The following is from a typescript written by Lorenzo Larsen. Obvious spelling
errors have been corrected, with some exceptions. Likewise many grammar errors have been
corrected, with some exceptions. Some sentence structures have been retained to
preserve the original document. Additional information has been added by the editor.
Since the autobiography ends in 1934 any additional information was or will be added
by the editor. Links to photographs, etc have been or will be added.
Insertions to the text prior to when the text ends in 1934 are in [brackets]. This
manuscript should be considered unfinished, as posted on this web page, until indicated
otherwise by the editor. The editor has also added links to other web pages as seems
appropriate to enhance the narrative of the text. In those cases text is in bold
where it wasn't in bold in the original. Additional note: We have since received additional information in the form of a more complete history, which will added to this site when possible.
LORENZO LARSEN MEMOIRS
An autobiographical sketch of Lorenzo Larsen - to 1934
edited by
Stanley D. Barker, a Great Grandson
I was born at Brigham City, Box Elder County, Utah, Nov. 20 1869 (the year the golden spike was driven on the Promontory, uniting the east and
the west coasts by rail). My parents had emigrated the year before from Denmark. They had
come to America for religious reasons as had may other in those days.
My father's name was Hans Christian Larsen, born
Jan. 1844, at Aserbo [Asserbo], Fredericksborg [Frederiksborg],
on the island of Zealand, Denmark.
My mother's name was Mary Ann Larsen, born Nov. 11,
1841, at Ramlose, Island of Zealand, Denmark.
They were married Dec. 23, 1868, in the Endowment House, Salt Lake City, Utah. They had
chosen Brigham City as their permanent home, but by persuasion of near relatives who had
gone north into Cache Valley, they had yielded, believing that the move would strengthen
their chances for material gain. So at the end of four years the family moved to
Newton in the Cache Valley. There were four in the little family at this time-father,
mother, myself and my brother Hyrum.
A lot was secured upon which father built a log house. It was built on the north west corner of Block 10, according to the townsite survey.
I remember distinctly the building of this house--father and neighbor James Christensen
up on the walls with sharp axes, shaping the logs with the large chips falling to the
ground. This house had a dirt roof.
We made arrangements for a few acres of land, for, of course, we were to be farmers,
the only industry affording any particular encouragement at the time. That was in
1872.
In the fall of 1874, obedient to a call from the Presiding Authorities of the Church,
with many others from the northern sections of the territory, the family moved to the
southern part of the state to assist in a general move to settle that region and which
would also serve as an encouragement to others to make their homes there.
Consequently, our city property was sold, our farm
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land was exchanged for team and wagon with which to make the "trek".
We took our cow with us, tied behind the wagon, sensing the convenience milk would
serve us on the way, but she became footsore and weary. We sold her to someone in
Salt Lake.
We traveled south as far as St. George. There we remained a few months to get our
bearing and receive our assignment as to where we could get work. All I remember of
St. George at this particular time is that we boys with others went to the outskirts of
the city where there were two lime kilns not in use. Into these we carried a lot of
dry weeds which we burned and had great sport dodging the flames as they shot outwards and
upwards as if trying to reach us.
Subsequently, on a visit to St. George, I was on the Temple
lot before the completion of the temple. It was with an air of great
inquisitiveness that I viewed the nearly life size wooden oxen, twelve in number, standing
in the open yard about the temple. Father told me they were for the support of the
baptismal fount in the temple.
We finally went to Pipe Springs where the church
had a cattle ranch. It is also known as Windsor Castle.
It was designed and built by Brigham Young. It
is said that it got the name Pipe Springs from an incident in which the great church
scout, Jacob Hamblin figured. The story is that
Hamblin and a friend had a contest to decide which might be the better shooter. The
friend challenged Jacob Hamblin to shoot a hole through a silk handkerchief fastened by
the two upper corners to the branch of a tree. The challenge was accepted and Jacob
blazed away. He struck the handkerchief but there was no hole. The light
fabric flopped out of the way and let the ball pass without injury. Jacob felt a
little vexed at the failure, so in order to demonstrate his claim as a good shot, he
challenged his friend to hold out his pipe by the stem and he would shoot off the bowl.
