Hello. My full name is Eleanor Southworth Ewing Farlow but most of you know me as Miss Ellie Ewing.I was born on Southfork Ranch in Braddock, TX and, with the exception of some of my school days, have never lived anywhere else in my life. My father, Aaron Southworth, taught me to ride before I could walk, and it is said in Dallas County that, until my mother made me attend Miss Hockaday's, the exclusive finishing school in Dallas, I had never walked on my own two feet. I was a wild one, born with all the fiery spirit of the Southworth generations.I had one older brother, Garrison, who seemed to be born into the wrong family. Though he liked the animals all right, the ranching way of life-Southworth style-was not for him. He preferred a quieter, more serene way of life and, much to our father's utter dismay, had a passionate attachment to, of all things, water and boats. My father would take me to the cattle auctions in Fort Worth when I was four years old. I would yahoo as I charged alongside him on my pony across the ranges, and he would wink his approval as I kept scores at rodeos. But I also had another side, one that I shared with Garrison. I thrived on music-country, classical, opera-as much as I did on the songs of nature. I was mesmerized by art of all kinds and, unlike any of the Southworths before me, I have a gift for painting. My subjects? Why, Southfork and its animals, of course.Garrison and I were quite close, which father thought all right, but . . . when he couldn't find me, he knew Garrison had me off somewhere, doing some kind of sissy stuff. And he hoped I wouldn't go too far awry at that fancy schmancy school I was attending. Though father knew he would have to leave Southfork to Garrison-it was unheard of to do anything else-he also knew that I would have to run it behind the scenes, until I married a suitable rancher to take over.I was rather popular in school, but more because of the social standing of my family than anything else. I was a Southworth-which counted for an awful lot. I was certainly not like the other girls. Where they took their lessons seriously-in etiquette, cooking, French, etc.-I would burst into laughter over my own helplessness and disinterest, and where they groaned and yawned--at mathematics and natural science-my face glowed with anticipation. And I was restless, constantly, yearningly, looking out the window as if I were about to expire if I didn't get outside soon. I had a way with boys! The other girls shook their heads in astonishment and then jealousy-you could hardly call me a lady, carrying on and hootin' and hollerin'. The boys were mad about me.When I was sixteen, an older man, a wildcatter, caught my eye. He was the son of a Southfork ranch hand, but his connection to oil was enough to break the blood connection. Since my father claimed that "They (oilmen) ruined the ranges and stank up the air," I was forced to see him on the sly. Eventually, all of Dallas murmured at seeing me with Willard "Digger" Barnes, one of the craziest wildcatters around.Digger was fascinating to me-gentle one minute, raucous and humorous the next. And his occasional wild bursts of forbidden drunkenness captivated me. At those times he told me stories of the oil fields, of his daring feats, of the danger, and he always, always wound up telling me how desperately he loved me. He never ever, not even at his worst, behaved as anything but a gentleman with me.Many years later Digger described me in those days: "She was a wee little thing, Ellie was, with a great big laugh and a way about her. Sweet as sugar one minute, come at you with a shotgun the next. Oh, that temper. Fierce. But fast, like a firecracker. Flare up real big and loud-boom!-and then go right out." Digger liked to think that we would one day manage to get married, but what little chance he had was blown away when Jock Ewing appeared. Jock simply swept me off my feet-or so they say. More than one Dallas resident has remarked on the coincidence that I agreed to marry Jock on the day the Sheriff was foreclosing on Southfork, and that Jock was the only eligible man in Dallas who had the money to save it. But I knew I loved him, and it has remained evident over the years that that was indeed the truth.My father didn't give the two of us five years together-said we were both too stubborn-but he was wrong. This is not to say that our marriage was smooth. We both had strong, independent wills, which often clashed mightily, but even stronger was our unrelenting respect, love, and passion for one another.Our wedding was one of the largest in Dallas's history. Although everyone knew that father was bankrupt, he refused to let Jock pay for the wedding and somehow came up with enough money (I noticed the precious objects that disappeared from the house) to insist on the finest. He not only ordered that my wedding gown be made of imported French fabric but also paid for a seamstress