VERONA'S HISTORY
FORWARD
So many things have happened in my life.
I have written a biography that is very lengthy.
I hope it will be of interest to my family and friends.
This history has been compiled from
tapes, books, diaries and other papers
Verona gave to me in order to finish her
history.
Lois Ewell Washburn
Thanks to the many people who spent endless hours in
compiling this project:
Typed by Penny Kay Larsen Price, niece
Compiled and taken to the printer - Frances Bowen
Edited by Pat Washburn & Charles M. Kerby
Printed in 1992
VERONA'S PHILOSOPHY
Is flowing through you this moment, God loves to
express himself as harmony. beast, beauty, joy and
abundance through you. This is called the will of God,
or the tendency of life. If you set up resistance in your
mind to the flow of life, through you, this emotional
connection will get snarled up in your subconscious mind
and cause all kinds of negative conditions.
God has nothing to do with unhappy or chaotic
conditions in the world. All these conditions are brought
about by man's negative and destructive thinking;
therefore, it is silly to blame God for trouble or sickness.
THE SONG OF THE RIVER
By Verona Ewell Babcock
The snow melts on the mountains,
And the water runs down to the spring.
And the spring is a turbulent fountain,
With a song of youth to sing,
Runs down to the riotous river,
And the river flows to the sea.
And the water again goes back in rain
To the hills where it used to be.
And I wonder if life's deep mystery;
Isn't much like the rain and the snow
Returning through all eternity
To the places it used to know.
For life was born on the lofty heights
And flows in a laughing stream
To the river below whose onward flow.
Ends in a peaceful dream.
And so at last,
When our life has passed
And the river had run its course,
It again goes back,
O'er the self same track,
To the mountain which was its source.
So why prize life,
Or why fear death,
Or dread what is to be?
The river ran its allotted span,
Till it reached the silent sea.
Then the water harked back to the mountaintop,
To begin its course once more.
So we shall run the course begun,
Till we reach the silent shore.
Then revisit earth in a pure rebirth,
From the heart of the virgin snow.
So don't ask why we live or die,
or whither, or where we go,
Or wonder about the mysteries,
That only God may know.
CHAPTER 1
April 15, 1963 (Monday), Verona dictated this onto a tape.
I first saw the light of day in Helper, Carbon County, Utah, on April 15, 1895. My
Mother was assisted, in my birth, by a midwife, Mrs. Davis. I am the oldest child of William
Walter Ewell and Elvira Lillian Bigelow.
My Grandfather Ewell, who was the Presiding Elder in Spring Glen, had a farm on the
Price River extending from Spring Glen into Helper. He had a general store located on the hill
with living quarters in the rear. Mother and Father were living there and taking care of the
store, when I was born. Father had an 80-acre homestead North joining Grandfather's property.
(This store was there after Ern and I were married, but we never got a picture of the store as we
had no camera).
I have six sisters and two brothers. Their names and birth dates are:
Verona Lillian (myself)
Leah Vivian
William Lamar
Lucile Amelia
Elvira Fay (Vie)
15 April 1895
9 May 1897
8 October 1898
3 June 1901
3 September 1905
2
years when born
3 years when born
6 years when born
10 years when born
Walter Leon
Thelma Alice
Erma Francis
Lois
1 June 1908
10 June 1912
22 October 1914
6 December 1917
13
7
19
22
years when born
years when born
years when born
years when born
When I was a young woman, I was 5' tall, had gray eyes and light brown hair.
My Father (called Will) was a farmer and worked for the D.R.G. Railroad, miner in both
coal and ore and was also a fine carpenter. He was a very ambitious man who worked hard and
long hours. He was small in structure but physically strong with a strong mind and a lot of
pride. In any job, he did his best. He had the ability to do everything right and proper. His
word was his bond. He was honest in his dealings and always went the extra mile. He loved
everyone and was a good and faithful friend to all who knew him. All he met were treated to a
wonderful conversation and philosophy of life. He enjoyed entertaining, had a fine tenor voice,
enjoyed music, played the harmonica, gave readings, was a good actor and encouraged his
children to sing, entertain and perform. He taught me many poems and songs.
My Mother (called Lilly) was very pretty. She had lovely soft, light brown, naturally
curly hair, a beautiful skin, which she took good care of and her hands were shapely, useful and
comforting. She had the gift to rub pain out of our bodies whenever we were sick. She was
intelligent, had a good mind, enjoyed reading and singing. She sang with the Tabernacle Choir
in Provo, Utah, before she was married. She kept the family books, took care of the family
business, was an exceptionally good cook and sewed for all the family.
My Parents set a wonderful example to all of their family. Their teachings were
remembered by all. I want to tell a few of my life stories, some are short and others long. I'll
start with the first things I remember or that happened to me.
My Sister, Vivian, was born two years after me on May 9, 1897, in Provo, Utah. Mother
went to her Mother's, Elvira Jane Bigelow, home in Provo, Utah, for the birth. Father was
working in the coal camps (Spring Canyon Mines), but returned to greet and welcome his new
daughter. I remember Uncle Elijah (also known as Uncle Lige), Aunt Alice, Uncle Leo and
Grandmother made a great fuss over me, while we were staying there.
After Vivian was born, we moved to Tintic Mining District. Father worked in the mines.
Eureka, Mammoth, Silver City, etc., were part of the Tintic District. I recall many things that
happened there. The high school was named Tintic High School. Walt, my brother, graduated
from this school.
We lived in Mammoth, a gold mining camp, with Grandmother Bigelow who had a
four-year-old house. I was the same age as the house. Uncle John and Aunt Mary Bigelow
(John was my Mother's brother and Mary, his wife, was my Father's sister) operated the hotel
and boarding house there. I remember living in Grandma's house. It was at this time the
mining boom was on. Many families moved to the district in order to get in on the money to be
made. Several of our family members joined this group who owned or ran hotels, rooming
houses, boarding houses or rented out sleeping rooms in their homes. Father worked in the
mine while Mother helped Grandmother with the extra rooms and meals for the boarders.
I can't remember this incident, but I have heard my Mother and Father talk about it often:
Mother was caring for Vivian while I, an adventurous and energetic little girl, started out on a
cold winter morning to greet my Father at the mine. I had taken a small lard bucket, put syrup
over leftover biscuits and replaced the lid. I was going to take Daddy his lunch. He hated
lunches, had a hard time eating them. When the ore wagons came down the road, I was in the
middle of the road. They were making a lot of noise, as they had four to six horses on each
wagon. My Mother heard yelling, screaming and much commotion out on the road. She ran to
the door, which she found open. As she ran out of the house to see what was going on, Mother
called, "Verona, where are you." The neighbors saw that I was going to be hurt but dust
covered the sight so no one was able to see if I was hurt. Before they could explain what had
happened, the three wagons had passed. As the dust cleared, there I was in the middle of the
road scrunched down. All the wagons had passed over me and had not even touched me. I had
waited very still for them to pass. They said I had no fear of the wagons passing over my head.
This was the first of my life's adventures.
I remember visiting often at the hotel. Aunt Mary had a watermelon in the bathroom.
She had put it up high on a shelf. I was so fascinated with this watermelon that I asked her
about it. She gave Maroni, my cousin, and me some. It was the first time I had ever tasted
watermelon. Aunt Mary's house was home for me too, as Maroni and I spent much time playing
and being together.
Sometimes Mother would send me to the store, which was quite close, to get something
like a package of tea or some other little thing. Every time I went, I think, the store man would
give me an orange, candy or nuts. I was always anxious to go to the store.
The miners used candlesticks for lights in the mine. Later they changed to carbide
lights, which fastened to the front of the miner's hat. The flame was strong and bright. This
had a very strange odor, a smell that is never forgotten. If I remember right, the flame
protruded, shining straight out in front instead of straight up. The carbide came from a small pot
under the flame. These lights remained on and didn't go out like candles. It took a strong wind,
not a little breeze to put them out.
The mules that were used in the mines were well cared for. When the mules went into
the mine, they were there for life. They pulled the ore cars out to be emptied and then pulled the
empty cars back to the headings to again be filled.
This I don't remember but I have heard my folks tell this story. They went to a dance
close by, putting Vivian and me to bed. Uncle Perry Bigelow (Mother's brother) came to see if
we were okay. He said he found me in my little rocking chair, which was by the side of the bed.
I had Vivian on my lap and both of us were asleep. Evidently she had awakened and I had tried
to take care of her but I was not strong enough to lift her back on the bed.
Mother and Father visited Uncle Frank (Father's brother) and Aunt Kate Ewell, one time
when I was very young. As we came home, I got very tired. I said, "Daddy carry me." He
said "No, you are a big girl, you can walk. I have to carry the baby (which was Vivian)." I
said, "Let Mama carry the baby, you carry me." I got spunky and lay down on the railroad
track. They went on home. I thought Daddy would come back and get me but he didn't. I
could see the house and I waited. At last I thought I'd go home and not let them know where I
was. I went under the porch and went to sleep. I don't know when they found me.
My Father and Uncle John Bigelow killed a pig. They put the pig on a table in the
lean-to-room of our house. The pig was laying on its back with his feet up in the air. I was
fascinated with this dead pig. I got my cousin, Maroni Bigelow, to come over and see it. He
was scared to death of it and ran home. He was a little younger than I. I was never frightened
of anything. I would stay there and look at the pig for hours.
One day we were out playing in the yard of the hotel. The hotel had a large outside
toilet with two or three holes. Maroni needed to go to the toilet, so his Mother, Aunt Mary
Bigelow, unfastened his pants. He went in and climbed on the seat. The holes were rather
large and he slipped through and went into the mess below. I heard him crying and went inside.
I kept the door open because it was quite dark inside. As I looked down, there he was up to his
waist in you know what!!! He was holding his hands up. I went to reach for his hands and I
saw how dirty they were so I pulled back. I couldn't have lifted him anyway. I ran into the
hotel and told Aunt Mary. She got the help of one of her boarders and they got him out. She
got a tub of water, took off his clothes and tried to send me home. I was concerned to know if
he could ever get out of the fix he was in, I just kept hanging around. As she washed him off,
she would keep saying, "Verona go home, you shouldn't see little boys." Next I saw her wrap
him in her apron and take him in the hotel. I was surprised when I saw him clean again.
I remember "Crazy Liz" a lady who lived across the wash from us. She sold pins,
needles, buttons, hook and eyes, braid, lace and trimmings of all kinds. I went there with
Mother to get some things she needed. I was so fascinated with all the conglomeration she had
on display. I never did learn why she was called "Crazy Liz."
One day, before Lamar was born, Mother was washing the laundry. She heated the
water on the stove. In the process of doing the laundry Mother put the can of lye on the top of
the warming oven. Lye was used to soften the water. Vivian climbed on top of a chair onto the
reservoir. She reached the lye can and drank the lye. Mother grabbed her and the vinegar,
pouring some down her to stop the action of the lye. She told me, "Run as fast as you can and
get Aunt Kate (Ewell) at once." There was a racehorse in Provo and there was much talk about
him and how he could outrun everything. When I went for Aunt Kate, I thought I surely could
have out-run that horse. I remember my little sister having a very sore mouth.
Lamar was born, October 8, 1898, in Provo, Utah, at Grandmother Bigelow's home.
Mother planned and arranged to be with her Mother for this occasion. He was beautiful. He
was the first son and very special to all of us during his life.
I spent much of my early life with or near my Grandmother, Elvira Bigelow, who lived in
Provo. Uncle Leo, Uncle Elijah (we called him Uncle Lige) and Aunt Alice were not married
and still living at home and I stayed with them. I think it was because my parents were in
mining camps or too far away for me to go to school.
Grandmother started me in kindergarten in September. My teacher's name was Miss
Dusenberry. I enjoyed school very much and really was taken with a boy named Sterling
Evans. I think it may have been November when Sterling was not at school because he was
sick. The school was just one block from Grandmother's. I came home one night not feeling
well. I couldn't eat any supper and Grandmother was worried. I remember her feeling my
forehead and saying to Aunt Alice, "I think she has a fever." I didn't want to do anything but sit
on Grandma's lap. She said, "Alice, you better go get Dr. Allen." When I heard this I said,
"No, Grandma I don't want the doctor." Aunt Alice went and the last I can remember was
crawling under the table to hide. Then I remember being in a back bedroom, I was very hot and
my throat hurt and was very dry.
I remember my dear Grandmother being with me, bathing me in soda water and the
doctor coming and spraying my throat with a spray that tasted like Listerine. It was the only
thing that cooled my burning throat. I would beg Grandma to spray my mouth when it became
so hot and dry. My throat was so sore. It ate out my tonsils and they never grew back. The
fever dried my skin until I peeled all over from head to foot and lost all my hair. As I began to
get better, I would beg for stories from my dear Grandma. She sat with me by the hour telling
and reading me stories. She would tell stories over and over but she never complained and was
always sweet and kind. I had Scarlet Fever and Diphtheria, almost died. Dr. Allen told her it
was her nursing that saved my life.
We were quarantined for nine weeks. That was very disturbing to my Aunt Alice, as she
was about sixteen years old and wanted to be with her friends. Once my parents came, I
remember, with my sister and baby brother (Vivian and Lamar). They could only look through
the window. I guess from their remarks I was a skinny, bald-headed and pitiful looking little
girl.
I remember when I could go out of my bedroom and into the dining room. Uncle Lige
and Aunt Alice tried to amuse me. Uncle Lige gave me a mirror to see myself. What I saw
didn't look like me or anyone I knew. Thanks to my Grandmother's good care, I got well again.
As time went on, my hair came back. I once again looked as I should. Everyone was kind and
understanding, giving me much love and encouragement.
I would climb the cherry trees and pick the cherries for Grandma, which she sold for 10
cents a quart. I also picked apricots, raspberries and whatever. She always was a very honest
tithe payer, every tenth quart, bushel or peck always went to the Tithing Office. I would take a
crate or basket in an Express Wagon she had and bring back the receipt.
CHAPTER 2
After Aunt Alice and Uncle Burt Adams were married, they lived with Grandmother
Bigelow. Maroni and I were also living there. Uncle Burt had Tuberculosis of the intestines
and wasn't able to work. Grandma fed all of us. Aunt Alice's first child was born at that time.
Grandmother had two rooms rented. She received $10 per month rent. A dollar went for
tithing. One day Uncle Burt said, "Mother, don't you think you are doing enough that you
shouldn't pay the Church a dollar from your rent? You need it more than the Church does."
Her answer, "Burt, if I didn't get the help from the Lord for that dollar, I couldn't feed my family
and have the means to get the things we need."
My Father and Mother were going to Provo from Helper. Uncle Permit Ewell (my
Father's youngest brother) was with them. He was going to school at Brigham Young
University. One of the horses got sick and they were unable to travel. We ran out of food.
We were camped where there were pine trees. My Father saw a pine hen roosting in a tree. I
knew they were very anxious to get that pine hen, so I was also very anxious. Father gathered
some rocks because they had no gun. I remember him taking very careful aim. Then I
remember hearing that chicken falling and Father getting it quickly. We had chicken for our
supper.
On this trip we also traveled to a farmhouse abandoned for the winter. We moved in and
found some food. I was investigating everything. There was a piece of machinery that I could
not understand. I worked some levers but couldn't tell what was happening. I could hear
something going on under the apron that covered them. I said to Vivian, "You look under and
see what happens when I move this thing." Instead of her just looking under, she crawled under.
I moved the lever and Vivian screamed. I ran to help her get out. Her head was split open and
she was bleeding. I was so scared I didn't know what to do. They took her into the house and
took care of the cut. I tried to tell what happened, but they didn't listen. I doubt they ever
knew how it happened.
Father was selling sewing machines and repairing them in Utah County. He also did
carpenter work. He was gone sometimes for days at a time. He hated to be away from his
family, so Mother often accompanied him.
Father was always willing to help his parents with their farm and crops. It was at this
time we left Provo and went to Spring Glen. My Grandparents were now at the age when they
needed help to run the farm. My Father was always the willing one to go first and stay as long
as he was needed or until someone else came.
My sister, Lucile, was born at this time on June 3, 1901. Having had two Grandchildren
born in June 1901, my Grandfather Ewell, asked the parents of these two babies if he could name
and bless them. They consented. Grandfather told no one what names he had chosen until at
the church when he gave them blessings. He named Uncle Franklin Ewell's son, Arthur
Emanuel, and my sister, Lucilia Amelia. My Mother almost fainted. She asked Grandfather if
they could change her name to Lucile Amelia and Grandfather gave his consent.
I am not sure this next story happened at this time, but it did happen when we were living
at Grandma Ewell's place. I can vaguely remember this story about a snake. It seems Vivian
came to Mother every day about 11:00 a.m. and asked for a bowl of bread and milk. Mother
would give it to her and she took it outside to eat. One day Mother watched her take the bowl
down where there were some Cottonwood trees on the bank of the Price River. She went in the
shade of these trees and would come back with an empty bowl. Mother was curious to know
why she went down there. She followed her and saw her feeding a large King Snake the bread
and milk. Mother about had a fit. She got Dad and he killed the snake. They said the snake
had Vivian charmed.
Grandmother Ewell had a swinging shelf in the cellar where it was cool with a sheet over
the ceiling to keep the dirt out. She put her pans of milk on this shelf thinking nothing could get
to it. One morning when she went to get a pan of milk, the cream was gone. She accused her
sons of skimming the cream as they all loved cream. They all said no. This happened several
times until one morning she went into the cellar to get milk and there by the pan was a King
Snake curled with its head on top sucking off the cream. The snake had dropped from the roof
to the shelf.
I could make bread when I was 7 years old. I was also a pretty good manager. (Lois - I
also think she was a good cook, baby-sitter and worker)
While living in Spring Glen, I would put on plays behind the schoolhouse. I would try
to copy plays I had seen at the Provo Opera House. Older, as well as younger, children were
either actors or audience. The price of a ticket was an egg, a penny, a needle, pins or anything
they had to offer. One show I remember was "Pampy Was Dead," which I made up from a
song. I put on "Uncle Tom's Cabin" after seeing the play at the Opera House. I always
directed and usually I was the star. I used to put on shows for the kids at recess and noon. The
show they always wanted me to do was a wild ride on a motorcycle. I had heard about this one
so I did it in my own fashion. Each time I used different words, that is why they found it so
interesting. I was only there for about a month. It amused the kids and I got laughs. I guess I
was a novelty to them and I felt important and enjoyed the attention.
I also made doll clothes and hats, which I sold or traded to others. Some were very
fancy with ribbons, lace, feathers and flowers. I was always searching Mother's scrap bag for
material for my projects. I learned to run the machine, sometimes getting it all tangled up.
Mother would ask, "Who has been fooling with my machine?" I never said a word. One time
we were sewing carpet rags by hand and I said, "Mother, let me sew on the machine, I can do it
so much faster." She said, "You don't know how to run the machine." "Oh, yes I do, I have
learned when you were not home." Then she knew what had tangled up the machine.
My Uncle Elijah Bigelow met May Gentry (Mary Jane, her real name) and fell in love
with her that summer. They married on November 22, 1905 in Spring Glen, while my folks
were still on the farm.
In September, the folks sent me to Grandma Bigelow's in Provo to go to school. Uncle
Lige put some money in a Bull Durham tobacco sack, enough to pay Grandma's taxes. This was
very important to Grandma. Uncle Lige put it on a string around my neck and kept telling me
not to feel for it then no one would know I had it. On the train, I was very nervous. I had to go
to the restroom to feel it to be sure I had it. A man offered me an orange when they came
selling them through the train, but I refused. I was afraid he was trying to get that money. I
was sure relieved when I got to Grandma's and gave her that money.
Grandma Bigelow had a cow she milked morning and night. She sold one quart of milk
to two ladies down the street. She gave twenty tickets for a dollar. Each ticket bought one
quart of milk. A boy came by every morning in the summer and took the cow along with many
others to the town pasture. I was to go in the evening and get the cow and bring her home.
One night I missed the cow. I ran wildly up the street looking everywhere but it was getting
dark and I hadn't found her. I hated to go home and tell Grandma. I don't think I slept very
well that night. I was so worried that she would be taken to the stray pen and Grandma would
have to pay to get her out. I was out at daylight going up one street and down another. I was
about to give up when I stopped and said a very fervent prayer. I went down another street and I
saw the cow in a place eating off a bale of hay in a yard. I don't think the people were up yet. I
got a stick and drove her out of there and home with a most thankful heart.
When I was about eight years old, one more thing happened at Grandma Bigelow's. She
rented two rooms to her niece and husband, Hugh and Emily Woodward. They didn't have any
children of their own. They adopted a little boy from a relative who had died. They moved to
Provo to go to the Brigham Young University (BYU) and become schoolteachers. While the
Woodward's were moving in, their little boy (four or five years old) ate too many plums that
were not quite ripe. Grandma told the little boy not to eat them, as they would give him a
stomachache. In the night, he became very sick. They got the doctor but he couldn't save him
and he died in the night. I followed Grandmother and saw that little boy die. They called it
Colic Marbis. They were really broken-hearted to lose him.
In the fall the family moved to Provo. We bought the McPherson place one-half miles
east of the Provo City Cemetery. I started school at Mazier School. I walked over a mile to
school each way. We had to walk to school in those days. I remember shuffling through the
dead leaves going and coming from school. We raised hay, raspberries, peaches, other fruit and
grain, which we sold. We had a cow, chickens and pigs. Our first neighbor to the North was
Cox. They had teenage girls.
A company came to Provo to put on a show with all the local school children. I don't
know the name of the show, but they chose children from all the schools. Vivian and I were
both chosen because of our singing voices. Two of the Cox girls were chosen as telephone girls.
It was a musical and all the parts were sung. There was a Cannibal King and two sons. We
practiced every night after school. When it was finished, it was a really beautiful show at the
Opera House. There must have been 150 or 200 performers. Of course, all the parents bought
tickets to see their children perform.
The Cox's moved away and the Lawhorns moved in. They were really rough people.
One thing I remember seeing was the Grandmother chasing the kids. One of them climbing the
telephone pole with the Grandma at the bottom threatening, scolding and shaking her finger at
him.
One day a man came selling watermelons from a covered wagon. People would come
out and the man would reach melons from the front. While he was busy with buyers, Grandma
Lawhorn was taking melons from the back, the children helping, and putting them under the
wagon. When the man drove on, they gathered the melons and took them into the house.
My teacher in school had been reading us a story about a Coal Brownie who lived in the
coal cellar. Whenever the cook didn't clear the table and wash the dishes properly, the Coal
Brownie would come into the dining room and track black coal all over the white tablecloth and
eat all the food. The cook thought that it was the cat. The cat was sleeping contented on the
hearth. She hit the cat and put him in the coal cellar and the Brownie never got punished. Our
cellar was a coal cellar and I thought that little fellow was living under a large lump of our coal.
One afternoon when I came home, no one was there. I was bewildered, tired and
hungry. The house was locked and the horse and buggy gone. I waited for a while then decided
to go to the neighbors in the next field. I didn't know what to say so I told them my folks were
gone and the house was locked. I sat in a chair by the door. Mrs. Walker was preparing
supper, it smelled so good and I was hungry. I was hoping they would invite me to eat, but
when they got ready to eat she said to me, "I think you better go home, your folks must be home
by now and wondering where you are." I got up and left. When I got home no one was there.
I tried lifting the door to the cellar under the house, but it was too heavy for me. I tried another
neighbor down the road by the name of Peterson. I had never seen the parents but had seen their
daughter, Alice, who sang solo in the Tabernacle Choir. I knocked on the door and asked, "Do
you know where my parents are?" I knew they didn't, but did not know what else to say. They
said, "No, we don't even know your parents." They were old Danish people and were preparing
a supper of brown bread and milk. I sat down and waited. I thought they would offer me
supper but instead they said, "Little girl, you better go home now, it's getting dark and your folks
will be home by now." I left still very tired and hungry.
When I got home, still no one was there and it was almost dark. I decided to try again to
get in the house through the basement, as it was the only door open. I got a prop and when I
raised the door, I kicked the prop under the door. I did it several times and finally got it far
enough that I could lift the door so it would fall open the other way. Once inside the cellar there
was a stairway. I was fearful that the inside doors were locked. The first door was unlocked
and I felt my way through the very dark basement to the stairway at the other end that went into
the house. I remembered the story of the Coal Brownie, as it was a little frightening but I didn't
know how he could harm me. When I reached the top of the stairs (the door was open) I was
very thankful and so relieved, especially since I got past the Coal Brownie. I went to bed
without even eating or lighting a lamp and went right to sleep, sleeping until morning.
The next morning, Aunt Alice and Uncle Leo Bigelow came before I was awake. Aunt
Alice thought I was the bravest child on earth. She said, "I wouldn't stay in a house alone for
any-thing." It seems that Mother had left a key and a note with a neighbor of Grandma's and
they hadn't delivered it till the next morning, as they were not home in the evening. They came
as soon as they knew. (Another version of this was on a sheet I found) My Mother had written
my Grandmother a letter telling her to pick me up after school because she was going with
Daddy to Payson selling machines (Father sold Singer Sewing Machines in between the crops).
Grandmother never found the note until that morning. Uncle Leo fed the chickens and milked
the cow. He took me home to Grandmother's where I was always safe.
Vivian started going to school. She was a plump little girl. Two girls in my third grade
(whom I had some trouble with because I had won a game) teased my little sister to get even
with me. One night after school I stayed to clean the blackboard for the teacher. These two
girls, Reva Rogalance and Evelyn Evans, had followed Vivian and wouldn't let her go home,
calling her fatty. When I came out, I saw them with Vivian on the North side of the school. I
was so mad when I saw what they were doing that I ran up and before they knew what had
happened, I beat up on both of them. Vivian and I went on home. Later the girls hid behind a
tree and when I came by, pushing the baby buggy with Vie, these girls jumped on me and I got a
beating. Later when they were stopping my little sister, Lucile, as she was going to Grandma
Bigelow's, I caught them and gave both girls a bloody nose. We were enemies for some time
and then we became friends. I don't remember how.
Another experience very vivid in my memory: On December 31, 1904, Daddy got a
telegram from Helper, Utah. I was nine years old. It stated that his Father was dying. My
Grandfather Ewell died on January 1, 1905. Vivian (age 7), Lamar (age 6) and I were home
alone. Mother, Dad and Lucile, the three-year-old baby, had gone to town for New Year's Eve.
When they received this word, they came home and got ready to leave on the midnight train.
We always got a little present, candy and nuts on New Year's morning. They were
things that Santa had left over from Christmas. New Year's was as exciting as Christmas.
Well, when it was bedtime we all piled into Mother and Dad's bed, as they weren't home. The
folks came after we were asleep. Mother woke me and told me they were going to my sick
Grandpa's. They didn't have time to let Grandma know. They said Santa would leave us candy
and nuts on the table. We were to go to Grandmother's the next morning. I know it was
snowing when they left, as I can remember the snow on their heads and clothes when they came
in.
The next morning we got up early, as always. I built a fire in the kitchen stove, as there
was plenty of kindling wood and coal. I think all we ate for breakfast was candy, nuts, syrup,
bread and drank milk. (That reminded us that the cow needed to be milked and fed also the
chickens and pigs were to be fed.) As we put on our warmest clothes and went out to do the
chores, I heard the cow bawling in the barn. The snow was very deep and it was still snowing,
but we waded through the broken ice on the canal, watered and fed the cow, chickens and pigs.
We also tried to milk the cow but didn't do very good at milking. She was in a good barn and I
had to go to the hayloft and push hay down to the cow.
I thought we better go to Grandma's and tell Uncle Leo to do the chores, as our parents
had instructed. After we got back in the house and got warm, we got ready and started down the
road. It was over a fourth of a mile down the lane to the main street. It must have been two or
three blocks from our home before the sidewalks had been cleared of snow. I would wade
through the snow to make a clearing for Vivian and Lamar. Soon I had to pick up Lamar under
his arms and carry him on my stomach in front of me. I thought I would never reach the end of
that lane.
Some people by the name of McCords lived in a red brick house at the end of the lane. I
had heard Mother say they hated children. We had only gone a short distance when Lamar
began to cry with the cold and as Lamar was always real tender to cold, I had to chance that. I
knocked on the door and asked if we could come in and get warm. They took us in and we got
warm. We left as soon as possible. We had clear sidewalks now but, oh it was cold! Before
long, Lamar was crying again.
I knocked on another door, asking if he could get warm. They were Danish people and
not able to speak English very well, but they took us in and built a fire in the heating stove and
we got warm. They were very nice but I was uncomfortable because I couldn't understand
them. We left and I was determined we would go the rest of the way to Grandma's. About two
blocks before we got to Grandma's, Lamar was crying very loudly. A lady came out of her
house and said, "What is the matter with your little brother?" I told her he was cold and we
were trying to get to Grandma's. She took us in her house, took off our shoes and stocking, put
our feet in cool water to take out the frost and warmed us up. I remember we had some holes in
our stockings and I was embarrassed but she was so very nice. She offered us something to eat
but we told her we would wait till we got to Grandmother's. When we were warmed and dried
out, we went on to Grandma's. I remember Grandmother Bigelow was very aggravated because
Mother and Dad had left us like that without letting her know. God took care of us until
Grandmother took over.
After Grandfather Ewell died, my folks sold their equity in the McPherson place and
moved to Helper with Uncle Elijah Bigelow, Mother's youngest brother. They were going to
help Grandmother Ewell run the farm. We moved to Helper early in the year, for I finished the
second grade in Spring Glen, Utah. The men milked the cows, Mother and Grandma took care
of the milk and cream. They churned the butter and then sold it to a grocery store. We three
children sold butter and milk by the quart or pint. A barber in Helper was our steady customer.
Sometimes Lucile went with us, she was about three years old, and would get very tired.
Our house in Helper was the very first house we lived in that had electricity. One time
when the children and I were alone, I took the globe out to see where the light came from. I put
the scissors in the socket and got a shock. I had all the other children try it. It was a wonder
we weren't electrocuted.
In the Fall the family moved to Provo. We bought the McPherson place, one half miles
East of the Provo City Cemetery. I started school at Mazier School. I walked over a mile to
school each way. We had to walk to school in those days. I remember shuffling through the
dead leaves going and coming from school. We raised hay, raspberries, peaches, other fruit and
grain, which we sold. We had a cow, chickens and pigs.
Grandmother Ewell could no longer run the farm or take care of things alone. My Father
and Mother wanted to go back to Provo and live their life as they desired. Grandmother sold the
farm to an Italian family and moved to Provo where she bought a small house. She could rent
part of it and therefore, she wasn't completely alone. We bought a place on 6th East and First
South. We called it the Burns Place. This home was in the middle of the road way at the end
of the road on First South and at the end of First South going East. This was an interesting
house. It was a center of attraction because of its location.
We had a coal-house. There was a coal bin, a bin for wood and kindling, and a larger
bin where storage was kept. A large trunk stored our winter clothes and in the summer our
summer clothes. One night Lamar forgot to get in his coal and kindling in the early evening.
He and Lucile had to do this chore. They went out later, in the dark, to do their chore. Lucile
was to light the matches so he could see. She was afraid of burning her fingers and dropped the
matches, which were still lighted. Later that night I heard a fire engine. I opened my eyes and
every-thing was light. The neighbors were carrying water and dashing it on the flames. By this
time, we were all up. I saw them bringing water from the neighbors. I said to one of the men,
"We have a pump." I primed it and started to pump and the men came and filled their buckets.
I was becoming very tired pumping. One of the men said, "Take that pump from the little girl."
Until then I hadn't realized I was out there in only an under-skirt. Our roof on the house started
to burn. The men got a ladder and put water on the roof to save our house. The fire engine
came but they didn't have hose long enough to reach our place. By the time they got another
hose, the fire was out. The coal-house was only a pile of ashes.
Lawyer Bert Therman lived on the corner North of us on Main and Sixth East. I worked
for Mrs. Therman after school and on Saturdays as long as we lived there. Mrs. Thermon told
Mother she needed a babysitter for her two boys, as they were going out that evening. Mother
offered my services. Mrs. Thermon said, "Oh, she is too young." Mother said, "She can do it,
she takes care of our children when we are gone." She decided to try me. Well, from then on I
had a steady job. I would wash up any dishes left in the sink or do any work I could see that
needed doing. She told Mother I was better than the college girls she had before. She paid me
well and every once in awhile she gave me a new pair of shoes or material for a dress. I was
working for her one Saturday and there was a basket of dampened clothes ready to be ironed, so
I ironed them. When she came home and saw what I had done she said, "Oh, Verona I didn't
mean for you to iron my clothes, nobody irons my linen tablecloth but me." She looked the
things over and told Mother she couldn't believe that I had ironed the tablecloth. It was as good
as she could do it herself. So you see the training my Mother gave me was helpful to me. I
didn't know I was doing anything special. Both my Father and Mother taught us to always go
the extra mile and do a good job. If we do good, we get good in return.
Uncle Leo came every Monday and helped Mother. He turned the hand washer and
wringer. One Monday he came and Mother was gone somewhere. I decided I could do the
washing. I think I was about nine years old. It was before Vie was born. With Uncle Leo's
help, we did the washing. I hung the clothes on the line. Uncle Leo went home and I was
pretty tired. Our neighbor came over and said, "You did a very good job, but you got too much
bluing in the white clothes. Take them off the line and rinse them in clear water." Because she
was a grown person, I thought I had to do as she said. Vivian and I, as Uncle Leo had gone
home, pumped the tub full of water, gathered the clothes and rinsed them. We had to turn the
wringer ourselves this time and then hang those clothes on the lines again. I really didn't feel
like thanking Mrs. Moors, but I did know she meant well.
Uncle Leo was born Estus Leo Bigelow on April 25, 1869. He was a very sweet, kind
man who never married. He was a carpenter. When he was about twenty years old a scaffold
fell with him, injuring his head. After this he had these seizures which made him very sick at
times but he was such a great help to Grandma. He chopped wood, keeping great stacks by the
granary. He trimmed trees, mowed the grass, told we children stories, planted a garden and took
care of it. He kept busy all the time helping.
The neighbor next door to Grandmother was a very mean person. One day Uncle Leo
had a seizure in the backyard. She saw this through her kitchen window. She called the Police.
Then she went to the trouble of having him committed to the Mental Hospital. This just about
killed my Grandmother. He had never done anyone any harm. He didn't live long after that.
He died at the Provo City Mental Hospital in Utah County on December 18, 1909 and is buried
in the Provo Cemetery near his mother.
CHAPTER 3
The summer of 1905 my Father, his two brothers Ren and Frank Ewell, got a contract to
cut and deliver logs to Colton. We moved to Vinequine Canyon. We lived in tents and the
children had a great time that summer. I was 10 years old. They hired some other men who
boarded with Aunt Mary. Jess Barbow and his Father were hired and had their own tent and
batched it. A younger brother, Herb, came up to stay with them from Price. He must have
been exposed to mumps before coming, as the day after he arrived, he came down with a fever.
They had to leave him in the tent alone. My sister, Vivian, passed the tent and heard him
crying. She went in and gave him a drink of water and sat on the bed and talked to him. When
his folks came in that night, he was all swollen up on both sides with mumps, so Vivian was
exposed. Grandmother said boys could not take mumps from boys, but girls could take mumps
from boys and boys from girls. Vivian came down with the mumps and all the girls played with
her and the boys were playing with her and no one in camp got the mumps but those two. I
don't know how true this tale is, but it worked for us.
I saw my first bear in the wild. One day all the children took their buckets and went to
the wild raspberry patch. On our way we stopped to see a dead horse that had fallen dead on a
very steep hill with a very heavy load. The men had said they had seen a bear eating off the
horse so we were watching for a bear. Not having seen anything, we went on up to the berry
patch. There was a large dead log that had fallen in the berries. My brother, Lamar, climbed
the log and was walking to the end. The others had stopped and were picking berries. There
were some high bushes at the end of the log and as we were looking how to get off the log, a big
black bear reared up right in front of us. He was after berries too. He let out a big grunt. I
guess he was frightened too, for he left on a run one way and we hurried the other way. We
thought the bear was after us so we left without any berries.
We had a wonderful summer, my cousin, Connie Ewell and I, as we were the leaders
among the kids. We played on the mountainside, built playhouses, all trying to out do each
other. The boys used figure four traps in the hay and grain enclosures to trap chipmunks. They
made wagon beds from matchboxes and used spools for wheels. They made harnesses for the
chipmunks, and used them for horses. They got bitten quite often, but learned to handle them
very well.
One day when all the grownups went to town, we decided to make ice cream. We used
milk, eggs, sugar, and vanilla for the ingredients. It tasted real good. We thought we could
freeze it in the spring, as it seemed as cold as ice. After opening the bucket several times,
turning it back and forth and nothing happened to harden it. We drank our ice cream. We tried
our hand at candy and cake making also.
