Gypsy Woman in Gorman

A Gypsy Woman’s 1932 Cure

Offers Hope in Downtown Gorman

By Jeff Clark

            It’s two in the morning, November 12, 1932. Eastland County’s had one of its toughest years ever – jobs scarce, crops uncertain, oil wells going dry. You and your spouse would like to sleep, but can’t. Down the hall, your two-year-old daughter coughs, the dry hacking sound stabs fear into your tense, silent farm’s box house. The little girl struggles to breathe. Tomorrow, she’ll look up at you with her deep brown eyes and be unable to speak, having lost her sweet voice completely. Her sickness started as bronchitis two weeks ago, so the doctor said. God only knows where it will end.

            Gypsies traveled from town to town in this part of the state back then. Saturdays seemed to be when they hit Gorman. Mule-drawn gypsy wagons circled up to camp around Bass Lake, southwest of Gorman, its waters much larger then than now. Friday night campfires heard gypsy tambourines and guitars lift Old Country dialects high into the silent air in celebration. With the morning sun, these families would move into Gorman for a fruitful day of enterprise.

Wanda Hull’s parents, Bruno and Anna Duske greeted that same sunrise with desperation. Father and mother bundled two-year-old Wanda Jean up and drove hurriedly into town. They were looking for an old gypsy woman, who we’ll call Zora.

            The old gypsy woman looked into Anna’s eyes. “Do you believe in Fogeyism” the wrinkled stranger asked Mrs. Duske. “I believe in anything that will make my daughter better,” the mother replied without hesitation. The gypsy woman instructed, “Take your daughter out to a tall, mature oak tree on your place.” Zora’s weathered fingers stroked Wanda’s long blond hair with obvious concern. “Have her stand with her back against its trunk and mark her height with a straight nail.”

            Mom and Dad listened in rapt attention. The gypsy continued, “Drill a hole where the nail mark is, as deep into the trunk as the drill bit will go.” Bruno Duske used a braced bit drill, turning and forcing the sharpened steel bit deep into the solid oak’s trunk.

            “Cut a small piece of hair from little Wanda Jean’s hair and place it inside the hole in the tree. Then, plug it up tight as you can. When Miss Wanda grows past that plug in height, she will be cured.”

            The Duskes rushed back to their place at Golly Horn Farm, west of Bass Lake. They found a suitable tree and got to work. The cure or spell or whatever transpired on their farm that day apparently worked. Wanda Hull and the tall-standing oak tree are both doing great (80 years later), both still thriving in Eastland County. Gorman’s Dr. Stubblefield was told of the miraculous cure not long after that. “Well, if that’s what you think cured her, I’m glad it appeared to work,” he’s said to have replied.

            Wanda’s life merits eighty more stories, all colorful and mostly true. The day we visited, I could tell she wasn’t finished. She asked if I’d ever heard of asfidity. Never heard of it, I replied, getting my pen back out. Little black clumps of asfidity were placed inside small drawstring bags, these then tied to the neck strings of kids’ feed-sacks-made-into-school-clothes. This was around Gorman and the Grandview Community. Asfidity was thought to ward off disease.

            Researching this claim, I learned that asfidity smells, is bitter, nasty, not pleasant to the nose. Asfidity appears to have started in the Georgia or Arkansas backcountry as a folk medicinal used to ward off colds and flu. “Asfidity” derives from the Latin “odiferous asafetida”, meaning “stinks” (I’m not making this up). One theory suggests moms knew that smelly kids wouldn’t mingle, preventing grimy little hands from spreading runny nose infections child to child

            I haven’t found any Eastland County gypsies (I haven’t looked too hard, truth be told). It might be interesting to listen to their medicinal ideas. Listening, disagreeing perhaps, one might leave hoping that the unexplained (by whatever label one describes it) is still powerfully at work healing children. Upon that faith, I hope we can all agree.

            Special thanks to Wanda Hull. If anyone has photos of the Grandview Community north of Gorman, I’d sure appreciate hearing from you.