His friend held the pipe and off went the bowl. Hence Pipe Springs.
The name Windsor Castle was given it because of the fact that a family by the name of
Windsor lived there and had charge of the church cattle for many
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years. They were there when we came. It was the center for managing the
many cattle the Church owned in this region. It was built somewhat after the order
of a military fort a protection against outside invasion , in this case against the
Indians. The high blind walls enclosed a square, with large well built gates in the
east and the west walls, large enough to permit a large stage outfit to enter.
The living quarters were on the inside built as a lean-to along the south and north
walls. Through the outside walls above the living quarters were peep-holes about
three by five inches beveled on the inside, this permitting free movement of a rifle in
covering a large area outside. All their provisions and a fine stream of water were
accessible on the inside. Similar construction if found at Cove
Fort, which was also built by Brigham Young for the same purpose.
I remember Mrs. Windsor, then quite aged, sitting near the fireplace knitting and at
the same time, because of an acquired habit, searching out from the fire the most suitable
pieces of charcoal and chew it, the blackstained saliva often trickling down her chin.
Aunt Anne Christensen (Mother's half sister)
accompanied us on this southward move, hired to these good people as an assistant in
general housekeeping. This was very helpful to her in getting acquainted with
American methods as she had but very little experience in such work since coming to
Utah. She with her parents and two sisters Dora and Karen Marie came to Salt Lake City in the same
company as my parents. They arrived September 1868. Along with Father came
three of his sisters, Anne, Margaret,
and Laurentza.
I was yet too young to be of any particular service to father in his work which
consisted mainly of getting out cedar posts, fencing and hauling wood for house use.
When animals die in this southern country it does not take long before the flesh and
internal organs become disintegrated and the dried bones covered by the dried hide are
left -- a sort of "mummified cow". I remember the Windsor boys decided to
have some fun with the dogs. They appropriated a couple of these mummies found near
the pasture fence, and raised them stiffly upright in the attitude of leaping over the
fence. They then came to the house and set the dogs on them. After many
furious advances on them the dogs decided to make an investigation "on the
spot". He soon discovered and deception and in dog language, one little tenor
yelp, and the whole pack became decidedly disinterested and no amount of coaxing could
make them renew the attack.
[Page 4]
In a little less than a year we moved to Moccasin Springs,
some miles eastward. This was also a church ranch held for convenience in handling
church cattle. It seems to me that a man by the name of Bill Andrews had a leading
hand in the management of the cattle in these regions.
We lived at Moccasin in a little one room log house- the only house I remember there at
the time, and yet there must have been some one living not far away, for a man came to our
place at times and talked and helped in a sort of neighborly way. Especially do I
remember one such visit. The coyotes had found our chicken roosts and had killed
some of our chickens. This usually happened at very early morning. Our
neighbor brought some traps which were carefully set and then covered with fine cedar
bark. It was almost dark when the setting was finished. I had watched the
proceedings carefully, but no one had noticed that I was standing between the traps and
the house wall and in order to get away I must find my way out between the traps.
The men had gone and I was left to find my own way. I don't think I was ever
more frightened in my life. I was barefooted. Cautiously I took every step,
and each placement of the foot I imagined I could feel the clip and hear the ring of a
spring trap, but I came through safely, the result of no ones good judgement.
At Moccasin there is a most wonderful spring, large enough to give irrigation to a few
gardens and some acreage. It comes out of the ground through a sandy bottom
constantly throwing sand this was and that in great commotion. At the time we lived
there, a sort of little covering was built over it that served as a cooler for keeping
butter, etc. All around the spring it was absolutely barren, because there was so
much traffic with horses and Indians and ourselves that all vegetation attempting to get a
start was worn off. Now it is almost overgrown with willows, nettle and other growths.