Mother sent me home in August. I went to Colton on a log wagon and from there on the
train to Provo. Uncle Permit and Aunt Ethel Ewell had been living in our house while we were
gone. Grandma and I went to clean the house which was very dirty and get it ready for the folks
to move in.
In September Dad sent Mother and the children to Grandmother Bigelow in Provo on First North
and First East, to go to school and also because Mother was expecting Vie. Father came down
later. Grandmother and I were still cleaning our house. Vie was born before we got the house
cleaning done. She was born in Grandmother's house on September 3, 1905. Lucile was four
yours old in June and no longer a baby. We were all elated with this small sister. We moved to
our own house where I became very active in our neighborhood,
My sister, Elvira Fay Ewell (who we always called Vie), was born September 3, 1905,
Provo, Utah. She was my third sister.
I remember well when Aunt Ruby Bigelow became ill. The doctors couldn't tell what
was wrong. She was young, very pretty and was loved by all who knew her. My Uncle
Willard Bigelow had a hard time getting over her death. Everyone felt the loss. It was
especially hard on her little six-year-old daughter, Arvella. Not knowing what had caused his
wife's death, Uncle Willard decided to go to school and become a doctor and find out for him
self. He left his profession of teaching school and entered the University of Utah to become a
doctor.
When Uncle Willard went to school, Grandma Bigelow took his two children to care for.
More heartache came to the family. After Aunt Ruby's death, her sisters wanted Arvilla to visit
with them. They lived on the Provo Bench. Arvilla cried and grieved so much she caught a
cold and got pneumonia. In spite of all they could do, she died within eight months of her
Mother. Some people claimed she died of a broken heart. Uncle Elijah and Aunt May Bigelow
came to the funeral with their eleven month old baby boy, Robert Elijah. He caught cold and
died at Grandma Bigelow's home. They buried him in Price. Aunt May couldn't get over this
loss and blamed everyone for them being there, and what happened was their fault. She could
not accept his death.
In the Fall, Uncle Willard was going to Baltimore to finish his medical schooling and
internship. He wanted to take Grandma and Welby with him. We made arrangements with the
Slaters (half block South of Grandmother's), to take me in for board and room. I was to work
and take care of their baby after school.
I had been there a month or more when I got a letter from Mother saying they were
sending the children (Vivian, Lamar and Lucile). I was to go to Grandmother Ewell and rent a
room from her and put them in school. My parents were going to Nine-Mile where there was no
school. Mother sent $60 with them. I was to buy them clothes, groceries and put them in
school, which I did. I had to pay Grandmother Ewell $10 for the room. I no longer worked at
Slaters. They also wanted me to get Mr. Boshard, a drayman, to get their furniture that was
stored at Grandmother Bigelow's and ship it to Price C.O.D. The Railroad would not ship used
furniture unless it was prepaid. I was to go to Mr. Myers and get money he owed my Father for
cement work on sidewalks he made for Mr. Myers (the contractor) in Provo. I went to them and
he said, "I owe your Father but I can't pay him now. If you will come and work for us, as my
wife is going to have a baby, I'll pay you three dollars a week, so you can feed the children." In
order to ship the furniture, I had to give Mr. Boshard the rest of the money.
The children gathered coal along the tracks and sugar beets that spilled from the railroad
cars but they ran out of groceries anyway. I had to spend my wages to keep them fed. I went
to see them most every night when my work was done. Vivian wasn't a very good cook or
manager. I would take leftover food the Myers would give to me for them. I went to an old
man who owned a little grocery store close to Grandmothers and asked him if he would allow me
to get some things on credit, as my little brothers and sisters needed it. I said I would pay him
as soon as I got some money from my Mother, which I was expecting at anytime. He gave me
credit and I bought flour, lard and some other things they needed. He told my Grandmother he
was rather impressed because we didn't buy any candy or cookies and things like that. This old
man was very nice to us and I appreciated his accommodation.
In November there was an epidemic of Smallpox and no one was allowed to go to school
without a vaccination. It cost $5 for a vaccination and I didn't have it, so none of us could go to
school. I wrote Mother and told her we were not attending school. She told me to send them to
Price and sent me money for the children to come home on. The folks had moved to Price and
were renting two rooms from Will or Bill Davis, a friend of theirs. When I paid Mr. Boshard
the balance I owed him and bought the tickets for the three children, there was not enough for
my ticket. I stayed at the Myers and worked for another two or three weeks to get me a ticket.
I left Provo the 24th of December on the train and arrived in Price Christmas Eve in the
early afternoon. I didn't know how homesick I was until I saw my Mother, Father, Sisters and
Brothers. It was a really happy homecoming. Mother took me to town to the Coop Store to get
a few more things for Christmas. She asked me what I would like. I told her just anything, but
I saw the most beautiful doll I had ever seen. It had been marked down but I said I'm too old for
a doll but I kept going back to see that doll. Mother got the groceries and other things she
needed while I was looking around. I had no idea what I would get for Christmas. I was just
happy to be with my family and feel the love and security. We got up Christmas morning all
delighted as it was very special to us and I was watching my sisters and brothers and all at once I
spotted that doll. I just couldn't believe it had my name on it. What a thrill it was, more money
than my folks could really afford. A few years later I gave this doll to Lucile. She loved it
very much. I made clothes for it and also for all the children.
Father sold the Burn's place and we moved into Grandma Bigelow's home. This was the
winter before we went to the reservation.
CHAPTER 4
There was a revolt on the reservation, the Government threw the reservation open for
homesteading by the White people. The Indians revolted and went into Arizona or New
Mexico. The government had to send the troops to bring them back. It was said that Tim (an
Indian we later knew) was one of the leaders of this revolt.
My Father and Uncle Elijah Bigelow went to Myton and contacted Mr. Purdy, as he
knew the land that was open for home-steadying. After looking over the maps and the country,
they decided to locate on the Bench on the north side of Lakefort River. They each had their
own acreage, two Z's. Mr. Purdy then leased them forty acres of his cultivated land to grow a
crop that year. There were no canals or water on the Bench. We had two wagons, one was
loaded with furniture, the other with the family bedding, food, camping equipment and pulled the
cow. We had one horse that ran away as soon as we were to start. They put him on the
furniture wagon. The horse settled down after the run.
We left Spring Glen on the 15th of April, 1908 and began our move to the Indian
Reservation in Duchesne, Uinta County, Utah. I was 13 years old. That year the Government
opened up the Indian Reservation to the White People to homestead. This was a great
opportunity to pioneer and build up that part of the state. To me the trip was exciting and
eventful.
One day while traveling in Nine-Mile Canyon (which is found out of Price, Utah, we
stopped for dinner. After dinner we loaded up and started on. The horse ran away again and
when we all got settled down someone said, "Where is the baby?" We were so worried we had
left her. Father unhooked the horse from the wagon, left the harness on and rode back about
five miles where we had camped. He found Vie (our three-year-old) asleep under a tree. When
we saw Father returning with her in his arms, we were all so relieved. When we reached the
Wells where the Freighter and people camped (it was a watering place with a store where
groceries, grain and hay could be bought) it was cold and looked like a storm. We ate supper
and then my Father put a large tarpaulin down. We made all the beds on one half and covered
the beds with the other half. He drove stakes down to bring the tarp over our heads so we could
be protected from the storm but could breathe. It snowed that night and I remember feeling so
warm and cozy under that snow.
Our family was a very happy family. We sang songs, lots of them. We played several
games and this is a few of them:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
"Tag"
"I See"
"Pomp Pomp Pull-Away"
"Rock Tag"
"Hide and Seek"
"I See a Wooly Wooly Wolf"
"Run Sheepy Run"
One day while we were following behind the wagon up a hill, we spied a strange rock.
The rock was in the middle of the road. It had writing on it which said, "Tip me over, if you
dare." Well, we tipped it over and there was a sheet of paper under the rock which read, "April
Fool, you are a fool. How far would you be if you hadn't stopped for me."
When we stopped that night Uncle Elijah said, "There's a bunch of freighters here, I'm
going to see if I can trade this run-away horse for something else." He made a trade for a big
sorrel, sway-backed horse and a little brown horse with crippled knees. The big horse was Tex,
a very balky horse and Cromo, the most faithful little horse you ever saw. We could ride him or
they could use him as one of the team. We took turns riding him the rest of the way.
We camped in Myton the next night with Uncle Dan and Aunt Laura Dennis (who is my
Father's sister). They had moved there the year before. Then we went on to the Purdy place.
Father and Uncle Lige set up three tents with boarded up sides and dirt floors. A large 16' x 16'
tent, where Mother and father slept, was also used as the kitchen and dining room. The two
small tents were for the children's beds and Uncle Lige and Aunt May. We were only a short
distance from the river and this delighted Mother. She loved to fish and the fish were so thick in
the river. She also had a 22 rifle and occasionally she shot a rabbit or fowl. We had something
different almost every day. It was hard to get fresh meat any other way.
I was intrigued with this new way of life. I took an interest in every new phase. Father
taught me to irrigate the grain, corn, and garden. After Father and Uncle Lige got the crops in,
they went to the sawmill to get logs and lumber to build our house on the Bench.
Walter was born the 1st of June 1908, in a tent on Lake Fork River (on the Purdy place).
Mrs. Snowbougas was the mid-wife. He was born breach and both he and Mother almost died.
Aunt May would not look or touch Walter after he was born. Aunt May had never held Walter
or any baby since her son, Bobby, had died of pneumonia at Grandmother's house. Aunt May
was very bitter and cried a lot of the time.
When my brother Walter was about six weeks old, Mother and Aunt May took us to the
river to swim. Mother was fishing and Aunt May was watching from the bank as all the
children were swimming or playing in the water. We all got out and started to dress when Vie,
my little three-year old sister, went back in the water. I ran to get her, but Vie had gone where
the water was deep. She slipped out of my hands. I tried again but she went under again.
Mother was holding Walter. She just threw Walter at Aunt May's arms and jumped in the water.
When Aunt May held Walter in her arms she changed. They worked with Vie to get the water
out of her lungs. It was a close call. After that, Aunt May loved the baby. It helped her get
over the loss of her baby, Bobby. Walter gave her comfort and she accepted him.
As the days went on, whenever Mother and Aunt May were able to leave, they went to
the sawmill with the men. They were gone for a week sometimes. My Father and Uncle Lige
wanted to have their wives go with them whenever it was possible. They had trained me to take
responsibility, so I was left in charge of the children. They'd come back over the weekend or
when they had their work accomplished.
One morning I built a big fire in the stove to heat water. The stovepipe got red hot. It
caught the tent on fire around the pipe. I didn't see it but Vivian did. Instead of her telling us,
she started to run for Mr. Purdy. I wondered what was the matter. I saw her looking back at
the tent and discovered the fire. I ran back and put some heavy wood on top of the stove (to
stand on) and took a wet dishtowel and wiped out the fire. The hole now was as big as a wash
tub.
One Monday morning we arose early, as we were used to doing. The folks had come
home over the weekend and left washing for us to do. We fixed the black tub on the rocks and
filled it with water to heat. We built a fire underneath and the water was heating while we had
our breakfast. Vivian didn't like washing dishes so I washed them and sent the children to
change the beds in the small tent. I sorted the clothes and put the hot suds water in the washer
and started to wash. I thought they would get through and come help turn the washer but when
they didn't come I went to see what they were doing. They were pillow fighting! The beds and
feather mattresses were all over the floor. Well, I was mad and beat up on all of them. They
were mad at me and ran to the river. I threatened them and told them they wouldn't get anything
to eat. I proceeded to get the washing done, as this was my responsibility.
When they got hungry, they sneaked up through the corn into the back of the tent. They
would get some bread, milk and some things out of the garden. Well, I was beaten on that
score. I washed and cried all day. I had Vie, who was three years old, with me. I got the
clothes hung on the fence and the beds made. I felt as though there was nothing for me and
wished I might die. I decided to do just that. I took Vie and a small bucket of milk so she
could eat and started up through the field on the road to Cedar Hill. The children saw me
leaving and called. They asked me where I was going. I replied, "I'm going off and die, that's
where I'm going." Well, Mr. Purdy saw me going with Vie and wondered, "Now what's up?"
Then he saw the children following me, tugging a feather bed and quilts. He asked what was
going on. They said, "Verona is going off to die and we are taking her a bed." He asked them
what happened. They told him I had beaten them. Vivian said that Mother told her if I hit her
she didn't have to mind me. Mr. Purdy said, "You get the hell back with that bedding. I'll get
Verona." I was trudging along with Vie and I heard a horse coming. I took her behind a Cedar
tree and told her to keep still and wait till they passed.
Well, Mr. Purdy was tracking me and as I stooped with my arms around my little sister, I
heard his voice. "Verona, what in the Hell are you doing here?" I knew I had a friend in Mr.
Purdy and I started to cry. I told him the whole story. He lifted me onto the saddle and put Vie
in front of me and he got on behind. He took me to his place. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and
when we came to his house I smelled the heavenly smell of food simmering on the back of the
stove. He had fresh pork and parsnips. He fixed our supper and opened a can of peaches. I
think that was the best meal I have ever tasted in my life. He new something was wrong when
he saw me leaving. When he saw the children dragging the bed, he got his horse and followed
me. After we had finished eating, he took me home and said, "I want to have a talk with you
children. You better mind your sister when she is left in charge." Vivian said, "But Mama said
we didn't have to mind if she hit us." Mr. Purdy said, "You listen here, I say you better mind
her. If she hits you, its because you deserve it. If you don't mind her, I'll tie a rock around your
neck and throw you in the river." Vivian didn't like Mr. Purdy and was afraid of him.
Lamar and I had so many experiences because we worked together much of the time.
Every evening when the days' work was done, when the folks were putting in their crops, we
would take the horses up on what we called the Blue Cedar Bench to graze overnight. Every
night (usually when we were coming back) there would be rattlesnakes crossing the roadway on
this hill. We would take rocks and kill them. You wouldn't believe the rattlesnake rattlers on
Lamar's hatband, it was so full. I don't know why the folks were not worried about us killing
these rattlesnakes. They didn't seem to be very concerned about it. One night, in the dusk of
the evening, we were fighting one snake by throwing rocks at it. While we were trying to kill it,
another one came up from behind and grabbed Lamar by the overalls and was hanging on to him.
The fangs had fastened into the leg of the overall, never touching his skin. Lamar was going,
"Yipe, yipe, yipe, yipe" and trying to shake it off. Well, I didn't know what to do. I grabbed
this snake and pulled it. I remember how slick it felt and how warm. I had never touched a
snake before. I jerked it from his overalls and we killed it. Believe me, after that, we always
looked behind us before we killed a snake.
It was cool and early in the morning as we came near the top of a valley. There were
two Mountain Lions (male and female), in a flat place watching us. We stopped our team.
Lamar wrapped the lines around the hub so the horses could not go, as they were very nervous.
We got out and gathered rocks and went toward the lions, throwing rocks. We thought we'd
scare them away. Instead of them running like we thought they would (we had run lions away
before), they came toward us. We could see that they meant business. We dropped the rocks
and ran back to the wagon. Lamar jerked the lines out from the wheel and we took off in a
hurry, as the horses were anxious to get away too.
After we moved into our house on the bench the next year, Wallace Dennis, my cousin
from Myton, came to spend a week or so with us. We went to change the water and saw a great
big, long blow snake, or king snake. We followed it. It went into a hole in the mountain or a
raise that was there. We dug it out and found a whole nest of snakes, every size that you could
imagine, from tiny to huge snakes. It was a nest of king snakes, but we didn't know the
difference. We killed snakes and killed snakes. After we had done all the killing, Wallace
picked up the biggest snake and swung it around my neck. I was so mad at him, I could have
killed him. I ran after him and unwound this snake from my neck and threw it on the ground.
He ran backwards laughing at me. When he turned, I almost caught him. He fell into a cactus
bed and got cactus in his hands and face. It was really terrible. We sat and picked out cactus
(he was in very much pain) and then we went home. We didn't do much about the water
situation, as we were supposed to have done. I didn't know the difference between rattlesnakes
and bull snakes. I thought all snakes should be killed. I killed many, many blow snakes.
Every 4th of July, while we lived on the Reservation, I would sing this song:
THE FLAG WITHOUT ONE STAIN
For years and years I've waved orr my people,
Orr land and sea, over church, town and Steeple.
Foremost in battle, proudly I reigned.
Triumphant over thee, without one stain.
Stars that were blotted are shinning once again.
The angel of peace has wiped out the stain.
O' my America, O' my America proudly I wave orr
thee sweet land of liberty.
CHAPTER 5
This year there were many bees. They were like wasps, only very much smaller and
brown in color (they were even smaller than the honeybees). One day, as Lamar and I were
going up the Nailon Hill, we hit a rock or something that some bees were nesting under. They
swarmed all over us and the horses. Lamar was going, "Yipe, yipe, yipe, yipe." The horses
started to run, helping us get away. This was one time old Tex didn't balk.
Many times Lamar and I were sent to our homestead to take things or bring things back.
We usually took Cromo or Tex to pull the wagon. We often had trouble with Tex. He would
see that hill (Nailon Hill) just as he pulled out of the river and would just stop and refuse to go up
the hill. He would throw his head over the other horses' neck and place his hoof up and over the
tongue of the wagon. He would stay that way until we would undo him and straighten him out.
Then we would try to get him to go, but he just wouldn't go; although it wasn't hard to pull, he
was just balky. Cromo would pull the wagon if Tex would just help. One day we had tried
everything so I said to Lamar, "Well what about building a fire under him and he'll move." We
built a fire under old Tex. Well, he moved on all right, just enough to put the fire under the
wagon. To keep from burning the wagon, we were wildly dragging fire from under the wagon
and dousing it with water. Sometime we would have to take him away from the wagon and let
Cromo pull the wagon alone. Sometimes, if the mood hit him, he would go without any trouble.
The Starmonts lived on the roadway between our place and the Nailons. They had a son
Walt, about 12, and a little girl, Genny, about 7. He was a minister. We went to Sunday
School to their place. They had a one-room cabin and a "bowery" in front of the cabin where
we had Sunday School. We learned new songs. Lamar was about Walt's age. Everyone knew
Walt and what a fine boy he was. One day he was letting the horses graze while his father was
having dinner. He tied the ropes of both horses together and then tied them around his waist.
Something frightened the horses and they started running. As Walt was in between, they beat
his head and body against the rocks and prickly pears. They put him in warm water to try to get
him to come out of it, as he had cactus in his whole body. Lucile reminded me that Lamar was
talking to Walt Starmont when this happened. Lamar told my folks and Mr. Purdy. I didn't
remember that. They buried him there by the big rock not far from the house.
After Walter was born and Mother was feeling better, Father wanted us to see where our
new home was going to be. We were anxious too, so we got in the wagon. We had to forge the
river by the Nailon Place (The Nailons, lived across the river and would come and watch us
cross.) The river was still high from the spring runoff but they decided they could cross in
safety. We drove the wagons into the river and found it was deeper than they thought. The
horses were swimming and the wagon-box floated out of the back keepers and swung to the
lower side of the wagon. The wagon-box was waterproof so we didn't get wet. We came out
on the other side below the crossing all pretty well shook up. The Nailons were all there to
watch the crossing. Mrs. Nailon said to Mother, "You got more gizzard than I have." We
made a better crossing coming back. It was so good to see where we would live.
I had another experience with the Nailons during the summer. One time when Mother
and Aunt May went with the men to the sawmill, we were alone. Fernon Nailon (or Vernon as
we called him at that time) their oldest son about 16 years old, came rushing to our tent saying
his Mother was dying. He wanted me or someone to come quick and help. Well, Mother had
heart trouble and several times I had given her pills for that. She also had camphor for smelling.
I took the camphor and some of Mother's heart pills, got on the horse and we rode very fast to
their house. Mrs. Nailon was passed out. I used the camphor as smelling salts, rubbed her
temples and throat with it and she came to. I gave her one of Mother's heart pills, massaged her
heart, neck and temples. Well, she got better and they thought I was wonderful and swore
eternal friendship and love. I didn't, of course, but they were very thankful to me. Every time I
passed their place I would stop and say "Hello." Once the Nailons found a bee tree. They had
all their dish pans and buckets full of honey-comb. I ate some of this honeycomb and honey and
it was very good. They gave me a bucketful to take home. This is how I became acquainted
and interested in honeybees in trees.
One day as I was passing the Nailons on my horse, I knocked on the door. No one
answered and since the door was open, I walked in calling, "Anybody home?" I went into the
kitchen, I saw the cupboard moved out. It was like an open door from the wall and opened into
the hillside. I looked in and they were all there. I said, "Oh, I didn't know you had a room back
here?" Mr. Nailon was cursing the worst cuss words I had ever heard and said, "What's she
doin' in here?" Mrs. Nailon ran and grabbed me and took me outside and said, "Oh dearie,
dearie don't ever tell anybody about this, your life depends on it." Well, she put the fear of God
in me and believe me, I never did tell anybody. I didn't know what I had seen and I couldn't
imagine what the fuss was all about, but I got the message. I was perfectly dumb as far as
knowing what was going on. I didn't tell until the Nailons had moved away and I was married.
Later I found out there was a still in that cave room. The Nailons made bootleg whiskey and
sold it to the Indians.
Mrs. Nailon had high hopes that I would marry Vernon and become her daughter-in-law.
She thought we were meant to be together. I would say to her, "I am only 13, not old enough to
marry." She would say, "If you're big enough, you're old enough." They were from Tennessee
and could not read or write but had hearts of gold. Honest and wonderful people if you were
their friend. That's the way those people were. She chewed tobacco. She could hit a
knothole, with her spit, clear across the room. I heard several people mention, "Did you ever
see Mrs. Nailon spit tobacco?" It was really funny. I told her I couldn't marry Vernon, that I
didn't love him and I wasn't old enough. I finally convinced her and then she would sing this
song to me:
"Good-bye little girl - good-bye
Don't cry little girl - don't cry
You've told me more lies than stars in the skies
Good-bye little darling - good-bye."
I want to record one more thing that happened to me in the early spring. The folks let
me go to Myton on Cromo to get a few groceries and the mail. On my way down, my horse got
sick and just didn't want to go. At last, after leading him and urging him, I reached the Lake
Fork River where it empties into the Duchesne. There was nice green grass and it was cool
there. I took off the saddle and turned Cromo loose. He rolled and seemed in a lot of misery.
He wouldn't eat or drink. I had a feed pack with grain and I tried to get him to eat this but he
wouldn't. After a while he seemed better so I saddled him again and went on into Myton. I got
the mail and groceries. I remember I had a bucket of syrup and lard. Mr. Waugh helped me
divide the load into a seamless sack and tied it on the back of the saddle. I started home. I
prodded, urged and got off and led the horse, trying to get home. He was so sick he simply
refused to go. I was still six miles or more from home and it was getting dark. I took off the
saddle and bridle and sack of groceries, hid them from the road behind a large sagebrush by a net
wire fence. I turned Cromo loose so he might die.
I then proceeded to trudge along the road towards home. It was quite dark by this time.
I saw a light in a tent. I went over to the tent and told the people what had happened to my
horse. Their name was McFee and they had two little girls. They were eating supper of rice
and milk and they gave me a bowl. I was hungry and very thankful for the food. I was hoping
they would ask me to stay the night or offer to take me home, but no offer came. They had one
bed, in a small tent, on the floor. I said, "I had better go," and left. I was almost to the Indian's
place and nervous. As I went along the road I heard a horse coming. I thought it might be an
Indian so I stepped aside into the brush until the horse and man passed. Then I heard Uncle
Elijah's voice. I called out and he said, "Is that you, Verona?" Well, there was never a more
welcome meeting. Aunt May and Uncle Lige were on old Bill, a big gray horse, with a folded
quilt as we only had one saddle. Uncle Lige helped me on the back of the horse. I don't think I
have ever been more thankful. The next morning Uncle Lige went to find Cromo (alive or
dead). He retrieved the groceries and saddle. Cromo had recovered from his stomachache. I
was so happy to see that little horse well again.
CHAPTER 6
I want to tell of the Summers people who lived about 1 1/2 or 2 miles South from the
Purdy place. I was 13 years old. There were children about our age and others either older or
younger. They had a large family. We got acquainted with them. We would play with those
kids and they would come to our place sometimes. The oldest boy's name was Emery Neilsen,
about two years older than I. He was a child by his Mother's first husband. All the rest of them
were Summers. He liked me pretty well. Of course, I thought it was really nice to have a boy
pay attention to me. When we'd play games, he'd always hold my hand and run with me, things
like that. One time we went pine nut hunting with them, there was Vivian, Lamar and I. I had
never done anything like that before. They gathered these green cones and built a fire and threw
them in. They would open up and drop out the pine nuts. The cones were sticky and we threw
them in the fire, burning off the gum and making the cones open up so we could shake out the
nuts. They would rake them out of the fire after they burst out. We gathered pine-nuts, my
first experience with that deal. I rode in Emery's saddle and he rode behind me on this trip. I
was only thirteen but I had a ball. I thought I had a boyfriend and felt quite grown-up. We
were sticky and dirty from the fire and black cones. When we got home with our nuts, we
cleaned up with kerosene and coal oil to remove the gum, and soap and water to remove the dirt.
Verona talks about them finding bee trees and gathering honey and gave her bucketful.
She got acquainted with honeybees and trees.
The Summers family taught us many things. They raised sugar cane, the kind you make
molasses with. When they gathered it, we were invited down to help. We found out how they
made molasses. They stripped off the leaves from the cane and we took turns turning a clothes'
wringer (a regular clothes' wringer they had fastened onto a tub). They ran the cane through this
wringer to squeeze the sap from the cane into the tub. We did that all one day. Mr. Summers
had a vat that he used on the fire to cook this juice down to molasses. The sap was put in a large
boiler and a fire was built under. This sap was kept cooking until it was thick enough. They
had to regulate the fire just right, not too hot, but keeping a slow steady boil. We were playing
games and were going to have molasses candy. It was thickening so we cooked some into
candy, which we stretched. We all got very sticky pulling the candy and eating it. We played
games like hide-and-seek, Run-Sheep-Run and Kick-The-Can, etc. This was something none of
us ever forgot, I think.
The Summers also had a lovely garden growing melons and cantaloupes. We didn't have
any in our garden so this was a very welcome treat. We visited with the Summers quite often
during the time we were at Purdy's.
The Sands family, who lived across the river from Mr. Purdy, were our friends too.
There was Mr. Sands, their older daughter, Bessie, Walter, Grace and Malcom. Grace was my
age, Walter two years older. One time Walter Sands came and got me. He put a pair of his
skates on my feet and taught me how to ice skate when the river had frozen over. I had to wear
Lamar's shoes as they had a heavier sole than mine. We would skate up and down the river. I
thought that was really an accomplishment. One day, after I could skate, I got really brave and
left him and went up the river and met a bobcat face to face. Boy, that was the first bobcat that
I'd ever seen so close (besides the mountain lions we had seen). I whirled around and came
back down and told Walter. He went back with me but the bobcat was gone when we got there.
We often visited with the Sands family. Bessie was an old maid, having never been
married. Mr. Purdy was rather sweet on her. He was also a very jealous person. There was a
Mr. Richardson that lived on the bench. He also was sweet on Bessie and used to come and
visit her. Mr. Richardson reported that one night, when he was leaving the Sands place and
going up the hill, he had been shot at. It frightened him very much. Then another night after
he came to visit with Bessie, he just went to go in his door and there was a rifle shot that went
through his hat and through his door. (I saw the hat with the hole in it.) The bullet went right
through his hat. I never knew who had done this, but I always suspected Mr. Purdy. I wouldn't
say that it was because he was a very good man to me and I liked him, but he was a very jealous
person. Many years later my husband, Ern Babcock, and I, went to work for Mr. Purdy at hay
harvest time. I was to cook and Ern to work in the hay. Mr. Purdy told Ern this story and we
all had a good laugh about it.
In October it snowed and it was very cold in the tents. Mr. Purdy said, "Move into my
house." He had quite a large cabin, four rooms. We moved into two of them until they finished
gathering their crops. We were rather crowded in two rooms, but warm. After gathering in our
crops, we had to haul our grain up to Bob Marshall's, as they had a trashing machine. After the
trashing, they hauled the grain to our ranch (about five miles). Uncle Lige's house was finished
to the square. They had built two or three bins. The bins had sloped tops so the grain would
stay dry. They held oats, corn and wheat, and had locks on them. They dug a potato cellar to
put the potatoes in, covering it with straw and dirt, with a trap door to get in. The potatoes were
for seeds and eating in the spring. The grain was for feeding the livestock.
We moved to Myton that Winter to go to school. We rented a two-room house the
Government had built for the Indians (that they didn't want). Uncle Lige and Aunt May moved
to Spring Glen where Uncle Lige worked in the mines for the winter. They took Vivian with
them. Dad got all of us settled before he went to work for Preston Nutter in Nine-Mile Canyon.
He cut much wood, but LaMar and I had to do some woodcutting to keep us going, as it was a
very cold winter. Uncle Dan and Aunt Laura Dennis lived 1½, or 2 miles from us. We bought
milk from the Beggs Family our close neighbors. He was a Government man. They had 10 or
12 cats and when they milked the cows they put milk into a trough. I liked to go at milking time
and watch those cats. They had the cats to protect the grain in the granary and catch the mice,
as they were plentiful. It was a very cold winter, ice formed on the table as fast as we would
wipe it off. I never gained much learning in the school in Myton, but much experience. I think
it has been helpful in my life.
Our Myton Community Christmas was a fun experience. We went bobsled riding, to
dances and a town Christmas party with a Santa. Everyone in the community got joke presents
for all the prominent people. Mr. Purdy was there. He laughed very heartily when different
ones got those things, but when he went up to get his gift, it was a jumping-jack on a string. He
thought that was an insult and became very angry and left the room. I followed him and said,
"Mr. Purdy, you should be ashamed. You laughed when the joke was on others yet you couldn't
take a joke on your-self." Well, he calmed down and came back to the dance. All the children
got candy and nuts (a real treat) from Santa.
The Dennis twins, my cousins, were born that winter while Uncle Dan was gone for a
load of freight. Twin boys!!! When they told Aunt Laura she had twin sons she said, "Oh no,
what will Dan say. He is so worried about having another mouth to feed." Grandpa Dennis,
Jim, Father and Uncle Dan's brother lived in a one-room cabin close by Uncle Dan, who had a
two-room cabin. I wonder now how people got along in those small houses. Some of the boys
slept in the attic. One time Mother and the children went to visit Aunt Laura and Uncle Dan.
A very fierce blizzard storm and snow came and we could not get home. There we were all
piled up in those two small rooms. The blizzard lasted two or three days.
After about three days of being confined during that storm, Mellie, my cousin, and I
begged the folks to let us go to school. They said we couldn't make it in that deep snow. We
convinced them that the snowdrifts were crusted over and we could go on top of the snow, so
they consented. We lived about two or three miles from the schoolhouse. I guess we went a
mile or so on the crusted snow before we ran into a drift and the crust broke and we were in deep
snow. We fought our way out and started on, but soon this happened again. I guess our
working so hard kept us from freezing to death. Finally I was so cold and tired I lay down on
the snow. Mellie said, "You've got to get up and go." She was about two years older. I tried,
but just couldn't make it. She left me and ran to the schoolhouse, as it wasn't much farther.
The teachers got a sled and came and got me. They took off my shoes and stockings and rubbed
my feet, hands and face with snow to draw out the frost. My feet were frozen and I had very
sore feet all winter. Even into the summer my heels had bleeding sores.
Aunt Mary and Uncle Ren Ewell, Father's brother, lived close to us in a boarded up tent.
It was so cold they had to keep the fires going day and night. I was over to Aunt Mary's when
the tent caught on fire. They were trying to put out the fire and I saw pieces of burning tent
falling. I also saw a five gallon can of coal oil and I didn't want it to get ignited. I grabbed it
and ran out with it. They said it was a crazy thing for me to do, I could have been blown up.
This happened a month or so after the big storm.
CHAPTER 7
In the Spring of 1909, Uncle Elijah, Aunt May and Dad came back to Myton. We
loaded up and went back to the homestead. The teams were not fat after a hard winter and our
wagons were heavily loaded. To reduce the load, Lamar walked all the way, 17 to 20 miles.
At noon we stopped for dinner. My Father killed a cottontail rabbit with a rock. He was an
expert at throwing rocks and with many other things also. Mother fried that rabbit and it tasted
very good.
When we arrived at the homestead, we found the grain bins we had put corn for feed and
seed, were empty. The potato pit had also been broken into and some potatoes on top were
frozen and had to be removed. While they were wondering what to do, Mr. Nailon came on a
horse and said, "Mr. Ewell and Mr. Bigelow, I guess you found your grain bins empty. I have
your grain and corn at my place and you can have them when you get ready." He told the story
of how he had ridden by our place and seen that the grain bins had been broken into and the
potato pit was uncovered and left open. He covered the pit and brought his wagon and took the
grain and corn to his place so we would have grain in the spring (some neighbor).
Verona is 14 years old
Times were hard, we needed money for shoes and other things. Father went to Price and
by order of Mayor Frank Olsen, my Father put in the first cement sidewalks in Price. Whenever
I would walk over those sidewalks, I would remember my Father doing them. They were very
good and they lasted as long as I lived. This was the same year Father cut off my baby Brother,
Walter's, beautiful blonde curls. We all cried. We thought they were so lovely and he looked
so cute. Walter looked like a little boy instead of a beautiful little girl. We had a picture of him
in a little sailor suit with those curls. I haven't seen the picture for years, I don't know what
happened to it.
Sometimes people ran out of things they needed. One time Mother sent Lamar and
Lucile to borrow a bucket of sugar from Mr. Purdy. When they came through the fence, the
bottom of the bucket caught on the wire and tipped the bucket upside down. The lid came off
spilled sugar on the ground. I was in the yard turning the washing machine when I saw what
happened. I ran and tried to gather some of the sugar and put it in the bucket. When Aunt May
heard the washer stop, she looked out and saw me gathering up sugar. She went to Mother and
said, "Lilly you should give Verona a good whipping, she tried to take the sugar away from the
kids and spilled it on the ground." The first thing I knew, Mother was whipping me with a
switch and saying, "You learn to mind your own business." The children tried to tell her, but I
don't know if she ever knew just what happened. I was very broken-hearted!!! Aunt May
didn't like me the first year or two (thought I was favored) so she tried to change things in
Vivian's favor.
They finished Uncle Elijah's house and we lived in the tents. Then they went to work on
our house as they had all the building materials. Father worked for the Government dividing the
water from Close C. Canal. He built a ditch from the canal to our place so we had water. I
think they broke ground and planted on Uncle Lige's place first. It was wonderful how they
worked together and shared everything with no disagreements or arguments.
Uncle Lige Bigelow made a trip to Provo with his wagon that summer. He got a load of
fruit and brought Grandmother Bigelow to the Reservation. They brought a lot of apricots and
other fruit that Mother and Aunt May bottled for the Winter. Uncle Lige made a trench along
the fence line and planted these pits from the apricots. He then left them there over the winter.
The next Spring these pits had sprouted and sent up little shoots and they took these shoots and
planted an orchard of apricots in our yard and also in Uncle Liges'.
We had no baby sitters, all the children went with the parents wherever there was a dance
or a party. One night Uncle Lige, Aunt May and our family were in the wagon going to Bonita
to a dance. They always had intermission and something to eat about eleven thirty to twelve
o-clock at night. We enjoyed these parties very much. As we were going down the hill to
cross the river to go to Bonita, there was a big tree growing limbs right out over the road. I was
looking forward and I saw something shining like two eyes which it was. When the horses
came close they jumped and started to run down the hill. Uncle Lige said it was a Mountain
Lion laying up there to jump on some animal that came under the tree. He was ready to jump on
any passing animal that he could. This was some of the experiences we went through. Later
Mr. Atwood had a young colt killed right in that spot, under that same tree. They chopped that
tree down so that this wouldn't happen again.
I think this would be a good place to put in the fact that the water was so high that year
that I was not able to get back home across the river. It had washed out all the bridges. The
Duchesne Bridge, on the Duchesne River, was washed out and the people in the North part of the
country could not get to any of the large towns to do shopping. They had a ferry, over the
Duchesne, so people could get into Duchesne to get supplies. I went with Uncle Ren and Aunt
Mary Ewell. They camped where they were building a canal to water the homes in Mountain
Home. I was there for probably two weeks.
Mr. Lucien Miles came to Aunt Mary and said, "My wife is going to have a baby and
she's there all alone. I was wondering if I could get Verona to go stay with her. I don't like to
leave her alone." Aunt Mary said, "Would you like to go." I said, "Yes, I would." He said,
"We can't pay you much, but we'll pay you something." I was glad to stay with Mrs. Lucy
Miles. She took the 'Doctor Book' and showed me the whole process about birth.