to come along with it, all the way from Paris, to fit me. Hundreds of guests arrived, and out came the food, tons of barbecue and drink, and a band to beat the day.The event was slightly marred for me by my brother's absence. He had written to wish me well and tell me that he had joined the Merchant Marines and would be at sea on the day of our wedding. A short time later, the family was notified that Garrison had been lost at sea. I was deeply devastated.After I had our first son, J.R., (John Ross Ewing, Jr) I began to settle down some. I participated in father and Jock's discussions regarding the finances of the ranch in the library, and in the bedroom I listened to Jock's dreams that were being realized at Ewing Oil, but I began to see that my role in life could not be only a wife and mother at Southfork, but that it must involve the outside community. There were enormous changes taking place in Dallas, and I began to take an active interest in the city, particularly in the cultivation of its arts. I joined the Daughters of the Alamo, a woman's volunteer group centered in Dallas. Under my leadership-for almost forty years-the DOA went from being a social club for elite ladies to one of the most effective and influential civic groups in the state. We involved ourselves in land reform issues, in protests against what we felt were dangerous precedents in housing developments, and established and supported many charitable agencies dealing with food, clothing, housing, and medical care for the disadvantaged.Just prior to the outbreak of World War II, I gave birth to another son and named him after my brother, Garrison. I had our third and last son, Bobby, six years later. Jock and I adored our children. Nothing made me happier than to see the boys roughhousing in one of their infamous football games on the Southfork lawn. I'd give anything to encourage their love for Southfork, to keep them there all day-and, hopefully, for the rest of their lives. Up went the basketball hoop, stables with ponies inside were labeled "J.R.," "Gary," and "Bobby," and I personally supervised the building of a swimming pool.The boys were the center of our lives, but I had one. special son, and my favoritism was hard to hide. Gary, always Gary. Reminiscent of the scenes between my parents over my brother, Jock and my fights always seemed to be over Gary. J.R. was an oilman, just like his daddy. And no wonder, I thought; Jock stole the child away from me when he was five and plunked him behind a desk at Ewing Oil. Bobby was a rancher, just like Jock was now becoming, but Bobby was versatile enough, quick enough to be a Ewing Oil executive one day as well, Gary, poor Gary, was not quite fitting in anywhere, Oh, he loved ranching well enough, but he simply did not get along with Jock's rough-and-ready temperament. Gary was more like me, in that he, was artistically inclined, but he lacked my will on an everyday level. When he was a teenager, I winced at what I saw. Gary started drinking to gain courage to stand up to Jock, and to J.R., who had been bullying him since the, day he was born. When Gary ran away from Southfork after his brief attempt at marriage with Valene Clements, it nearly broke my heart, and deep down inside I harbored a resentment against Jock that would surface years later.As our sons grew up into men of their own minds, I missed having a child around. Though I was distressed that Gary and Valene's marriage had broken up, I was elated to bring up their tiny baby, Lucy, as the daughter I had never had. Jock and I spoiled our grandaughter rotten. She was the apple of Jock's eye and the boys adored her.The years rolled along, and in 1979 I was handed a shock. My brother, Garrison-after almost forty years of being thought dead-reappeared at Southfork. Since I had inherited Southfork from our father only because of Garrison's alleged death, I felt honor-bound to offer him the ranch. The entire Ewing family recoiled in horror, but I was persistent; I believed in the tradition of family land following blood lineage. To everyone's relief but mine, Garrison was not interested in Southfork, since he was dying of cancer and only wanted to spend his final days on the land where he was born, near the sister he cherished. It was a sad day-yet somehow happy-when I put my brother to rest on Southfork.In 1979, I had the scare of my life. I discovered a lump in my left breast and was forced to have a lifesaving mastectomy, during which the malignant tumor and twelve lymph nodes were removed. It was so terribly frightening, because it was one of the few sets of circumstances where I had absolutely no control over the outcome, no way to fight it myself. My disfigurement and shaken self-image were something I had to wrestle with for years, but the brush with death also reaffirmed my zest and passion for life, for, indeed, it was more precious than ever.The year 1980 proved to be even