=’TITCH’ PARTRIDGE…Partridge Brothers

Excerpts from …’Tag A Long ‘Titch’ Partridge’…soon to be published by Arlene Perry, reporter for the Manchester Evening News, Manchester, England.

Arlene Perry from Manchester, England is a newspaper reporter for the Manchester Evening News, who travels the United States in a van called ‘The Eagle’ that doubles as a book mobile bringing books to hard to reach plases devoid of access to libraries. She had been featured on the tv show 60 Minutes and various media outlets. She has published 3 books. All books have been published by DTN Publishing

>Peaches Loves Charlie Blue Bell…photo book of her dogs.

>Ten Men Called Lumpy…How 10 men got the name Lumpy.

>The Eagle…how her van doubles as a home and book mobile.

‘Titch’ Partridge…gunslinger, cattle rustler, bank robber, card shark. Bad Man. Born around 1834 near Iowa City, Iowa. Last recorded mention…1881.

Stories from diaries, news paper accounts, legends.

>Partridge Brothers…

“There I was…the last of 11 children. My Father was a ‘sod buster’ in Iowa. He grew corn and hogs. My Mother, she was a God fearing woman. She grew the children. I had 5 brothers and 5 sisters. My Mother would say… “5 and 5…and Titch.” I don’t know how I got the name ‘Titch’ but that was what my Mother called me. Most of my sisters got married off by the time I came along. Them and and their husbands bought farms down the road. I guess I got about 40 cousins in that area. My Mother run our home by the ‘Good Book.’ My Father used his belt. I guess that is why my oldest brother Alexander run off. He is out here in the West Texas, somewheres. Maybe that is why I came to find him. My other brothers were my Mother’s great worry. Always getting into trouble. Sherrif came to our farm many times. One time, my brothers took me with them on a ‘Night Party’ where bys we were gonna steal some chickens from the far side of town. Now chickens are chickens, so nobody would know one chicken from another. We snuck out of the house and walked the 4 miles to farmer Barnwood’s place. I didn’t want to steal chickens. I wanted to go with my brothers. I was about 8 years old or so. We got to the Barnwood place and my brothers told me to sneak in the hen house door. I was that small. Grab two chickens put them in the sack and we would run for it. Well, I snuck my head into the hen house door and the chickens thought I was a fox. They started ‘clucking and screeching’ like no get out. They were ‘madder then a wet hen.’ I had to scramble to get two chickens before old man Barnhouse stuck his rifle out the door and shot his self a fox. I grabbed three chickens not before the rooster pecked up my nose and clawed my face pretty bad. We ran like heck back to our house. Jed patched me up and we told Mother that the cow kicked me while I was milking. Mother fretted over me like all get out. I got a slice of apple pie for breakfast. Ya can still sees the scars on my face to this day. It is okay. Them dance hall girls think I am one tough hombre. Dance hall girls love men with scars.”

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