She had one little girl, ViBee that was three years old. She told me what we had to do.
We made a pad of papers, magazines and so forth, and sewed them together and put a sheet over
them for a pad to put on her bed in place of rubber sheets. She had everything in place. If I
was caught there alone with her this was the plan: When she took sick I was to go to the
Farnsworths and they were to go from there for the mid-wife. I was to come straight back to the
Miles and stay with her till the mid-wife arrived. In case anything happened before the
mid-wife got there, I had full instructions as to what I should do. She had told me that she had
prepared the rug thread to tie the cord.
When she did take sick, she got me up about 10 or 11 o'clock at night. She said,
"Verona, I'm having pains. You must go to the Farnsworths as fast as you can." I built a fire,
put the water on, run to the field to harness up a horse and rode to the Farnsworths and back.
When I got there, Mrs. Miles said, "Verona this baby is gonna be born before they get here.
You've got to take over. You won't be afraid will you?" I said, "No, no I won't be afraid." So
the baby came, the first baby. She told me how I was to pick it up and spank it so it would cry.
I did this and wrapped it in the receiving blanket that we had ready. Everything was okay and
then she said, "Oh Verona, the after birth is coming, take care of it." I got the slop jar and got
ready for that and when it came it looked like another baby. I was so surprised I couldn't hardly
speak, but I said, "Mrs. Miles it isn't after birth." She explained to me what an afterbirth looked
like and I said, "This is another baby." Well, we weren't prepared for two and we didn't have
another receiving blanket. I quickly grabbed a diaper and wrapped the baby. I had to get more
thread because I didn't have any ready to tie the cord. I put the first baby in her arms and then I
had to take care of the afterbirth. By the time the midwives bustled in, I had delivered twins.
The girl they named after me and the other one was a boy.
I was fourteen years old that spring. That was my first mid-wife experience. Shortly
after this happened, Uncle Ren and Aunt Mary came. They were going to Duchesne to get
some supplies. Mrs. Miles had given me some money and I needed shoes and a dress. I was
ashamed of the heavy shoes I had to wear to a dance. I asked Aunt Mary to get me material for
a dance dress and a pair of shoes. Voile was very special at that time and I wanted a dance dress
with some lace. Mrs. Miles said she had some lace, just get the material. Aunt Mary got me
the voile and patent leather, high heeled slippers with a buckle. These were my first high heels.
I thought they were the prettiest things that I had ever seen in my life. I didn't have any clothes
with me. Mrs. Miles had made me a couple of gingham dresses from the gingham she had. We
made this dress, I don't remember just what kind it was.
I had a bed out in the granary. One night I came home from the dance and took my
clothes off. The next morning when I got up, one of my shoes were gone. I tore that bed to
pieces and looked everywhere, but I just couldn't find that shoe. It was a slipper really. I was
very sad about this. This was the first time I'd worn these slippers to the dance. About a week
later when I woke up, I heard a thumping. I looked and there was a rat. I heard the rats
running around at night, in the corner, with my shoe. Not the one I'd lost, but the other one that
was left. I hollered and grabbed a stick or something and threw it at this rat. It ran, but left the
shoe in the eaves. I got that shoe and ran outside and followed the rat to its hole. It had a hole
in a raise that was under a bush. I told the Miles and we dug in there and found the rat's nest.
Well, we found all the things we had been missing, like spoons, knives and forks. I don't
remember what all we found, but we found a lot of stuff in there along with my other shoe.
After the high waters had gone down, I left there and went home. Ed Stewart was going
to marry Alta Farnsworth. They had to go to Vernal to get married, about 90 or 95 miles from
Mountain Home. When they decided to go the river was low enough that they could ford it. I
went with them and they took me to my home. My folks were happy to have them and they
stayed there over night and then they went on to Vernal and were married.
CHAPTER 8
I had many encounters with Indian Tim. He would come by the house and I would go
out and talk to him. He would say, "Mike." I would return his greeting. He asked my name
and I told him it was Judy. I don't know what made me do this, only in school I had a boyfriend
and they called us Punch and Judy. When he came to our home, he would say, "Where is
Judy?"
Once when the folks were away, Lamar and I were watering the grain. The Prairie Dogs
were very thick and were eating the grain and digging holes in the fields. When we saw a
Prairie Dog hole, we would run water down the hole. When the dogs came out, we would kill
them. We hung them on the fence thinking it would be "as a scarecrow" to keep the others
away.
All at once, there was One-Eyed Indian Tim watching us. He said, "Mike," meaning
hello. We were a little nervous with him there, as we had heard he was a very mean Indian.
We were about ready to go to the tent to get dinner, as we were hungry. I said to Lamar, "We
better not go as Tim might follow us." The other children were very frightened of Indians. We
stayed and Tim looked at the dogs on the fence. He picked four or five and said, "You
wantum?" We said, "No." He said, "Me havum'." We said, "Yes."
He gathered the greasewood, dug a hole and built a fire. When he had a lot of coals, he
took the coals out. He kept the fire going on the side, borrowing the shovel and making a mud
puddle. He covered two dogs with mud and placed them on the coals. After awhile he took
them off, thumped them (I guess he could tell by the sound if they were done). He put them
back for awhile and finally took them out. He peeled the mud off, the hide and the hair came
off with the mud. The meat looked white and delicious and smelled wonderful. We were so
hungry. He took off the heads, threw them and the entrails to his dogs. He broke off a leg and
offered it to us, but we said, "No thank you, not hungry." He ate and took the other one he had
cooked. He put them in a dirty sack with the other ones he had picked off the fence. He got
on his horse and left, to our relief. We went home to dinner. Wallace was always a tease. One
time we were to their place in Myton. He took a horny toad and put it down my neck. Because
it had been teased, it spit all over my back. This made a red mark and a very bad sore on my
back.
One day when Indian Tim came, we had some very nice Rhode Island Red Pullets loose
in the yard. He said, "Good chickens." I said, "Yes, but we have no rooster." He said, "Me
gottum, I bring puster." In a few days he brought a chicken in a sack. "I'll give you 50 cents
for rooster." "No, 75 cents." "No, I buy these to Mrs. Orr's, 50 cents." He took his rooster
and left. He went down to Orr's and asked Mrs. Orr how much she would sell her chickens for.
She told him 50 cents, but she had no more to sell. He came back and told me, "Me sell'um
puster 50 cents." I went in the house and got the money and gave it to him. He turned that
puster loose and I'll say that was the strangest chicken I had ever seen. He was a mixer of every
kind of chicken that ever was. He had patches of white, brown, black and red Dominick. He
also had long legs like a fighting chicken. Uncle Lige, Aunt May and the whole family called
him my chicken. They teased me and told me I got a bargain, a whole flock of chickens in one.
We didn't keep the rooster.
I also had some experiences with Tim's younger sister, White Lily, about my age. I
would speak to her as she was very bashful. She went to the school at Fort Duchesne. I would
give her cookies and she would visit with me. She told me she wanted to marry a white boy.
"What I do?" I told her she must dress like a white girl, go to dances and meet white boys. We
made a plan that when she got her next allotment, we would go to the store and buy the things
she needed. So sure enough, she came and we went to Hallott's Store. She picked out a bright
pink calico for a dress. I told her I'd make it for her. Then we got a pair of high-heeled shoes, a
pair of laced-up corsets and material for an underskirt. I made the dress and underskirt. She
came in the afternoon on Saturday. Dora Powell was there with me. White Lily was pleased
with the dress and we proceeded to get her ready. We curled her hair with curling irons heated
in the lamp. It was really hilarious to see an Indian with curly hair. Then we dressed her up in
her new corsets and laced them up tight. Then we put on her dress and her new shoes. We
went to the dance at the Lake Fork Schoolhouse, later called Upalco. We told all the boys
White Lily was looking for a white husband. We wanted them to dance with her and give her a
good time. They never did give her a chance to rest. She tried to sneak out the door, but some
boy would grab her and ask her to dance. Those shoes and corsets were killing her. She had
ridden her pony to the dance. After awhile she found a way to sneak away before anyone
noticed she was gone. We went looking for her but she and her pony were gone. Someone
found the shoes and corsets at the back of the schoolhouse. It really was a bad joke we played
on her. I didn't see her for a month or so. One day I was riding down the road to Purdy's and
met White Lily. I said, "Why did you run away, White Lily? White boys want to marry you."
She said, "White Lily marry Indian."
It was reported that One-Eyed Tim had got his eye put out by a neighbor of ours, Smith.
Mr. Smith and his wife lived in a tent just across and a little ways from where Tim and his family
lived. They said Tim was real mean when he was drunk. Tim came to the Smith's tent one
night when Mr. Smith was up the canyon getting out timber. Tim told Mrs. Smith he wanted
something to eat, for her to cook for him. She only had one egg in the house. She cooked that
and dug up what she could to feed him. He was knocking her around when Mr. Smith came
home. He saw Tim's horse there so he jumped off his wagon and looked through the glass that
was in the door. He saw this Indian knocking and ordering his wife around. He was really
mad. He grabbed him, took him out and beat him until Tim was unconscious. He took him and
threw him out into the road. There was a roadway between the Smiths and the Indian property.
He put him out there, probably thought he was dead. The next morning when he got up, he
looked out there and he was gone. He knew then that he hadn't killed him.
About 1912 or 1913, we heard that Tim had shot himself when he was drunk. The
Indian Agent didn't believe he did, but they made no investigation. The Nailons made bootleg
whiskey and sold it to the Indians. There was no proof. The Agent, Gene, and I believe Fernon
Nailon had come to deliver booze to Tim at his home. Tim had gotten nasty and Fernon had
shot him and fixed the rifle in a way that looked like Tim had shot himself. When we arrived at
the river, the casket was in the yard under the trees. We didn't see anyone but the Agents and
talked to them. We sat in the buggy for awhile to see what was going to happen. All at once
Tim's Mother started to howl and soon many others had joined in, sounding like a bunch of
howling coyotes. After a short time, a few Indians at a time would stop until they had all
stopped. The old Mother came with a sack of something. The Agent said it was probably food.
She tucked it down in the casket by Tim's neck. Then someone came with new blankets, folded
them lengthwise and tucked them in on the side of him. The Mother came with a small
buckskin bag and tucked it by his neck. They kept bringing things until the casket was so full
they couldn't close the lid. The Agent stopped them and took some of the blankets out and
closed the lid. The howling came at intervals and then the Agent said, "Its time to go."
They loaded the casket onto a spring wagon and tied Tim's horse, saddle and bridle at the
rear. The Agent talked to them and said, "You are not going to kill this horse?" They said, "No,
just take it to the burial ground." He allowed them to take it. It was getting towards sundown
when they lowered the casket in the grave. They started throwing dirt in and the Agent told
them they must not kill the horse. The Agent got in his car and left so he could get back to the
Fort before dark. Jean and I stayed and watched. They never threw another shovel of dirt, but
untied the horse from the wagon and led it over by the grave, facing Tim's head. They shot that
beautiful horse and pushed it in the grave on top of Tim, upside down. We could see its legs
flailing, as they started to throw the dirt in.
About a year after Tim's death, Big John, Tim's brother killed himself. This is the way
the story went: He took his family to Myton, got drunk, started home, beat up his wife and
threw her out in the brush. She was not dead but crawled to the road where someone found her
and went to investigate Big John. This is what they found: Horses shot, some dead, some
mares trying to deliver colts, dead dogs, dead chickens, dead cattle and when they entered the
house, the worst sight of all. One little girl was shot in one corner and a boy in the other corner.
Big John lay dead on the floor. Mrs. Murphy, who had the store at Upalco on the hill, where the
Indians came to buy things, said John owed him a small bill and Big John came with a beautiful
rifle and asked him if he would take the rifle for the bill. Mr. Murphy said, "Yes, but you don't
have to give me the gun, I'll wait till you get your allotment. Big John said, "No, you takem."
Mr. Murphy heard what had happened and decided that after Big John killed everything, he
settled his debt and shot himself with another gun.
During the summer, we had Indian visitors once in awhile. They always came begging
for food or whatever they could get. One time there were five Indians on horses who stopped at
our place. Mother had just finished baking bread. We had about six or eight loaves of bread
laying out on the table upside down, still warm. All of them stayed outside but one squaw, she
came in. We had a dog named Ring who hated Indians, I don't know why, but she just put up
such a fuss when any Indians were near. When we saw these Indians coming, we took Ring and
brought her into the house and tied her to the bedpost. This squaw came in but she didn't
venture in very far, she was afraid of our dog. Mother was frightened of Indians too, as bad as
the kids were. I said, "What you want?" She said, "Biscuit, want biscuit." Mother said to fix
them some bread and honey. Mother and I cut large slices of this hot bread and put honey on it.
I put it in a paper bag and handed it to her. She threw it down on the floor. She said, "No, big
biscuit, want big biscuit." Mother said, "Oh, we better give'em to her." I said, "No, we're not
going to give'em to her." I said to the squaw, "You go pick that bread up right now or I'll turn
this dog loose." I went over to the bed and started to turn the dog loose. She quickly picked up
the bread, put it back in the paper bag and went out mumbling to herself. I guess she was
cussing us. She went and didn't bother us.
CHAPTER 9
One of my friends had a horse called Nellie. This horse could out run all the other
horses around this part of the country. My friend Lonnie, who owned the horse, sometimes
would let me ride her. It seemed no mater where I was when I rode her, I could almost fly.
The smell of the wild sage, the rough country, dust, wild flowers, everything looked wonderful.
It made one want to ride hard and fast and for a long time. I loved to ride her, as she was very
easy to ride.
One Sunday the boys came by and said they were going to round up horses. They fixed
the wings on the stockyard so they could run the ponies in when they came. We started out and
they stationed me at the south end. I was to head the horses off if they started to go to the
Bonita Crossing, as then we wouldn't be able to get them. Nellie and I waited until we saw the
horses coming. When they turned towards the Bonita Crossing, we started out. Nellie knew
what she was supposed to do. We were going as fast as we could to head off those horses. All
at once Nellie came to a wash and stopped very quickly, but I didn't. I went right over her head
and down into the wash. It was a sandy wash and I wasn't hurt. I got up and had to go down
the wash a ways to find a place where I could crawl out again. She was standing there waiting
for me. The horses crossed the river and went over to Bonita. We didn't get any horses that
Sunday.
That Winter I became acquainted with Dora Birch and Dorothy Babcock. They became
my best friends. There were other friends, four girls and four boys that used to go together.
We were sort of a gang and had lots of fun. I turned 15 in April. The gang and I went to ball
games, dances, parties, just riding horses and etc. I also had a boyfriend, Glen Olsen. At
Christmas time, Glen gave me a toilet set, which was in a beautiful satin lined box, with a comb,
brush and a mirror. I was so thrilled. I had never had anything so beautiful. Father made me
give back the toilet set. He said I should not accept expensive presents from boys. Glen was
disappointed and so was I.
I had a fine summer. My friend Dorothy Babcock invited me to come to her home,
which was between Wellington and Price. There I met Ernest Babcock, my future husband. I
never thought of him as a possible husband, but sure thought he was real classy. He took me
once to Wellington to a dance. He was five years my senior, but I was thrilled to go with him.
He was so good looking with black curly hair, and was popular with the girls.
Uncle Lige had traded a nice beautiful horse that had a habit of striking with its front feet,
for an old gray mare that was supposed to be very gentle. When they were gone away and I had
to take care of this horse, he was afraid I would get hurt. He decided to trade it for safety's sake.
I enjoyed going on horseback to Hallick's Store in Ioka. I would use this old gray mare.
I would get whatever necessary groceries we had to have. The Post Office was located in this
store, so I would get the mail as well. I had brought the supplies and mail back and was very
tired. I got off the horse and Mother took the mail. There was mail from relatives and
Grandmother. I was anxious to hear it. I got off the horse, took my saddle off, but just threw
the bridle reins over her head. She turned her head to the side and started up towards Sealys. I
was listening to Mother read these letters as we all stood out in the yard. Somebody said,
"There goes your horse up in the field with the bridle on." I ran to get her. Every time I'd get
close to her, or go to go around her, she started to trot. I'd run again and I'd get up close to her
and she'd trot again. I couldn't catch her to take this bridle off. Once when I got up close to her
heels, ready to go around, she up with both heels and kicked me right under my chin and on my
chest. It opened a big place up from my chin clear down to my chest and laid this flesh and skin
back. I passed out. I remember I had a new blouse on. I kinda came to and I thought "Oh I'm
gonna get blood on my new blouse." I moved my head to try to keep from getting blood on my
new blouse. Finally I kept thinking, "Why don't somebody come? Why don't somebody
come?' Well, I finally became conscious enough that I knew nobody knew I was there, and that
there wasn't going to be anybody coming. I had to do something about it myself. I started to
holler, although my tongue was swollen and I couldn't say the words. I could holler, OHHHH,
OHHHH, Ohhhh!!! I hollered as loud as I could. I got up and started to walk toward the
house. I was in the big high sagebrush. When I got closer to the house, somebody heard me
and told Mother. They came to meet me. Before they got there, I passed out again. They got
me to the house. Fermon Malin happened to come there about this time. I can remember (I
seem to) he just come and looked in the door and saw me and said, "Oh my God!" Mother said,
"Will you catch that horse and get her Father, he's working on the ditch down by Malins." Well,
Fermon did, he got that mare and went as fast as he could to get my Father. Father came back.
The house we were living in, Uncle Lige's, was not yet finished. They had the ceiling joists up,
but they didn't have the ceiling in yet. This was new green pine lumber and the sap was leaking
out of the boards. My Father came and he said to Mother, "Get a sheet and tear it up." They
had carbolic acid they used for a sterilizer. They washed the dirt out, laying the flesh back.
They said they could see my windpipe. Father heated this sheeting, a piece of it on top of the
stove, and put this pinesap on it and covered it and melted it. Then my Mother, after they had
washed this all out, got it clean with the boric acid water so it was sterilized. Mother held the
flesh in place while my Father pasted this sheet with pine gum on it, and put this all up in place.
It came from my chin down to my collarbone, which was broken. My Father set that collarbone
and tied my arm to my body. I was in quite a lot of pain but I began to heal quickly. As this
would heal, this sheet would peel off and I would cut it off.
I went to Uncle Rens and Aunt Mary Ewells for the summer. The bandage was very
dirty by this time. I cut it all off but just a little square over my chin. I felt in there and there
was pus. I knew that it had to come off. I jerked the rest of it off and washed it with boric
acid water. It healed except for this place. It was the only scar I had (this also was the only
place where I got infected). I have that scar to this day.
We all started to school in Price after the New Year. I had a very hard time in school, as
I was behind. I had missed one and a half years, one in Myton and one half in Provo. I worked
very hard, but Mother was pregnant with Thelma. I had the responsibility of taking care of
Mother, the housework, washing, ironing and getting the children off to school. Father had
gone to Nine Mile to work for Mr. Nutter. We got up early to get wood, water and everything
ready for Mother. Her heart was very bad and any exertion caused her to faint. No matter how
early I got up, it seemed as if I couldn't get to school before the last bell rang, even though I ran
all the way. There was always a last minute chore I had to do after the other children had gone.
The teacher's name was Mr. Lewelyn. Every time anyone came late, if it was only five minutes,
he had the whole room chant,
"A diller - a dollar - a ten o-clock scholar.
What makes you come so soon?
You used to come at 10 o'clock
And now you come at noon."
I was so embarrassed. The room entrance was at the front and my seat was at the back of the
room. I had to listen to this chanting every morning, which made one very unhappy. I didn't
tell Mother about this. I was very much ashamed, so I didn't say anything.
One morning I was bound and determined I was not going to be late to school anymore.
I had heard all the chanting I wanted to hear. I was hurrying the children to get the work done,
the water and coal in, and everything ready for Mother during the day. I said to Vivian, "You
kids have to wash the dishes." Well, they fooled around and didn't get their jobs done. They
got ready and left for school. I hurried and washed the dishes and saw there was water in for
Mother. Then I ran all the way to school. I just didn't beat it, that school bell rang. I heard
this chanting again. I was very unhappy and didn't go to school that day, I came home. I said
to Mother, "I am not going to school again. If I can't go without being late, I'm not going to go."
She said, "You've got to go, you've got to go to school." "No, Mother I will not." I defied her
and would not go. She got some willows and whipped me with them, trying to conquer me she
said. I wouldn't go until she sort of had a fainting spell and that scared me. Then I said,
"Mother I'll go." She went with me to be sure I did go. Then she left and I went in and I got
the same chant as I had always gotten before. It was no wonder I hated that teacher. He didn't
understand the circumstances and it was so embarrassing to me. I hated the school. We went
home each day for lunch and did any chores Mother needed.
I was with the gang whenever Mom could spare me. Mother was sick all winter and I
was very worried about her. I slept with her so I could keep the light burning all night. I was
afraid she would have a heart spell, which sometimes happened. One morning I woke up and I
couldn't see. I said, "Oh Mother, I can't see." I rubbed my hand over my eyes and there was
blood. I had burst a blood vessel on my eyeball from straining my eyes so much, not sleeping
well. She said, "Oh, run fast as you can to the Doctor." I went to the doctor and he told us to
keep tea poultices on my eye until my eye got better. We spent the remainder of that winter in
Price. My Father worked in the timber up at the Hiawatha.
In the spring, we moved into another house where Thelma was born on June 10, 1912.
She was two months premature. She was so small she was placed in a shoebox and put in the
warming oven. She had no finger or toe nails.
After Thelma was born, we left Price. We were very happy and excited to return to the
Reservation, which was home. We sang, ran behind the wagon and played games all the way.
CHAPTER 10
Dr. Willard Bigelow, my Uncle, was now a Doctor and had taken up residence in
Fountain Green. He had rented a house from the Jensens and wanted Grandma to move there to
keep house for him. Grandmother, Welby and I went on the train to Fountain Green. Uncle
Willard met us at the Station or Depot with a buggy. We moved into the Jensen's home. I
started school in Fountain Green.
My cousin, Welby, was a very special boy. I loved him and enjoyed being part of the
family, as I was always treated very kind. We both attended the same school. Welby had a
fear of many things. I guess because his Mother had died. He felt a great loss although
Grandmother tried very hard to fill the vacancy. Still, he needed someone around to show him
they cared. I told him stories, we worked together and I let him know I needed him for I missed
my own brothers, sisters and parents. We talked, played games and had many happy hours
together. He was full of questions and I was full of answers, right or wrong. I never said I
didn't know something. I'd give some kind of an answer and with such an air of knowing, I was
believed. Welby accepted me as I was and made me feel very important. He was a great boy
and a great man. He too became a doctor. His last years he spent playing golf and enjoying
life. His own wife and their family are all very special to me.
I met Alma Jensen. He was my special boyfriend (I was 15 and he was 16). Alma was
in my class. Almost as soon as I arrived, we became very fond of each other. He was kind,
thoughtful, polite and very sincere. Too sincere or sensitive, which made him easily hurt. One
Tuesday night, it was our Mutual night, he had an argument with his stepmother. His
stepmother thought he was seeing too much of me and told him I was keeping him from
attending Mutual and other things he should be doing. He told her that we were going to Mutual
that night. She told him, "If she doesn't go, you won't go." Alma told her, "Yes, he would go
to Mutual." It so happened Uncle Willard was called out on a case and Grandmother wasn't
feeling well, so I had to stay home with Grandmother. When Alma came to call for me, I
informed him I couldn't go. He stayed and spent the evening with me.
I was very popular as Dr. Bigelow's niece. Other boys paid attention to me and I was
flattered; however, Alma was very jealous and we quarreled. I went with Clarence. He was
older and was the City Electrician. He bought me candy, took me sleigh riding in his cutter and
fancy team. I went with some other boys on a few dates, but I still liked Alma and wanted to
make up with him, but he wouldn't come back to me. Emma, Alma's sister, wanted us to make
up. She asked me to go with her to a certain show that came to town and everyone went. She
also asked Alma to take her. When they got ready, she knocked on our door and I was ready.
When I came out, there was Alma with her. He didn't know I was going with her. We went to
the show and he sat between us. He reached for my hand and squeezed it and I squeezed back.
Well, that was the end of our friendship, we became lovers. He had sent for a former girlfriend
who had moved to Provo, paid for her fare to Fountain Green and she arrived the next day.
When we got home that night, Emma left us at the gate, rushed into the house and Alma told me
about this girl, Bertha Johnson. He said, "What shall I do?" We agreed that he should treat her
nice while she was there for a week. We would all go to a party or dance and Alma would take
her home to her Aunt's and then hurry back to me. In the meantime, I was escorted by his
nephew, Wilford. When Alma came, Wilford would leave.
I learned more in that one year than I had ever learned in school. Mr. John N. Dorius
was Principal and teacher. He was kind and had a good understanding of children. I remember
one certain occasion. It happened to be a Friday, in the morning before school. We decided to
play hooky, as it was such a beautiful day. It was too pleasant to be inside. The schoolhouse
was up on a hill. We went down the back to the creek. We watched close, thinking Mr. Dorius
would come to call us to school. He came out, walked around then would go back in. At
lunchtime we all ate our lunch. We played games, run races, sang songs, sat around and talked,
really having a fine time. Later, we decided we had better report, so we did. Mr. Dorius
calmly assigned our lessons for the next day. He was informed that the next day was Saturday.
He said, "Yes, I know. You had today off and the law reads that you should attend school so
many allotted days a year, so I'll see all of you in the morning for a full day of school."
Needless to say, we were all present. He was a wise, fair-minded man, who knew children.
Uncle Willard had been a schoolteacher all his married life, until he went back to school
and became a doctor. He helped me and gave me understanding in Algebra that had been a
puzzle to me before. He was good to me but put down certain rules. I was to be home by 10
p.m. on all school nights and Sunday, so I was alert and ready for my lessons in the morning.
The ten months I spent in Fountain Green were the most happy, carefree and so free of
responsibility months I ever had in my life. My Uncle supplied me with beautiful clothes. I
thought I was one of the best-dressed girls in school. I was popular in school, valedictorian and
class president. I had lots of friends and all of them were jolly and full of fun. We really
enjoyed life there and it was a very happy time for me. I worked with my Uncle in his office
after school hours. I helped him with his tonsillectomies, adenoids and things like that, which
he did right in the office. In those days, the doctors went to the homes and doctored people to
cure them, not just to get money. I assisted in this and became interested in nursing. I decided
I wanted to be a nurse. My Uncle said, "Verona, if you want to be a nurse, I can get you into the
L.D.S. Hospital and save you one year of training by recommending you as an assistant to me."
He did put in an application and the training was to begin the first of June. Aunt Alice said I
could stay with her for my room and board and to help with the housework. She was living in
Salt Lake. When I worked, I saved my money to buy my uniforms, pay for my tuition and
whatever else I needed.
I graduated from the Eighth Grade in June. I lived ten months with Grandma, Welby
and Uncle Willard Bigelow. I was engaged to Alma before school was out. I was 17 and he
was 18.
On June 26, 1912, Uncle Willard married Ilene Allred in the Salt Lake Temple. They
moved out of the Jensen house when they came back from Salt Lake. That spring, before they
moved from the house, Emma and I left on the train for Price. Audrey Roberts met us at the
train. I stayed with my friend, Dora Birch. Alma got a job of sheep herding. Mother and Dad
came to get me on the way to the Reservation (Carbon County was building a new road and
bridge across the Price River). My Father got a job there. We pitched a tent and camped there
while Daddy worked. I was very much in love with Alma. I told my folks all about him. I
knew Alma was somewhere on the mountain with the sheep. Mother and I went all over that
country visiting every sheep camp but we didn't find Alma. When the job was finished we went
back home. I was so happy to see my Sisters and Brothers. They had been staying with Aunt
May and Uncle Lige while the folks were gone. Alma came out to our place in August with a
packhorse, a saddle horse and his dog.
In September, Father and Alma went to work at the Sawmill and then to Nine-Mile to
work for Preston Nutter. They only came home every two or three weeks. Alma and I went to
dances and parties, when he was home. Alma was always jealous of the attention I got from
other boys and we quarreled a lot. He was especially jealous of Gene Howell. When Alma
was away and at his request, I never went with Gene. Alma and I agreed that I could go to
dances, as this was our only social contact and pleasure. For me to attend these dances, I had to
have an escort. Alma was willing for me to go with Wilford Mitchell, who also played in the
band. Gene danced with me a lot and it was reported to Alma that I was going with Gene.
Alma came home accusing me. We quarreled and broke our engagement. I gave him back his
ring. Alma tried to get me to take it back but I wouldn't. He said, "If you don't take it, I don't
want it." He threw it as far as he could into a field with two or three feet of snow. I thought
someday we would make up. Well, this was the end and he left. He took his two horses and
dog and went to Nutters and worked until spring. He then went to Farren with his Sister Mary.
He met Kate who he married on June 8, 1915.
CHAPTER 11
The summer of 1913, for three months, I went to work in Myton for Dr. Baker, a dentist.
I then worked for Fred Mussers in Red Cap. I met Dave Clayburn from Heber while I was
there. When Dave returned to Heber, he brought me back to my parents, as Mother needed me.
Dave and I wrote to each other. I sent him my poems and he sent them to the Heber paper.
They were printed and he would cut them out and return them to me.
Leah Vivian was more quiet and reserved. Vivian got married two years before I did,
March 1, 1913. She married James William Powell. They had 14 children. Later I was glad I
had had all the responsibility.
My sister, Erma Frances Ewell, was born October 22, 1914, at Mt. Emmons, Duchesne
County, Utah. (Later this town was named Altamount)
Grandmother Bigelow visited with us every summer and returned to Provo in August or
September. The summer of 1914 I was working in Mt. Home for the Wilsons who had a small
General Store. In August, Lucile came from Mt. Emmons on our very favorite mare, Kate, to
get me. Uncle Elijah was making a trip to Provo and was taking Grandma home. I was to go
with her. I got my things together and we both rode Kate back home.
Grandmother and I left the next morning in late summer for Provo. Uncle Elijah put
new mown hay in the wagon to feed the horses and for Grandma and I to sleep on. We went to
bed, but in an hour or so the hay began to heat and it was so hot we could not sleep. We got up
and put our bedding in the front of the wagon where there was no hay. Our bed was hard, but
not so hot.
When we arrived in Provo, I got the local paper and looked in the ads for a job. I needed
clothes and was really anxious and determined to get a real job, if possible, not housework. I
found a job for a peach packer. It said only experienced people needed to apply. Well, I didn't
know anything about peach packing but I was determined to get that job. I called on Saturday
from a neighbor's phone and a lady answered. I asked for the job. The words came, "Are you
experienced?" I said, "No, but I can learn easily and please give me a chance, I need this job."
She said, "Well, we only want experienced people, as I don't have time to train you." I went on
saying, "Please give me a chance, I'll learn from the other workers." She said, "Okay, meet our
truck at 6:30 Monday morning."
Uncle Ed Snyder came on Sunday and took Grandma and me for a ride in his auto, my
first ride in one. He said, "Would you like to go to Provo Bench to the fruit farm? Some girls
are packing peaches." This was an answer to my prayer. It would give me a chance to see
what packing was like. I asked the girls some questions and they showed me how to put the same
size peaches in a box. The large peaches went into a 4-6 pack, the small in a 5-7 pack. Also,
NO soft peaches were packed. The papers they were wrapped in should not stick out the side,
but be tucked under.
When I arrived at the Cotchner Farm Monday morning, I was nervous but confident. I
watched for a little while to see what the routine was. The number I was to put on each box was
five and also if it contained a 4-5 pack or 5-7 pack of peaches. I wanted to make sure I didn't
make mistakes. I could try for speed later. No one came to tell me what to do, so I went ahead
doing my best. Mrs. Cotchner came in the shed about 10:00 a.m. She looked the workers over
and she then said, "There was a girl who was not experienced." I turned to face her and said, "It
is me." She came and examined my boxes and said, "You are doing fine, I thought you were not
experienced." I told her I had gotten some information from my Uncle's farm and I had watched
the girls here to know how to call for service. I was doing as near as I could like them. She
said, "You have nothing to worry about, if you just keep on as you are." I gained speed until I
was making over $3 a day, the pay I would get per week for housework. The Inspector came by
every day and examined the peaches. He took a liking to me and about quitting time every day
he came by and asked me if I wanted a ride home. We normally had to wait for the truck to
return from the last load of peaches to take the workers home. I was glad to go a half to one
hour earlier. I was really enjoying my job.
One morning, as I was getting ready to go to work, Uncle Burt Adams came. He said
Aunt Alice needed me, as their baby was due. I didn't want to go. I made several excuses. I
said, "Uncle Burt I am making over $3 a day and have a coat on lay-away." I had dreamed of
sending nice presents to my sisters, brothers and parents for Christmas. After I was finished at
Cotchners, I could transfer to Roy Lance Fruit Packing Company. He said, "I'll pay you the
same when I sell my hay on the Reservation. You can't let your Aunt Alice down when she
needs you." Grandma said, "Dear, if you go help Aunt Alice, I'll give you money to get your
coat."
I went with Uncle Burt in about ten days. Their son, Perry, was born October 1914. I
stayed with them until Aunt Alice got well enough to take over. Then I went back to
Grandma's. It was too late for fruit packing, so I applied for a job at the Mental Hospital. I got
the job and was to start work the next week.
The next day I got a letter from Mother saying Vie had Typhoid Fever and they had to
take her to Roosevelt to be by the Doctor. I was to come home and care for the other children.
Again I was disappointed, but my family came first. My Mother sent me $20 to take the stage
home. Grandma got my coat out. Uncle Bert never paid me one cent. I was homesick for my
family and was happy to be with them again. I stayed with the family until Vie got well and
Father finished the job he was on.
I then went to Roosevelt to work for Aunt Mary and Uncle Frank Orser. Mary was my
Mother's cousin and also Maroni Bigelow's daughter. Grandma had raised her. She taught
school in Roosevelt. Her son, Lynn, taught school in Adaview. He had to go ten miles every
day on horseback. He was the oldest son, married to Jessie. Dee was the second son and they
had a daughter, Alta. Lynn and Jessie moved in with his parents when the snow got really deep,
as he had to keep his horse at their place. I taught music at the Roosevelt School every
Thursday afternoon, went roller-skating on Friday, danced on Saturday. I learned many things
that winter, thanks to Aunt Mary. When school was out I went back home.
I went to a dance at Lake Fork Schoolhouse and met Ern Babcock there. He was my
girlfriend's brother, whom I had met before and gone with a couple of times in Price. He was
five years older than I. He had told Bill Robb that he was going to marry me. He and Bill
batched together. Ern's brother, Roy, was our closest neighbor. I had gone to the dance with
Dave Orr, who was like a brother to me. I flirted with Ern. Dot Westbrook was also trying to
get a date with Ern. She told me to lay off him, or at least tell her if I got a date with him or she
would tell me if she got a date with him. I got the date and she was angry with me.
A funny thing happened: Ern was to come the next Saturday to take me to a dance in
Bonita, but Saturday Mrs. Atwood came down in a wagon to visit. The team was rather frisky
and she said she was afraid to drive home. Mother said I would go with her and the children to
drive. I didn't want to go thinking Ern would be mad at me for not being home. Mother said it
wouldn't be out of his way to go by Atwood's to pick me up. I took my clothes to get ready
there. I got ready and played cards with Clive and Mr. Atwood until bedtime. Ern never came.
I thought it was because he thought I was being smart.
The next morning we went to church and met my folks. I asked Mother what Ern said
when he came. She said he never came. Then it was my turn to be mad. After church we all
went to Orr's on the river. I was in the swing when Ern came on his horse to the house. He
asked if he could talk to me. He apologized for not coming to take me to the dance. Said he
had gone to Redcap to get a bull and had trouble. He had to ford the Duchesne River and it was
high. He got wet and almost drowned. He didn't get home until after dark. Bill had the team
and buggy ready. Ern said it would be too late when he got ready and he was too tired. I took
his apology and went with him to Mutual. I went with him steady after that day.
I was staying with Vivian, my sister, when Albert, her first son, was born, April 6, 1915.
I was also going with Ern about the latter part of April. Mother came over and said they had to
make a payment on their mortgage and they needed my money, but would pay it back by June.
I knew they would not be able to do it. I gave them my savings. When they left, I went outside
and cried.
That night Ern came to see me and said, "I'm going to Price to get a load of freight.
Please say I can bring you back a ring." Well, I had been kidding him saying, "I'll marry you
the 31st of February." He said, "I'm serious, please give me an answer." I finally consented,
although I had held out thinking I was going to go to Salt Lake L.D.S. Hospital to become a
nurse. I said, "Why not, I just as well get married, I can't be a nurse." Well, Ern brought me a
ring and we were engaged with a date set for September. That is how I decided I would get
married.