Speaking of Indians, I remember, especially, one incident. Father had gone eastward
about seventy miles to a place called House Rock for some dairy equipment. He expected to
be gone three days. The second day of his departure, a band of over one hundred Indians
camped near the spring for dinner. They were trailing northwestward. When Indians travel,
they do not follow the lines of least resistance as the white men usually does, but
crosses the plains and up the canyons, over the mountains, if necessary, in a more direct
line to reach their objective. Moccasin was on one of their overland trails, because of
the spring affording a good watering place. Such places in this region are rather scarce.
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This band stopped long enough to water their horse and cook a quick meal, which, as I
remember, consisted of dried corn cooked in water, some dried meat, but no bread that I
noticed. They had a number of horses and a few dogs. The dogs, I remember looked shaggy
and poor. They had brought, what seemed to be all their worldly possessions consisting of
scanty and frayed bedding, cooking utensils, lodge coverings and lodge poles. The latter
were tied by one end to either side of the saddle with other end dragging on the ground.
Several horses were thus loaded, at the same time also carrying pots and kettles arranged
so as to leave a seat on top for some one to ride--usually a squaw.
As soon as the meal was over, everything was quickly put in place and the march
resumed. This was the nearest we had ever come to such a number of Indians. I doubt we had
ever seen so many before. Mother was alone with us three boys and at sight of so many
Indians, she became entirely unnerved with fright, especially when a half-dozen came over
to the house and walked unceremoniously inside. I remember her seated in the middle of the
room with Joseph on her lap, Hyrum standing at her left and I at her right. These Indians
were tall, stately and well built. There they stood facing us and muttering something to
each other which, of course, none of us understood. Great beads of perspiration stood out
on Mother's face and arms. She was entirely at their mercy. They seemed friendly but bold,
which of course, Mother did not understand. One of them now stepped forward and unbuttoned
the front of my shirt exposing my chest. He felt of my skin and then with his fore finger
traced a line down the center and another from left to right indication the figure of a
cross. He said something at which they all laughed. Then joining the others they turned to
walk out. Their actions had not actually been annoying and their speech had been gentle,
but Mother knew nothing about Indians. She had heard about the many acts of violence
committed here and there in the surrounding region, and, therefore, knew nothing but bad
about them. No wonder she was afraid.
As the Indians walked out they spied an empty kettle which seemed to suit some purpose
they had in mind and asked permission to take it but Mother made them understand they
could not have it. It was the best and almost the only useful cooking utensil she had.
They saw another not so good and took it amid protests from Mother.
They were soon on their way up the trail, but before they were all gone, their medicine
man went to the spring and from a small bag took something resembling corn meal and
strewed
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it over the water. With his face lifted toward heaven he said something that must have
been some kind of prayer, no doubt, a prayer of gratitude to the Great Spirit for the
ample supply of good water.
So ended one of the exciting hours of our early experiences in the South. We hoped it
would be the last. But what surprise! Very early next morning, some little disturbance
outside awakened Mother. When she looked at the only small window in the room, she saw two
Indian faces with their big brown noses flattened against the windowpane. She jumped out
of bed and barricaded the door to prevent their entering until she was dressed. She then
discovered another band of Indians of about the same number as the day before traveling in
the same direction. They resumed their journey without further molestation. Mother firmly
decided not to be left alone again. Father had met both these bands on his way and felt
very much worried for the safety of his folks at the ranch. What a relief when he returned
and found us all unharmed. Here sister Mary was born
November 16, 1875.
We next moved to Kanab, a town of about 600 people
and northeast of Moccasin about 15 miles. We secured a lot in the extreme northwest corner
of town and built us a one room house of rough boards and a one-slope roof. In this we
lived until we built a two room rock house with convenient upstairs attic accommodations.
In this upstairs was the boys bedroom. I remember the man who built it--an aged man by the
name of Everett who had been a member of the Mormon Battalion.
