The Shivaree: noisy serenade a lost wedding tradition

It is spelled Charivari, Chivaree or Shivaree, depending upon which part of the world it becomes an event. Usually it is a gathering of town's people outside of the house of a newly married couple.

The Shivaree is defined as a noisy mock serenade, with the banging of pans or kettles to supply the noise. According to come accounts the practice continued into the 1960s and 1970s.

Rituals included wheeling the bride about in a wheelbarrow or tying cowbells under a wedding bed. I have also heard of horns blowing and the use of buttons on a string rattled on a window.

The custom also might involve inviting the gathered group into the house for coffee and hot chocolate.

Below we have the account of an actual Shivaree, right here in Moses Lake in 1954, provided to us by Peggy Harless. Read on.

In March of 1954, my Dad, Ward Bierce, worked at the Moses Lake Harold newspaper as a linotype operator. He'd been raised in farm country in South Dakota, gone to college, and moved to Moses Lake after reading a news story about a job opening in a newly formed newspaper.

He had lost his right leg, from the knee down in a school accident and was a very shy 38-year-old. He and the crew from the paper would sometimes eat lunch at The Bowl Cafe next door to the paper, where The Hangout is now located.

My mother, Judy, and I lived with Lottie Driggs on her farm on Wheeler Road. Mother worked at The Bowl Cafe as a waitress. When the Herald staff discovered mother was a divorcee, they started egging Ward to ask her for a date. It wasn't until shaking the dice cup for free coffee, that Ward changed the "win" to a movie date.

Six weeks later they were wed. Mother said she had to hang on to him, as he was the nicest man she had ever met.

Ward heard a vehicle creeping onto the driveway while brushing his teeth, and hollered, "Shivaree," to my mother, who had no idea what that was, and locked himself in the bathroom, leaving my mother frantic.

Apparently Lottie was in on the big secret. After the wedding, Dad, Mom and I were still living at Lottie's house. Lottie let some masked men into the house the night the newlywed couple returned to Moses Lake.

Crying and calling for help, mother was grabbed and dumped into a wheelbarrow and bounced around the outside of the house in her nighty, while Ward sat helpless, without his prosthesis, in the bathroom.

The surprise was quickly over, with mother safely returned to my dad, and the masked men gone. As a youngster, I slept through it all, in a tiny room next to theirs.

I learned all about a Shivaree the next morning. What excitement I missed.

Someone put limburger cheese in Wards car that night, and the smell got so bad, he had to sell the car. We never could find it!

Great fun, Peggy. Thanks for sharing. Anyone out there with a Shivaree story?

Wilson Creek area history

The Rev. David H. Crawford compiled and published a history of families in and surrounding Wilson Creek titled, "Family Memories of Wilson Creek Area." The book was printed in 1978, which was the 75th anniversary of the town. David's son, John Crawford, has given permission for those memories to be a part of this column.

Today we conclude the story of the Lane family by Ben Lane:

The world moved on; the nation survived the great depression and Second World War; many of Wilson Creeks finest answered the colors, and many of them gave their lives fighting for the things we believe in; some sought careers in faraway places; others married homebodies and stayed home.

The town has had some remarkable sons and daughters. It has had some rough and tumble days, and slumbered in the sun, but it has never died. I trust it will someday revive and grow. Those of us who have traveled far have always had a soft spot for the little town in the valley. To us it will always be home.

Today we begin the story of the Cris Larsens:

August and Martin Larsen came to Wilson Creek in 1903. They left Denmark at an early age to come to America. August was 15 and Martin was 13.

They came by boat as 13 year old twins, because anyone under 14 could go for half fare. Martin was big for his age and August was small. They went to South Dakota, where they had an uncle.

After working for different farmers for a number of years they decided to come out west and make their fortunes. Before coming west Martin bought a used six-shooter to protect himself from the Indians and outlaws. He was told that it was Wild Bill Hickok's pistol. Afterwards he would wonder how many times the gun dealer had sold Wild Bill's gun to some gullible young man.

On the train to Waterville to homestead, they met a man who said "Why go to Waterville, there is plenty of good land at Wilson Creek." The man that told them this was Sam Gross, Sr.

That is the reason the Larsens are at Wilson Creek today. Both brothers homesteaded southeast of Wheeler, proved up on their homestead and later sold them.

The Grant County Historical Society has compiled several volumes of Grant County history. The books are available for purchase at the Historical Society Museum gift shop in Ephrata.

I bought the series in 2009 and secured permission to relay some of the history through this column.

Memories of Grant County, compiled from taped interviews by the Grant County Historical Society.

Today we continue the story of Ephrata by Thelma Billngsley Nicks:

My folks would go camping with friends. Our friend, Charlie, sure knew how to fry the mountain trout everyone would catch. I even had luck with the fishing out-fit they would fix for me, a tree limb and a bent pin with bait on it, fastened to a string.

When they set up the tents they would gather fir bows and lay them so they made a nice soft bed; sometimes though I can remember a bow poking me. They would lay a rope around the outside of the tents to supposedly keep the snakes away. Sometimes at night we could hear the cougars cry.

Those mountain roads were very narrow. My father always went to the end of the road. One time we had to pass a car on a high place where the road dropped off a long way down. They even had to bend the license plate which was sticking out two inches to pass.

In those days the sheep were always walked to the mountains for their summer pasture. It would take at least two weeks for them to make the trip to the mountains. They usually had several good sheep dogs that were well trained, and usually two men to herd the sheep.