I might tell one story that happened before Ern and I were married. When Bell and Roy
Babcock, Ern's older brother, were married they came out to the reservation. They had a little
baby girl. Her mother had to go to Duchesne to prove up on their place, so they asked me to
come stay with Bell and take care of her after the baby was born, which I did. One morning
Bell had a very high fever and the baby seemed as if it didn't feel very good either. I went for
Mrs. Case, which was a half to three-fourths of a mile up the road. They came down and said,
"Oh, she must have blood poisoning." They got the neighbors together to help, that was the
kind of community it was. My Father and Uncle Lige got a doctor to look at Bell. The doctor
said, "She's got blood poisoning and I must operate at once." This happened at night. I held
the lantern for the doctor while he operated on her. He said, "I can't do anything for her here,
I've got to take her where I can watch her." The doctor took her to Myton. They decided to
take the baby to Mrs. Knight's daughter. Mrs. Knight was the midwife who had brought this
baby into the world. She kept her for a while and then she got tired of her and gave her to
somebody else. This baby was born in April and Bell didn't get back from Myton until July.
The baby was very sick. The poor little thing was so thin, with big eyes and a big stomach that
was turning green. I felt so sorry for Bell and that little baby. I used to go every day and try to
help her. One day we went to see how she was. Before we got to the house, we could hear
Bell and the baby crying. I could hear it breathing from where we were. I sent Vivian to get
Mother and Mrs. Orr, who was visiting at our place. Mother picked the baby up from Bell's
arms and said, "Oh, this baby is dying." Then she handed it to me. That little baby died in my
arms.
Ern left to work as camp-tender at $50 per month hauling freight. We wrote to each
other often. I was busy making quilts and other things for my hope chest. My Grandmother,
who was with us for the summer, taught us to card wool bats to make my quilts.
When Ern left, I attended dances with boys, giving them to understand I was marrying
Ern in September. Such funny things happened. I went to a dance with Cliff Watterman,
whom I had only gone with a few times. He proposed to me. I told him I was engaged to Ern.
Then I went with Wilford Mitchell, who had been a long time friend. He asked me to marry
him. I told him the same thing. He said, "I've been waiting for you to quit flirting around and
now its too late." I thought much about that.
Then in June, Gene Howell came and wanted me to marry him. He said he had a good
job in Eureka. He had rented a house, had it furnished and ready for us to move into. I told
him I was going to marry Ern. He tried to talk me out of it. We went down to see some very
good friends, the Orr's. Mr. Orr said, "Now Gene, you shouldn't take advantage, Ern not being
here to defend himself. Gene said, "All is fair in love and war." When we came back home, he
wanted me to wake my folks and tell them I was going to marry him. I said, "No, Gene, I mean
what I say." He said, "Well, will you make me a promise? When you and Babcock break up,
will you give me first chance?" I said, "Yes, I'll promise that." He left but I got a letter from
him saying he was disappointed but he had hopes.
All the towns had joined together to celebrate the Fourth of July. We were going to
camp on the river for three days. The town had built a dance floor. Around the first of July,
Ern came to the door. I was surprised, I hadn't expected him until September. He wanted to
get married right now. I said, "Oh Ern, I'm not ready." My Grandmother was there and we had
made a quilt. I was preparing to make another quilt and some other things for my hope chest.
Ern put up an argument. I finally said, "Talk to my Mother and whatever you two decide, I'll go
along." They settled for the 15th of July, which gave us only about 10 days to get ready.
Ern thought he'd save time by going to Duchesne and get the marriage license. When he
asked for a license they said, "Where is your girl?" He said, "Can't I get the license?" "No, not
without a girl." They had a big laugh about that and Ern's face was red. He came back to see
me and tell me we had to go together to get the license. We decided to go about two or three
days before we were married.
We went in the buggy to Duchesne. While we were in Duchesne getting our license,
Gladys Orr had gone to Altona to get the mail, that was where we got the mail at that time.
There was a little box and registered letter (the box being insured for $150) from Gene Howell.
On her way home, she had showed it to every neighbor including Bell Babcock, who was Ern's
sister-in-law. It was a very hot, dusty and long ride, about 20 miles, to Duchesne. I was so
dusty and tired when we got home.
However, all my girlfriends from Blue Bell and Mt. Emmons had come to give me a
surprise shower. I was surprised all right and very tired. Ern went to his brother's place.
When I got home, my sisters and brothers said, "You got a letter and package from Gene
Howell." They were very anxious to see it.
I wanted to look in that box and read that letter, but I didn't have time. I didn't want
those girls to know about this. I didn't enjoy the party very much and was glad when they left.
I slipped into my room and examined the contents. It was a beautiful diamond ring and a love
letter. If there was one thing Gene could do, it was to write beautiful letters. The letter begged
me to meet him in Provo to get married and that I would never be sorry. He had also sent me
$20 wrapped around this ring. I tell you, that was quite a temptation because he was an
attractive man. I took this and showed it to Mother and said, "Mother, look what I got, what
shall I do?" She said, "It's just what I thought it was." She said, "Do you love Ern? Be very
sure and if you do, tell him. Don't keep it from him or he will hear one way or another. There
must be trust between you."
While we were washing up the dishes from the party, Ern came down. I finished and
said, "Ern, lets take a walk." How well I remember that beautiful moonlight night. I went to
my room, put that diamond ring on my finger, turning the stone inside my palm. When we were
walking up the bench road, I said, "Ern, I have something to tell you. Today I got a letter, $20
and a diamond ring from Gene Howell. Now you must believe me that I didn't ask for this. He
wants me to meet him in Provo and get married." I then showed him the ring. He said, "Well,
you can either keep it and go with the Son of a gun, or you can send it back to him, it does not
make any difference to me." I said, "It doesn't make any difference. Well I was thinking about
sending it back, but if it don't make any difference, maybe I better go with it." He then put his
arms around me and said, "Oh dear, it does make a difference, I do care, I love you and want you
but I want you to be very sure what you want." I said, "I am sure Ern, I'll send this back, if you
are sure you want me." He said he was sure of that.
Everyone had drawn their own conclusions from Gladys showing everyone my mail.
Ern's sister-in-law, Bell, said, "Ern, she is nothing but a flirt and she'll give you the slip at the last
moment, don't go back and give her the chance." Ern said, "I'll go down and if she doesn't tell
me, I'll not be back to the wedding in two days." You see, Mother's advice was right.
CHAPTER 12
I married Ern on July 15, 1915. I was 20 years old. I just couldn't see any other way
out and I did love Ern, he was a good guy and one that I enjoyed very much. When we were
first married, we moved to Mountain Home with Bill Rob. Ern had gone into partnership with
Bill. We lived in a one-room cabin that Bill had on the place.
Bill and Ern would go out and start digging postholes and setting posts and Bill would
say, "I better go look after the cattle. He would get on his horse and go out of sight through the
cedar and come back down to Stevenson Store. The store had a room in the back where they
gambled and Bill would go down there and gamble. The Stocks told me about this. They told
me Bill went to gamble and felt he was putting it over on Ern. He goes down there every day
and lets Ern do the work. I decided I would find out for myself. I went to the store and sure
enough, there was Bill gambling and Ern up there digging post holes.
I didn't like this situation. I said to Ern, "I'm not going to put up with this, you have got
to tell Bill that you are not going to stand for this kind of treatment." He had taken our calves
and had sold them to pay his gambling debts and things like that. I was getting pretty disgusted.
Ern was putting up with this without any fuss at all. Bill slept in the attic, right over our room.
I was telling Ern all about this and Bill was up there and heard it. The next morning he came
down and said, "I don't think you're very satisfied with this arrangement that we have." I said,
"No Bill, I'm not. I think this partner-ship should be broken up and dissolved because you are
not fair, and you are not giving Ern a fair break anyway. You are letting him do all the work,
you're using his cattle and his calves to sell and keeping yours. I don't think this is a good
arrangement and I don't like it. As far as I'm concerned, I want to get out of it."
We dissolved that partnership. Ern and I went to the coal camp Standard in Spring
Canyon to work for the winter. We had his team. He first went to work on the road and then
he met an old friend of his, Andy Easterbrook. Andy was the boss of the stable and asked Ern if
he would like a job driving in the mine. Ern said he sure would. He got more money driving in
the mine than he did for his team on the road. He sent his team to Wellington to be wintered by
Uncle Will Norton and he went to work in the mines.
At that time there were no houses ready in Standard. We had a boarded up tent with two
rooms. We found an old stove, an old Home Comfort Stove somebody had on their back porch
down in Helper. Ern asked them if they wanted to sell it. They said yes and he got it for five
dollars. We had that stove, a pair of springs, a straw tick and our bedding. I went to the store
(in those days, they always shipped there stuff in wooden boxes) and got a lot of these boxes and
built me a table and a cupboard. We used powder boxes for chairs. I put up some cretonne
curtains over the cupboard doors and over the window. I thought it looked very comfortable in
there. I had a bedspread and put it over our bed. I thought it was very comfortable. The stove
had a reservoir on it and I kept this full of water so that when Ern came home at night he had
warm water to take a bath. I got up every morning, built the fire and got Ern's breakfast and
lunch ready for him to go to work.
Mrs. Easterbrook and I were friends. I had a wash tub and she had one. I used hers and
she used mine. Ern had a friend who was selling White sewing machines and he had bartered
for it and paid for it without me knowing it and had left if down to Easterbrooks. Christmas
morning, Andy Easterbrook and Ern brought the machine to our tent. I never was so thrilled
over anything in my life, I don't think, as I was over that machine. It was something that I really
wanted. We enjoyed the winter very much.
We came back in the spring and leased an Indian forty. This was a forty we could
eventually buy. We lived in Uncle Bert and Aunt Alice's house that they had abandoned. We
built a house on the far corner, over by Stocks. We moved in later in the summer. Ern had to
sell some of his calves to get windows and doors. Ern and I had done most of the work.
At this time we had built a little schoolhouse and church and named it Banner. That was
where the children started school. I think Walt started school there. He had a little donkey that
he rode to school. It was rather stubborn. Sometimes he had to pull the donkey to go to school
(I guess he can remember that little donkey). After we built the schoolhouse in Mount Emmons
and named the town Mount Emmons, the folks moved there one winter to put the children in
school so they didn't have to ride so far. We lived in my parent's house during the winter,
feeding our cattle and theirs. It was handier living there.
Years before Vivian or I had gotten married, we were cleaning a dresser that belonged to
Mother and Dad. As we were cleaning this dresser, we were discussing who would get married
before the other. I told her she would be married before me. She said, "Oh no, I won't. I'll
never get married." I liked to go out with boys, but Vivian didn't. On the back of this dresser I
wrote, "Vivian will be married before I am." We had a bet of so much, I don't remember for
how much.
In the spring of 1917, on a lovely Saturday in March, the folks decided to move back
home. Ern and I had washed all the walls and ceilings, leaving the house somewhat damp. We
moved our things to our own house, which was located about three-fourths of a mile from the
folks. There was some of their furniture in the yard that they had taken with them to Mount
Emmons. We didn't have a chimney because the stovepipe went straight up and out through the
attic. Dad was a great one to build a big fire. He built this big fire to dry the house out, as they
weren't going to move in until the next day. Everyone had been there cleaning all day and
getting it ready. Dad and Mom were harnessing the team and getting ready to leave when Mom
looked up and saw the smoke pouring out through the upstairs attic window. They tried to
douse it but, of course, there was no chance. The whole attic was on fire. They had honey
there in fruit jars. When the fire got there, it broke the jars and the honey leaked down through
the ceiling. They couldn't get in to get the furniture and the things out of the house. They did
manage to get one dresser, the one Vivian and I had written on. It reminded me of our bet and I
then remembered to tell her about it. I think that is the only thing they got out. Walter was
nine at the time of the fire.
I had gone home when they got there. Lucile came running up the hill screaming. I
heard her and ran out. She said, "Oh, our house is on fire." I ran down and all I could see was
black smoke rolling out that upstairs attic door. We all stood back and looked at the blackened
remains of what had been the family home. There was no water to use, and just a small amount
of snow was left on the ground. We had all been so proud of it. Father had burned himself
trying to get in to save anything he could. This was a very sad time in all of our lives, because
this house was very dear to us. Now the time came, however, to thank God that no one was
burned really bad, or injured. Father and Mother sank to the ground with their family to ask
Gods help to know what to do next. This was something we had a hard time to accept.
Our friends and neighbors came offering help and under-standing. They were kind and
wanted to help build the house again. Lamar, my brother, put his arm around Father's shoulders
and said, "Dad you have put twelve long hard years of work and sacrifice into this place. Look
around Father, we both have good health, we can make it on our own as a family, we don't need
or want charity. We'll get jobs and start over again."
They moved the tent down and lived there through the summer. Mother was expecting
another baby. Since her health was poor, they moved to Provo in the fall. They loaded
whatever they could take, sold what they could and left with an eye to the future. After visiting
in Provo, the folks rented a house in Salt Lake where the men got jobs. The First World War
had begun and work was better in Salt Lake. Lois was born in Salt Lake City on December 6,
1917.
Ern and I remained on the basin two or three years after the family left. The folks had
stayed eight. Lucile and Lamar stayed with us most of that year. They enjoyed it there.
Lucile always claimed that the sky at the Basin was more blue than any other place in all the
world and all the colors were much more vivid and alive. The trees, sagebrush, wild flowers,
the sun was brighter, the moon larger, more stars and nothing could beat the sunrises or sunsets.
In 1918 when the flu was taking everybody, Rulen Bird, Ern and I never got the flu.
Rulen would come to our place in the morning and we would get in the buggy and go to the
people that were down. Ern and Rulen would chop wood, do the chores and I would make
bread or something for them to eat. Sometimes the whole family would be down. One of the
Evans' children died, a two-year-old. They had someone build a casket and they buried it
without a funeral. She had to lay the baby out and take care of it. I forgot about this story until
Billy Evans came to our place when Roy Babcock was in the hospital, he brought Florence there.
He said he would never forget Rulon Bird, Ern and I coming to help them when they had the flu
and taking care of the baby that died. I was really pleased that somebody had remembered. I
never wore a mask but every day we gargled with Listerine and washed our hands with it. I
took care of those that were right in bed and I never got the flu.
I always kept a jar of cookies and good things on hand because almost every mutual
night, which was on a Tuesday, the whole gang would come to our place. We had such things
as corn roasts, potato roasts and parties for whatever came up. The kids used to go out, steal
chickens and bring them to our place to cook, and they just had a great time. One night when
they came they said, "Where shall we go and steal some chickens...shall we get some chickens
and have a chicken fry?" Ern says, "Just a minute." So he got some little turkeys that just
started to roosting in our shed. They were pretty good size. I don't remember how many
turkeys he got and chopped their heads off. He said to the kids, "Skin these and try fried turkey.
I think you'll like it as well as chicken." They skinned those turkeys and we had fried turkey.
It was the first time I'd ever heard of fried turkey, or tasted it. They were very good.
I was First Counselor to Sister Byrd in the Primary. I took part in almost every capacity
of the Church. I was Beekeeper with the Mutual girls. We had in those days what they called
the Beehive for the girls in Mutual. I think I had about six girls in my group. I would take the
team, wagon and these girls out on hikes and stay as long as a week. These girls were very
lively and liked to do things. We went swimming, did all sorts of things and studied about nature.
Alta Evans, one of the girls, had a hair lip. The other girls had always sort of shunned
her. I gave the girls a talking to and told them they should treat Alta the same as the others, that
she had feelings and she must be treated the same. The girls all agreed and were very nice to
her. She was always coming to me complaining that the girls did this or they did that. One day
the girls said, "Oh, lets go in swimming." They all got their swimming suits and went
swimming. Alta sat there but pretty soon she came to me and said, "See how they do, they go
off and leave me alone." I said, "Now listen Alta, you sit down and let me talk to you. You
know the girls said let's go in swimming, they all jumped up and went, they never had to ask
everyone separately. You should have gotten up and gone with them. You can't expect them to
ask you separately. You're not anything special, you're just one of the girls. You should go
with them when they say 'Let's go,' that means all of you."
We put on plays during the years I was in the Beehives. We'd get the Boy Scouts, who
were the same age as the Beehive girls, and put on "Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch" and
Butternut Bride (We sent to Salt Lake for the book). We would make money. At the dances, I
would make a freezer of ice cream. The girls would bring cake and we would serve cake and
ice cream for ten cents a dish. This was another way we would make money. We charged
money for tickets to the shows and the girls got their Beehive suits and the things that we needed
for our Beehives. We had quite a little bit of money collected from our tickets, cake and ice
cream sales.
I went to Mount Emmons the next morning with this money wondering what to do with
it. I thought I'd better turn it over to the Mutual President and they could dispense it. We had
pretty well filled our needs. I came into the store where Bishop Cannon and the Stake President,
Oran Bennion, were. I said, "Brother Bennion and Brother Cannon, you know I wish we had a
church of our own, we're having to put on the plays in the schoolhouse." We took the partition
out during plays or a dance. This building belonged to the School Board. They allowed us to
use it for church and any town meeting or anything we needed like that. I said, "We have to
carry in all those planks, build our stage and build steps. Then we have to stay after the play,
tear all of that stuff out and clean up after it. I don't see why we can't build a church, have a
stage and dressing rooms for the girls and for the boys. We wouldn't have all that extra work to
do." They said, "Well, what would we use for money. You know it takes money to build a
church." I said, "Well, we built the little Banner Church, there was only a few people there
then. We also built this school building and then sold it to the School Board. I don't see why
we can't build a church, there's not a man in this town who wouldn't be glad to go to the sawmill
and work and get timber and have lumber sawed and donated for a Church." "Well," Brother
Bennion said, "It's a very good idea Sister, but you know it takes money too. There's nails,
windows, doors and things like that we have to have for cash money." I quickly pulled the
money out of my purse and put it on the counter. I said, "This was earned by the Beehive girls.
I was wondering what to do with it, how about that for a starter?" They both laughed and said,
"Now that's a good idea. I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll hold a Town Meeting and we'll
discuss this and see what can be done about it." They called a Town Meeting and they decided
that we could do something about it. The men would do the work and so it was started. Before
that building was finished, Ern and I had left the reservation.
CHAPTER 13
Life on the reservation was very hard. We milked the cows and sold cream, but it just
wasn't enough for our living expenses. We leased our place, our cattle and everything we had.
We traveled to Salt Lake to see about work. We heard of a job at the Castognoe's Ranch. The
year was 1920. The Castognoe Ranch was located southwest of Grantsville, Utah. Ern was
good with livestock, could punch cows and was a good rancher. It was agreed that I could work
too. I did the cooking, cleaning and caring for the house. I made myself at home. In
exchange, I gave these two boys the comfort and care they needed. I kept up the washing,
ironing, and mending. I took over as if it was my home. Those men were so appreciative and
treated us like family. We fit in and were happy to be together on this job.
We had been there several months when my folks came to see us. When they left for
home, Lois (my baby sister), wanted to stay with us. She was very close to us and loved to be
with us. One day we decided to go to Salt Lake for a few days for a well needed rest, to do
some shopping and take Lois back to my parents. The weather had turned warm. Having all
our morning chores done, we left in our Model-T Ford. The car had no top on it, as we had lost
it sometime before. Lois was sitting on Ern's lap and chattering constantly. I was doing the
driving.
We came to Grantsville, traveling down the main street. About halfway through town,
someone had dug a water trench or ditch straight across the road. No warning signs of any kind
were posted. We saw nothing wrong. As we hit this ditch, the front wheels stayed and the car
tipped head over heels. The back came over the front and was upside down. As we hit, Ern
grabbed Lois and leaned over her the best he could to protect her. He hit his head on the front
panel. The windshield had shattered. The steering wheel broke and I was pinned under the car.
I broke my ribs and the glass had shattered all over me. The glass was embedded in my face,
neck and head. I was hurt bad. Ern was hurt and Lois had a small cut on her left arm. Neither
was hurt seriously.
I couldn't rest until I saw Lois and Ern. I couldn't believe they were all right. The
doctors tried to remove as much glass as they could from my face, head and neck. I was in
serious condition for a long time. I had lots of pain and suffered a great deal. No pills or
anything seemed to help. After several weeks or it may have been months, I started having
fainting spells and passing out.
Ern had gotten work at the coal camps in Spring Canyon. We had moved there.
Someone told Ern about a doctor who may be able to help me. Ern took me to Helper to that
doctor. We rented a hotel room close by so I could go to the doctor every day for treatments.
In time, he found the problem. Pressure was pinching nerves in my neck and back. He treated
me and relieved the pain, giving me great comfort. I returned to my family with the
determination that I would care for myself and clear the terrible scars on my face. I used
everything anyone suggested, olive oil, Vaseline ointment. This took many years of treating my
face. In time, the scars faded and I looked better.
When anyone would ask my little sister, Lois, about the accident, she would say, "The
door fell open and we all falled out." Lois says, "Because of her disposition and determination,
and her feelings for others, the good she did, her kind thoughts and ways, no one saw anything
but beauty in her face. Her love for people was life to her and she gave of herself to everyone.
I don't think a day ever passed in her life that she didn't help or do something special for
someone."
From the Coal Camps, we moved to Greenriver, Utah. Uncle Lige Bigelow lived in
Greenriver and raised watermelons. It was a very rich country at that time. We went to the
reservation, got our things and what cattle we had left, and made our home in Greenriver.
Ern and I had gone to a dance at the hotel in Greenriver on a Saturday night. It was
February 1922. I met this girl by the name of Frances Gentry. She was attractive and very
sociable. She invited me to her room to freshen up and rest. When we entered the room, I saw
a baby on the bed. I said to her, "Whose baby?" She told me he was hers. She didn't seem to
care if he was warm, cold or hungry. When I heard him cry, my heart went out to him. She
wanted to go back to the dance. It was impossible for me to leave him. I wrapped a large
towel around him, took him down to the kitchen and got some warm milk, which I fed to him
with a spoon. There were no baby clothes for him or blankets. I couldn't figure Frances out,
why she was not concerned for her baby or how she could leave him alone. When the dance
was over, she came back to the room with a man. I asked her if I could take the baby home with
me. She said, "Yes, if you want him." I found Ern and told him what I was doing. He agreed
that we should take him home with us. I stayed up and sewed diapers, night gowns, undershirts,
and blankets from flannel material I had.
The next morning we took the baby back to the hotel to see the Mother. She was still in
bed. We asked her if she wanted to give up her baby. She said, "Yes." We went to Price to
see the judge and got adoption papers. She and her father signed the papers and Max became
our baby. Max was born February 14, 1922, in Greenriver, Utah. He had large brown eyes that
captured me the moment I saw him. He was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. Oh, how
I loved and enjoyed him. He was everything I had dreamed of. He was so special, smart, very
adventurous, inquisitive, a tease and was also full of love and life.
We bargained for a place from Mr. Fritz. I don't remember just how many acres there
were, but it was beautiful river bottom property. It had a house which we cleaned, fixed and
made comfortable. Our corn and cucumbers we raised were early. The cucumbers spread out
and went into the corn patch. One day I went to sell some eggs at the store. I said, "We've got
so many cucumbers." He said, "Have you got some big enough for slicing?" I said, "Oh yes,
we don't know what to do with them. We've got so many, they are coming on so fast." He
said, "I'll buy all you've got." I think it was one or two cents a piece he gave me for the
cucumbers. We went home and gathered cucumbers and took them back to the store. We sold
our cucumbers until everybody had cucumbers.
We had apples and watermelons (like everybody else in Greenriver). Ern, Clyde and
Milt Jakes would load up the melons or whatever it was we had for sale and take them to Price,
Ferron, Carbon County and around the Coal Camps. Ern was gone quite a bit of the time and I
was there alone with my little son. He was a lot of fun, I never got lonesome.
That winter there was a heavy snowfall. In the spring, there was a heavy rainfall. The
Green River was washing trees and everything out as it come down. It finally took our bank and
I watched these big trees go underneath that water, just go completely out of sight. We stayed
there the rest of the summer, but lost about five acres of land and our corn patch in that flood.
That fall we decided, with five acres gone and the danger of more floods, (we were right on the
old riverbed) to give the land back to Mr. Fritz and lease another place.
We leased the Griffin place. We lived there until John Babcock, Ern's brother, and his
wife came from Idaho. Then we turned this lease over to him, also the repairs and fruit on it.
We leased a place from the Palpinos. The Palpinos had a vegetable and fruit stand in
town. They said they would take all the vegetables we could raise and would also take some of
the fruit. We lived there through the winter and summer.
The summer of 1922, Ern's parents moved to Greenriver and we got them a place. I
wallpapered and cleaned the house for their coming. They were there only a few months when
their daughter, Dorothy Hardy, died. She was living in one of the Coal Camps and died of a
tumor or something of that kind. She left four children, Deloy, Lee, Reva and Elvan. John
Babcock took Deloy, who was the oldest boy. We took Lee. Mother and Father Babcock took
Reva and Elvan, the two little ones. Reva was only about three years old at that time. John
Hardy, the Father, went back to work at the mines. He met a lady in Price. I think her name
was Bessie Bigelow and they were married. They took the two smaller children, Reva and
Elvan. We kept Lee during the summer. In the late summer or fall, John wanted Lee to come
and help him with his harvest, so Lee left. There was a cellar in the Palpinos' place and I got an
incubator. I don't remember how many eggs I incubated, but I raised several chickens.
When Max was small, we made him a sandbox under a big tree. I would keep a rope
tied around his waist, so he couldn't get away. There was a large canal running right in front of
our house. He used to chase those chickens. There was one little chicken with a crippled leg.
Max would go after this little chicken, crotch down and say, "Who-Who-Who-Who." Then he
would grab it and carry it around. It was his pet and he loved it. If I left the screen unlocked
when we were in the house, Max would immediately go out. The first place he would go was
the chicken coop, get the eggs and break them. He loved to break eggs for some reason. I used
to gather eggs in a large basket. I'd sit them on the trunk in the spare bedroom. Every time Max
could get in there and reach those eggs, he'd break them. I had to watch him very carefully and
be sure the door was shut.
I used to take Max with me when I went into the garden to hoe. I had a little playpen
made and covered it with mosquito net, as the mosquitoes were very bad. He would play in this
little playpen while I hoed and worked in the garden. We also had pigs in a pasture. I used to
load the melons, cucumbers or whatever we had surplus and throw them in for the pigs to eat. I
never knew pigs would eat cucumbers until then. They ate them as well as the cantaloupes,
melons and other things. There were many birds and we had to put mosquito bar over our
cherry trees in order to get any cherries for ourselves. I love birds and love to hear them singing
in the morning, but I did want to keep some cherries for ourselves. The birds were very good to
clean up the worms, the bugs and the other things that bothered our garden.
Max was a very ambitious child and I had to watch him very carefully. I had to be very
careful to keep the screen locked, because he would get out. I was always afraid of that canal.
There was a neighbor who lived above us and had lost a little boy in the canal.
I always got up early. One morning, when Max was still sleeping, I did my chores and
brought in my bucket of milk and an apron full of chips to build a fire. When I came in, Max
was awake. I dressed and put Max down on the floor. Max would play with me all the time
when he was in the house. He'd say, "Bye Mama bye-bye." Then put a hat on his head
sideways and I'd say, "Bye-Bye honey bye-bye," just playing with him.
I played this game with Max while he took a little three-pound lard bucket and put some
onions in it. I was finishing my jobs of straining the milk and was building a fire. I didn't
realize Max wasn't there until I had the fire built. I looked around, Max was gone. I had
forgotten, having my hands full when I came in the door, to lock the screen. I called him, as he
was real good to answer. He didn't answer. If he was outside of the house, I usually found him
in the chicken-coop. I ran out there but he was not in the chicken-coop and he was nowhere
around the house. There was a bridge that crossed the canal that went into our garden. I
looked for his little footprints to see if he had crossed this bridge. I couldn't see any. I was
screaming, crying and begging, "Max, Max where are you?" My neighbors next door, the
Valeri's (they were Italians) lived between us and the Jakes, who were very good friends of ours.
Mr. Valeri heard me calling and knew something had happened so came running. He asked
what was the matter. I said, "I'm afraid my little boy has fallen in the canal and has drowned."
Mr. Valeri got a big long pole and started going up and down the canal trying to find him. The
little girl came to me and said, "Shall I call the man at the gate and tell him to shut the canal off?"
I said, "Oh yes, any-thing, I don't care, anything. If my baby's gone, nothing means anything to
me." I ran to the telephone and called Mrs. Jakes (we had to ring our own ring and hers was two
longs and a short). She answered very quietly, "Hello." I said, "Oh Mrs. Jakes, my baby's
gone." She didn't quite know what I said, as I just dropped the receiver and ran out again. She
knew something was wrong and thought maybe my house was on fire or something. She started
to come to my place. I went out again and this little Italian girl came up and said, "Mrs.
Babcock, Mrs. Babcock." I said "Oh, Jeannie, it don't matter if he's gone, I don't know what to
do." I was just so upset. She said, "Mrs. Babcock, look, look." I looked and I saw Mrs. Jakes
coming with my baby in her arms.
I was so sure he had been drowned in the canal. I couldn't believe it when I saw Mrs.
Jakes with Max. I just passed out. I came to when Mr. Valeri poured water all over me. Mrs.
Jakes said, "Oh, Mr. Valeri, don't drown her." He had just grabbed a bucket and poured water
on me to bring me to. When I came to, I grabbed Max and held him to me and cried. I was
hysterical. I just could hardly believe he was there. It was so wonderful to have him back. I
surely thought he had drowned in the canal.
Mrs. Jakes stayed and talked to me. I couldn't do anything but sob and hold my baby.
She said, "Verona, if you're going to act like this when he didn't really drown, I don't know what
I'd do with you if it really had happened. The only thing I know what to do would be to throw
you in too." I said, "Mrs. Jakes, if anything happens to my baby, I'd want to be thrown into the
canal and drown." When Ern came home I told him of this. He said, "I can't take the strain of
this worry and take a chance of losing our baby. We've got to leave here. We can't stay here."
After we gathered in our crops, killed all the roosters and froze them, bottled the fruit and
gathered all our vegetables and things, we loaded up and went to Wellington, Utah.
On May 1, 1923, Lucile was married to O'Dell Larsen. They came to visit and were in
Greenriver with us when we moved. They went with us to Carbon County. Ern and Dell
intended to get a job in the Coal Camps. We rented a house in Wellington. Lucile and Dell
went to Salt Lake. They were not able to get a job in the mine and neither was Ern.
Boyd James Babcock came to us from Frances Gentry. She had written a letter saying
she had a little boy and wanted to know if we would like this little boy to bring up with our son,
so he wouldn't be a lonely child. My husband and I talked this over and decided to see her and
the child. We went to Wattis, Utah, a mining town in our little Ford.
He was a beautiful child and very lovable. I thought how nice it would be to have a little
brother for Max. We took Frances and the baby to Price. This was Saturday night. We got
two rooms that joined. I asked Frances if she wanted to take the baby with her, as he was a
nursing baby. She said, "Not as long as you are going to take him, you just as well start now."
I took him with me and got formula from the druggist. I fed him that night and took care of
him.
The next morning we went to the Judge at the Price Court House. The Judge asked
Frances if she wanted to give this baby away and she said she did. He said, "Do you understand
that if you give this child away, you have no jurisdiction in anyway over him and he isn't yours
anymore. He is absolutely and strictly, by the law, their child." She said she understood and
was willing. We had to get the consent of the father. She told us the father was King, her first
husband.
My husband went to where he was working and asked him for his signature so we could
adopt this baby. He said the child was not his, she was pregnant when she came to him. He
said she only stayed six or seven months and he knew this was not his child and sent her away.
He said he would sign the papers, because he thought the child would be better off with us than it
would be with her. We went back to the Price Court House and gave the papers to the Judge
and it was completed. We took Frances to her folks, who were in Woodside. Then we took the
baby with us back to Clark's Valley.
We named this little boy Boyd. I don't know why, it just seemed that was the right name
for him. She had a name for him, Emanuel, or something like that, but I did not care for that.
Max had a little brother.
Boyd was born May 30, 1923 at Woodside, Carbon County, Utah (which is between
Price and Greenriver). Our Boyd was a very special boy who tried really hard to please. He
was very helpful, but if you praised him, he took it in the wrong way. He had a hard time trying
to compete with his brother, Max. I'd try to tell him he was as important as Max, but his
opinion of himself was always low. Boyd was a good boy. He didn't give us many troubles
and was very dependable. He could do everything that Max did, but he put Max on a higher
level every time. He was a humorous child. He could say things that would always make us
laugh. On one occasion, I had put clothes' hangers low enough for the little boys to hang their
sleepers in the closet. Many times they'd step out of their clothes, get dressed, and take off. I'd
scold them and threatened them several times. Boyd was a quiet and peaceful child. When
Boyd found Max had not hung up his sleeper, he was disgusted with him. My folks had come to
visit and had stayed the night. They were still in bed. I had built a fire as soon as I got up so it
would be warm for the family to dress. Mother and Dad had watched the boys getting dressed
and were amused at their actions. Suddenly, little Boyd saw what had happened. He called
out, "Mats Badtock is this the rose rosset?" He picked up the sleepers and handed them to Max.
Boyd enjoyed going with his Dad. He enjoyed the animals, especially the horses. He
loved to ride and care for them. He worked side by side with his Father. They had many
wonderful talks and times together. He was a good worker and learned to accept life in a quiet
and peaceful way. There were times when I wanted him to explode or show a temper, or to
express his true feelings, but he didn't or wouldn't.
I dressed my little boys alike, but sometimes they were so different. Max looked as if he
was dressed up in all of his clothes. Boyd's were put on and forgotten, as they weren't important
to him. As Boyd got older, he was noticed by his friends. The girls liked him and gave him
attention. He wasn't interested. He was tall, carried himself well, good to look at, and still
didn't feel special. Boyd seemed to put himself in a shell. At times it was very hard to reach or
understand him. When I would get after him for something, he'd just stand there and look at
me, never expressing his thoughts or feelings. At times I'd wish he'd get mad or explode or say
or show some kind of emotion. I'd try to get him to show his thoughts, but he never did.
I think there were times when he didn't think I loved him. This was never true. Max
was so demanding and would tease to get his way. Boyd would just clam up and never let it go.
I look back now and think of my two boys and the love I had for them. I truly want the best for
them. Boyd has no bad habits, no drinking or smoking. His only fault is that he is too easy
going, lets people take advantage of him too much. As he gets older, he's mellowed and wants a
contented happy life. He's deserving of better times.
We had plenty of food to last us for a year, but we didn't have a cash job. We decided to
visit with Ern's relatives, his Uncle Lafe and Aunt Vide Norton in Arden, Clarks Valley, Utah.
This was in 1923. We stayed there until 1938. We also had a home in Price so the boys could
go to school. Ern's folks lived between Wellington and Price.
Aunt Vide was going to have a baby. She said, "Oh Verona, there are no women out
here, I'm the only woman in this valley. I'm so afraid to be alone and it is so far (25 miles, to the
doctor). Please stay, you haven't anything in Wellington, you're just paying rent, why don't you
come out here." She talked to Gresham Ishabarn and he said he couldn't pay us, but would take
us in for board and room. I was to cook for the sheep men and do the housekeeping. Ern was
to help with the chores, tend the sheep and whatever was to be done outside. We moved to the
Ishabarn place. I was prepared to be with Aunt Vide when she needed me. I think it was
probably right after Max was two years old (the 14 of February), that Ross Norton was born.
Ern went for the doctor and I stayed with Aunt Vide and delivered the baby.
Max got a little rocking chair for Christmas. It was very strong and sturdy and had two
arms. I would tie Boyd in this little chair. He would rock and as he rocked, he rocked forward
more than backward. I would put him at the other side of the room, but the first thing I knew,
he was under my feet by the stove. I would pick the chair up and take him back to the other side
of the room. He would rock again across the floor and be over where I was cooking and draw
my attention again. I had weaned Max from the bottle, but Boyd was still using a bottle. I
would prop pillows around Boyd on the bed and give him his bottle. Pretty soon I would hear
Boyd crying. I would find his bottle and Max also gone. I would look under the bed and there
was Max with the bottle. He had rolled clear to the back, against the wall, and was consuming
Boyd's bottle. I decided if this was going to go on, I would have to make Max a bottle the same
time I made Boyd one and that is what I did.
CHAPTER 14
We settled in Kiz, or Clark's Valley. About 20 families lived in this area, some coming
and going. The first settler was Kiz. They called her Aunt Kiz, her last name Phinic. When
they were going to name the town, they sent in four names. Kiz was the one accepted. We
homesteaded 160 acres of land to farm and also raised cattle.
Thelma, Erma, Lois, Lucile and Kenneth, her new son came to Kiz to spend some time
with me, as Kenneth was sick and Lucile wanted me to help him. Kenneth was feeling better
after about a week.