In this house we spent our remaining time in this southern country. We raised all kinds of
garden things, including sugar cane. From this we made Dixie Molasses.
We boys were now able to be of considerable assistance to father, We helped in
planting, irrigating and tried to keep the lot free from weeds. The worst weed pest we had
to contend with was the grass burr, a trailing grass which, when headed out, formed a
clump of nasty burrs at the end of each stem. When the burrs ripen they become quite
formidable, at least as far as we boys were concerned, for we were barefooted and as we
walked in the garden, sometimes a whole cluster of these burrs would be picked out of the
sand piercing and fastened to the sole of the foot. Then came the torture of removing
them. It was the same with the cactus, though they troubled us only on the open range.
There grew a sort of tree cactus about four or five feet tall. The newer growths grew
in sections the shape of a small to medium cucumber covered with needle-like spines one to
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two inches in length. These would often become detached and while lying on the sand,
the wind, blowing through the lower spines, would eventually almost bury the section, and
as a result was not easily seen. But the barefoot boy often found it by stepping the
slightly protruding spines and pulling the while thing out of the sand. Do you think you
can imagine the painfulness of the operation from the instant of contact until the thing
is removed? If there happened to be two of us, the process was somewhat simplified. The
"patient" would sit down upon the sand, which he usually did quickly and
automatically. If he did not already know, he was told to look directly toward the zenith
while his pal with a small but strong stick carefully placed among the spines and between
the foot and the cactus, gave a quick and decisive lift to extract it. Usually it was
successful, but often only partially so. Then a decided look of anguish, a loss of
courage, tears running down the cheeks, and a gathering of yourself together for a new
attempt. If you have never had such an experience it would be interesting to try to just
once.
As stated, we grew sugar cane. Climate and soil seemed to be particularly suited for
this crop. We boys always looked forward expectantly to the time when the tassel began to
turn brown because that indicated the season was at hand when the juice was becoming
sweet. It was not yet ready to harvest but ready for us to cut and enjoy the sweet juice
in our own way. We would do this in either of two ways: By peeling off the hard outer
covering and chewing the pith, sucking the juice and spitting out the depleted pith, and
then also; by placing the joint horizontally between the teeth, then crushing and twisting
and sucking until the juice is drawn out; then crushing, twisting and sucking until all
the juice is exhausted.
At harvest time we armed ourselves with sticks about three or four feet long. With
these we took a row or two apiece and stuck the leaves to strip them from the stalk. It
was easier to remove the leaves while the stalk was still standing then cut the stalk and
remove them afterward. The leafless stalks were then cut down and hauled to the mill where
the juice was crushed out between big rollers. It was then boiled down to make the good
old Dixie molasses.
How delicious, when home from school for lunch, to get a good size slice of bread with
a liberal spread of molasses.
[Page 8]
We owned the choicest orchard in town--fruits of great variety, mostly peaches of which
we had several varieties. We had the Crawford, also a fine large lemon cling, the Indian
Cling and others. The Elbertas and other choice fruits of our modern day were not known
then. We were told on a recent visit that mother is credited with introducing the Indian
cling into Kanab. One summer, while father was on a trip north to Salt Lake and Cache
Valley, mother and we children cut and dried a thousand pounds of dried peaches, not
counting several hundred pounds of dried, peeled peaches. We also had a fine vineyard of
large California raisin grape, white and transparent but not seedless. Seedless grapes
were not known for several years after.
Many people made their grapes into wine. Many homes were thus provided with this
delicious beverage. The bad side of the story is that often the boys in such homes gained
access to the storage and drank too freely. I remember that sometimes at
"Mutual" and at Deacons Quorum Meetings, some of the boys came with their
mentalities operating incoherently. They were ordinarily good boys but had the habit of
dissipating. Frequently they gathered in groups at suitable centers for card playing with
wine for refreshment. Of course this was against the religion and standard of living of
most of the parents of these boys.
