The Buck

Comments By Betty Jean

Recorded by Same

"You're the sheriff", my dad would say when he wanted pass the buck. He was like that. The Old West was indelibly bred into his being. He was an enigma. His name was David, but his coworkers called him Dave, Dave Sneed.

When we were kids, my dad would laugh and joke with us, then he would assume a boxer's stance and shadow box with a wall. With a sideways smile and a slight limp, he was sometimes happy, and often thoughtful. Mostly, he was quiet and observant. To many people, he appeared to be very strong. He was, after all, a powerfully built, dark, six foot, two hundred thirty pound hulk of a man. He was however, a person who few people really knew well.

The first recollections I have of him are based on an old family photograph. In that picture, my dad was striding down the large hill behind our house in Bremerton, Washington. He was holding my little sister, Dena. She was a year old, and I was five. I'm Betty, the older sister. I'm known for rushing ahead of the family, and for being caught up in my own world of imagination, and adventure. My dad however, was also caught up in his own world. One will never know which world that was, but that was the way he was. tall, strong, silent and always deep in thought.

My dad was born in a small town in Oklahoma. Beggs, I think it was called. His town of birth was a place from which many intellectual Black men fled. If it weren't for the fact that Beggs was near the deep South, you might say that it was a western town. Men like my dad who had far away thoughts and high aspirations propelled themselves far beyond small country towns like Beggs. For most Black men, that kind of town offered little hope for obtaining good jobs and decent homes. Beggs, however, was not my dad's problem. By the time he was in his early teens, his family had moved out of Beggs. His family, in fact, moved several times, and he later went to college in Lawton, Oklahoma and became a teacher of English. He became a teacher first, then later in life he became a social worker. My dad was an intellectual, a learned man with college degrees, but somehow the 'Old West' was always in his blood.

When my Dad met and married my mother and they had my two sisters, my brother and I, he took us to Dodge City, and to Boot Hill. These were towns and places in the 'Old West'. These were places he loved visit. For months before our trips, my dad talked about those places. After our trips, he continued to talk about western things, and about Dodge city and the ways of the 'Old West'. He talked, but in many ways my dad was a quiet man who kept most of his deeper thoughts to himself.

Apart from his love for Dodge City and for Boot Hill, my dad was a loving and devoted husband and father. He had a deep concern for my mom, my sisters, my brother and for me. He worked hard for us. He also worried about our well being. When my sister Dena and I were still young, he brought our family out west to Washington State, to Bremerton. In that town he took an Electrician's job with the Navy Yard. Later on, he moved us to Spokane where he became a Case Worker. Then, finally, he moved us to Seattle where he became a Social Worker. By that time I was older. I was a teenager, and I began to sense the enigma was that my dad.

In Seattle, my dad went back to college and obtained an advanced degree in Social Work. In Seattle, my dad obtained a job as a Psychiatric Social worker where at that time, until his death, he counseled veterans. In Seattle, my dad also bought a home. In Seattle, and with the aid of my mom, my dad added my brother Steve and my sister Susan to the family. In Seattle, my dad obtained a sort of community presence as well. He became a much sought after community leader, a respected man whose advice was sought by citizens from many levels. The Old West however, was forever in his blood, and so he began to write. I think it was a novel about cowboys.

I am not sure when my dad started to write that novel, but I know for sure that he never completed it. I know that it wasn't completed because it's still at home with my mom. My dad could not complete his novel, because when he was just at the intellectual prime of his life, he got an incurable cancer. The doctors said that there was no hope, and there was no help for his disease, and they gave him six months to live.

As a family, we were devastated. My dad, the strong, quiet leader of our family was dying, and there wasn't a thing we could do about it. During his last months on earth, some old friends called to comfort him. Many other people simply could not believe that he was ill and so they continued to call for advice and for help with critical problems. I saw it all, because I was there. I helped to ease the pain, and I helped my mom with the change in her situation. I was also there to help my dad.

Before my dad became too ill to sit up, I would sit with him in the living room. We would sit up late at night and talk. Well, I would talk a little, and my dad would watch T.V. He watched Westerns. He could not get them out of his system. He was a very ill man, but he loved the Old West and he watched westerns until he could sit no more.

Now that he's gone, I will remember my dad's love, and his passion. I will remember the way walked and talked with a sideways smile and a slight limp. I will also remember that he tried to write a book. I may even look for his book, and try to read it. If it's good, I may even try to publish it. After all, my dad is gone, and now I'm the sheriff.

"Our Dad Helped The Vets""

Comments Made By Betty Sneed

During the Second World War, our dad, "David Sneed" was recruited into the Navy. He wasn't suitable for the Navy, however because he walked with a sideways gait and had a leg that was one half shorter than the other leg. So shortly after they recruited him the Navy gave him an honorable discharge.

Although our dad didn't fight in the Second World War, his heart went out to those who did. In his later life, he worked with the Veteran's Administration as a counselor to veterans. He felt a closeness to the men he counseled and he felt great sorrow for their ordeals. He was a fighter and a soldier at heart.

Recorded by Betty Jean

"My Grandparents Were Indians?"

Comments Made By Robert Sneed

Family records and known facts have shown that the maternal side of the Sneed descendents , that is the wife of Mayhugh Sneed Senior, Amanda Yeagins, came from Indian Territory Choctaw Nation here she was born. Robert Sneed seems to confirm the Indian connection by memories of a visit to his great grandparents whom he had not met. When taken to see his ggrandparents for the first time, Robert exclaimed, "They scared me half to death. Those folks were full blooded Indians. I wasn't expecting nothing like that."

To this day, we who are left don't know which grandparents Uncle Robert referred. His father was Mayhugh Sneed Senior who is remembered as being a tall dark skinned man. Mayhugh Sneed Senior's parents, however were Dave and Corneila Sneed and we know that Dave was listed as a Mulatto in the census of 1880.