Lamar, Delone, Bobby and Dell were coming out Friday night and we were all going to
Greenriver, Utah. I had fixed a nice dinner, but they never came. The next day we kept
watching for them, but they never came. The children were playing with some of the neighbor
kids. They laughed, played games and ate dried fruit. It was getting late in the afternoon and
all the children were playing follow the leader. They climbed on the fence, to the roof of the
coral, then they jumped to the haystack and then to the ground. When Erma jumped from the
hay, she grabbed her side and cried out. They called me, I went to her and brought her in the
house. I tried to ease her pain, but she was really bad. She couldn't hold anything on her
stomach.
They didn't come Sunday and Erma just kept getting sicker. I decided to take Erma to
the hospital after we got the chores done, having twelve cows to milk. We made a bed for Erma
in the back of the Ford and went to the hospital in Price, Utah. Little Erma tried so hard not to
cry out. I could tell it hurt more with each bump and rut of the road. When we got to Price, the
Doctors were so busy and had many people before us. The doctor said her appendix had
broken, but we had time to go to our own doctor. Therefore, we went to Standard, where my
folks lived. Mother was just getting home from Delone and Lamar's. Their baby, Bobby, was
sick. She said Bobby was dying.
Stopping at Mother's, I left the children. Mother and I took Erma to the hospital. We
got my Father from the mine and the doctors prepared for the operation. Because I had chores
to do and livestock to care for, I left for Kiz. When I went back the next morning, I met them
coming in cars. They told me Erma had died that morning at 6:00, August 26, 1924, and Bobby
had died the night before at 6:00, August 25, 1924. This was so hard to bear.
Erma died, at the age of ten, of a broken appendix in Rains, Utah, which is part of the
coal camps in Spring Canyon Mines, Carbon County, Utah.
My family went to my home and got ready to go to Provo. We made the clothes for
little Robert and had a friend make Erma's clothes. We went in cars to Provo while Erma and
Bobby went on the train. We had a double funeral. Erma and Bobby were buried on August
29, 1924, in the Provo City Cemetery.
I found out later that Mother stood, all night, outside her room and heard Erma calling for
her. The doctors and nurses would not let my parents with her. This took place the day before
our Mother's birthday.
Our little sister had left us. We had beautiful memories of her and truly missed all the
talents she had. Our Mother could not forgive herself for not going against the doctors and
nurses to be with Erma. It took a long time for her to forgive them. Mother kept Erma's
clothes, school papers, personal things and keepsakes in a wooden box our Father had made for
her. It had a top on it. Mother, each day for days, weeks, months and years, took Erma's things
out of this box, loved them and cried for her precious little girl. This was the first tragedy in our
family.
Mr. Workman came to our place quite often and always rode a horse. Max always
wanted to take a ride on this horse. It was a very gentle horse. Mr. Workman would put Max
on the saddle and let him ride around. One day he put Max in the saddle and Max rode up to the
gate. He got off from there and climbed the post so he could take the hoop off and unlock the
gate. We ran out and got him and brought him back. I said, "Max, where did you think you
was going," and he said, "Going bye bye Mama." Well, he thought he could do anything. I
don't know how he expected to climb back on the horse, but this is the way his mind worked, he
never was defeated, he always thought he could do everything.
A school was established in about 1925, with one teacher teaching all grades from 1st to
8th. With the help of Etchabarn, we built a schoolhouse. The schoolhouse was used for a
church and all social gatherings. A group of people from the town met with the Superintendent
of Schools. He furnished us with good teachers. The teacher had to have a place to live. My
husband and I built another room onto our house for the teacher to live in. We were the only
family in Kiz, at this time, who could take the teacher in. The other houses or shacks were one
or two rooms. They all had large families so a teacher couldn't have privacy.
It was fun to plan and prepare for the school teacher. I spent many hours and money. I
made quilts, curtains and worked hard and fast to be ready when she arrived. Our first school
teacher was Elsie Huntsman. She was from Provo, a widow who had two sons. She left the
boys with her mother in Murray, Utah. It was hard for Elsie to be away from her children. The
Depression was on and jobs were few and far between. She was very grateful to have this job.
I liked her from the start.
The town got a post office. George Mead was the Postmaster. I applied for the hauling
of the mail. I put in a bid and received the appointment. We hauled the mail from Price to Kiz
twice a week for $49 a month. This was during the depression and this cash was very
acceptable to us. We also raised calves on the skin milk and calf milk and sold the veal and the
cream. We found other ways of existing without going on relief. Most of the people in Clark's
Valley were on relief under President Roosevelt. Relief and welfare is one thing I tried to stay
away from and have been successful, so far, in doing.
Several weeks before Christmas, I had gone to Price to get the mail. I saw in the
window of the Price Trading Store a pair of gloves and scarf. They were in many colors. I
wanted the red ones. They looked warm and were in our category of price. Two to two fifty
was the cost. That's what I wanted for Christmas. I needed them.
I put several things on lay-a-way. On the way home my hands were so cold. I kept
thinking how happy I would be to have those warm gloves and scarf. Our car was an old Ford
with no heater, top, window or curtains. The wind seemed to whip around so strong, chilling
my whole body. Going after the mail twice a week, especially in the winter, was a real
hardship. We needed the money and were happy to have the mail route. I made sure I told Ern
about the gloves, even the price, thinking I was giving him plenty of time to save for them.
Just a few days before Christmas, Ern went to town to take the mail, go shopping with the
list of things we needed, to get the things out of lay-a-way and a gift for me. Ern had forgotten
my telling of the gloves and scarf. He thought he would get me something at JC Penneys. A
woman could always use panties. As the clerk came up to ask if she could help him, he told her
he wanted panties for his wife. She said what size. Ern didn't know what size I was. He very
casually said, "Oh, about three ax handles across." She sold him the extra large size. He had
them gift-wrapped. Christmas morning I was like a child, excited and very anxious to open my
gift. I opened it and there was the biggest panties I had ever seen. I held them up to me. They
were many sizes too large. The look on his face showed me he was sorry. I said to him, "Ern,
did you think I was that big?" He said, "I just told the clerk three ax handles across." I then
explained to him that ladies have to have sizes that fit, just like men do. I took them back and
exchanged them for my size. Needless to say, I had cold hands the rest of the winter.
One mail day Elsie and I started to Price. We had hurried with the housework and
chores. Everything was in order and ready for us to leave. We talked, laughed and even sang
as we traveled toward the highway. Earlier that morning it had been clear of storms, the clouds
seemed far away and few in number. However, the clouds moved in fast and it started to rain.
We were hurrying to get to the highway. As we came to the crest of the wash and started to the
bottom of the wash, I stamped on the gas to hurry us out. The car died or stalled as the water
crashed down on us. There was mud, grass, weeds and lots of debris. It tipped the car over on
its side.
I remember hearing Elsie calling sharp and loud, "Oh! God help us." Scrambling out on
my side, I ran frantically to Elsie. She was pinned underneath the car. The water was so swift I
had a hard time getting to her. I tried to lift her, but she was in too far and was too heavy. I
could see we were in trouble. If I could just attract someone to help me, in one of those cars on
the highway. I left Elsie. I could see the cars going back and forth on the highway. The
highway was several miles away.
Screaming, crying, calling, and waving my arms for help, no one seemed to notice. I ran
back to Elsie, trying to lift her up, pulling, tugging and trying over and over again to free her
from drowning. I was constantly calling on the Lord to please help me. I yelled so much I lost
my voice and I no longer could lift. I'd say to Elsie, "Elsie, Elsie, don't die, don't go, help me
Lord." I had no help and Elsie was dead. For days, weeks, I don't know how long it was, my
body and mind ached.
Elsie's mother was a wonderful lady who seemed to know and understand how I felt.
She talked to me, wrote to me and let me know she felt the Lord had wanted Elsie at that time.
She said she and Elsie's children would be fine. Elsie had left an insurance big enough to help
them for a long time. I was so grateful for this lady, who thought of others and not herself.
Sleep wouldn't come to me. Even if I dozed off, I went through this tragedy over and
over again. Time is a wonderful healer. I'm a strong person so in time I was able to go on with
my life. The school superintendent, Mr. Woodward, came and asked me to take the new
teacher. After what happened to Elsie, I didn't want to take the teacher again, I just wanted to be
left alone and, I guess, feel sorry for myself. He insisted I take her for at least a month. He
said, "If you can't do it, then we'll make other arrangements. Please try it for a month." I
agreed. The schoolteacher that fall was Clara Jensen from Mapleton, Utah. She was a much
larger woman than Elsie with blond hair and was very decisive about things. When I tried to
talk about Elsie or say anything about her, Clara would not listen. She would change the
subject. She was good, she would help me with the dishes at night and socialize with me and
tell me about her school and what had happened. I thought when she came, "I sure am not
going to keep you when the month is over. You are getting out of here." I learned to like
Clara. By the end of the month, we were very good friends.
One day Mr. Workman came down and said, "Verona, I want you to teach me to drive. I
can't do anything, I can't go anyplace. I want to learn to drive and none of my sons will help
me. I want you to help me." I said, "Oh, Mr. Workman, I can't help you today, I am canning
tomatoes and have a big batch of tomatoes on. I just positively cannot do it today." He said,
"If you won't come, I'm going by myself, but I'm going to learn to drive this car today. I've
made up my mind." Our lot was fenced with a net wire. He went around the corner with the
car but when he turned the corner, the wheel would not turn back, it still turned to the right. He
came right up over that net fence and right straight through the big window before he got the car
shut off. I saw him coming and didn't know what to do. We were lucky not to have been
injured. That was quite a thrill to see that car coming and thinking it was coming right into the
house.
In the spring, we moved to the Perkins place, which was a log cabin. We leased it for a
couple of years. I put Boyd's crib in one corner. He must have needed lime, because in the
daubing of this log house, there was lime. He would dig out this dirt and eat it. When I saw
him doing this, I put a blanket on the two sides of his crib so he couldn't get at that daubing to eat
it. I didn't want him eating dirt. Max was very accommodating, he would dig the daubing out
of another part of the house and give it to Boyd. He wanted to be good to his little brother.
I had sent for and got 100 baby chicks. I had them in a box. As it was quite cool, I set
the box on the oven door to keep the chickens warm. Ern was working on the road with his
team and had come home for the weekend. We had gotten up really early in the morning to get
Ern ready to go back on the job. I fixed hotcakes for his breakfast and he had butter and syrup.
After he had left, I went out to irrigating the alfalfa and grain. I was gone longer than I
expected, but both babies were asleep when I left. When I came back, Max was awake. He
had heard these little chickens peeping and decided he would feed them. He got the syrup and
sprinkled it all over the chickens. Then he saw he had done something wrong, so he got the
wash dish, some soap and water and washed these chickens. When I came in, there was these
little chickens with their wings and heads dragging down, the most sad looking things you ever
saw. Some of them laid out dead, some of them still on their feet, peep, peeping and Max trying
to undo the damage he had done. I was so upset, I said, "Max, why did you do this." I spanked
him and he started to cry. I sat down and cried too. Here was my little chickens, most of them
dead and a lot of them would die, some still in the box stuck together with the syrup. Uncle
Lafe Norton walked in and looked the situation over. He started to laugh saying, "Verona,
forgive me for laughing, but this is the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life." There was all
those little chickens, some still in the wash dish, some on the wash stand and some of them
stretched out dead. He laughed and he laughed.
This is one of the little funny things that happened with my little boys and all of these
things are now very precious to me. I loved every moment that I lived and enjoyed the
association, the trials, tribulations and the hardships I went through. I gained knowledge,
information and experiences that I would not part with today. I know that everything gave me a
beautiful incite of life.
We were farming on the Perkins place one day and were out in the field, which was very
close to the dam of the reservoir. All the young boys had gone to the reservoir to go swimming.
Ern and I were out putting up the hay, loading it onto the hayrack. I was loading and Ern was
putting it on. We heard screaming and hollering from these boys. Ern tied the team and we ran
to see what was the matter. They said, "Carl is drowned, he went down and he hasn't come up."
Carl Workman was Mr. Workman's youngest son. Orval Workman, a nephew, jumped on a
horse and went to tell his father and the others that Carl was drowned. It wasn't long before the
whole community was there searching for him. He had gone down in about the deepest place in
the pond, which was about 30 or 40 feet.
Mr. Workman came to me and said, "Verona, what will I do when they find him? We
don't have room in our house to put him and we can't afford to take him to a mortuary. What am
I going to do?" I said, "Mr. Workman, bring him to my house." I went home and prepared. I
took off the closet door and laid it on the sewing machine with the other end on a table that was
about the same height. When they found his body, they brought him to our house. We laid him
out on this door. Mr. Workman, Uncle Lafe Norton and Ern sat up with him that night. In
those days, people always sat up with the dead at night. We were the only ones in the valley
that still had ice in our icehouse. This happened in August. We crushed ice, put it in bags and
put it around his face, arms, hands and neck to preserve him. Mr. Workman had three boys,
Lou, Jake and Carl and a daughter. They wanted the daughter to be there for the funeral. They
sent a telegram to her in Arizona. The next morning Uncle Lafe woke me up and said, "Verona,
Carl is turning black around his eyes, nose and ears, what shall we do." Although we had kept
ice on him, he was still turning black. I don't remember who it was that went to Price and asked
the undertaker what to do. The undertaker gave us some solution he told us to apply. He also
said the boy probably had water in him and we should drain this water out. Nobody wanted to
do this, so Uncle Lafe Norton and I tipped him upside down and pumped his lungs and stomach.
We got more water out of him. Then they applied this formaldehyde, or whatever it was that the
undertaker gave us, onto him. We soaked pads with this and pressed it around his face tightly
and kept it wet. When we raised the pads, his skin had come out white again and looked good.
In the meantime Mr. Mead and Arly Perkins, I don't know if there was any others or not,
helped to make a casket. Aunt Vide came and helped me line this casket with padding of
cotton. I took a blue drape I had, it had almost faded white and was sort of a brocade. We
pleated it around the casket. I made a nice pillow. I took a bedspread I had and put it on the
outside of the casket so it didn't look so bare. I was very proud of this casket. We waited for
the daughter about three days. When she got there, he looked very good and we held the
funeral. They took him to the schoolhouse for the service, which was very nice.
Lou Workman, the brother, said he wanted to give a plot of ground in his southeast forty
for a burial ground. That is where they buried Carl. It was the first cemetery in Kiz, Utah.
Kiz later was recorded in the DUP files as a ghost town. My son, Boyd, visited this cemetery in
Clarks Valley or Kiz around 1960 and reported to me that there were eight or ten graves in the
cemetery now. There is Carl Workman; his father, Orval; a grandson; June Assy; Rex
Workman and Mr. Mead. I didn't know who the others were.
CHAPTER 15
Our next teacher was Wyneta Clegg from Ogden, Utah. She was a sweet, wonderful
person. We all loved her very much right from the beginning. She loved the school, the
children and she enjoyed everything. She thought her room was just right and everything suited
her. She was a very pleasant person. She loved to ride horses and do all the things we liked to
do. We really learned to love her. About a month before Christmas she asked each one of the
children to write a letter to Santa Claus. She said, "We will try and get him to come early to
visit us, because I have to go home for Christmas to my parents in Ogden. So you children all
write Santa Claus a letter and I will send it along with one from me asking him if he will come
and visit us.
Each child wrote a letter to Santa Claus. Those letters were really something to read.
Wyneta brought them home and we read them and cried over them. Some of them were really
pitiful. The little girls wanted a doll, one that opened and closed its eyes and had real hair.
Each child mentioned one toy. None of them, not one, asked for more than one thing. Preston
Assy, I think he was in the second grade, wrote and said, "Dear Santa Claus, please bring me a
pair of skates. If you will bring me a pair of skates, I will mind my mother, I'll do everything,
I'll get in the wood and I'll get in the chips and Santa Claus, I'll mind my teacher and I'll be a
good boy and I won't do anything wrong, if you'll just bring me a pair of skates." She said,
"These children are going to get these things, everything, if it takes my whole check." She sat
down, wrote a letter to her mother and sent these letters along with their names and ages. She
said, "Mother, I want you to fill each one of these orders and I will pay for them. If I can't pay
for them out of this month's pay, I'll pay later, but I want everyone of these children to have these
things." I said, "Wyneta, I will help you."
We planned what we were going to do. We decided to have a program and have every
child participate, even the preschool children. We had everyone on the program. I would go to
the school and help them practice. Sometimes they would come to my place. We had a
phonograph and records. We would play the records and have them sing. The preschool
children sang Jolly Old St. Nicholas. It was so cute the way those little children sang and they
did it really well. Boyd, he couldn't talk very plan, but he used to sing it like this. (Aunt
Verona sings it like he sang it) The only place he knew there were any rocks was in the road.
He thought it was rocks instead of socks. Wyneta kept the children enthused with the practicing
for the program.
She took all the older boys from the school and they got a Christmas tree from the
mountain. It was a beautiful tree and reached the ceiling. I had quite a few Christmas tree
decorations. We used candles in those days, not electric lights. We put those candles on and
then the children made paper chains and strung popcorn and cranberries. Then they trimmed the
tree.
There was high excitement all over the valley over this Christmas. Uncle Lafe Norton
consented to be Santa Claus. I had some bright red lining for a quilt. I had a goat hide that the
Greeks had tanned. It was beautiful and soft and had long, curly, and shiny hair. I made him
whiskers, hair and trimmed the suit and hat with the goat hair. It looked very good, I thought. I
had some little jingle bells we used on our horses when we went sleigh riding and we used those.
We made a large bag in which to put the toys. Wyneta's Mother, Mrs. Clegg, sent the toys. I
made stockings out of mosquito bar, green for the boys and red for the girls. We got little things
like ten-cent rings, wristwatches, little cars and trinkets to put in every stocking.
My Sister, Vie, and I had worked for Gus Plattus in Price in his candy and ice cream
store. I went there and told him what we were planning and asked him if he could help us get
some candy, nuts and whatever I could to help fill those stockings. He was very generous and
gave me a whole wooden bucket with candy in. They used to have candy in wooden buckets.
He also gave me half a bushel of peanuts for about three or four dollars. I got popcorn and
popped a tub full of popcorn that we made into popcorn balls. We also got a banana and orange
for each child. We put all these things in the stockings before the night of the program, which
was a few days before Christmas.
The children were all ready the night of the program and very excited. Lafe said to his
family, "Well, you go on, I've got to shave. I'm not shaved yet and I'll come down later." They
left him, of course, and he rushed to my place. I got him ready and we fixed up his costume by
putting pillows in his stomach. He wasn't a big man. We gave him the jingle bells to ring and
hung the pack on his back with all the stockings filled. We had the dolls, the skates and some of
the other things sticking out so the children could see them when he came in.
When I came in, Wyneta knew we were ready. She said, "I think Santa Claus will be
here very soon, so we'll get ready now for our program." Just then we heard jingle jingle on the
porch and the doors opened. Santa Claus was calling his reindeer and came in with his pack on
his back. Those children were so amazed and dumbfounded that they could hardly speak. We
got the little ones up there to sing to Santa Claus. They sang but none of them looked at
anything but Santa Claus. Their eyes were turned to Santa Claus and watching the bag that he
set down to the side of his chair. There wasn't anybody in the house that knew who Santa Claus
was. They kept saying, "Who's Santa Claus, who's Santa Claus? It must be somebody from
Wellington."
When they got through with the program he said, "I've the presents to hand out here, if I
can get some help." Of course, Wyneta and I offered to help because we knew who each sock
belonged to. Santa Claus would take them out of the bag and hand them to us. We would call
out the names that they belonged to. I have never seen so much happy crying in my life as there
was that night. Those children cried with joy and some of the parents too, because it was a time
when it was hard for them to get anything for the children for Christmas. Everybody had
participated, there wasn't anybody who hadn't taken part and helped out in this program. As
Uncle Lafe was leaving to take off the Santa Claus outfit and then come back, he was going
down the isle and saying, "Goodnight everybody, good-night to all." His little son, Ross, who
was two years old, passed his dad and said, "Good night Dad." He knew who he was. We put
the benches back against the wall and Osborn played the violin, Elaine Workman played the
organ and Uncle Lafe played the banjo. We danced and all the grown people had a good time.
Everybody was treated to popcorn balls, candy and nuts. We really had a Christmas to
remember.
Our next teacher was Charlotte Turner from Salt Lake City. After she had been in
school for a week or two she said, "Verona, Max will be the only beginner in school next year.
He is the only one who is five years old now, why don't you let him go and be with the rest of
these kids. He plays with them all the time and I think he should go to school this year." I said,
"Well, it says they can't go if their birthday isn't before the last day of October, he won't be six
years old until the 14th of February." The next time Charlotte and I went to town, we went to see
the superintendent, Mr. Woodward, and told him the circumstances. Charlotte told him that
Max would be the only beginner the next year and it would be extra time for a teacher to handle
him alone. It would be better if he went this year. The super-intendent agreed, he said, "It does
say that it is against the law to go if their birthday isn't before the 30th of October, but I think in
this case it is permissible and I think it will be a good idea. It will be of benefit to everyone."
We put Max in school without consulting the other people. When they found out that Max was
going to school, they figured that I was being favored and they didn't want that. They were not
going to stand for that. They wrote to Mr. Woodward and told him that Max was going to
school and he was not of age. He came and held a meeting and explained it to them. He said it
will be a benefit to all of you, because the teacher won't have to take special time with him next
year. These children will all be in one class and she can spend more time with your children by
not having an extra class. I think it is beneficial to all of you, but I want you to vote on it. He
called for a secret ballet and they put in their vote and voted against him going to school. Mr.
Woodward said, "Well, all right then, we will take him out, but it's your loss."
I will also relate another little incident that happened. We used to have a party once or
twice a week, either at a home or at the schoolhouse. Whenever we had these parties, the
couples always had to furnish all the lunch. There were some bachelors there that never had to
furnish anything. One time Aunt Vie said, "Verona, why can't the bachelors furnish something?
They come to every party. Just because we're women why should we have to furnish all the
lunch?" I said, "Well, I think that is a good idea." She said, "I will personally go to each
bachelor and tell them they have got to furnish something." Aunt Vide went to the bachelors
and told them they would have to furnish something. They said they would be glad to furnish
50 pounds of flour. They went to Mr. Mead and he said, "I will furnish sugar, lard or whatever
is needed." Mrs. Assy went to Mr. Mead and got these supplies and made cakes.
Arly Perkins attended every party and had partaken of the food every time. When she
went to him and said, "Mr. Perkins, you have always come to our parties and have never had to
furnish. We decided the bachelors need to contribute as well as the people who have families
and a woman." She said, "We want you to furnish six spring chickens, as we are going to have
fried chicken." He had raised that year about 50 spring chickens and there was 20 or 30
roosters.
The party was being held at the Nortons. That night everybody brought their things;
however, Arly Perkins didn't show up and neither did the chickens. We were all talking about it
and thought it was kind of small of him after all the parties he had attended and never had to
furnished anything. I said, "Well, if anybody will go with me, I will get those chickens so we
can fry them and still have our chicken dinner." Darrel Norton said, "I'll go." Darrel and I
jumped on horses and went to Arly Perkins. We made all the noise we could. I know Arly
heard us. It was a bright moonlight night when we went into the chicken coop, which was right
in front of his house. Darrel picked the chickens off the roost and handed them to me. I had
three in each hand. I think he had probably a couple. All the time we were saying, "That
stingy old guy, if he won't furnish the chickens, we'll get them anyway. He's had his share and
so we are going to get even." He never showed up and never said a word to us, although I am
sure he heard us. We jumped on our horses and back we went. They skinned the chickens, cut
them up and fried them. Maybe you think this isn't very nice for a grownup woman to do, but
this was the kind of person I was, I guess, and still am. I have never been afraid to do the things
I thought were right and fair.
Lafe Norton was Ern's uncle on his Mother's side. He was a trapper. This was the
reason he had gone to Clark's Valley, to trap wild animals for the sheep men. One morning
when he went on his rounds, he trapped a Mountain Lion. It's seems like it measured, from its
nose to the tip of its tail, ? feet. He was very elated over this catch. He caught many coyotes
and they paid a bounty at that time for coyotes. They also paid bounty on Mountain Lions at the
courthouse. He had some hides to sell from the coyotes and also wanted to collect his bounty on
the coyotes and on this Mountain Lion. He asked us to take them to town. We took Aunt Vide
and Uncle Lafe to town. We laid this lion along the running board. He wanted to show the
sheep man that he had really trapped a Mountain Lion. When we got to the courthouse and
collected the bounty for the coyotes and for the Mountain Lion, Uncle Lafe took some of the
money and said, "I'm going to contact these sheep men. I'm sure I can get a lot of extra money
out of them for trapping this Mountain Lion." This Mountain Lion had really been working on
their sheep herds that were in the valley. It was a female. He disappeared, we didn't know
where he had gone. Aunt Vide took some money they got for the bounty and was doing some
shopping she badly needed for clothing, groceries and so forth. When we went to find Lafe, we
could not find him anywhere. He had taken this Lion and talked the barber into laying it in his
window. It reached all the way through the window. People could pass there and look at it or
go in and look at it. After it was there a few hours, it begin to not have a very good smell. The
barber wanted it out of there. We went looking for Lafe, or Ern did, and he couldn't find him.
Ern went back, getting LaVor Birch, a friend. He said, "LaVor, will you come and help me? I
have to get the lion out of the barbershop and I cannot find Lafe. Will you help me?" They got
the lion out of the barbershop and took him by the cemetery and skinned it. Because the hide
was valuable, they kept it and buried the carcass. Then Ern went back to hunt Lafe. He never
found him until way after dark. When he did find him, he was very drunk. He had spent all the
money he had. We took him home and this was the way lots of things turned out for poor Aunt
Vide. She had quite a problem, but she always took it very well.
Vivian Norton married a Greek by the name of Mark. They moved to Sunnyside where
Mark worked in the mine. In February, their baby was born. They invited a lot of people there
for this christening. They make a big thing of a christening. There were quite a few Greeks at
a big banquet they had. They went through all the riots and things they have at these christening
and dancing. They had vegetables that were out of season, fruit, nuts, chickens, little pigs
roasted whole, also lamb, everything you could think of. Whenever there was one empty, the
caterers would come and fill them. Charlotte was talking to the guy next to her and would drink
her wine down. I didn't drink wine but I would exchange glasses with her. I would take her
empty one and put the full one at her place. The caterers would come and fill the glass again.
She got a little too much to drink and was not able to teach school the next day. I had to teach
for her. She got acquainted with a Greek that night who came over to see her quite a few times.
He wanted to impress her with his holdings and what he had. He wanted her to go to Columbia
Steel where he worked and had a store. It was kind of like an ice cream parlor, pool hall and
company store. He wanted to take her there and show her all these things and have dinner there
on a Sunday. She said she would go if he would take the Babcocks. He said, "Sure, whatever
you want." So, Ern and I were invited to go with her. This was the month before school closed
and was the last payday we would receive from the school board.
On Saturday, we went to town. We would always ask each other what we were going to
wear that day. We were about the same size and used to always dress alike. They called us
twins. Two or three weeks before this Charlotte had said, "Verona, if you will make me a dress,
I will give you enough material to make you one." She bought enough tissue gingham and
trimming to make us each a dress. On Saturday, we wore these dresses to town. We each
bought a new dress. Hers cost $18, I remember, and mine was $12. I splurged too. The next
morning, Sunday, when we were preparing to go with this man, I said to Charlotte, "What should
we wear today? Should we wear our new dresses?" She said, "Oh no, lets not wear them
today, we will be riding around in the car mostly. Lets save them for dances, parties and things
like that." We put on the same gingham dresses. Charlotte didn't have a white under-skirt
available to put on with her dress. She said, "Well, I haven't got a white underskirt to wear with
that dress." I said, "Well I will let you take one of mine."
We were living in the Dimic place because we leased our place to the Greeks to lamb
their sheep. We had moved there because Ern was putting in a crop. They had more water
than we had. We had leased the Dimic Place to farm for the summer and paid Mr. Dimic for the
lease. Then we released 40 acres for the Greeks to lamb their sheep on. Darrell Norton had
promised to do our chores. We were milking cows and separating the milk. He said he would
come and do the chores.
The Greek came and we got in his big car. We took our two little boys to stay with the
Nortons while we were gone. We went to Columbia and Sunnyside. He showed us all the
things he had there and took us out to dinner. We had quite a day. We didn't get home that
night until about midnight. When we came over the hill and could see the place, there was just
no house. It had burned to the ground. There was just a bed of coals and a little fire burning in
the woodpile. I never felt so horrible in all my life. I thought maybe my little boys had come
home and lit the lamp and started the fire someway and maybe they were in the fire. I got out of
the car and looked at the coals and the bed to see if there was any sign of them. Ern jumped out,
as soon as he saw the house was burned, and ran back to Nortons, which was about a quarter of a
mile. We got back in the car and turned around and went to Nortons. Ern came running out of
Nortons and said, "Well dear, the little boys are safe."
When I had looked at this fire, I said, "I'm not going to cry about anything if my little
boys are safe." Although it was hard to keep the tears back when I saw my sewing machine and
thought of all the things that had burned in the fire. The things we had collected through the
years, along with seven new quilts I had made.
The Greeks had given us $300 in cash, 10 and 20 dollar bills for the lease of the place
when we were getting ready to leave. Ern took this money and was going to put it behind the
mirror of the dresser. I said, "Oh Ern, don't do that, put that money in your pocket." He said, "I
don't want to carry that much money." Then he was going to put it behind a picture on the wall
and I said, "Ern, put that money in your pocket, please." He said, "I just don't want to carry that
much money." I said, "Nobody will know you've got it, put it in your pocket." He still didn't
want to take it. He lifted the rug and was going to put it under the rug and I said, "Ern, please
put that money in your pocket." He finally put it in his pocket and took it with us. Almost
always when we came home from town, we'd drive the car up against the house and didn't put it
in the garage. We would unload the groceries or whatever we had in there and leave it sitting to
the side of the house. For some reason or other, Ern had put the car in the garage. So our car
didn't burn up. That and the $300 were the two lucky breaks we had.
My sister, Vie, had separated from her husband, Stan. She brought her little girl,
Francis, for me to take care of while she got a job at Plattes. She had her second birthday there.
Just before her birthday, I kept telling her, "Francis, you're going to have a birthday and you are
going to be two years old." The morning of her birthday I got her out of bed and said, "Oh
honey, guess what day this is, this is a special day, do you know what it is and how old you are?"
She said, "Yes, I's too old."
On Monday morning we prepared to go to town to get some of the things we needed.
We didn't have dishes, pots, pans or anything left. I had quite a bit of aluminum ware that had
all melted away. I said to Charlotte that morning, "What are we going to wear to town today?"
Of course, we didn't have a thing, only the clothes we stood in. She said, "You darn fool, we
will wear the only thing we got." I laughed and said, "Well, we're lucky we've got something."
We wore those same dresses, but we had to go to town to buy us some more clothes and clothes
for the children. This Greek called Charlotte and told her he was going to come over in a day or
two. He did, he came over and saw her. He said, "I want to take you to Sunnyside and I want
you to get everything you need that you've lost. I feel like it is my fault. Charlotte went with
him and bought her a coat, hats, shoes, stockings, underwear and dresses. Everything in the
world she needed. I couldn't have done this, but Charlotte didn't have any qualms about it. She
got everything she needed, so she didn't lose much. There was just one month left of school, so
Charlotte stayed with the Nortons sharing a bed with Vivian for that month.
In the fall, we decided to move to Price. Ern went to work in the mine. I went to work
in the theater and cafe. We spent a year or more there and Max went to school. That was
where he went into the first grade. Max learned to ride horses at a very early age. He helped
with milking and all the farm chores. He was a very mischievous boy and teased his brother,
Boyd, and schoolmates a lot.
When we moved back to Clark's Valley, the teacher, was a widow woman with two boys.
Her name was McBeth. Gretchen Etchaborn had built a little two-room house close to the
school for this women to live in during the school year. This teacher put Max into the third
grade, so he skipped the second grade. I asked her, "Why did you do this?" She said, "Well, he
was ahead of the other students and that is where he belongs." He didn't miss anything, I guess,
because he was right up to his grade.
When Boyd began his first year of school, Max was very protective of him. Whenever
any of the other kids picked on Boyd, Max would take up the fight. The children played recess
on the bank of the reservoir, which was close to where the schoolhouse was built. They made
little roads and their own little matchbox wagons. They hauled dirt. One day when I was in
town, I saw some little dump cars, little cars that you could take up a little handle and dump. I
thought this would be nice for my boys to have to play with on the reservoir bank. I gave them
each a little dump truck. Boyd came home with a matchbox made into a wagon with spools for
wheels. He was so pleased with this matchbox wagon he had. I said, "Where is your little
dump truck." He said, "I traded it for this." You see, children really appreciate things they
make by hand just as much as, or more than, they do those things you buy. This taught me a
lesson I had never realized before.
Itchaborn was the janitor for the school that year. He cleaned the school and got it
ready. He hadn't quite finished washing all the outside windows. After school had started, we
were outside washing the windows. He was a cripple in his feet, he had them frozen when he
was a young man. He slipped on the ladder and the ladder fell over. He ran his arm through
the window and cut an artery down by his wrist. The teacher was holding her finger on this
artery to keep him from bleeding to death. A couple children came to me, the Assy boy and
somebody else. They said, "Verona, Etchaborn has cut his arm and he is bleeding to death,
come quick." I took some old sheeting and ran as fast as I could to the school. When I got
there, there sat the teacher holding her finger on this artery to keep him from bleeding to death.
I found the artery where it went into his arm and put a tourniquet on it to stop the bleeding.
Then we sent for Mr. Demic, asking him to take Etchaborn to the doctor. The doctor repaired
the artery and saved his life.
I seem to be the one who is elected to come in case of any emergency or sickness. When
there was a baby born, I was the one called to take care of it. I was probably not anymore able
to do this than others, only I had the guts to go and try.
We needed a Notary Public in our town. We always had to go to Price, if we had any
papers or anything that had to be notarized. I told a friend of mine, Mrs. Jameson who was the
recorder in Price, about this situation. I said, "We have to come here every time to get a notary
to sign our papers." She said, "Verona, why don't you apply to be a Notary?" I said, "Oh, I
couldn't do that." She said, "Sure you could." She got a law book for me and said, "You buy a
stamp, read this law book and put in an application to become a notary." I did this and became
our Notary. I could sign papers and put a seal on it.
CHAPTER 16
One summer we had no water for our cattle, sheep or for our own use, as we were in a
drought. Since we were not able to stay on the farm, we moved to a box canyon called Rock
Canyon. We could go as far as the mouth of the canyon with the wagons. Then there was a
horse trail where we took our sheep. We could go with the packhorse and drive the cattle and
sheep up the canyon for the summer. There was a cave there that I cleaned. It was a place
where we could have shelter from the storms. It was a place were we could make our beds and
be comfortable. I built a table out of poles and also benches. I made bread and baked it in a
bake oven. I would make this bread and decided there must be a better way to make yeast
bread. I took two large milk pans, heavy tin milk pans, and made yeast bread. I made two
loafs in this pan. I then put the other pan on top and made holes through the lips and wired that
tightly together. We dug a hole in the ground and built a fire. Then we built a fire on the
outside to keep some live coals. I would put these coals in the bottom. When my bread was
raised I would set the pan in there and cover it with live coals and the dirt. I learned about how
long to leave the bread in until it was done. Being covered like that and enclosed, it had the
most delicious flavor. It was such good bread, you could eat it without butter, jelly, honey or
anything. It was really good. I learned to bake my bread this way that summer.
We had many experiences while we were there. We had one buck and our sheep. We
kept the buck, one calf and cow (that we could milk so we had milk, cream and butter) in a coral
we had built by the camp. The sheep would come down every night, as they had the bed ground
by our camp. Every morning the sheep would go up the canyon and graze. Every night the boys
would go about sundown or just before sundown and start hollering. The sheep would gather
and come down to the bed ground. This went on all summer.
Ern wasn't there much of the time because he was in Wellington or on Miller Creek
working in the hay, to pay to feed our cow and stock during the next winter. I was there with
my two little boys. Max, as always, was a little mischief-maker. However, we got along very
well. Ern was with us when one day I sent the boys to our house to get something to bring back.
They were gone all day and never came home till it was time for supper. I had supper ready, a
stew. When they came, I put this stew on the table. I said, "What in the world have you boys
been doing all day." "Oh, we just met those kids down there and we just been playing around."
I put the stew on the table. When I had made this table, I had planted each leg in the dirt, but
there was one place where I couldn't dig down, it was rocky, so I had piled rocks up around this
one leg to hold the leg up for the table. I set all the food on the table and we sat down to eat.