more painful for me. Another fight erupted over Gary, and after Ray Krebbs our ranch foreman was revealed to be Jock's son by a girl Jock met while serving in Europe during the war, all of my anger over Gary's departure from Southfork came roaring to the surface. I accused Jock of abandoning, as a father, not only Gary but also J.R. and Bobby, in favor of Ray. And then, when I and the DOA joined forces with Donna Culver Krebbs to stop the Takapa development project from destroying a wilderness area in East Texas and I found out that Jock, of all people, was one of the developers, my rage was complete. I felt betrayed on all levels. Worse yet, I thought that perhaps I had been married all of these years to a man I had never really known. My anger was further fueled by Jock's self-righteous response, and I went so far as to go to a lawyer and begin divorce proceedings. After our youngest son, Bobby, fortunately got involved, and settled the Takapa project problem to everyone's satisfaction, me and Jock rose above our mutual anger and stubbornness and were lovingly reconciled. Adults can be so foolish at times. I do not know how in the world I thought I could live without Jock.In 1981, while Jock was working down in South America, I had to step into the business of Ewing Oil to pull the company back on track from J.R.'s disastrous course. In an effort to force Clayton Farlow to kick Sue Ellen (JR's estranged wife) off the Southern Cross Ranch in San Angelo, J.R. had bought all the oil that normally fed Farlow's refineries. It was a great plan, except that J.R. used all the resources of Ewing Oil to do it, and the bottom fell out of the oil market. Ewing Oil was holding five million barrels of crude without a buyer in sight-a loss that endangered the solvency of the company. With my shoulders thrown back and my head held high, I flew to the Southern Cross in the Southfork helicopter and struck a deal with Clayton that saved the day. In addition, I won a new friend in Clayton. I was pleasantly taken in by this robust man and thought how much like Jock he was, and how much Jock himself would like him. The night of the Ewing Barbecue in 1981 was the worst night of my life. I was notified that Jock's helicopter had crashed in a storm in South America and that he was presumed dead. Our boys flew there and found evidence to confirm that my beloved Jock was truly dead. I was devastated. My shock and grief pushed me into a semicatatonic emotional state where I simply refused to believe that the love of my life was gone. The family agonized over my behavior, my denial, but it wasn't until 1982 that I came to terms with the truth. At a quiet family dinner one night, I rose from the table and rushed into the kitchen and there, venting all of my grief and anguish over Jock's death, smashed every piece of crockery within my reach. Following the night of the Oil Baron's Ball, when the Jock Ewing Memorial Scholarships were announced, I told my family that it was time to declare Jock legally dead and to read his will.The will was, in many ways, the last straw for me. Its instructions-J.R. and Bobby each running half of Ewing Oil, and battling each other for a year-resulted in a nightmare for everyone in the family. No one took it harder than me. Power, and the struggle for it, may have suited Jock, but it had never brought out the best in our sons. For the next few months, I was torn this way and that, trying to protect my sons from each other and keep some semblance of a family. Finally, in desperation at how ugly the competition had become, I was pushed to move in and try to break Jock's will, under the pretense that he was not in his right mind when he wrote it. I don't suppose I will ever do anything harder if I live to be 1000.It was the last thing on earth I wanted to do-to publicly denounce my husband's state of mind-but I was frantic to keep the family together. Despite my efforts, the court upheld the will and I, exhausted, was forced to the sidelines while my sons battled it out. Had it not been for the counsel I received from Clayton Farlow and the support from my daughterin-law Pamela (Bobby's wife), no one knew what would have happened to me.By 1983 the family's problems had worn me down, and my health started to fail. Alarmed, Clayton wisely took me away from all of the chaos at Southfork and brought me to Takapa Resort. There, while under a doctor's supervision, I received badly needed rest and, perhaps the best cure of all, love from Clayton. I recovered fully, which was a good thing, since in my absence the family unity had been blown to kingdom come. I became engaged to Clayton soon after and, with my strength supported by his, started to replenish Southfork with love.I had no pretensions about replacing Jock with Clayton, but certainly Clayton was the kind of man of whom Jock would have approved. We had our their differences to work out-that he had to move to