tramp starr
MY OLD HICKORY
The neighbors say to cut it— my old tree My ancient hickory, standing straight and tall; They say its death will set more plowland free, An acre be made fertile by its fall.
And well I know its thirsty roots strike deep, To drink life-giving moisture from my field— That wheat and corn, where its long shadows sweep Grant be but a small fraction of a yield.
But there my old tree stands— and there shall stay, Untouched by any ax or saw of mine— And lean year in and out, I’ ll gladly pay My tax in shrunken grain, at harvest time.
~ by Julia Pearson
Joe Lee
William Carl Wilson, known as Tramp Starr, was a wordsmith extraordinaire. His love of ordinary homelife merged with his talent for language as a broadcaster, public speaker, columnist, book author, humorist, philosopher, and poet.
William Carl Wilson was born in Clarks Hill, Indiana, Tippecanoe County, on September 22, 1885, to Charles Dudley Wilson and Mary Jane Weaver Wilson. He grew up with siblings Mabel Adelaide, Vivian Joan, Charles Lindley, and Mary Jane.
In his early adult years, Carl Wilson sought adventure beyond Indiana’ s borders and went out west, where he perfected his horsemanship as a stunt rider, worked as a cowhand in the wheat fields and railroads, and like his Methodist circuitriding father, he preached. Under the name of Tug Wilson, he boxed in the middle and light-heavy weight divisions.
His roots called him back to Indiana, where he met and fell in love with Marjorie Mitchell of Worthington, who was 16 years old. The couple eloped, tying the marital knot in Kansas. For most of his life, Wilson called Moores Hill, in Dearborn County, Indiana home. He and Marjorie had four
For this tree the fox squirrels come in fall, For stores to last the winter, cold and long— And, from its wind-blown branches, bare and tall, I hear the first spring robin pour his song.
What matter does its hungry roots have made One field of mine less fertile than the rest— Since, sheltered in its cool and gracious shade, An oriole, each summer, swings her nest?
And there other secrets I could tell— How there, long since, a baby’ s playhouse stood— A fairyland of shining rock and shell, And dainty blossoms, plucked from field and wood.
And sometimes, when soft winds caress my tree, I catch the laughter of a voice long gone— And know, down in the deepest heart of me, That somewhere, my wee boy is playing on.
And so— through summer sun and winter snow, My old, old tree shall stand until the end— Stanch comrade of glad days of long ago; In time of stress, my comforter— and friend.
— Tramp Starr
daughters— Betty, Linda, Joan, and Patsy; and a son, Dudley. Another son, Robert, died during the 1918 flu epidemic.
In 1921, Wilson started self-publishing a series of pamphlets called The Tramp Starr Magazine. Using meter and rhyme, he celebrated the richness of the countryside and domestic life. With a growing readership, he had columns featured in the Indianapolis Star. He was a regular contributor to Farm Life, a magazine boasting
48 Our Brown County • Nov./ Dec. 2024