We bowed our heads to ask the blessing on the food and when I opened my eyes, there was a
head of a snake right in front of my face, moving back and forward. I screamed and went
backwards, kicking that stew and everything off the table and all over the place. Ern jumped up
and we were all excited. He grabbed something and killed this snake. He went to pick it up
and found it had a wire around its tail and was wired to the leg of the table. Max had caught this
snake. It was a big blow snake or King snake, which are really harmless. He had been playing
with it all day. He had tied this wire so tight around the snake's tail, it couldn't get away. He
would throw it down and put the wire around the horn of the saddle. Max would let it curl
itself around a bush, trying to get away. He would then go with his horse and pull the snake. I
heard this afterwards. The snake, I guess, was really tired and hungry after all the activity that
Max had given it that day. When it smelled the food, it came up looking for something to eat.
Ern was really aggravated with Max and I was too. Anyway, this was another of the
experiences that my son Max gave us. I used to say Max was just like Freckles. He did all
these mischievous things and he always got the blame whether he did it or not.
This next story happened later that summer, when just I and the boys were there. The
boys hollered and yelled but the sheep didn't come down to their bed ground. The boys finally
came home and said, "Mother, we can't find the sheep anywhere, they're gone." We were quite
worried, but it was dark so we went to bed. The next morning at daylight, we looked for those
sheep. We finally found their tracks and also the tracks of coyotes. We knew the coyotes had
got behind them and had run them up the hill. We found two or three dead ones where the
coyotes had killed them. We just kept going and finally got on top of the hill where there was a
sheepherder. We went to the sheepherder and told him that our sheep had come there and had
mixed with his herd. We only had a little over a hundred sheep. He said, "We can't possibly
separate them now." Our sheep were plainly branded. He said, "This fall when we ship, we
will see that you get your sheep back." That was the best we could do. We got on our horses
and I went to Wellington and called my husband. He was out to the Olsen Ranch with my
brother, Lamar. Lamar had leased the Olsen Ranch that summer. I called Ern and said, "Ern, if
you want me to herd the sheep, you will have to get me sheep to herd, because the only one I
have left is the buck and he's just not worth herding." He said, "What!" I repeated it again, "I
said, all the sheep are gone, we haven't got any sheep to herd. If you want us to herd sheep, you
will have to get us another herd."
Ern got a contract from the county to furnish poles to build a fence from Wellington to
Price. They were going to build a new highway through there. Ern and I chopped posts and
sold them to the county, which was an income for us. We chopped all kinds of posts while we
were chopping. Some were standard for the county, some were too small, which we used for
other things like making fences around the calf pens and things like that. The larger posts we
used for shed posts. We did this all one summer and made good money doing it.
One time Max and Boyd were breaking new calves from sucking. One calf wouldn't go
through the fence very well. Max hit it over the head with a club, killing it. Ern got really
mad, as Max didn't slit it's neck and it blotted.
At different times, some of our relatives would come and stay with us. There was Ern's
sister, Amy, and her husband. May came after her husband was killed in the Standard Mine
when they had an explosion. She was out there with her children. I took care of her children
while she went to Arizona. We had my mother and father there at different times and my sister,
Vie. My sister, Lucile, and her husband visited quite often. My sister, Lois, came out there and
went to school at one time and also Viva. That was Delone's sister. Lamar and Delone and
different ones came and stayed with us at different times.
My brother Walt came and brought the cattle he had, six or eight head, I can't remember
how many. This was before he was married. Then he went to work at Sunnyside where he met
Ida. He was working with an Italian fellow at Sunnyside in the guiltsonite. One day this
Italian's son came and talked to his dad. After he left, Walt said to this Italian, "Your boy is a
pretty good boy isn't he." "Oh," he says, "My Tony a dammed good boy, everything he steal, he
bring home."
Ern also went to work at Sunnyside. He and Walt came home one Saturday night. Walt
had taken a bath at the hotel where he was staying, but Ern had to come home and take a bath. I
had the reservoir full of warm water and he was taking a bath. Walt undressed and went to bed.
He was always as mischievous as Max. He came in and said he was awfully thirsty. He got
this quart dipper just as full as he could and dumped this cold water all over Ern.
(This story was recorded on a tape that Walt and Ida Ewell had recorded when they
visited with Verona one day. This happen in Clark's Valley), Ida said, "How come you was
after that rabbit, didn't you know it had gone in those rocks?" Verona tells the story:
Ern and I were fencing on the East Forty when I saw this little rabbit. It ran into the
wash. I followed it and saw it go under this rock. Well, this hole was big enough for me to
climb in and I could see the little rabbit couldn't get out. I was going to reach in and get him.
Well, I will have to explain it to you. There was a great big rock that was kind of wedge shaped
and there was two rocks on each side, kind of holding it up. When I went to go under there,
there was sand in the bottom and it started these rocks to shifting in the sand. When I reach in
for this little rabbit, I felt them moving and coming down so I back out. But when I got to my
head, it came down and smashed my head between the big rock and a flat rock in the bottom. I
heard Ern screaming, begging and praying. He was nearly crazy, you know. He could see
what had happened and I couldn't get out. I couldn't pull my head out, it was fastened. I
thought, what can I say to comfort him, because I'm not going to have much time. I said, 'Oh
God, please help me.' Well, just then I reached up and God helped me. I reached up and
pushed this flat rock in the sand. It broke my nose and scarred me all up, but I pushed this rock
out and pulled my head out. That rock settled right down on the wet sand.
When you don't think that God can answer your prayer instantly, your mistaken. That
was an instant prayer that was answered. There was nothing Ern could do to help. The rock
weighed two tons, it was half as big as a wagon box."
Verona said she went back there to look at it many times. Walt asked, "Where was that
rock." Verona tells them, "It was in the wash, east of our place, you remember the wash that
went down east of our place. Well, that was where it was." She didn't know what happened to
the rabbit.
CHAPTER 17
Most of Max's school years were spent in Price and Wellington. He joined the band in
Wellington as a trumpeter. He was very good, as in all things he tried. In Price, Utah he took
first place as first trumpeter in the band. He even did this in Carbon High School and Jordan
High in Utah.
Boyd has many talents. He has a fine singing voice and plays the guitar. My Mother
always said, "He could be another Gene Auttry." She loved hearing him sing. He is loving and
kind to everyone. He loves animals and has many friends. He is a special friend to all. All of
his family, old and young, have a great respect for him. He is honest and true to his word. He
was just too shy.
Kiz was so dry. We had no water, our well was empty, our ditches couldn't even water
our livestock. Many of the people had moved out to find work and a new way of life. The
Depression had taken its toll. Our stock wasn't at its best. The crops had failed for the want of
water. We, who were left, were few in number so that the school had closed. We talked it
over, sold what we could, both produce and stock, which didn't bring much money. Taking our
personal things and few head of stock, we left Kiz in 1938 and went to Lark.
Ern got a job in the mines at Lark, Utah. We rented a house and pasture for our stock.
Of course, we were always looking for a place of our own. We had always wanted to own and
belong. We found an older brick house in Lehi that we felt we could afford. It was very
rundown, needing lots of loving care, both inside and out. It didn't take too long till we had it
cleaned up, painted and our old house became a comfortable home. It was good to be close
enough to so many of my family. Our visits to each of them became our life. I was delighted
our sons were in high school. They were a great help at home and had part-time jobs. They
were both very ambitious and were very good workers. While living in Lehi, I joined the
Daughters of the Utah Pioneers D.U.P. and became active in this organization. I wrote my
Grandmother Bigelow's history and sent it in. I made quilts, sewed and did church work which
kept me busy. I was also the Lehi Historian from 1941 to 1943.
While living in Lehi, we took into our home two foster children, David and Gloria. I
was so happy and had so many plans for them. They were both in elementary school. These
children had lived in many homes and had been on their own much of the time. I was confident
I could handle them, teach them, love them and raise them. Although I tried many things to
help them to know values and good from bad, the last straw was at Christmas. Ern and I had
gone to Lark to the company Christmas Party in the afternoon. All was ready for Christmas. It
was Christmas Eve. All my baking was done and all the gifts were wrapped. I'd put the gifts
high on the closet shelf and on the floor, covering them so it wouldn't be a temptation to the
children. I'd left treats and instructions that they were to keep the house clean and in order and
not get into things. On our return home we found our house in shambles. They had knocked
down the big Christmas tree that reached to the ceiling. We had criss crossed tinsel, red and
green rope, reaching from corner to corner with icicles strung over the tinsel and rope. It took
all the ceiling decorations down when it fell. The children had opened the gifts and looked at
everything for them as well as us. I had worked so hard and tried every way to make them
happy and then they did this to me. It was the last straw. I didn't feel they would ever change
or try to make us happy. It was hard to give up these children. I had wanted more family so
very much. This was a sad decision.
Many years later, Gloria contacted me and wanted to see me. My sister, Lois, took me
to Gloria's home in Alpine, Utah. She had a lovely home, a beautiful family and had done really
well with her life. I didn't see David, but he too has a family and living a good life. I was
happy for them both.
We were doing well enough by now that we bought a new car and took our boys on a fine
trip. The boys graduated from high school. Max joined the Navy in 1939. We moved to Lehi
in the Spring of 1940. Max was in all the big battles in the Pacific in the 5th Fleet and was with
that fleet to be the first in sigma after the balm.
Max married June Fartheringham (born June 28, 1923 in Eureka, Utah), on 11 December
1941. From this union, four children were born:
Jeanette June, born April 20, 1943 in American Fork, Utah;
Max Ernest Jr., born February 28, 1945 in Am. Fork, Utah;
Teddy James born December 5, 1947 in Lehi, Utah;
Robert Loyd born April 22, 1951 in Eurika, California.
A great change came into my life, I became a grandmother for the first time. Our little
Jeanette June was born five days after my birthday. Oh! what a joy she was, a beautiful dark
haired, brown eye'd special gift to me. Our little daughter-in-law, June, was so sweet and
understanding, letting me take over this little girl. I bathed her, fed her, and slept with her part
of the time. June gave me the thrill of a lifetime. This was my dream come true.
World War II broke out and our two sons joined the Navy. I had my sweet little
daughters-in-law to help and comfort me and I them. My beautiful little granddaughter,
Jeanette, was a Godsend to all of us. She was so very special. I enjoyed every minute with her.
June was so sweet, she let me take care of her and do anything I wanted to do. I made her
clothes and anything she needed or wanted I got for her.
Boyd married June Sunderland on March 4, 1944 or 43. From this union:
Connie Rae, August 4, 1947, Lehi, Utah. Boyd and June divorced.
Boyd then married Donna Merinda Kitchen, October 4, 1950 or November, 1951. They were
later Divorced. Children from this marriage:
Linda B., November 9, 1950 or 51 in Glendale, LA, CA
Boyd B. Jr. Jan. 29 or June 29, 1954 in Arcula, Humbolt, CA;
Chris B., September 11, 1955 in Arcula, Humbolt, California.
Married third wife, (Jerry) Geraldine Adda Kersliner November 10, 1972, divorced. Three
wives, four children and ? grandchildren. He loves and enjoys his family whenever he's able to
be with them.
Boyd has always let people run over him. Even his wives' didn't show love and respect for him,
because he let them have their way. I guess he wanted to keep peace. He deserved much more
from them, because he worked so hard. He needed someone to shower him with love and
attention. I hope someday he finds someone who will truly appreciate him for who and what he
is. Boyd is a very special man. I hope someday he will know that he is very special. Boyd
has had a life of changes, disappointments and the last few years much pain and trouble with his
legs (knees). Boyd has no bad habits, no drinking or smoking. His only fault is too easy going,
lets people take advantage of him. As he gets older, he's mellowed and wants a contented happy
life. He's deserving of better times.
After the war, work was very hard to get in Utah and Max moved to California where he
was employed at Klamath as a saw filer. Boyd soon joined him.
Max has followed this trade ever since, and made a profitable living for his family. All
the children obtained a good education in Ukiah, California where they bought a home. All
graduated from high school. Jeanette took a special business course. Max Jr. and Ted were
both in the Navy. Bob graduated from College in Sacramento and married shortly after
graduation. Jeanette married Ronald Lemmerz on May 9, 1965 and has one child, Michael
Lemmerz. Ted had two children, one girl and one boy. Max Jr. married Trudy Leverne Ford
and has one boy.
The house and our life was so empty. We sold the home in Lehi and followed our sons.
Soon after we moved to California, Lamar came with his family. Ern and all the men got jobs in
the lumber business. Ern and I were so lonesome for our family after Boyd's divorce and all of
them having moved to California. I took in boarders and did quite well at that. Cooking has
always come easy for me so this worked out well. One night Max came home from fishing and
brought me a fish. He asked me where I wanted him to put it. I told him to shut off the sink
drain and run the water in the sink to keep it until morning. He did so. When I got up in the
morning, I almost died when I saw what he had done. Here was a big eel in my sink. It looked
like a snake. Delone's sister, Thelma Wing, her husband, Ted, also Cleo and Fred Sweeny and
other members of the Leavett family all bought property on Fickle Hill in Arcata and built
houses.
We sell out at Fickle Hill and buy a special two-bedroom house in Gridley, California.
Gridley, California is a farming community. This place has nut trees across the front, also many
shrubs, grass, and flowers. It also has a nice garage at the side in the back. The back is all
fenced in with fruit trees. The yards are beautiful and easy to keep up. Also we have enough
room for a garden. Ern built a hen house on stilts, next to the garage. We enjoy our chickens.
Ern names them and trains them to walk up a narrow board to their sleeping and laying quarters.
It was delightful and very entertaining to watch Ern call his chickens by name as they walked up
that board. We became really active in the Church. Ern wants us to marry in the Temple.
After we find out Ern has cancer, I prepare our clothes and we go to Salt Lake (May 3, 1954) for
this occasion. Quite a number of my family attended.
At first we lived in a small frame house. Then I built my own house, even the fireplace.
Ern handed me material and tools. This was my project alone. When I got to the upstairs and
had my stairs built, I found I hadn't left enough room for heads to get in the upstairs. I went to
my brother and he said, "Sis, I don't know what to tell you. It's just a mistake." Well, I figured
and figured several times, then came up with making a landing extension, almost like another
small room. By adding that and a window in this little room, it worked out fine. Many people
thought I had planned it that way. See picture of this house on page 3.
Another tragedy came into our lives. Max and Lamar, my brother, went fishing one
morning. They rented a boat and motor early in the morning. One of those quick squalls came
up, the motor stopped working. The boat capsized and they both went into the ocean. Several
times they tried to send distress signals to no avail. Then the coast guard did see them and
started out to rescue them. Max came up and Lamar was sitting on top of the bottom of the
boat. Lamar remarked, "I'm so glad you came up, I was so scared for you." Just then a big
wave came and knocked Lamar off into the water again. The Coast Guard came and got Max,
but Lamar was not found. In December he washed ashore. He is buried in Eureka, California.
CHAPTER 18
Ern became very sick so I took him for tests. He has cancer and needs to have surgery.
This was a terrible shock to us both. I called our sons and this was hard for them to accept, as
they loved their Father very much. The doctors performed surgery on him, but they didn't get it
all or it flared up again. Ern couldn't stand drugs or alcohol, because these drugs hurt his mind.
The doctors thought he had lost his mind and placed him in an institution. I tried to tell them it
was just the drugs. If they would only take him off them he would be okay, but they wouldn't
listen to me. I got a place close by and tried to see him. I was not allowed to see him. Being
the determined person I am, the fight was on. I called for help from God.
The following poem gave me a lot of comfort along with my prayer and helped me
through my husband's illness.
BECAUSE
Because it rains when we wish it wouldn't
Because men do what they shouldn't
Because crops fail and plows go wrong,
Some of us grumble the whole day long.
But some who in spite of fear and doubt
It seems at last that things work out.
Because we lose when we hope to gain
Because we suffer a little pain
Because we must work when we'd like to play,
Some of us whimper along the way.
But some who as day must follow night
Most of our troubles work out all right.
Because we cannot forever smile
Because we must trudge in the dust awhile
Because we think that the way is long
Some complain that life is all wrong.
But somehow we live and skies grow bright
And most things seem to work out all right.
So we'll bend to our troubles and meet our cross
While the clouds must break and the skies grow fair
Like the rain comes down as it must and will
But we'll keep on working and hoping still.
For in spite of grumblers who stand about,
Somehow it seems that all things work out.
Author Unknown
When I went back to Mrs. Hubbards, I went in trying hard to keep the tears back. Mrs.
Hubbards said, "You didn't get good news?" I said, "No, it was the worst." I sat down, not
knowing what to do or which way to turn. She handed me a Daily Word turned to the day (I
think it was Thursday). She said, "Read this and see if you can find some comfort." I read it
and it was something like this. "With God all things are possible. Ask in faith believing."
Then it went on to say, "When you pray know what you want and ask God." I thought, I have
been praying, but not for what I wanted. I had said, "Oh God, if he cannot gain his right mind,
let him die." I sat there and thought, "Is it possible for God to heal a dead brain?" I said, "Yes,
this is possible with God." I said, "Mrs. Hubbard, I'm going to my room to pray." I went up
the stairs, I knelt down before the window and I thought, "Now what do I want?" I prayed that
my husband would regain his normal senses and I could take him home. I said, "God, I know
that with you all things are possible." I asked for what I really wanted. I had to go through lots
of Red-Tape to get him released and home again, but from then on he had his right mind and
lived a little over two years.
Lois, my sister, and her family moved in our house in Gridley and we moved into their
place in Draper. Her husband was on a job on the Feather River in California and Gridley was
close. Ern wanted to die in Utah, that was always home to him.
Ern and I were together for forty-one years when he died of cancer on August 10, 1956,
at my sister's, Lois, home in Draper. He is buried in Sandy, Utah. His full name, James Ernest
Babcock. Born in Grass Valley, Utah, on January 29, 1890, to Joseph and Sarah Norton
Babcock.
Ern had a special feeling for Boyd. He enjoyed his company and their associations.
Boyd watched his Father leave this world and it left a great vacancy in his life. Boyd enjoyed
going and working side by side with his Dad. He enjoyed the animals, especially the horses.
He loved to ride and care for them. They had many wonderful talks and times together. He
was a good worker and learned to accept life in a quiet and peaceful way. There were times
when I wanted him to explode, show a temper, or to express his true feelings, but he didn't or
wouldn't.
I returned to Gridley and sold out, moving back to Utah. I bought a place in Hunter,
Utah (West Valley City as it is now called). It is an old house, well built and I'm comfortable.
I cleaned, fixed it up and then rented it. My son, Boyd, and his wife, Donna, have separated and
he comes to live with me. We decide to raise Nutria for their fur. This keeps us busy getting
everything built and ready. We have to have enough water, like a swimming pool, to care for
them. This was quite a bit of work.
It was at this time that my nephew, Carl Powell, come to live with us. He and his wife
are separated too. He needed us as we needed him. Having these boys with me helped me to
be comforted. I needed people around me. The three of us were without our companions.
One night I had a dream. I was very blue and discouraged with life and wondered how
much longer I had to be left alone. I went to bed and cried myself to sleep. A dream came to
me. There was a room with a stairway on the west side and I was going up the stairway. I
heard my Mother say, "Verona come on, dinner is ready." I pulled a little sliding door back
from the side of the wall and looked down upon a room where my Father was sitting in an easy
chair, very relaxed and looking very contented and happy. My Mother sat with one arm on the
buffet and the other on a table set for eight with very beautiful dishes, crystal, napkins and linen.
Each plate contained a napkin with a silver ring around it. I took in this scene and said to my
Mother, "Mother, I can't come to dinner until I have finished my poem." It seemed as though I
had to have a poem for my schoolwork the next day. She said, "What is it that you need, dear?"
I said, "I need a word to rhyme with gone." She said, "What about dawn?" I said, "Oh Mother,
that's it, that's the word I need." I went up the stairway and wrote this poem.
The Dawn
The lake is frozen over
The flowers all are dead
Or, are they only sleeping
In Spring they'll raise their head.
My thoughts are sad and dreary
A pain is in my head
But if I smile my head will clear
The sun will shine instead.
The world looks bleak and dreary
My faith and courage gone
But if I raise my thoughts to God
Then morning comes the dawn.
I have many times dreamed of poems and forget them by morning. I decided I should
write it so I couldn't forget. I reached for a pencil and a book above the headboard of my bed.
On the back of a Relief Society Magazine, over the printing, I wrote this poem. I went back to
sleep without turning on a light. The next morning I woke up and thought I had a dream last
night. What was it? The dream came back to me and I remembered that there was a poem. I
tried to remember it but I couldn't think what it was. I thought, "I wrote that down". I raised
the blind and took this magazine and looked. Sure enough, I had written this on the back of this
magazine. If I had not done this, I would have forgotten, as I had really forgotten all about it. I
had done things like this many times before.
Boyd went back to his family. I can't care for the Nutria alone, so I sell out and buy a
place in Salt Lake City, 203 East 3600 South. I work in a rest home. At this time I meet
Chuck, who keeps me from being so lonely. We go dancing, out to dinner and he helps me both
in and outside my house. I then buy a house on 8th East and 2700 South. I fix this up, clean
and paint, then I rent this house. This gives me a little extra money.
In 1959, myself, Florence Covington and Lucile (my sister) joined the Harmonica Club
(Silver Threads Among The Gold). We were all Daughters of the Utah Pioneers. It was real
fun to get the materials and make the pioneer dresses. We wore them when we played in the
band. The band traveled all over the Salt Lake Valley, playing for clubs, parties, family affairs
and etc. We were good entertainers and most of us were widowed. This kept us quite busy, but
liking to quilt and other hobbies gave us much to live for and helped the lonely hours.
Lois, Verona's sister, said, "I don't know of two ladies in declining years who ever had a
greater time than those two. Florence was musical and could play the piano and other
instruments and Verona could sing well and lead the group in fun songs."
CHAPTER 19
In 1959 I was living at 204 East 3600 South, Salt Lake City, Utah, when I wrote this
diary. I had bought this house, cleaned, painted and fixed it up. It was very comfortable. I
planted a garden and kept up the lawn and flowers. I also made quilts.
On April 25th, while reading my scriptures in Matthew 21:22. It said, "And all things
whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing ye shall receive." I know this to be true.
I applied for a job at LaMar's Resthome as a cook. I got the job today, May 4th. I'm
working for Jesse Bigley in the mornings. I work from two to four hours a day. The people in
the rest-home are very special. They get so lonely and want to be recognized and receive a little
attention. I brought Dossie home with me from the rest home. She had lunch with me. I took
her to Grand Central (which is a store) and for a ride, she enjoyed it very much. Dossie has no
family, so I become hers.
After work today, May 7, I went to Bernice's to a baby shower for Lucy Timothy, a very
sweet girl. I admire her so much. These are my Sister Vivian's daughters.
Friday was payday, got $13.60. On Saturday I worked 9 hours. Then went to a
birthday party for Vivian at Lucy's home. We took potluck, had a nice time and visited with so
many loved ones. Saw Leon's baby for the first time. She is a beautiful baby and very
adorable. Vivian looked very sweet and lovable, not very old for her age and to think she is the
mother of 14 children.
May 10, Sunday, is Mother's Day. I went to Sunday School with Lucile. It was a very
nice service. Max and June sent me a lovely half-slip, two pair of hose and such nice cards. I
love them all so much. Boyd's Donna and the children came in the afternoon brought me a book
on arthritis and common sense, also perfume. Donna has been very nice to me. Boyd worked
all day for Walt (my brother), didn't see him. Boyd and Donna came in the evening on Monday.
Boyd cut the lawn and we visited for awhile. I have a lot of tree roots in my lawn. I keep
chopping them out of the lawn. I keep busy with my ironing, watered lawns and garden. I got
paid $48.38 today, but I am tired, as I had to wash all the dishes today as the dishwasher broke.
I also washed my car and watered the lawn and garden. On my day off, I worked in the garden
until 11 a.m. Lucile and I went to town. I got cloth for a dress and bought a new white hat.
Nothing seems to help, I'm so alone, I miss Ern. I have lots of memories, this keeps me going.
Sunday, May 24, Lucile's group, Silver Threads Harmonica Band, came and entertained
at the rest home. I was late with supper and didn't get home until 5:30 p.m. I just watched TV
and went to bed.
May 26, Tuesday, my day off. I worked in the garden most of the day. I went to a
shower for Patty at Delone's, my brother Lamar's wife and his daughter. Had a fine time and a
lovely lunch.
December 24, Thursday. We visited relatives, delivered presents. When we got home
it was 12 o'clock. Chuck and I opened our presents. I gave him horse cuff links and tie clasp.
He gave me a beautiful pin for my coat and Tabu perfume.
December 25, I worked all day. Chuck took me to dinner in the evening.
The Monday after Christmas I had the gang down for waffles and served eight couples.
We had bacon, eggs and coffee. Everyone enjoyed it. We blew out one fuse, which Henry
fixed. We played games and had a lot of fun. I bought a new dress for New Years Dance.
Florence and I shopped all day.
On Wednesday, December 30, I went to Jackson's. Twenty-two couples in all went to
Harmons for supper. I took Florence, George and Chuck my car. I wore my glass slippers and
lost a heel. I also lost my beautiful pin from my coat.
Well, 1959 has ended. It has been the best year I've had since Ern died. I'm so happy
that I met such a good, sweet friend as Florence. We can do so many things together and I
always enjoy her. I can go to her with my troubles or happiness and we share each others joys
and sorrows, such happy associations.
In the year 1960, a few changes came in my life. Florence and I decided we wanted a
change. We were looking in the paper and learned that people were needed at Lake Tahoe. We
applied for the jobs. We arrived at Round Hill Pines, were interviewed, and went right to work.
We worked there three and one half months. I was cook and Florence my helper. We left Salt
Lake City, Utah at 4:30 a.m., June 5, 1960. We arrived at Round Hill Pines at 5:30 p.m., same
day. Started work June 6th. During the summer we visited all places of interest around the
lake. Drove many miles on our day off, Tuesdays. We tried our hand at gambling, I only won
one jackpot all summer. Florence was more lucky than I, she won many.
We left Round Hill Pines, September 15, 4:30 p.m. Spent the night in Lovelock,
Nevada. I got so many nice letters from Chuck during the summer. When we arrived in Salt
Lake, I called him and he came right down. We were very happy to see each other. Chuck had
taken care of my place all summer. He also helped me make my house over. He put a glass
door on the back porch, a door on the back closet and repaired light switches and plugs. Chuck
had Thanksgiving dinner with me and my family. I had Christmas dinner with Jane. Chuck
gave me a Coo-Coo clock for Christmas. I gave him a suitcase. Spent the 26th visiting around
with Florence.
DIARY - 1961
January 1, 1961 - Chuck came down about 1:00 p.m. I made rolls to take to his place for
dinner. We had dinner about 4:30 p.m. with Elda and Elmer Gardner. Made no New Year
resolutions, I want only good wishes for what I need for a happy New Year.
January 2 - I was to see Jesse Bigley about a job, but he was not home. This afternoon I
decided to put on Lois's quilt. Florence came down in the evening to help me, she stayed all
night, we got quite a lot done. It's a very long time to be alone, I try to keep busy.
January 5 - Lucile, Florence and I have been working on quilts. We finished it just
before going home. We had a nice dinner at Thelma's. I brought Lucile and Florence home.
I'm tired, it's good to be home. Florence and I decided today to go to Truth or Consequences,
New Mexico, for a trip. We will stay and work if we get a chance. I'm glad for the change.
Worked at Randolph's where I make five dollars. I then came home and got ready for a dance I
was going to with Chuck. Earlier Jess Bigley called and wants me to go to work at 7610 South
13th East. I'm to be the cook. I won't have lots of hours, but it will be tiring. I went to bed
early, have to leave by seven a.m.
January 9 - Jim Powell called, Vivian is quite bad. I went to see Vivian at 1:30 p.m. the
next day. My sister isn't a bit well. I hate to go so far away when she is so bad, it's hard to
leave her.
January 12 - I cleaned out the fridge in preparation for leaving to Truth or Consequences.
We hope to leave Sunday or Monday. Played three numbers at Miller's with the Harmonica
Band. I ate lunch with Florence. I told Chuck we were going on a trip when he came to take
me to Ida's birthday dinner.
January 13 - Friday, we bought our tickets, $60.89. We then got ready for the dance.
Chuck came at 7 p.m., left at 8:30, picking up Ruby Olsen at Florence's. Sunday - I finished
packing, cleaned my house, defrosted fridge, and separated food, putting in a box what I couldn't
take. Chuck came about 4 p.m., put locks on outside doors. We had supper together, fried
chicken and leftovers.
Monday - I finished ironing, got everything ready to go. Chuck came over in the
evening and we ate more chicken and leftovers. We then went to Lucile's and took a box of
food. Chuck took me to the bus where we met Florence and George. We left Salt Lake at
11:30 p.m. This was my last date with Chuck. We stopped in Grand Junction, Colorado, for
one hour to eat breakfast. We had coffee and ate out of our own lunch on the bus. Arrived in
Denver at 3:30 p.m. Got a room at the Denver Hotel. We went uptown to get tickets for a
stock show, but they were all sold out. We went anyway taking a chance on getting tickets.
We had to stand part of the time and then found seats. Sure was a good show. Got back to the
hotel after midnight. We slept in late, so had something to eat in our room. We went to see the
city from the First National Bank Building, twenty-eight stories high and the Brown Palace
Hotel, it was very beautiful. We left Denver at 2 p.m.
January 19 - We arrived in Truth or Consequences at 4:30 a.m. We went to a hotel that
had no rooms, so called from the hotel and found a room at Broadway Court. Paid $3 for a
room for three hours and then got Number 5 cabin for $15 a week. We looked around town,
went to the recreation center, there we met a man from Salt Lake City. He had a big 98 Olds.
He took us to a musical and said his car was available at any time. After being treated to pie
and coffee at a cafe, we got home about 10 p.m. Arthur Luchesi is going to take us to the
Center. I have a date to play cards. Luchesi and Florence are going to play shuffleboard. We
also played dominoes. We met Judge Wootman and another guy in a striped shirt.
PETER (PETE) KEESEE "TEX"
January 20, 1961 - I met Pete Keesee. Florence and I are going to a dance tonight. I
have never had so much fun at a dance since I was a young girl. Florence and I were so popular,
we danced every dance. I met a man by the name of Peter (Pete) Keesee "Tex." He danced
every dance with me that I didn't have with someone else. He asked me to be his steady date.
He asked me to go to the dance Saturday at the Ashbaugh. Pete brought Florence a blind date, a
wolf, but she knew how to handle him, so we made out fine. We danced until 12:30 a.m. Pete
danced all but two dances with me. Pete asked me for a dinner date Sunday afternoon, but I
already made a date with Luchesi, and Florence had a date with the Judge to go out to the
Elephant Butte Dam. I told Pete I'd meet him at 4 p.m. at the Center to play shuffleboard. I
met Pete. Luchesi didn't want to give me up, but he finally took Florence and we all went out to
a cafe. Pete paid the bill and we came home. Florence entertained Luchesi until he left about
7:30 p.m. Pete left about 11:30 p.m.
I saw Pete every day and caught a cold so I decided not to go to the baths today with
Florence. The gas was on in the oven, didn't know it. I went to light it and it blew up in my
face. Burned my hands, face, hair and neck. Had some Mentholatum handy so I put it all over
my burns. Mr. George Nall from Spurville, Kansas, who plays violin with one arm, and Mr.
Hendricks from Truth or Consequences, who plays guitar and mandolin, came to our cabin to
practice with us. We played the harmonicas. Mr. and Mrs. Schlireth came to pick up George
and Royce. Mr. Schlireth played a few tunes on the fiddle and Royce and I danced. I fasted all
day.
On January 26, Florence went to the baths, I stayed home again, as I still wasn't feeling
good. I can hardly talk. I had a dish of rolled oats for breakfast. Will see my Texan tomorrow
night. Still have a cold. Florence and I went to town to look the shops over. Then I stayed
home to nurse my cold so I could go to the dance tonight. I slept an hour or so then showered
and got ready for the dance. Still didn't feel very good. My Texan didn't come, so I didn't go to
the dance. Florence came home about 11 p.m.
January 28 - I still have a bad cold. Got a long distance call from Francis. She said
Vivian was very low. I feel so terrible about not being able to be with her at the end, poor
darling has suffered so much all her life. Florence and I went to see Dr. Ellis. I almost had
pneumonia and I feel like it. We went over to the Center, didn't feel like I could do anything,
just sat around. Tex and Ed came, asked us to go to supper. We went to Bill and Mary's Cafe.
Called Lucille at 9 p.m., decided not to go home, can't do anything for Vivian.
January 29 - Hope my cold is better tomorrow, it makes me so tired. I haven't heard
from my dear Sister today, sure would like to know how she is tonight. Today is Ern's birthday,
he would have been 71 years old. Seems so long since he left me alone.
January 30 - Got a letter from Lucile, she said Vivian is real sick. Pete is working, said
he wouldn't see me until Friday. Planned to go to the Rodeo Monticello Saturday, February 4th.
February 2 - Pete and I got in a corner and talked. He said he had a rodeo suit laid away
for me and also proposed marriage to me, a pretty fast talker. He only has his love and himself
to offer me. He is so kind and sweet and I believe I can find happiness with him, because we
need each other. After the musical, we went to Ashbaugh and danced. By the time we got
home, we were engaged. I hope I'm not making a mistake.
February 3 - I have told Pete I will marry him. I am wondering if I am right. Florence
went to the baths. I stayed home, finished my dress, got ready for the dance and then went to
the Center with Ed and Florence. Met Pete at 7:30 p.m. We went for coffee and came back to
the Center and danced until 10:30 p.m. Ed, Florence, Pete and I went to Ashbaughs and had a
good time, then to the Yacca for dinner. We were all tired so went home. Pete said he would
be over to pick me up at 10:30 a.m. He said he wanted to buy me a Western outfit, we'll see.
February 4 - Florence and I talked about me marrying Pete. I got dressed and wrote in
my diary. Pete came, we went shopping. The outfit he had picked out for me was too small.
We decided to wait and get something in Old Mexico when we get married. We are going to
Juarez to get married, if we can, or we may have to come back to El Paso. Pete is sick with a
cold and so am I. We stayed home, Pete bought some groceries so we ate supper at home.
February 5 - Pete came about 10 a.m. Florence and I were still in our housecoats. Pete
looked very nice. I love him more each time I see him. We had lunch and then Mr. and Mrs.
White came to take us to Frenches to a musical. We spent the afternoon there and then went to
a cafe to get something to eat. We spent the evening at home, everything closes up on Sunday.
February 6 - I met Pete at noon. We went to Dr. Johnson to see about our blood test.
Tex didn't work this Monday. I spent the day and evening at home doctoring Tex for the bad
cold he has. He thought it was kill or cure, but felt better, so he still believes I love him even
though I sent him home early, as he had to work the next day. The days are dragging after our
whirling courtship. I called Chuck and told him I was getting married. He thought it was
rather hasty, but gave us his blessing and wished us happiness. So that's that! One and a half
years of association ended with Chuck.
February 7 - Florence and I were both tired. We decided not to go to the dance. I went
to the store to get the things for the dinner. I also told Pete I was too tired to go to the dance.
He is such a sweet guy, he makes me love him more every time I'm with him. I love to dance
with my Texan, his arms are so dear, it's heavenly to be with him.
February 8 - I wrote all the letters I need to write, telling of my approaching marriage. I
guess it will surprise a few people. I also attended to my bills, set my Jell-O and now I'm going
to get ready to go down to Pete's house. Jim loaned us his car to go to the supper. No one was
there to unlock the door, I got the key from the Bishop and got things started. There were about
30 people waiting to get in. We met some very good people. Florence got the music going.
After supper we had a good program and danced until about 9:30. Pete brought Florence and I
home in Jim's car.
February 9 - This is a day to remember. We arose at 4 a.m. George came about 5 a.m.
We had a bite of breakfast. I bathed, got dressed and went to town to get George a cord for his
razor. I had to pick up our blood test papers. I bought Pete a hat on approval, he liked it. I
found him at work and invited him to have dinner with George, Florence and myself. Pete went
home, changed his clothes. He met us by the food mart. We decided to go to the Vera Hotel
for dinner. After dinner Pete decided he wouldn't go back to work. Florence drove up to the
courthouse. She said, "You have your blood test, so you just as well get your license." We did
just that and then Florence made arrangements to get us married at the Thompson's Musical.
We went to the Bishop's home and set the time to be married. We were married at 8:30 p.m. by
the Bishop. Mrs. Thompson gave us a family of dolls. There were about 200 people who
witnessed our marriage. We stayed at Pete's, my dear wonderful husband's place.