Southfork, for example-and our personal trials to overcome-my fear that Clayton would be turned off by my mastectomy--but we got through all of it, strengthening our bond, becoming solid and real.Our path to marriage seemed clear. Then, in a ghastly incident just before oour wedding in 1984, I was nearly killed by Clayton's sister, Lady Jessica Montford. It was quite a shock that such a gentle man could have a psychotic killer for a sister. The quick reflexes of Clayton, along with J.R. and Bobby, saved me, and it was our love that saved our wedding the very next day at Southfork.The wedding was a beautiful affair, a dignified ceremony marking the beginning of a new chapter for both. I was given away by my sons J.R. and Bobby; and Sue Ellen Ewing, my daughter-in-law, of whom I am extremely fond, served as matron of honor. We took a long, romantic honeymoon cruise among the Greek Isles.1986 brought a great heartache for me as she was given a painful reminder of the past. A man by the name of Wes Parmalee took up the job of Ranch foreman, he was an elderly man but distinguished and strong in presence. Upon meeting him I found myself instantly attracted to this man , he reminded me of someone I once knew but I couldn't quite place him.I then accidently stumbled across Wes's belongings and to my shock, discovered Jocks buckle that he had been wearing during the time of the helicopter crash in South America, I also found some pictures of myself, much younger, pictures Jock had once carried around in his wallet. I was horrified , who was this man.? Wes revealed to me that he was indeed Jock, my husband declared dead some years previously., explaining that he had been in that awful helicopter crash and had been near death and after extensive reconstructive surgery had decided to return to his ..family... I was in a state of shock and confusion, part of me wanted to believe Jock had returned, but what of Clayton. I loved Clayton but I will never love anyone the way I loved Jock.The Ewing Family was in chaos, I continued to make contact with the man, causing Clayton to move out of Southfork, meanwhile the rest of the family refused to believe his story. I confided to Mavis Anderson about my confusion, Mavis questioned my feelings "is it Jock ? or is it that man Wes you're attracted to?" she asked. Deep down I knew he wasn't Jock, and eventually Wes confessed that he indeed had been in that helicopter crash in South America, and he had met Jock, and during a period where Jock had a bad fever he had revealed the history of the Ewing Family. Wes then left Dallas and has not been heard of since.1987 brought new heartache to me, not only had Pamela been involved in a terrible car accident and left Dallas but Clayton was dianosed as having a heart problem and needed to undergo open heart surgery. Clayton began to feel vunerable and felt a need to prove himself by ignoreing the doctors warnings to take things easy. I went out of my way to protect Clayton from..himself.. by making sure he took care of himself., but this seemed to drive Clayton further away from me and put a terrible strain on our marriage.Clayton befriended a young woman by the name of Laurel Ellis, she breathed new life into Clayton attempting to inspire him to find something fullfilling to do with his life. Clayton began to spend more time with Laurel , even forgetting his 3rd Weddding anniversary with me. I was convinced Clayton was having an affair with this young attractive girl, and confided to Mavis about my fears. I then left for St.Croix to sort out my thoughts and upon returning confronted Clayton about Laurel and refused to believe him when he claimd the relationship was innocent and asked him to leave Southfork which he did. The situation came to a head when Laurels ..blackmailing.. artist friend was found dead and Clayton was arrested for the murder, it was soon discovered that Laurels ex boyfriend was responsible and Laurel explained to me that her relationship with Clayton was purely innocent and Clayton and I were reunited.To the outside observer, Southfork Ranch is a tranquil place. That is how grandfather Enoch Southworth foresaw it in the 1860s, and that is how father tried to maintain it. But the union of Southworth and Ewing blood has created a family of inordinate will, power, and high passion, and no one but the possessor of the most fierce clan loyalty and unflagging love of family and tradition could possibly manage it. And I not only manage it, but also command it. For more than their love for me, the family has an overriding, nonnegotiable respect for this me. When Rosalyn Carter was nicknamed the "Iron Magnolia," the family shared discreet looks and chuckles at the dinner lable in my direction. I was mildly amused, but really rather disinterested, for I know better than anyone else that the name Ellie Southworth Ewing needs no further amplification.*MTI5OWJlYzNjYmJkOGVkMGE*Mg==.gif" />