I remember one circumstance in particular. A Mother had a family of boys, four of whom
seemed to be inclined to be pulling the leaver in the wrong direction. They were out in
town one night and the mother, being suspicious, determined to find them. After some
reconnoitering she located them with others in a not too well regulated home. They were
all thoroughly absorbed in a game of cards. She also located the barrel of wine-on tap.
She had now removed her shoes and located the woodpile where she procured the ax. She
stole toward the entrance of the rear room where she had located the wine barrel.
Cautiously she entered and assuming a braced position ready to strike a heavy blow, she
raised the ax and "Band"! the barrel head was crushed in and out gushed the wine
over the kitchen floor. She was gone. No one saw her. By the time the boys recovered from
their surprise, she was far away. But in her flight into the street, she stumbled into an
irrigation ditch and sprained her foot causing a severe lameness. Next morning when the
boys noticed her limping in an unusual manner they tried to accuse her of the act but of
course, they had no direct evidence so they said but little. I believe it must have been
years later when
[Page 9]
they learned the truth.
When I was a little over six years old I was sent to school. My brother Hyrum began at
the same time. It must have been a private school for it was held in the teachers small
two room house with a small basement. We sat on plank-like seats with peg legs but no
desks. Neither had we a blackboard. We were too young to use a slate which was a common
piece of student equipment in those days. As is well known, its use has been discontinued
for well founded sanitary reasons. Our teacher was a very kind lady. She permitted us to
put our lunches in her basement where we could go, by permission, at short intervals, and
lunch. For, you understand, we did seem to become very hungry very often. I remember she
took us out into the street one day to see a house moving down the road. We had never
thought such a thing possible. The event afforded a good object lesson in industrial
economy. Just how much I learned in this little school, I do not now remember, but it must
have been creditable for, soon after, father sent to Salt Lake City for a prescribed
beginner's text in reading which I could read without very much help.
One of my next early teachers was a man by the name of Olephant, who later moved to
Carbon County. We had no call bell for his room so when school-call time came he walked
into the front yard and called "Books. Books. Books," we all heard and scampered
in.
Another teacher I greatly admired was J. W. McAlister. I learned mostly to admire him
through his penmanship which was of the best in the state. I suppose it was from him I acquired the notion of admiring good penmanship. Later I met
another such man - Prof. J. H. Paul of the University of Deseret, later the University of
Utah. Aside from his penmanship, I admired Mr. McAlister because of his definite knowledge
of the things he taught us. He was absolutely fair in all his attempts at discipline.
Whenever he made a rule, he saw that it was implicitly obeyed regardless of whom it might
effect. He had no favorites. I remember some hand to hand conflicts he had with some
students, but he won their respect. He was a good singer and we all liked to sing.
In my own time, I have spent some seventeen years at teaching and I feel that I got
most of my inspiration from this man. I was very glad to visit him many years afterward.
He was living in St. George and was the recorder in the St.
George Temple.
Another teacher was A. W. Brown. He was thorough but stern, very much more stern than
kind. We obeyed much more from fear than from the respect we should have had.
[Page 10]
For almost any disorderliness the student was called to the front and if he ever got
back to his seat without physical punishment he was lucky and came back smiling, otherwise
it was simply this, "Hold out your hand," Whack. With an eighteen inch ruler.
The number of whacks depending on the seriousness of the offense, the particular humor of
the teacher, or just how you "stood in" with him. Sometimes it required a number
of whacks on both hands, the student never knowing how many until he was sent to his seat.
No smiles now but swollen hands and tears running down his cheeks. I have often wondered
what mental conclusions were held in reserve by the victim under these conditions. If a
student dared, in the least to be impudent, he was called back for more whacks.
Should we not be thankful that teachers use better methods today? Aside from his severe
discipline, he was thorough as I have stated, and we made very reasonable advancement. In
Geography, he had a very unique way in teaching the names of the states and their
capitols. We were taught to sing them, beginning with the New England states, thus:
"Maine, Augusta on the Kennebec River" giving it first in about the key of
"F" then repeating it in about the key of "C". "New Hampshire,
Concord on the Merrimac River" was next in exactly the same way. I have never
forgotten them. He was something of an elocutionist and took leading parts in ward
dramatics.