February 10 - I love my husband very much. I didn't know there could be such a dear,
tender hearted man in the world. We had breakfast, did up the work and got ready to go with
Florence and George. They came about noon. Florence and I got something together and we
took out for Juarez, Mexico. We arrived in El Paso too late to go across the border, so we went
to a cafe and had supper. Pete was really sick, but just wouldn't give up. We walked around
town for awhile. I could see Pete was getting worse, so we found a hotel close to the Bus
Depot. Florence and George went on to Carlsbad. Pete and I stayed in all evening. I went to
the drug store and got some medicine and doctored Pete. I love my dear husband very much. I
know we both have found happiness.
February 11 - Pete said he felt better this morning so we went to Juarez. We saw the old
mission, looked around the market places, but Pete was just too sick to go any farther. We went
back to El Paso. I bought some shoes and Pete bought me a beautiful ring. I love it because it's
a symbol of our love for each other. Pete had such a high fever on the way back home, I was
really worried about him. We got the bus driver to let us off right at the Center. I doctored him
the best I could. He slept pretty good and said he felt better by morning. This cold had been
hanging on for just too long a time.
February 12 - I awoke in the arms of my darling husband. I'm just realizing I'm Mrs.
Peter Martin Keesee. We had breakfast but Pete didn't have a very good appetite. It was about
noon when his fever came up again and he was miserable. I called Dr. Cantrel. He and his
wife came. He said Pete's right lung was completely closed. He was worried and so was I.
He gave him a shot of penicillin, as his fever was 103. The doctor came again in the evening
and his fever was down to 100. I took care of my darling the best I could. He is more dear to me
each day.
February 13 - We ate breakfast, I cleaned up the house, went to town to get some
groceries and whiskey to see if I could break Pete's cold up. I made him an eggnog as he has no
appetite at all. Dr. and Mrs. Cantrel came again and gave him another shot and more pills.
Pete took a shower and I rubbed him with Vicks and covered him with hot towels. The doctor
came again about 6 p.m. and Pete was better. The doctor said he could walk down to the office
in the morning if he felt like it. I stayed in all day with my darling. We talked and got better
acquainted with each other. Each day I love him more.
February 14 - We went to the doctor's office. He gave him a good examination. His
lung is still closed, he gave him a shot of cold serum and wrote out a prescription for more pills.
While downtown, we had a hamburger. We then went home. I went to a baby shower for Pat.
We spent a nice evening and I brought some cake and nuts home for Pete. I was happy to find
my dear husband waiting for me and so happy to be in his arms again, we are in love.
February 15 - We went to the doctor's again and Pete got another shot. We then went to
Pete's brother and got a few things. Pete is feeling much better and sure does make me happy.
I received a letter from my son, Boyd, and Donna, his wife. They were really surprised about
my getting married. Lucile wrote and told me how bad the damage was to my house (a water
pipe broke and it flooded the inside of the house). I feel I should hurry home, but hate to leave
my husband. I also received a card from Florence. We took a shower and went to bed.
February 16 - Pete did all the work for our bacon and eggs while I wrote in my diary.
His brother, Pat, came bringing Pete a letter from his daughter, Margie and Bob. Pat is going to
have dinner with us. After dinner I'm going to go with the Relief Society ladies to quilt this
afternoon. We got the quilt about half-finished. They brought me home and then we went to
the musical and came home.
February 17 - Went to the doctor's office. We walked down to see Jim and Pat, went to
dinner and to the Center, played a couple of games of shuffle board, went home cleaned up and
went back to the Center to the dance. Pete didn't feel too good, but he danced a few times
anyway and then we went home early.
February 18 - We went dancing this evening. I danced with my darling all evening,
except when Pete danced a few times with Dot. I never missed a dance either, we had a
wonderful time. I didn't want to see it end, for tomorrow I'm leaving for Mesa to meet Florence.
February 19 - We stayed in bed late, Pete prepared breakfast. We cleaned the house,
packed everything. Pete got Jim to take our things to his place. We spent a little time visiting
then we went to the Yucca for dinner. I love my sweetheart very much. We walked back home
in the moonlight to get my pillow, I had forgotten, kissed my sweetheart goodbye and by 10 p.m.
was on the bus. I was on the bus all night, changing buses in Los Cruz, changed to Greyhound
in Tucson, and wrote Pete a card.
February 20 - Arrived in Mesa about 8:30 a.m., phoned Florence, she came and got me
with some friends. She fixed us some breakfast, visited for awhile and then Joe brought the car
for us to use. We saw some beautiful sights and some friends took us to see Swiss Family
Robinson.
February 21 - Got packed and ready to go on the bus at 6:30 p.m. Joe came and took us
to Phoenix to catch the bus. We traveled all night.
February 22 - I got home at 11:30 a.m. in a big snowstorm, another day away from my
sweetheart and I can't do a thing because of a holiday. We visited with Florence's children. I
stayed with Florence after looking over the disaster in my house. Her son-in-law, Bill came
down, looked it over and said he would fix it up for $175, I guess he'll start tomorrow. Boyd
came down to help. I stayed with Florence.
February 23 - They brought me home in the morning, got a man from Granite Furniture
to put the rug back. I cleaned the front room, felt a little better. Boyd and Ronny came, took
out the pipe, fixed it so I could have the water turned on, so I stayed at home, bought a few
groceries. Stayed here alone, lonely.
February 24 - Boyd worked and I cleaned the best I could, made a few phone calls, listed
the place with the Sun Reality. Florence took kitchen curtains home to wash.
February 25 - Saturday, Boyd and Ronny came down, got the insulation out, tore out the
ceiling. Bill came and his father. They got the ceiling in and the dirt out. I hired Florence's
son-in-law, Bill, to help with the house. It cost me over $200, but we finally got it repaired.
Another lonesome night without my darling husband.
February 26 - Wrote to my husband, took the linoleum out of the kitchen, cleaned up the
floor in the kitchen and bathroom, washed and put up my hair. I tried to call Lucile, not at
home, so I stayed at home all day, so lonely.
February 27 - Wrote my husband, cleaned house, got ready to go to town. Boyd came
and put on my license plates. We went to Lucile's. Boyd put new lights in my car. I visited
Lucile all after-noon, didn't get the things done I had planned, because car tied up. In the
evening I visited Lois. Spent a nice evening and came home at 9 p.m. I went to bed but
lonesome and wishing to be in my dear husband’s arms. I got a letter from him today.
February 28 - Boyd woke me on his way to work. Wants me to get his car license.
Snowed last night, slick roads. I wrote Pete. I go for the license in the afternoon. I got too
busy and too tired to write in my diary, so just to sum up some of the happenings:
Pete came March 5th. I met him at 3600 South. We were so very happy to be together
again. I had to go to the doctor in Midvale on Monday for a shot. We were treated so wonderful
by friends and relatives during our stay in Salt Lake. Dinners, parties, dances, etc. Frances,
bless her heart, gave us a beautiful reception at her home with a wedding cake. We got gifts and
$14 in cash. We had such a wonderful time. I was so very proud of my husband, he looked so
handsome. The dance crowd gave us a reception the next night at the Copper Kettle and all
went to the Friendly Club after and danced.
We got ready to leave to go back to Truth or Consequences the 24th of March. I was at
Florence to SUP Meeting when Boyd came with word that Jeanette had been in a car accident,
her boyfriend killed and she was in very serious condition. In one hour, Pete, Boyd and I were
on our way to Ukiah. We arrived there the next morning about 6 a.m. We found our darling
very seriously cut up with both legs broken, pelvis broken in five places, five ribs broken on one
side and four on the other. Her face and arms badly cut, but alive and conscious for the first
time. We feared for what it would do to her to know of Bill's death, but when the doctor told
her, she took it like the little queen she is. Pete wanted to do something for her so he got her a
beautiful bunch of flowers. We had to leave in three days. We went back to Salt Lake a week
later than we planned and left for Truth or Consequences. We stayed in Montecello over night.
Alma Jensen and wife were in the next cabin. We stayed in Truth or Consequences for about a
month. While there, we went to the dances, fished, went to church, musicals, etc. We got back
to Salt Lake in May, 1961.
Went to work for the Fishers in Montana at Hepkin Lake for three and one half months.
We went through Yellowstone Park twice, also around the lake once. We fished, worked,
danced on our days off at West Yellowstone. We got $250 a month and $50 bonus, all of which
we saved and put into a joint account. We put $500 in a joint account at Prudential. The place
on 8th East has paid $50 regularly, have had some trouble getting the money out of the contract
on the Kearns place. Sure hope they catch up and keep up their payments. Lucile and Dell
visited us for a week and fished at Hepkin Lake, we sure enjoyed them. Then, just a week later
on a Monday, we got word that Dell had passed away, almost unbelievable that he has gone from
us so soon. Lucile has been such a sweet brave girl about it all.
We all went deer hunting, didn't seem the same without Dell. Max, June, Jeanette and
Bobby came. Max and Bob went hunting with us and Boyd. I was so happy to see them.
They took back the two does they got. Then Boyd got a big dry doe the next weekend after Max
left. After we got home from our deer hunt, Boyd's truck was on the bum. Max and Pete went
to get parts for Boyd, a car hit our car, smashed the left fender, so we had to wait another 10 days
before we were ready to leave for Arizona.
November 11 - Loyal Kunz picked up the car to fix it. We went to Draper, had potluck
dinner at Ruth's. We took Lucile with us, then LaVel, Thelma, Lois, Lavor, Ruth & Bruce, Pete
and I all went to Mickys Danceland. We had a wonderful time, then to Harmony Inn, danced
another hour. Lucile stayed with us all night. She is such a wonderful, sweet, darling sister, I
love her so much.
November 12 - We got away about 10 a.m., went to Sandy, paid Loyal $202 for fixing
the car, got gas at Jimmies Service Station. We made Panguich that night about 5 p.m. Paid $5
for a room, had a good nights sleep.
November 13 - When we got into the car to leave, we found the generator wasn't
working. We took it to the Ford Garage and had to get a new one, $28, with labor. We never
got away from there until about 10:30 a.m. When we got about 40 miles from Flagstaff, it
started to snow. I never saw it snow harder or faster in my life. We got stuck on the hill and
had to wait for the road crew to help us out. We got into Flagstaff about 9:30 p.m., got the first
cabin we could drive into, as the snow was so deep. Paid $7, had TV though. We ate and went
to bed.
November 14 - We were up at 7:30 a.m., got breakfast and on our way. In Phoenix at 1
p.m.
November 15 - Got a cabin, S & H Court, on Washington. Paid $12.50 for week.
Worked in cotton about two hours, made $2.25. Cotton not very good this year.
November 16 - We sure went all over the SouthEast-farming district of Phoenix.
Worked part of the afternoon after going to Chandler for a cotton sack, $3.90, work $4.50.
November 17 - Worked in the same place in the cotton, didn't do very well, $6, but we
don't care, we are together and I'm happy to have my husband and to be with him, this is much
better than it was a year ago for either of us.
November 18 - Saturday, we worked a couple of hours, $2.10, then home. Took a
shower, got cleaned up and went to town. I got some work shoes, Pete an overcoat and then we
went to supper downtown. Then to the Odd Fellow Dance Hall, good music, good dance. We
had pie and coffee, home and to bed. Got up late, had breakfast, got cleaned up and cleaned the
house. Wrote a few letters, took a walk, came back home and went to the Greyhound races with
some kids in the cabin next door, enjoyed it.
November 20 - Out in the cotton early, did a little better today, came home cleaned up,
packed suitcases to leave in the morning. We went to bed early. (Made a total of $20.85 for
picking cotton the week they were there).
November 21 - Left Phoenix this morning, came to Safford, rented a room where Pete
lived last year. It rained all day, still raining at 9:30 p.m. Weatherman says clearing tomorrow,
can't work in the rain, got to send some cards tomorrow, so we can get some mail.
November 22 - We walked around town, Pete paid the rent for a week, $6. I cleaned the
cabin, took a bath, had leftover Macaroni & cheese, sausage and cabbage for lunch.
November 23 - Today is Thanksgiving, I have many things to be thankful for. Heavenly
Father has been good to me, knowing my need and my loneliness and Pete's. We are so happy
to have each other. We had fried chicken, salad, potatoes, gravy, turnips, and fruitcake. We
went to the Top Hat danced a few times, came home about 10 p.m.
November 24 - We picked cotton a few hours, made $5.95. Went to town bought
groceries, came home, had supper and went to bed early.
November 25, Saturday - Picked cotton all day, made $8.35. Came home, got supper,
showered went to bed. This is a new experience for me but I love my husband and we have fun
together.
November 26 - Went to work until about 4 p.m., made $6.65 picking cotton. We came
home, cleaned up and went to the Welcome Inn. Danced a couple of times then to the Top Hat.
November 27 - Picking cotton, changed fields only made $4.65. Pete bought, for me, a
cotton sack for dollar today.
November 28 - Made 181 pounds cotton today, $9.05. Sure worked hard. I picked 60
lbs., Pete 119 lbs.
November 29 - I picked 66 lbs., Pete 120 lbs., $9.30. Pete is still picking, I came home
to get supper ready. We are going to stay here until we get our Social Security checks. Not
having fun, but we are together and we're happy working together.
November 30 - We went gallivanting today. We picked short staple cotton for Johnson
at 3 cents, made $3.45. Went all over the country, up the river, saw a lot of good farming
country.
December 1, Friday - Went back out working for Mrs. Bennet again for 3 cents. I
picked 86 lbs., Pete picked 127, $6.50 in all, sure hard work, little pay.
From December 2-5 - We picked cotton when we could. Pete raked leaves, made $1.50.
We road around town to see about yard work. Pete worked yards, made $8. Pete's going to
work gardens, I'm going in the cotton taking passengers.
December 6 - Took Pete to work at 8 a.m. Came back got ready for work. Took four
passengers out to work, picked 88 lbs cotton, $2.64, got $1.25 for passengers. Pete made $4
yard work. Paid rent, Pete got his check and a letter from June and then went to bed.
December 7 - Pete worked yards, made $8. I worked cotton, made $3, $1.75
transportation. We were both tired. It rained the next day so there was no work so wrote six
letters and mailed them.
December 9 - This is the anniversary of our 10th month of marriage. We went to a
dance that night at the Country Club. We were on the highway about three miles, car stopped,
engine running, but no gears. Sure thought we needed a new transmission job. A young man
pushed us back to town to Texaco. The service man tried it, told us it was out of transmission
oil. Put in six quarts, cost $4.63. We were sure happy it wasn't worse. It was 10:30, we went
to Welcome Inn and finished the evening. Sure enjoyed my darling husband. He danced just
like we used to in Truth or Consequences. We are so very happy, our love makes life perfect.
December 11 - It was a beautiful day yesterday and I mailed Christmas cards at Post
Office. We thought we would be able to work today, but it rained and blew all night. Most
things are packed for our departure in the morning.
December 12 - We left Safford about 10:30 a.m., got to Truth or Consequences at 3:30.
We left this week for Tularosa, visiting Pete's family. Reba gave me a lovely nylon, pink night
gown, gave Pete a nice shirt for Christmas.
December 19 - We arrived at Jerald's about noon. Generator not working, tried to get it
fixed, couldn't do anything, so went on to Del Rio. Stopped at Desert Inn Court. Paid $7 for
cabin. Car stopped, Pete located a cousin, Bill Randall. Fixed car enough to get to Edinburgh.
We arrived about 4:30 p.m., staying at Bob and Levetta's home. We got some gifts (blankets)
for Bob and Wanda, Dale and Ruby and small gifts for the others. We stayed to Levetta's most
of the time, two nights at Elvies.
Diary 1962
Right after the New Year, we rented a house about two blocks from Levetta's. We got
work through the Unemployment Agency. I did house work, Pete did the yards. We stayed
there one month. While there they had a very cold spell, froze all the fruit and vegetables. The
gas pipeline broke, the coldest night leaving Edinburgh without gas, sure very uncomfortable.
The houses are not built for cold weather.
About the first of February we went to Goliad to work for Mrs. Richardson. We lived at
her ranch house, very nice. We were there about six weeks. We danced in Goliad Victoria.
We spent a weekend in Corpis Kristi - danced, stayed at hotel, Aransas Paso. Crossed the bay to
Port Aransas on a boat. We enjoyed the ranch, the horses and shetlands. Went coon hunting
on the river Sandstone. I saw red squirrels, coons, wild turkey, coyotes, deer and we gathered
pecan nuts. It had been a dry year so they were not very good. We killed two ringtail cats,
pretty little things. The dogs killed 3 or 4 armadillos. I never saw one snake in Texas. We
went to two fairs.
We left Mrs. Richardsons' in April going to Oklahoma to see Flecher. They were not at
home, so we went to Wellington, Texas, stayed to Bessie's. All the Folks came to visit us there.
We spent one evening with Lottie and Bura at their home, then we went on our way home. We
took two days to get home, we were only home a few days then left for Fishers. We went to one
dance at the Friendly Club, saw the old gang. Florence was still in Arizona, so we didn't get to
see her.
Left for Salt Lake City and Idaho Falls. Stayed at the Cruise Motel, $7 for room. Mr.
Fisher and Robert came about 6 p.m. I wrote cards to Boyd, Max, Florence, Thelma, Lois,
Ruth, Buck & Gerald. Tried to see Connie in Blackfoot, not there. Left Idaho Falls about 8:30,
ate breakfast in Rexburg. Mr. Fisher, owner of the Fisher Beer Company, gave Pete $20 for
expenses on trip. I was going to be the cook and Pete the maintenance man. We went into
West Yellowstone, met Mr. Fisher there, bought groceries, came out to the place and got there
about noon. Such a mess, the pack rats had gotten into the kitchen and built a nest at the side of
the stove. All the household things they could carry were in the nest and rat tracks a foot deep
in front and back of stove. They had been into the bottom of all the cabinets.
Mack, the electrician, came up the day we arrived and got the light plant working and
helped remove the covering on the windows. Two more men arrived in the afternoon, four men
to cook for besides the cleaning. Sure gave me a workout. The two left Monday afternoon,
Bob left Thursday. They caught about 30 fish. We had fish breakfast Monday. They took
the rest home in snow from the drift in front of the dining room window. Pete shoveled snow
off the porch, cleaned up the yard, but the men carried it in on their feet as fast as I could mop it
up.
We lived on the edge of the Lake Hepkin where the earthquake was. Some of the
ground was still in an upheaval and scary sight to see. There were places where you could still
see houses in the lake, as you were fishing or boating. I cleaned as hard and fast as I could for a
week, as everywhere I looked, there were more rat leavings. I washed, ironed and made bread.
We got the work done and ready to go to West Yellowstone. There was no mail, had lunch, did
the shop-ping, was going to stay to dance, but decided to come home early, so came home fixed
supper. Cloudy in the morning, cleared and beautiful in the after-noon. Pete worked on the
saw most all day. I did more washing and ironing, cleaned more after the rats and got the places
plugged so they cannot get in the cupboards. Had to rewash all the dishtowels. Cleaned and
scrubbed the dining room and kitchen, pulled out the stove drawer under the oven and found it
full of rat tracks. Was in the middle of that mess when here came Mrs. Richardson, her friend
and granddaughter and the three grandsons. Pete and Mr. Fisher went for poles, I gave them
coffee and cocoa and they left before Pete and Mr. Fisher got back.
We would go to West Yellowstone on Sundays, dance in after-noon at the Cowboy from
1:30 to 3:30, eat dinner, then dance at the Larriat from four till six, then back to Hepkin.
Florence married Ed Griffith, May 29, 1962, while we were at Hepkin. In June, I received a
letter from her saying they were getting a divorce. Then in September, they came in their
camper together. We were really surprised, they were still trying to make it together. We made
a date to meet them in the Park at Old Faithful. We went to see the square dance contest, but it
was over. Florence and Ed were not there, so we went back to West Yellowstone staying all
night. We left early the next morning for home. Went by way of Jackson Hole, stayed there
one night, enjoyed dancing at two clubs in Jackson Hole.
When we got home we went to a few dances, dinners, Halloween and Lucile's, etc. We
left Salt Lake City, Lucile went with us as far as Las Vegas. Our car heated when we got to
Shirley's, so we stayed one night. We stayed with Arvell about a week. Arvell and I went to
auctions and sales together. Pete took care of the yard at the Court where we lived on Ramona
Avenue and at his home for our rent and utilities. Pete worked other yards between. I also
worked cleaning houses for $1.25 per hour. We went to dances at the Larriet. We had
Thanksgiving at David & Reta's with the Zuccolotto's and the Quinns. Went to Disneyland with
David and Reta. We also went to Knotts Berry Farm twice.
We left Kearns December 19, 1963. We spent Christmas with Max, June and family.
We sure enjoyed being with them. They took us dancing and to dinner. Max gave Pete $10 so
he could pay for drinks on Max instead of spending our money. We all went out on the town on
New Years. Had a wonderful time together.
We left about the 3rd of January for Las Vegas. Lucile called, said she had a job for us.
We visited Pete's sister (Minnie) in Livingston. We arrived in Las Vegas and worked for
Clarence and Thelma Grider. We were there for no pay for about a month. We went to work
for Joan Tribe. She paid me $20 a week, our board and room. Pete worked yards, made $30 or
$40 a week, so we did fine all winter. Florence was working there before she went to Mesa for
the rest of the winter. We went to dances at least once a week with Ben & Lucile. The
Crossroads at Henderson was our favorite place. Lois & LaVor spent a week down there.
Boyd and Donna came a couple of days.
We got back to Salt Lake about a week before we had to leave for Idaho and the North
Fork Club where we were going to work for the summer. I was cook, Lucile my assistant, but
there was Edna, a nice polite 'She Devil'. She tended everyone's business, everyone hated her.
Pete fell over an orange crate one night in the dark and he took sick before we were there
a month. We took Pete to the hospital and after the doctor examined him, he thought he had
appendicitis but when they operated, they found it was a tumor and ruptured colon. The doctor
told me and Lucile it was cancer and no chance, but later he consulted a doctor in Idaho Falls and
we took him by ambulance to Idaho Falls Hospital where they performed another operation
making a colostomy. We were there about a month. While there, two of Pete's sisters and
brother visited us, also Leon and Jean. When he was about, we went to my niece's place in
Teton and stayed two or three weeks until he was able to travel back to Salt Lake. Pete was
very sick and I thought we would never make it, but we did. We stayed at Florence's home and
a week or two at Thelma's until the people vacated our home in Kearns.
Pete had skin cancer that we had treated many times, but then he got cancer bad. We
first knew of this when he had a bad spell when we were traveling one time to Idaho. I took him
to the hospital there. We came back to our home in Kearns where we remained until his death.
We had five years of a happy and wonderful life together. I love and enjoy his beautiful, sweet,
special children. Pete and his wife separated and divorced after many years. They had a large
family. They were very special, loving, kind people. They are gifted like their daddy, very
sociable, quite talking, ambitious and free hearted. He is so proud of each of them.
Pete is buried in Sandy City Cemetery in Sandy, Utah. (Verona had a hard time of going
on, for Pete had filled so many happy and exciting times with her. Once more, she was alone).
Lois says, "Verona & Pete wanted to go so many places and see so many things and do
some much that money was scarce for them and they wanted to do things together. They were
always getting jobs to help the good times. They picked cotton in Arizona, Texas, New Mexico.
Worked in potatoes in Idaho. Worked on Ranches as a temp and tried all kinds of work.
Verona was a good cook as well as everything else. Pete was an outstanding gardener, knew
and understood flowers, shrubs, trees and produce. His lawns were always beautiful. Verona's
family really liked Pete. He was accepted well and all felt he was a true member of the family.
Pete and Verona did a lot of dancing. Soon after they were married, Pete got skin cancer most
of the time on his face. They'd go to the doctor, get them taken off and more would come.
Nothing ever got either of these two people down. They both loved good jokes and could really
tell them."
Life goes on. Florence Covington brought some of her friends to see me. I fixed
dinner, we played cards and had an enjoyable evening. It seemed these people were my kind of
people. We started going somewhere every day or evening, twice or three times a week.
Riding up the canyons, eating out, or to our different homes. They didn't cook, so we ate out
quite a lot. On Friday or Saturday nights we went dancing at the Friendly Club or to Jacksons.
This was lots better for me, I had something to look forward to or plan for. I have kept
busy. My life has not changed much. I enjoy my family, loved ones and friends. Christmas is
coming and I'm busy. It seems I can always find something to do. I've never been bored in my
life.
My old friend, Alma Jensen, reads in the newspaper of Pete's death. He and my Sister,
Lucile, had always remained friends. He would call to see how my family was doing. He even
called my Mother and Father. He decided he'd come and see me. Just a few months before, he
had lost his life's companion. He came to my home to help and comfort me. He was a
welcome sight, for I needed someone who understood my feelings. He invited me out to dinner
and then almost every day we saw one another, going for a ride, out to eat or just spending time
talking. We were both lonely. Our families were married and we needed companionship.
Alma asked me to marry him because we had at one time been engaged. I guess we let time go
back. Anyway, we married in October at Alma's home on 11th East and 1300 South.
Shortly after this we both sold our places and bought a beautiful home on 8600 South and
17th East in Sandy, Utah. We bought property on Crystal Avenue in Salt Lake and property on
12300 South 1500 East in Draper, where we had three apartments we rented. We were busy
keeping these places up and in good condition. We traveled, went fishing, visited and enjoyed
our life. We had sicknesses, broken limbs, some good and bad things happened to us.
I loved Alma's family. Lyle, Alma's oldest son, had children who sang and entertained
with accordions. They were very good and I was so proud of them. One of my nieces married
Alma's second son. This son had lost his wife to cancer, leaving him with four children. My
niece, Charlette, had one child from a former marriage. I was glad of this union. I was sure
both would find happiness and a good life, as these five children needed a home with a mother
and father. Alma's wonderful children and his grandchildren give me joy and happiness. I'm
so proud of our family. I now have three more children, Lyle, LaVerne and Lee Ray. With
Pete's 12, Alma's 3 and Ern's 2, I'm a mother of seventeen. I have made quilts for almost all of
these children and their children.
This is from our Guardian Angel in Puerto Rico. I think it's so cute I would like it in the
story. Also Thelma can fill you in on some of the details, also Walt and Ida. When I got home
from the Holy Cross Hospital (with my hip), I slipped on the ice and broke my wrist (left one this
time. I had broken my right wrist in 1924, cranking the Hupmobile).
My dear Verona and Alma:
Just a few words to say "hello" and at the same time to know how are you all and also to
thank you two for such a pretty and lovely quilt. Oh my! It is a dream delicate and unique.
Thanks a lot. I will use it during December because it is in this season that we have cold
weather. I thank God for your soon recovery Verona just as I pray Him. Now, try to get the
morning sun. It is good for your health.
How is Alma doing in his gardening? Last week I took the car to be repair and I have a
new motor on it (on the other car I told that was in the garage) how I will be able to drive it since
July 1st. So next time you two plan to come to Puerto Rico, there we will have a better one that
the yellow. ha ha
On July 2nd we will be on our way to South Carolina. We are fixing all our things.
Yesterday my niece phoned me from her house (long distance) to find out about the trip.
On August I will start the school again. Well Alma and Verona until my next letter take
care.
With our best wishes and love,
Eden and Mother
***typed exactly as written
I keep busy with quilting. I'm now back in the D.U.P. and very active. I hold an office,
take part and enjoy the association with these daughters. My sister, Lois, also belongs to the
same camp. It's the Flat Iron Camp of Sandy, Utah. I'm also active in Church. I teach the
Relief Society ladies how to quilt each week.
Alma has a stroke and dies. Once again I'm alone. Max wants me to come and live
close to him in Ukiah, California. I sell out and move to California. I continue to make quilts
and quilt tops. I'm always able to keep busy. Lucile and I visit back and forth.
Lois says, "Verona and Lucile spent most of their time together after they lost their
husbands. They traveled from Ukiah to Oceanside. They made quilts at each other's place.
They did this daily. They went places and visited many people and had a delightful time. They
attended church together. They entertained people and were entertained by many people."
One day we were returning to Lucile's home in Oceanside. We were not far from our
destination. It was raining, a large truck lost control and crossed over in front of the bus. The
driver tried to avoid the accident, but the bus or the truck skidded and they collided. Lucile was
thrown down in the well at the front of the bus. I was crushed against the side behind the bus
driver and thrown to the floor. Both of us were really hurt. We were both in the hospital for
quite some time. When we got out, we went to Lucile's and had to have a nurse care for us for
weeks. (They came close to death.) Neither of us are ever as healthy again.
Lucile's eldest daughter, Shirley Carpenter, also came each day, caring for our needs.
She brought food she had prepared, along with everything else. She was so wonderful to us.
This worked out for a while, then the nurse had to go and we couldn't get anyone else to come in.
Shirley had been gone from her shop so much of the time that she needed to get back to her
business. We had to have help getting in and out of the bathtub or shower. We needed help
getting dressed or undressed. With the nurse leaving for personal reasons, we called our sister,
Lois. She was needed, the magic word. She came. She left Salt Lake with Walter, her
brother, and his wife, Ida. They were going to San Diego, California, to see their children and
also to see their sisters.
Lois said, "The first time we looked at our sisters, they looked like they had been through
a meat grinder. Weeks had gone by and they were improving. I wondered how they must have
looked right after the accident." They both had tape recorders and they loved to use them. As
they improved and were able to get around, they would start to sing and recite poems. They had
known these poems all their lives. We spent many hours having an enjoyable time and visiting.
One morning, after we had eaten breakfast, the phone rang. It was my daughter,
Sharene. She called to tell us that our brother Lamar's wife, Delone, had died. She had been
ailing for quite some time. She died of heart trouble. The three of us talked. It was decided
that the girls could get along without me. I would go back to Utah for the funeral. We put Lois
on a bus and sent her back. It was hard to have her go. Neither of us were really feeling good,
but we felt she was needed at home.
Lucile's daughter, Shirley, came again almost every day and called often. She took care
of our needs the best she could. She shopped, filled our prescriptions, and ran our errands. She
also kept the house in order. We really appreciated all of her help. She is so sweet and
wonderful.
As time passed, we got strong enough that I felt I wanted to go back to my place in
Ukiah. Once again the two of us left for Northern California. We had a lawyer and tried to get
something for our medical and doctor expenses. The Bus Company paid us a little, but the
lawyer got his share first and not much was left for us. It hardly paid anything. We were glad
to be alive.
Often we had said we hoped we could go at the same time. At the time when we were
having our pain and miseries, we wished we had both gone at the time of the bus accident.
I don't think either of us really felt good after the accident. It took its toll on our bodies.
I have lived a full and busy life. I'm grateful for all my family, friends and also for the
experiences I have had.
Seasons
by Verona Ewell Babcock
There are four seasons in a year and there are four seasons in our lives:
SPRING - is the time of resurrection, of the trees, the flowers and all creation back to life.
With lovely Spring showers as Gods laws never change, His word is fulfilled in each season.
Why should we question His reason? Our lives come - we fulfill our destiny. We go as the
flowers and trees in Winter, to be reborn in the Spring of our time. We advance or retard
according to the way we learn and live. Our soul returns only what we put into life. That is
what we are to find on the recreation of our life.
SUMMER - is the time of cultivation. Our thoughts and actions make development good or
bad. So weed out the weeds of hate, envy, and selfishness. Cultivate love, sacrifice and
sharing. Welcome the sunshine and rain. Appreciate all blessing God gives. Multiply your
talents, enjoy life, it's Gods gift to you.
AUTUMN - if we sowed well in spring and cultivated well in summer, the harvest in autumn
will bring joy and blessings. Oh how beautiful the colors we see and how rich our lives can be.
Know that God is the giver of all.
WINTER - (is the time of my life now). The time of remembering the happy experiences. We
remember memories, some good, some bad, by both we learned a lesson and advanced. Did we
take advantage of all our opportunities? Could we have done more? Even in the winter of our
lives we can improve our talents. A time to help others.
Looking back over the seasons of our lives so very short they seem. What little time to get the
things done we have missed along the way.
On February 19, 1971 - My sisters, Thelma and Lois, with their husbands, LaVell and
Lavar, come to see us. Lucile is with me. It was so good to see them and visit. While
preparing food, I turn quickly and slip and fall, breaking my leg. I end up in the hospital. In a
day or two, my three sisters are gone and I don't see them again. I never get over this fall.
I have a heart attack and my son, Boyd, and my sister, Lois, rush from Utah to see me. I
give Lois the responsibility of compiling and putting my history book together.
Verona Ewell Babcock Keesee Jensen
passed away on
March 27, 1981
Buried on Wednesday, April 1, 1981 (Sandy Cemetery)
Memorial Day
Written by Verona Ewell Babcock
What is Memorial Day?
To remember our loved ones who have gone before
With flowers and memories of those we adore
We know we will join them one of these days
To honor our dead we feel God we will praise
We cannot the associations we've known
For those we have walked with and the seeds we had sown,
Someday in the future in Gods good time
We will be with our loved ones in a new cycle of time.
MY BELIEF IS
Written by Verona Ewell Babcock
FOOTNOTE #1
There is no death
There is only a continuity of life
in another dimension.
Life never ends,
It is a continuous journey,
into continued growth.
Two poems Verona's Dad taught her when little.
GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD MORNING
By Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Houghton (1809-1885)
A fair little girl sat under a tree,
Sewing as long as her eyes could see;
Then smoothed her work, and folded it right,
And said, 'Dear work, good night! good night!'
(Aunt Verona had - And said to her work, "Good-nite, good-nite.)
Such a number of rooks came over her head,
Crying 'Caw! caw!' on their way to bed;
She said, as she watched their curious flight,
'Little black things, good night! good night!'
The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed,
The sheep's 'bleat! bleat!' came over the road;
All seeming to say, with a quiet delight,
'Good little girl, good night! good night!'
She did not say to the sun, 'Good night!'
Though she saw him there like a ball of light,
For she knew he had God's time to keep
All over the world, and never could sleep.
The tall pink foxglove bowed his head,
The violets curtsied and went to bed;
And good little Lucy tied up her hair,
And said on her knees her favorite prayer.
And while on her pillow she softly lay,
She knew nothing more till again it was day;
And all things said to the beautiful sun,
'Good morning! good morning! our work is begun!'
CHARLES AND KATE?
Charles with Kate, his sister played
The game was railroad - or so he said,
"I'm engineer and conductor too"
As he puffed away "Chu-chu Chu-chu."
"Stop or go," he'd call or shout
"All aboard - passengers out"
"Chicago - Washington Street"
But still his passenger kept her seat.
And the names of the places grew scant and few
And he really didn't quite know what to do,
So he called out, "Heaven" just like a station
Little Kate sprang up with an exclamation!
Sweet and joyful, glad and dear
"Top, top I 'dess I'll dit out here."
Verona had these written down in her poem book:
Serenity Prayer
By Author Unknown
God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can for good
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Doest thou love life?
Then squander not time.
For that is the stuff life is made of.
Nobody has more time than you have.
We always have time enough if we but use if aright.
Do not procrastinate. Procrastination is half brother to indecision.
More time is wasted, more headaches caused, opportunities missed by indecision, than by any
other time consuming habit.
Learn to accomplish one thing at a time.
Organize and economize time, it's Gods gift to you.
Also I's like to say: If you keep your head while everyone else is losing theirs, YOU'LL BE A
HEAD TALLER.
Well just for the fun of it I'll give you a recipe so that in case any of you have to serve 500
people you won't have any trouble at all. Just saute two onions in 1/4 pound butter and
add one Hippopotamus.
By E. A. Guest
How do you tackle your work each day,
With confidence clear or dread?
What to yourself do you stop and say,
When a new task lies ahead?
What is the thought that is in your mind,
Is fear ever running through it?
If so, just tackle the next you find,
By thinking you're going to do it.
LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE
by James Whitcomb Riley
Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups and saucers up, and brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other children, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin'to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you Don't Watch Out!
Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his pray'rs-An' when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press.
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout!
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you Don't Watch Out!
An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' made fun of ever'one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' onc't when they was "company," an' ole folks was there.
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what
she's about!
An' the Gobble-ums 'll git you
Ef you Don't Watch Out!
An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lampwick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin' bugs in dew is all squenched away,-You better mind yer parents, and yer teachers fond and dear,
An' help the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about.
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you Don't Watch Out!
Aunt Verona had the last verse like this:
And little Orphan Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
Better mind your parents and your teachers kind and dear
And cherish those that love you and dry the orphan tear
And help the poor and needy, the ones who cluster all about
Or the Goblins'll get you if you don't watch out.
JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS
By Eugene Field
There was a man came to our house the other day
And he said, "Hello Sonny whats your name?"
I said, "My Father calls me William)
Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill!
Mighty glad I ain't a girl--ruther be a boy,
Without those sashes, curls, an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy!
(frills 'n curls 'n things. That's weared by Fauntleroy.)
Love to chawnk (chomp) green apples an' go swimmin' in the lake-Hate to take the Castor-ile they give for belly-ache!
Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain't no flies on me,
But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be!
Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him on the cat;
First thing she knows she doesn't know where she is at!
