age that young boys get to feel pretty important if they can hold the limelight for a while.

At first Jimmie hesitated, but when the bully called him a coward, he blurted out:

“You don’t dare to do it!”

The entire classroom instantly became ghastly silent, for the students realized only too well that this meant trouble. They also knew that the bully was directing Jimmie and he too was afraid of what the consequences might be.

The lady teacher demanded that Jimmie come immediately to the front of the room. The boy was timid and afraid, but at the same time he admired the bully for his brawn and straight-forward actions. Urged on, Jimmie got up from his seat and moved slowly toward his teacher. As he stood there in front of her “the bombshell exploded.”

The good teacher informed him of his punishment and then, following the instructions and directions of the over-grown boy, Jimmie proceeded to give his teacher a very sound drubbing, much to the bully’s delight. Not only was the teacher chagrined, but she was touched and hurt deeply.

After the hectic battle, which Jimmie nearly lost because of his teacher’s extra poundage, only the bully congratulated him. The others said nothing. Then, like most boys after committing a wrong, Jimmie came to his senses, apologized and received his punishment like a man. In due course, the elder Curwood learned of his son’s escapade, and he, too, acted accordingly. Eventually Jimmie returned to school and apologized for the second time to his teacher. Needless to say she realized that Jimmie felt it had all been his fault. She accepted his apology and reinstated him in school.

Unfortunately, however, this did not end the boy’s associations with the prodigious bully. Once again, after much coaxing, the bully took him in hand. In order to increase his prestige in the younger boy’s eyes, the older and larger lad proceeded to thoroughly trounce a big, strapping German boy. All of this occurred just a few days after the first escapade. Once more the light of adoration began to shine in Jimmie’s eyes. This reoccurrence of the friendship fortunately led to one of the greatest turning points in Jim Curwood’s entire life.

Many adventures take place in the life of a young boy, but seldom do they come as thick and fast as they did to Jimmie. For soon after all the excitement died down at school, young Jimmie discovered a revolver of small caliber that belonged to his mother, and so he brought it to school with him one day. This added to his prestige, but in a minor sort of way.

His exhibition of the weapon was met with sighs and glances of amazement by the students but none dared inform the teacher of what they had seen. They all realized the consequences if they were caught as informers.

It was during the afternoon of that early spring day that Jimmie secured permission to leave the schoolroom for a few minutes. Upon arriving outside he noticed two girls leaving an outhouse building. Ideas began popping in his imaginative young mind and so he promptly began firing the pistol above their heads. The effect could not have been worse had he struck them, for the girls were thrown into nervous hysteria.

If Jimmie thought that he had received dire punishment for his earlier prank, he was indeed badly mistaken. He had not realized the dangerous folly he had let himself in for. He was punished more thoroughly than ever before by school officials. But the worst was yet to come from his parents, as the boy fully realized.

As he escaped from the small crowd that had gathered on the school grounds and with head hanging low, Jimmie slunk across the fields toward home, sorely afraid and indeed bewildered at the trouble he had caused. His mind began to run wild as it had in his adventure stories. It kept telling him over and over that this was the end. There was no possible means of escape.