One never referred to advancement in school by grade, but by reader, one would say
"I am in the first, second or third reader." The fifth reader was the highest.
The other studies were made to harmonize in grade with these readers. The three R's were
given preference, though at times, as suited the teacher, some other subjects were also
emphasized as the teacher last referred to emphasized Geography. Thus ended my school days
at Kanab.
Lawrence Marriager, the local Deseret Telegraph operator at Kanab, offered to take a
few students to study telegraphy. Four of the boys entered for study. We each made a
wooden sender and went to school. We took quite a number of lessons which were only
elementary beginnings. Some years after, I was privileged to continue this study. It was
at Newton, Utah where J. H. Barker Jr. and myself
built a line to Cache Junction and took up the study of Railroad Telegraphy under the
instruction of Ira Brown who had some practical experience in railroad work. He was in
Newton as a teacher in the public school and offered to help us after hours. I learned to
send at the rate of 25 words a minute and receive at about 15
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words per. It was interesting work.
After this little diversion we will go back to Kanab. - The Stewarts and others
conceived the idea that at a point about seven miles south, but over the boundary into
Arizona, was a splendid place for a new settlement. They could use surplus water from the
Kanab Creek for irrigation and settlement purposes. One of the first things done in
furtherance of this move was the diverting of the waters of the creek bed to a new
channel. This work was given to father. He took me with him. We worked there only two days
but that was the beginning of the little but important town of Fredonia,
Arizona.
Father had learned the tanning business and was employed in the management of the Kanab
tannery. Leather was tanned with tannic liquor made from pine bark stripped from pine
trees in the Kaibab forest on what was commonly called the Buckskin Mountains a number of
miles to the south and towards the Grand Canyon. This bark was cut in about three foot
lengths, dried and hauled to the tannery where it was piled in great piles around a
peculiar kind of mill-something like a huge coffee mill. This was turned by a horse
hitched to a long "sweep" symbolized by the handle of the coffee mill. The bark
was fed into the bowl of this mill and ground up. My job was to break up the large pieces
into small bits so the mill could take them. This was done by holding the large pieces
over the edge of the great iron bowl and striking them with a heavy hard-wood club.
After the bark was ground, it was measured out in proper proportion and dumped into a
large boiler in which had been placed about an equal amount of water. Under this we built
a fire and boiled the contents until the tannin was satisfactorily extracted.
This tannic liquid was then drained away from the foiled bark into another vat where
the hides, after proper preparation, were hung closely but loosely so as to give liquor
contact evenly to every square inch of the hide on both sides. In two or three weeks the
tannin had penetrated the thickness of the hide and the tanning process was finished. But
there was yet much to do before the processing was complete and the hide had become
leather.
We always kept a number of hives of bees. But it is interesting to note the improvement
made in the science of apiculture [?] since that day. We understood that the only was to
increase was to let them swarm. As a result, many of our swarms flew away into the
mountains, which was a complete loss. I remember we tried to follow a fleeing swarm using
several methods to make them light and form a cluster. It was perhaps a bucket of water
and a cup.
[Page 12]
We tried to drench the flying bees to make their wings heavy and to give them the
drowsy feeling of a storm to encourage them to alight. If water was not immediately at
hand we tried to accomplish the same thing by throwing dust or dirt high up among them, or
we got a tin-pan apiece and followed close under them, understanding that the noise would
confuse the bees in detecting the delicate high note of the queen, who it was thought led
the "Get away". In this modern day, none of these methods are considered of any
worth whatsoever.