Got a clipper sled, an' when us kids (fellers) goes out to slide,
'Long comes the grocery cart, an' we all hook a ride!
But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an' cross,
He reaches at us with his whip, an' larrups up his hoss,
An' then I laff and holler, "Oh, ye never teched me!"
But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be!
Gran'ma says she hopes that when I git (grow up) to be a man,
I'll be a missionary like her oldest brother, Dan . . .
(Who was 'et up by the cannibals At Midland Seco Isle)
But gran'ma she has never been to see a Wild West show,
Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she'd know
(that cowboys and Indians are good enough for me.)
That Buffalo Bill an' Cowboys is good enough for me!
Excep' jest 'fore Christmas when I'm as good as I kin be!
And then old Sport he hangs around, so solemn-like an' still
His eyes they keep a-sayin': "What's the matter, little Bill?"
The old cat sneaks down off her perch an' wonders what's become
Of them two enemies of hern that used to make things hum!
But I am so perlite an' tend so earnestly to biz,
That mother says to father: "How improved our Willie is!"
But father, havin' been a boy hisself, suspicions me
When, jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as i kin be!
For Christmas, with its lots an' lots of candies, cakes, an' toys,
Was made, they say, for proper kids an' not for naughty boys;
So wash yer face an' bresh yer hair, an' mind yer p's an' q's,
Say "Yessum" to the ladies, and "yessur" to the men,
An' when they's company, don't pass yer plate for pie again;
But, thinkin' of the things yer'd like to see upon that tree,
Jest 'fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be!
THE OWL AND THE PUSSY CAT
By Edward Lear
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat;
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the moon (stars) above,
And sang to a small guitar:
"Oh lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are
You are, you are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"
Pussy said to the Owl: "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh, let us be married--too long we have tarried-But what shall we do (use) for a ring?"
They sailed away for a year and a day
To the land where the palm tree grows;
And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose, his nose.
With a ring at the end of his nose.
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the turkey (Preacher) who lives on the hill.
They dined upon mince (mints) and slices (plenty) of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible (very small) spoon,
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon, the moon.
They danced by the light of the moon.
FOOTNOTE #2
History of Elvira Jane Mecham Bigelow
Written by her Granddaughter, Verona L. Ewell Babcock
In writing this history of one of the most wonderful Grandmothers to me, I hope I can
show some of her beautiful characteristics, patience and understanding.
Elvira Jane Mecham Bigelow was born March 4, 1843, in Lee County, Iowa. Daughter
of Moses Worthen and Elvira Derby Mecham. She was the eleventh child of seventeen
children. She came to Utah with her parents when she was ten or eleven years old. She, like
all the other children, learned to sew, knit, spin and all the other tasks that the pioneers did.
Everything she did had to be done the best to satisfy her.
Her parents first were sent to Lehi where her father tended a toll bridge over the Jordan
River. A baby brother was born, Marquis Lafayette. He died a year later, two days before
Grandmother's birthday. She always remembered this sad occasion. She loved this baby very
much and named her first born son after him. Her parents then moved to Provo Canyon where
Great Grandfather tended a toll bridge over the Provo River and taught school.
The Indians were very bothersome to them and Grandmother was always afraid of them.
One time when she was out in the field gathering beans alone, a big buck Indian came up behind
her and grunted before she knew he was there. She gave a great start and said she felt the blood
drain from her face. She remembered she must act brave, so she stood up and looked straight at
him. He took a large knife and run it across her throat, like he was going to cut her throat. She
didn't flinch, but was praying because she felt that her time had come to die. He then took off
her bonnet and took hold of her hair, holding the knife like he was going to scalp her. She did
not cry out or move. He then let her go and grunted, "Ug, papoose no scare." When he had
disappeared into the brush, Grandmother was so weak she had to sit down a while before she
could get strength to go to the house.
She always had a great desire to learn and spent all the time she could studying and
reading, but very little time she had for these things because to clothe and feed a large family
took much sewing, spinning, cooking and gathering food. All the children had to do their part.
Grandmother met her first husband, Moroni Bigelow, at her Father's school. They were
married when Grandmother was about 20 years old. Three sons were born to this marriage;
Lafayette, John and Leo. Her husband was called on a mission before Leo was born. After he
filled his mission and was returning home, he was killed or thrown overboard from the boat.
Grandmother was left with her three babies alone.
Asa Elijah Bigelow, Moroni's older brother, wanted to marry Grandmother in polygamy.
He was married to Julia Cook and had a large family, but he loved Grandmother and wanted to
take care of her too. Grandmother held off. She felt it was wrong to marry anyone else, while
loving her first husband so much. The Bishop pointed out to her that it was her duty to marry in
polygamy, so she and Asa were married. Five children were born to this marriage; Perry,
Willard, Lillian (my Mother), Elijah and Alice.
They were called to settle the St. George Country, so moved there with their cattle and
made cheese and butter. They came back to live in Provo about 1890.
Her eldest son, Lafayette, left home one morning to tend the cattle and never returned for
30 years. In all this time she never heard from him or of him. Since I can first remember,
Grandma had morning and evening family prayer. In each one I ever heard, she would pray for
her son and his return someday. I often wondered how she knew he was alive, but somehow she
seemed to know. After many prayers, he returned to her when he was fifty years old.
I never heard Grandmother raise her voice in anger and I lived with her a good share of
my life.
FOOTNOTE #3
ELVIRA FAY EWELL
I'd like to tell you about my sister, Elvira Fay Ewell (who we always called Vie). She
was born September 3, 1905 at Provo, Utah at our Grandmother Bigelow's home. She was my
third sister. I have always said she was the most beautiful girl in our family.
She had special talents. She could sing very well, was blessed with a natural alto voice,
which she used all her life. She sang in duets, choruses trios (singing Mother) and choirs. She
played the piano, although she never had a lesson. She was very social, knew manners and how
to conduct herself, teaching others too. Vie could talk to anyone and understand the feelings of
others. When she danced, it was as if her feet didn't touch the floor. She was so graceful and
light on her feet. Her hands were beautiful. She could sew anything and only used a
newspaper pattern she cut out herself. Had a fine mind, listened to others and made everyone
feel good, very important and at ease.
She was very dramatic. Acting was natural for her, so she did lots of entertaining. At a
very early age, she had the desire to be an actress. As a teenager, she had the opportunity to go
with a group who came to Salt Lake performing on the stage. Her parents were very firm when
they told her they didn't want her to go into show business. She was respectful and loved her
parents, never wanting to hurt or cause them worry or have them be ashamed of anything she
would ever do. She gave up this dream she had for many years to act, sing and dance.
She got a job at a candy factory as a chocolate dipper. When McDonald Candy
Company wanted her to demonstrate dipping chocolates, which she was outstanding in, her
letters were perfect every time. Her hands were pretty and graceful and very useful.
McDonalds used her for advertising. She was attractive, had a beautiful clear, pink complexion,
many said it was a peach color. She knew how to sit, stand and was graceful in all her
movements. As a demonstrator, she was very successful. She drew crowds at County and
State Fairs, store windows, schools and community affairs.
Rock Springs, Wyoming wanted a demonstrator to come display and teach how to dip
chocolates, McDonald's sent Vie. Mother put her on the train and she traveled alone to
Rocksprings, Wyoming. Mother knew she could be trusted. This was exciting for Vie, but
frightening too. She had never traveled away from home. She was a perfect lady. Although
she was alone and very young, she handled herself well.
It was evening when she got there. She was met and taken to the place she was to stay
and treated with kindness, respect and love. She was successful and they soon asked her to stay
in Rock Springs working in their candy factory, dipping chocolates.
She attended church the first Sunday she was there. She always said she felt secure, for
when she entered the church doors, she belonged there. She remained there and was liked so
well. She was active and accomplished in singing and held many jobs and positions.
She met and married Stanley Harold Draney, May 1, 1925. They had four children, two
daughters, Frances and Marrion, and two sons, Stanley and Larry Rodger. She had a great love
for her family. She was a faithful, loving wife and mother. They left Wyoming after Frances,
their first child, was born. All her life she worked to help support her family.
Salt Lake became their home. Stan worked for a laundry service as a deliveryman.
Their marriage was shaky, so they moved to Price. Vie went to work again dipping chocolates.
Her second child was born, Stanley Leon. She was so happy to be the Mother of a son.
Times were hard, so they moved again to the Salt Lake Valley. They moved to Granite,
Salt Lake County, Utah. Work was scarce. It was at this time they went to the Temple. Then
she found she was expecting another child. They left Granite and moved into her parents home
in Union (Sandy), Utah. Her baby, Marrion, was born in November. At thirteen months, after
having a bad fall, she died. Vie never was the same carefree, happy person she was before this
happened, her heart was broken.
The family left Salt Lake Valley and moved to Ogden where Vie dipped candy and
worked at the canning factory. Her health was poor.
They moved to Sandy, Utah. She was expecting another child. She contacted Uremia
and died on March 11, 1942, at the age of 36 years old. She joined her daughter, Marrion. She
also had several miscarriages, which took a toll on her body.
Her daughter, Frances, and some of her Granddaughters have some of these fine traits.
FOOTNOTE #4
1.
"Tag" - There is one person that chases everyone else until they are all "Tagged."
2.
"I See" - Which was a guessing game. The person was thinking of something the rest
would guess what it was.
3.
"Pomp Pomp Pull-Away" - Everyone chooses sides and then they try to pull the other
team to their side. Everyone chants as the name of this games as you play.
4.
"Rock Tag" - Everyone stands in a circle around the person who is "It." When "It"
moves, all the other players run for a rock that they can stand on. If "It" touches anyone
that has not found a rock, that person becomes the "It."
5.
"Hide and Seek" - One person counts to 50 very slow while all the other players run and
hide. After "It" has finished counting, he goes out to find the other players. When he
finds them, he chases them. If he can touch them before they get back to the "safe
zone," then the one he touches is the one who will count while the others hide.
6.
"I See a Wooly Wooly Wolf" - The person that is "It" says, "I see--------- (or anything he
wants to say," but when "It" says, "I see a Wooly Wooly Wolf," he can catch anyone and
they become the "It."
7.
"Run Sheepy Run" - A line is drawn, either imaginary or real. Everyone has to stay
together. The "It" calls out, "Run Sheepy Run," and everyone tries to get across the line
before they are touched. Any strays become the "It."
FOOTNOTE #5
ERMA FRANCIS EWELL
It was while we lived on D Street, (the Avenues) in Salt Lake City, Utah, that we learned
everything Erma did was very special. Her mind was bright and alert. She was a happy girl
who could converse with all ages.
She could sing, dance, and give readings. She was a good sport, loved and was kind to
everyone. She was never afraid of work and went the extra mile whenever or wherever she was
asked.
Each Saturday afternoon Aunt Alice's family and ours, took lunch somewhere where
there was swimming, as we all loved swimming. We would go to either Saltair, Lagoon,
Saratoga, or Wasatch Springs. Erma would get the ironing board out, place it on two chairs and
iron our dresses. We only had a best dress, second best and a play dress. These certain dresses
were our second best. They were made of voile material. Our mother always made our
dresses. These were sleeveless, gathered around the waist with a round neck. They were very
comfortable and cool. All of us tried to hurry on Saturday mornings so we could go on our
outing.
She used good manners and was our peacemaker. She was never bossy, just helpful.
She minded, never complained, always cheerful and a pleasure to be with.
She became her baby sister, Lois's, companion and teacher. She taught her manners,
songs and many other things that Lois still remembers.
I taught Erma these two little poems. The first one is Forbidden Fruit and the second,
Nanny Bell.
FORBIDDEN FRUIT
Oh Tommy, Tommy there is a lovely peach up on the garden wall
And Tommy if you touch it with your finger it would fall
Oh naughty, naughty Nanny Bell the fall would be for me
If I should eat forbidden fruit like Adam, don't you see?
Nobody told you not to Tom, said Nanny with a tear
But One has said, "Thou shalt not steal to you and me my dear.
Oh Tommy, Tommy take the peach and toss it over the wall
And then I shall not want it so and then we shall not fall.
A kindly face leaned over the wall and said my little Eve,
If peaches make your Paradise I pray you do not grieve
And then between the smiles of Tom and tears of Nanny Bell
Six peaches fairer than the first in Nanny's apron fell.
NANNY BELLE
Twas in the merry month of June as I remember well
When Polly Dolly Adeline and me Agnus Belle,
Set sail with flying colors in the good ship Nanny Belle
Sit very still my dear, said Tom for if you run about
The ship will lurch and you'll be sick like any girl no doubt
Or else you'll tumble in and drown unless I pull you out
Oh Polly Dolly love, I said, the day is bright and clear
You must not mind the boys remarks, the boys are very queer
And yet, and yet you must sit still just as he said my dear
Then Tommy towed her down the stream and I walked by her side
And Polly Dolly Adeline looked lovely as a bride
But, Oh, a cruel wind came down and dumped her in the tide
Then Tommy tried to rescue her and save the Nanny Belle
And while I cried and held him fast Oh, saddest thing to tell
The ship it lurched the ship went down with Polly Dolly Belle.
FOOTNOTE #6
GRANDPA NORTON AND THE MOUNTAIN MEADOW VALLEY PEOPLE
As told by Verona
Grandpa Norton was 10 years old when the Mountain Meadow Massacre people came
through Provo. Grandpa, Ern's Grandfather, had been adopted by Barney. Now this is a
personal thing with Grandpa Norton. He had experienced it and so I asked him the question,
"Tell me about the Mountain Meadow Massacre, what you know about those people." They had
heard many bad stories about these people. As they came along, taking settlers and everything.
Taking a cow, horse, killing a beef, or anything they wanted, they took. All of these stories had
gone ahead of them.
Brigham Young said, "Do not fight, it's better to let them have this stuff than it is to kill
or to take ones life." All of the Church people, of course, listened to Brigham Young and
nobody done anything about it.
Grandpa says they lived in Springville or he was down in Springville. He told me he
had this young steer he had raised from the time it was little and his Father had given it to him.
He said he really prized it, and these people killed that steer right in front of him and used it for
their meals. He and run to his Father to tell him because he was broken hearted. Another
version told was that a family there had one cow. They had staked her out on the ditch bank,
you know, for feeding. She was fat, had a calf and was giving milk. These guys came along
and killed that cow, taking only the two hindquarters. They left the rest of the cow there and
wouldn't let them take it. Now Grandpa said he witnessed this, he knew that they did this.
They went through Provo and stopped wherever they wanted too. They took whatever
they pleased and what they wanted to take. Well, Barney sent Grandpa to change the water,
they was irrigating the crops. It must have been in the early spring, as he said the corn was
about a foot and a half or two foot high. He said he went up to change the water and when he
got up there this outfit was there. They had several wagons. They had cut the new barbed wire
fence they'd put around their place and turned their stock loose in that new corn and new wheat
field. Grandpa was scared to death. He jumped, he stays, on his horse and back to town he
goes. He told Mr. Barney, about "These people" (I don't know what name they had for them).
Mr. Barney was upset of course, his new fence all cut, all of the livestock turned loose in his new
crop. He goes up there and says to a man that was sitting in a wagon on a spring seat with a
rifle across his lap, "Mr, who gave you the authority to turn your stock in my field and to cut my
fences?" This man said, "This gave me the authority, Mister. This rifle gave me the authority
to do it." Well, what could Barney do, he was one man alone. He couldn't do anything and any
how, the President had told them not to do anything.
This was Grandpa's story about the Mountain Meadow Massacre. He said runners went
on ahead and told the people in St. George and along the way that these people were coming on
that route and the things that they did. Lee was the President of the Stake or something down
there. He was of the Authorities. They didn't have telephones so it took a horse a days ride or so
to get back to the President the things that was going on. But Lee says, "We're not going to put
up with it, we're going to fight them, we'll do something about it." They organized, they dressed
up like Indians and so forth and surrounded those wagons. Whooped and hollered and carried
on like Indians and killed these people. There was two little girls and Lee took those little girls
and raised them. Now if you read "The Riders of the Purple Sage" by Zane Grey, he will tell
you about Kaye Larkin, one girls name. I think the other one died of measles. Grandpa said
there where only these two little girls left and all the rest of the Mountain Meadow Massacre
people were killed.
FOOTNOTE #7
WHO ARE THESE ARRAYED IN WHITE?
By
Ora Pate Stewart
A Close Family Friend
On the morning of August 7, 1949, William Lamar Ewell and his nephew, Max Babcock,
upped anchor in their small motorboat and shoved out to sea in the calm Pacific for a day's
fishing. The day seemed full of promise with a clear sky and a placid sea - but sea and sky have
been known to break their promise. By early afternoon the tiny craft was in trouble.
As the first clouds appeared, Lamar tried to restart the motor, but it put up more than its
usual resistance. Waves beat high and choppy. Supposing that a small motor repair would
satisfy the balky motor, Lamar called above the slapping of the sea for Max to push the tool kit
back to where he could reach it. The boat was rising and falling now, and waves were curling
ominously overhead like gaping, frothing jaws. Lamar took off his red-plaid coat and sent it up
on the end of an oar as a distress signal. Max, fearing for his uncle's health in the chill wind,
persuaded him to put the coat back on. So the flag came down, and Lamar divided his labors
between his equilibrium and his coat. Leaning upright against a receding lip of water, a wooden
shaft shot further out to sea. Lamar remarked jovially that some unfortunate mariner had lost
his staff to the old man of the deep. Max, realizing the unfortunateness of that mariner let go of
the tool kit and held fast to the one remaining oar. Max had been a first-class seaman, but his
training had been for two oars. He tried valiantly to man the craft kayak-fashion, stabbing the
water first on one side, then the other. He was no match for such a dueling partner, and by the
time had edged the twisting boat to within two and one-half miles of the shore, the sea had
already won.
With one pitching blow the little boat upended and sank. Max was plummeted
downward to a depth twice the length of his body. He fought his way up and took a breath and
wiped his eyes of the stinging salt-water before he was pushed down again. He closed his eyes
against the slat. His Uncle Lamar was a good swimmer. In still-water pools and in the lazy
canals back home he would have been considered excellent, but he was no match for the
perpendicular energy of the sea. This was a new dimension for him. He wouldn't know how to
fight his way up like this. Max had been taught by the Navy. Lamar had no lessons in
swimming, let alone a course in how to fight against the ocean. Oh, if only he had thought to
tell him to use his strength to come to the top, then relax and float with the waves! Of course,
the waves were floating out to sea, but if they could only stay afloat until the storm passes, the
tide would take them in a few hours. Perhaps help would come. Perhaps someone had seen
their signal. Surely the Coast Guard would be watching. Max surfaced again, took a deep
breath and looked about for his uncle. A wall of water rose high on either side. He was in the
bottom of a ravine. "Rocked in the cradle of the deep." he had heard drunken sailors sing. He
rode with a wave to the top of a high crest; but there were only crests and canyons all about him,
and his Uncle Lamar was nowhere in sight.
Max prayed a pleading prayer for his mother's brother. Seven children and a wife were
waiting his return. They ere a family who loved each other. They needed their father. When
Max had explained all this to the Lord and was ready to ask for help, all he could say was, "Dear
God, he cannot swim against such a sea as this. You'll have to take care of him!"
The sea is a strange, strange force. It is the work of God, and it has absorbed some of
His power. In former times He has caused it to carry His prophets to new and blessed lands. It
has obeyed His voice. It has been calmed at His words. In His own words, "The days will
come that no flesh shall be safe upon the waters." The destroyer has been seen to ride in all His
power upon their treacherous face.
"Behold, I, the Lord, in the beginning blessed the waters; but in the last days, by the
mouth of my servant John, I cursed the waters - I, the Lord, have decreed, and the destroyer
rideth upon the face thereof, and I revoke not the decree."
In the end, the sea will listen again, and be quiet for the voice of God, and the decree will
be lifted, when death and even hell will give up their dead - and the sea will give up the dead
which are in it. Then, if the seas have offended God, let them pass away, and let the earth be
purified by a refining fire, and let the Lord reign, unoffended.
The storm took its fury and blew further out to sea in search of bigger prey. Small boats
that had won the port in the earlier contest now rode bravely back to try to find their comrade.
The signal had been spotted from the Coast Guard parapets, and cutters plowed into the receding
waves.
They found Max Babcock, exhausted and unconscious, but alive. Even though they
searched the sea until the evening smog enveloped sea and shore alike, they did not find his
Uncle Lamar Ewell.
For days afterward the fishermen laid up their nets and made themselves fishers of men.
Lamar's mother and father and brothers and sisters came from their inland homes. In the
evening and the mornings they could be seen with his children, searching among the driftwood.
Delone Leavitt Ewell, his faithful wife, kept constant vigil, and the days multiplied slowly.
The insurance man came. Lamar was dead; that much was certain. In the formality of
the policy there was a blank that could be filled in only by the finding of a body. Until the body
could be produced, there could be no insurance. Delone and Max went sadly to the under-taker.
Would he help her? Would he help her to find - no, no, not just any body - she wanted Lamar's
body. Believe it or not, the undertaker had been approached, more than once, when any body
would have done, for insurance purposes, he said.
Max told him the story. Yes, yes, the undertaker remembered reading about it in the
papers. "Young seaman survives; father of seven lost at sea." He said it like a headline.
"I would have gladly gone if I could have saved him," Max said honestly.
"No, boy - you've got your life ahead of you. If you've been through the war, you've had
your share of death and hell."
Max supposed that the "hell" part was a figment of the under-taker's faith. Max was not
of that faith which would consign a soul to hell, if death should ever take him on the unblessed
waters. Death and hell were not synonymous to him.
"Lamar was no stranger to God, " Max defended. "God will recognize him."
The undertaker nodded - more in affability than affirmation. He promised to call them if
anything came to him from the sea. Max and Delone when home to watch and wait and pray.
They investigated every floating log for miles up and down the beach. They combed the
newspapers for items from the coast towns as beachcombers sieved the flotsam.
The insurance man came again and again, and twice the undertaker called. Every night
Delone whet to her empty bed with a prayer that sometimes lasted until dawn. Weeks dragged
into months and those close to Delone talked about the peacefulness of a sea burial, and begged
her to resign herself to thoughts of peace.
"I will pray a little longer," she answered. "It is not as if I were asking for his life to be
returned to him. There is something that makes me pray. I want him to be buried in the land
that we both loved. He was fascinated by the sea; but I don't think he ever learned to understand
it."
Then one night early in December, Delone's prayer dwelt upon the gratitude’s of her life.
She was grateful that Lamar had taken her to the house of God, where a man of God had placed
the seal of heaven upon their marriage. Not even death could break that tie - neither death nor
the sea. She would be Lamar's wife forever. She had never wanted anything more than his
love. She would have it now, forever.
She was grateful for the children - the seven who lived to comfort her in her grief, and the
two tiny ones who had gone on ahead to that happier place to wait for her to come. She
cherished them the same. They were her treasures laid up in heaven. They were her surety
with God. And where your treasure lies, there will your heart be also. Yes, a part of her heart
had gone with them. It is good to always have a part of one's heart in heaven. It tempers the
beat for the things of earth.
Lamar had loved those two tiny sons, one five months, and the other only two months
old. Now he was with them. Delone wondered if their little spirits, once released from the
confinements of their tiny bodies, had resumed the fullness of their spiritual stature. Were they
men spirits now? She could remember them only as babies. It didn't matter, they would
resurrect the dear little bodies that she had cuddled and loved. She could then watch them grow
to the tallness of their spiritual heights. What a comfort this was, that she had two little ones to
raise and care for in heaven. Lamar must be supremely happy now that he had found them.
Now if she could only find him!
Delone's prayer had been unceasing. With the peace that comes while one is close to
God, her grief and loneliness thinned out with the graying down and a great comforting
restfulness spread over her soul. Was this the peace of death - this reaching, comforting peace if so, then let death come. Bring it swiftly on the dove-gray wings of dawn!
The whitecaps rose and fell in the soft coming light. The moon beat a path across the
water. At the far end of the path the waves beat high - just the way they had pounded for weeks
and months - every time she had closed her eyes. She could see the canyons of water, the high
hills, and the deep ravines, the small boat tossing like a dried leaf - the one oar slipping away the two men struggling against the sea - the boat upending - Max's anxious prayer - "Dear God,
he cannot swim against such a sea as this - You'll have to take care of him." Every night it was
the same. Every night Delone tried to clamber up that moonlit path to try to save him; and
every night the sodden web of dreams had bound her feet, and she had mired down. There was
no one there to save her, and she had sunk down by the great weight of the web that held her
threshing feet. Down, down, down to the level of her fast-beating heart.
"Lamar! Lamar!" she had called. The sound of her voice had wakened her.
Tonight the weighted web was gone and Delone's feet found a firmness on the lighted
path. Faith - that was it - that was what Peter had lacked. It was easy enough when one had
faith. The boat was upending now, but this time she would be there to save him. She would be
by his side, and her faith would sustain him.
"Lamar! Lamar! Wait for me. I'm coming."
"But you must not come, Delone. You must not come yet. I have two to look after.
You have seven."
Oh, the heavenliness of his voice! Not once had he spoken to her before on all those
other nights. He had only sunk out of sight.
"Go back, Delone! Go back, and wait in patience. You have seven." He was coming
down the path. How she wanted to rush into his arms - to feel his fingers in her hair - but he
was right. She would have to go back, but she could not turn to go. She could not lose him
again to the sea. He was coming down the path toward her. She would wait for him and they
would go back together. As he neared, his very presence seemed to push her back, so that she
couldn't quite touch him.
"If I cannot come, then tell me where you are - please let me find you!" She was being
pushed back into their lonely room. He was fading into the crisscross curtains against the white
moon in the gray sky.
"Anyone can find me now." He was streaking away into the grayness
"Where are you? Lamar! Where are you?"
"In . . . Smoughhh . . ."
Delone awakened. She was sitting bolt upright, pushing her pillows into the headboard
with her shoulders. The crisscross curtains were fluttering where the sea breeze toyed with their
ruffles.
"In Smo . .in Smough . . Smo what?" Delone puzzled. "In the smog? Yes, that's what
he was trying to say." He was in the smog. They would find him now.
Delone tiptoed into the room where her two smallest ones were sleeping. It was still too
early to waken them. She started for the boys' room. The clock in the hall struck five. No,
she would wait. They had waited now for four months, almost to the day. Even after they
wakened they would have to wait for the smog. That would be late in the afternoon. She must
be patient and wait. She would get them a sturdy breakfast, and she would spend the day
getting the house in order and making the cakes and puddings. After they had found him, there
would be flocks of people coming. There was lots to be done. She would have a busy day, and
it would hasten the smog.
Delone went back to bed, but it was not lonely any more. Even though all sleep was
gone, she rested for the first time in months.
At the first stir of the children she told them. The light in their faces was wonderful.
"God has took care of him" said her four-year-old.
"Yes, darling, just like in Max's prayer."
"Now we can have a Merry Christmas!' said Delone.
"But why must we wait for the smog?" asked Norman, her twenty-two-year-old. "Let's
go now and find him. The smog is not a place. It's a condition. It will be hard to find him in
the smog."
The boy was right. Delone hadn't thought of it. That's the way dreams are - the places
and the conditions are all mixed up. She was determined not to let this new difficulty dampen
her hopes. She knew that they would find him now.
"'Anyone can find me now.” He said it just as plain as that. Yes, Norman, we won't
wait for the smog. We'll go just as soon as we get the dished down and the beds made."
At about nine in the morning the telephone rang. It was a gentleman, and he asked for
Max Babcock. Delone called her nephew to the phone, and stood close while he answered in
guarded speech.
"What is it, Max?" Delone asked anxiously after he had finished.
"I don't know exactly," Max said. "But it is important. Don't go to the beach until I get
back. You may not need to go."
Delone followed him for more. He had found his coat and was gone.
At the undertaking parlor Max was led to a slab that was draped over with a sheet.
"These things are usually pretty gruesome," the mortician said. "You know, bloating
and decomposition, the work of the fishes, and so forth, but this time you'll really be surprised.
If this man has been in the ocean for four months, God alone has taken care of him. We've
never got one back yet in as good a shape as this. Now of course, he's not exactly for the little
woman to see, but you can tell me if he's the right one. He washed up at Samoa Beach this
morning."
"Samoa. . .?" Max repeated thoughtfully. Then it was not in the smog. It was Samoa
that he was trying to say. "Samoa is seventeen miles down the coast."
"Yes. You'd have thought he'd have been in the Polynesian Islands in four months, but
he came up on Samoa Beach. The little woman really prayed him in. This is the miraculous
part. ..." The undertaker drew back the sheet. "Look at these clothes. You said he was
wearing new tan cords. The cords are shredded to a thin fringe that clings like seaweed to his
belt. I've measured the longest shreds, and they are only four inches long. Look at this
underwear - not a run or a snag in it anywhere - and not a single button missing nor a buttonhole
pulled. White as the driven snow. I tell you, boy, I've never seen anything like it. There's a
white cotton union suit that has scraped back and forth on the bottom of the ocean for four
months, and there's not so much as a broken thread on it. I can't understand it; yet the biggest
piece of a new pair of corduroy pants is a thread four inches long. You take it from there,
brother. I'm baffled."
The identification was absolute. The belt, the watch and the teeth, and the underwear,
were positively identified. Without any of these, Max would have know that this man was
Lamar. The insurance man was called. The blank in his policy could be filled in now.
"Not a hair of his head is missing." said the undertaken. "The only blemish of any kind
is that one joint of one finger is gone."
Two days later the Elders came, District President and Branch President, to clothe Lamar
in the white robes of his faith. Then the undertaker brought the formaldehyde bag that is the
regulation in the cases where the sea is so long in giving up its dead.
"I am not a superstitious man," he told them, "and I have my own belief, but I'll risk
going to confession to say that my faith in God is now bigger than it was."
And it was at his suggestion that the hymn they sang that day was "Who Are These
Arrayed in White?"
FOOTNOTE #8
I JOINED THE *R. R.'s
This was written by Alma's Son-in-law, Ralph (LaVerne's husband), after he had surgery on his
hemorrhoids, or as he called them "Rebuilt Rosettes."
Well, I'm out of the hospital at last and feeling pretty fair except that the differential is
still troublesome, but I'm ready to tell you all about my problem.
First, I want to pay homage to the most abused and misinterpreted part of the human
body and place the lowly rectum well up on the list of essential organs. Just because of its
topographical location, out of sight and out of mind, don't let anybody kid you about its
importance. Just because it is the usual receptacle and place appointed to receive all items
directed to it conversationally, and because it is often the target of a well-placed shoe, let's be
philosophical about this unworthy treatment of a delicate rosette, and view the subject with a fair
and open mind, even if it is below the belt.
Have you ever had hemorrhoids? Well, brother, if you have them, keep them. Don't let
anybody get their hands on 'em. I offered mine to science and that was my first mistake.
The night before the surgery, several deceptive practices take place. First, as a touch in
indoctrination and toughening up, the rear end and surrounding terrain are shaven - dry, not wet.
Try it on a day's growth of beard. I had been growing hair south of the border for over fifty
years and was very proud of it. As a little detail, new blades don't count - the older they are the
better.
As soon as the nurse (yes, that is correct, Sunday is a bad day to enter a hospital on
account of the help situation) has finished sandpapering my bottom, she looked at me with great
anticipation and says, "I'll be back for you in a few minutes to give you your first enema." You
hardly have time to consider what the effects of this treatment will be fore she returns. She asks
you to bend over and very quickly inserts a little greased rubber tube about six inches up that
sensitive organ, which is very sore, otherwise you wouldn't be here for the operation. Then she
releases a clamp on a container of water which you think will never empty. When the nurse
says that you have taken about half of it, you warn her that she had better get out of the way,
because if you have to take much more there is liable to be an explosion that will make the
atomic bomb at Hiroshima seem like just a pop-gun. Well, after what seems like hours she
removes the tube and you let go with a blast that you are sure removed any hemorrhoids you
might have had. Four hours later this procedure was repeated. * - Rebuilt Rosettes
About this time, one's peace of mind is slightly disturbed. The ordeal of preparation
over, anticipation now weakens the body beautiful, which has become so rugged from the past
hours' treatment. After all, you have only had those piles six or seven years - they really don't
hurt so much - maybe we had better skip the whole thing. Brother, it's too late!
That night after a big dinner consisting of tea and bouillon, a nice little sleeping capsule
is administered, which robs you of your will to go home and forget the whole thing. First thing
in the morning when you open your mouth to ask the nurse to please call your doctor and tell
him that you have decided against having the operation, another capsule is popped into it. To
make doubly sure you can't get away, a shot of morphine is then administered. MORPHINE that deceiver of deceivers - that seducer of will - that false, hypocritical inducer - of hollow
friendships. Rolling into the surgery even the gleam in the surgeon's eye is mistaken for a
tender beam of sympathy.
Your heavy eyes vaguely take in the assorted knives, hooks, bandages and
hungry-looking assistants. Things are very bright indeed - all's right with the world, and at this
moment you are glad you came. Even the four-foot needle used for the anesthetic holds no
terror for you. As a matter of fact, you don't even feel the needle going in - you don't care - your
toes tingle - in a few moments you can't even move your lets, much less your toes - and then you
become a complete blank. That, brother, is the big moment - they've got you where they want
you.
At this point I'd like to tell you about the new anesthetic, Pentothal Sodium. From the
insertion of the needle until two hours later when I was back in my own bed, I knew nothing.
On awakening, I found a couple of nurses in my room and, being a pretty tough and brave guy
anyway, I greet them, and bragging a bit, kept repeating, "There's nothing to it, it was just a
breeze." I realized now the nurse was trying to prepare me for what was going to happen when
she said. "You're still on a jag."
A little while later the jag starts to wear off - you can wiggle your toes again, but you
don't care if you don't and you wish you hadn't. Then it hits you so hard you can't breathe and
again you don't care if you don't. Hot searing pain in solid waves permeates your rear end and
hits every nerve in your body. Ho! My, they left a red-hot iron in you, or at least a pint of
molten lead.
You can't move away from that or escape it. Every odd second one of those muscles
you trusted all your life, pulls your sphincter into a spasmodic, contracting grasp. Every breath
comes through that seething furnace that never gave you any real trouble before - you also exhale
through it. Even a couple of morphine shots only dulls it enough to make you realize you'll
never eat again, even if you live.
If you must insist on having your operation, may I suggest that you get a room with a
bath because, following surgery, you spend a part of your time soaking your rear end in a bath (a
large tile bowl containing water). If the water isn't hot enough for the attendant to jerk her hand
out boiled it doesn't count; even if the family jewels come out hard-boiled, you sit there twice a
day for half an hour - no doubt to get your privates cooked evenly. (Privates, as you know, are
that part of your body the law requires you to keep covered in public but the hospital insists on
subjecting to public mistreatment.) This undoubtedly is a toughening up for the things to
follow.
We'll skip the forty times you try to void water and finally exhausted have to be
catheterized. (Did you every try to pass your water against gravity?) We'll skip the next few
days of trying to get the knack of blowing gas around the ten-inch wick they plugged you with.
We'll skip the sleepless night and dry days and go on to the moment you've dreaded.
Despite holding back for several days and despite the so-called "soft" diet (tea, bouillon
and Jell-O) in which you have no confidence at all, you finally must heed Mother Nature's call.
I must tell you, however, that the morning of this particular day one of the best-looking Red
Headed nurses on the floor came in with what looked like a nice gin drink, but turned out to be a
great big glass of mineral oil. Never having had experience with mineral oil, I had no idea of
what was likely to happen. At 4:30 that afternoon, after company left, I thought I could urinate,
so I gingerly stepped out of bed, started for the bathroom to urinate and started to release the
muscles which control the bladder. When I did this I suddenly discovered that the mineral oil
had reached its goal, and there I stood in the middle of the floor. Quick as a flash I pulled the
call button for the nurse, but, alas when she arrived I stood up to my knees in a puddle of "you
know what."
The worst part of this episode so far was humiliation and embarrassment, but when I
finally reached the "john" I sat gingerly on the seat and, hanging on to all available support, let
go with solid stuff. The last part of this movement and the next ten or twelve more were a
constant passing of broken bottles, old razor blades, molten lead and sulfuric acid, nicely
garnished with bits of barbed wire, porcupine quills and jagged pieces of tin cans. I don't think
it could have been worse to try to pass a dried out inverted pineapple.
Next day you're served the best looking tray of food you have ever seen. You take one
look, and then you remember that what goes in must come out and, I'm telling you the truth - you
can't swallow a mouth full. The nurse assures you that the worst part is over so you start taking
on a little nourishment at the next meal, but that anguish and torment you have to suffer for being
foolish enough to listen to her.
If I can muster enough energy within the next few months, I'll describe my experience
with a bed pan. Bed Pan - That's an odd shaped gleaming porcelain vessel used as a throne that
makes you happy you are only "King for a Day."
P.S.
If the urge for a little sex life hits you, take arsenic immediately.