When we lived in Kanab, it was a splendid bee country. The climate was dry and the
season long. It had an abundance of bloom suitable for honey production. The principle
plant for this purpose was what we called the "Stink Weed," but whose correct
name is Cleome, or Spider plant. Next to this was alfalfa. These gave a most deliciously
flavored clear honey. From Father's great interest in bees, I also became interested and
later had as many as eighty five colonies of my own. The business requires considerable
cash outlay, therefore, unless one gets a good price for honey, there is not much
encouragement. The business is also subject to many unavoidable losses.
Dairying , as an industry, did not receive much consideration. People produced only
enough milk and butter for home use, but on the range hundreds of cattle were produced for
the beef market. Some of the range cattle were very wild and usually after the annual
"round-up" they ranged in so close to town, that our milk cows ranged with them.
I remember how timid we boys were when evening came and we had to go for the cows. We
always went on foot. On the range we were scarcely taller than the sages among which we
had to walk. Soon, a number of these wild cattle would spy us and not being able to
understand the phenomenon, would raise high their horned heads and begin to run in a wide
circle about us. Soon other cattle noticed the disturbance and ran forward to join the
first. As the cattle circled closer they occasionally halted to sniff and gaze, then came
closer and closer until at times we became so frightened that I'm almost sure the hair on
our heads must have stood on end. That, however, was the cattle's way of cautiously
attempting to find out what or who the intruders were. It really was full of danger, for
it meant that if they dared, they might attack us. We were always able to avoid them by
walking off in the opposite direction. We must not run from them or they would be very apt
to follow us.
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On the range, in the springtime, there were many strange but beautiful flowers. The
principle ones were the Cacti, with their yellow or very bright red flowers. They were
noticeable at a great distance because of the bright colors. The flower was followed by a
pear-like fruit, which I have heard was used for food in times of emergency; especially
among the indians. Another flower was the "Indian Paint Brush," so common
everywhere. Probably the stateliest and prettiest, was the Yucca with its sharp pointed
dagger-like leaves forming a tuft from the crown of the root at the surface of the soil.
In the spring, this plant throws up a branching flower stem three or four feet high, along
which appears a large number of creamy bell-shaped flowers. They look quite aristocratic,
dotting the range here and there among the grey-green sage. By the way, it is near here
where Zane Grey hot his setting for his book, "Riders of the Purple Sage,"
nor is it far from here where was staged part of the moving picture, "Ramona."
Another flower worth mentioning is the "datura." This flower has never
appealed to me because of it's a sickening smell. How some people can enjoy its presence,
in the flower garden, I cannot understand. You judge for yourself, take a good whiff of it
at your first opportunity.
Perhaps you will not be surprised when I tell you that this southern country has many
snakes and lizards. There are many rattlesnakes, blow snakes, water snakes, and etc.;
common to all parts of the state. I have only seen one which is common to this region, it
is called the King Snake; a snake with alternate white and black rings. It is very rare
anywhere and I have only seen one specimen. George Bergstrom writes of it in the Improvement
Era for Mar 1933. He describes it as an enemy to the rattlesnake. In a combat, the
King Snake always wins by killing its antagonist.
There are lizards of all sizes, from very large, proud looking specimens, ten inches or
more in length, to tiny specia, only three inches long. They are harmless and when
approached dart rapidly from bush to bush. They seem to be everywhere. I remember quite
enjoying the cruel sport of striking off the tails of the smaller lizards to try to verify
the idea that their tails would not die until the sun goes down. What do you know about
it? I haven't solved it.
When we are out on the open range, we may notice thousands and thousands of decorated
fragments of light pottery vessels. They still have the black striped paint decorations
[Page 14]
as distinct as when they were first placed there. The hundreds of years of weathering
of the elements seems not to have faded them.
These fragments indicate a civilization very greatly ante-dating the present
population. The present Indians have no explanation to offer. There are a least two mounds
near the city that, if explored, might reveal ancient treasures of temple ruins, etc. One
thing is certain that at a former day this region seems to have had a considerable
population. The present Indians are of the Piute tribe and are located on a reservation
south of Moccasin where they are given practical training in agriculture. They also have a
school where they are taught in the elementary grades as in other schools. It is
surprising how all the young Indians can express themselves in English.
Formerly they wandered from place to place as the seasons suggested the time for
gathering pine nuts or for hunting deer from whose skins they made buckskin. From buckskin
they made much of their clothing, such as moccasins, leggings, gloves, etc. The meat of
the deer was jerked and stored for winter. Deer are found in great numbers out on the
Kaibab. From the fact that the Indians went there to get skins for buckskin the mountains
were called the Buckskin Mountains.
These Indians are quite unlike the Navajos in stature and general craftsmanship. These
are short and indolent. They lack the pride of the Navajos. Their clothing is simple and
tattered. I remember seeing many of the squaws in winter dressed in a long roomy outer
cape of rabbit fur very unskillfully constructed.
I had heard of the usual custom for the burial of the dead and disposal of the property
of the dead. I am reminded that when I was about twelve years old, while walking around
over the mountain side alone, I entered a small cave on the north side of a cliff. Its
location thus protecting it from all storms and winds. I feel sure there had never been a
drop of moisture enter there. I began to play in the loose sand when I suddenly came to a
layer of cedar bark. I opened the bark a little and the sand began to run into a cavity
below. The thought came to me quickly, "This is perhaps a burial place of some Indian
infant or young Indian girl. It is sacred." I quickly arranged the bark, pushed the
sand over it again and fled. I never revealed the find to anyone but have always felt that
if I should ever come near that spot again I would investigate it more thoroughly. On our
trip there a few years ago the opportunity came. I went there alone and began to make an
invest-
[Page 15]
igation. I was very much disappointed to discover that someone had already destroyed
it. Upon inquiry, I was told that someone had found a pair of small moccasins beautifully
worked. Some other ornaments and trinkets were also found, all, of course, the property of
some Indian girl who had passed to the "Happy Hunting Grounds." Who can explain
the circumstances surrounding the sad event. It had perhaps not been possible to follow
the general custom of burying the personal effects with the body and so had buried them
here.
At one time a distant tribe made a visit to the local tribe. That was a great event and
was celebrated in great hilarity. They feasted and staged various contests. The main
activity was foot racing and horse racing. You should see a group of about twenty or
thirty Indians in a horse race. It is quite different, they yell and whoop and the whole
event is carried out in a wild and exiting manner--really very thrilling.
I remember that during one of these events, an Indian had the misfortune to break his
horse's leg. He came to the tannery where we were working and asked father to splint it
for him. But father did not understand how to do the job properly and so refused his
request. The Indian departed feeling very much disappointed and much concerned for the
recovery of his horse. It was told that when the visiting tribe returned home they carried
with them an Indian girl from the local tribe. Whether she was stolen or they had won her
in some contest was not definitely learned.
As has been stated, our house was in the extreme northwest part of the city. Still
further out were a number of clumps of Service Berry bushes. Near these, at times, the
Indians built their temporary wigwams and spent several days and sometimes weeks. We boys
paid them frequent visits to barter for bows and arrows. However, they could not easily be
arranged for. For this reason we had to make our own bows and arrows. Of course we had the
genuine Indian pieces to pattern after and by frequent questioning we learned something of
the Indian method. They made the shaft of the arrow from the stem of a course cane like
grass, Giant Sackatone, growing along streams and other moist places. It was very
necessary that the arrow shaft be perfectly straight. The canes are seldom naturally so.
They are cut into suitable lengths, about eighteen inches and then straightened by
pressing and rolling the crooked part over a hot iron or more often over a cobblestone
made very hot in the camp fire. Having straightened the stem, the next was to place in one
end of
[Page 16]
the cane shaft a strong hardwood shaft about five inches long. On the other end three
feathers were placed lengthwise. Really one side of the feather was stripped off and the
other placed edgewise from the end and down the shaft. The wooden point and the feathers
were then bound fast with shreds of sinew somewhat moistened. When the sinews dried they
contracted and held the parts very tight.
The Indians do not now use flint for arrow heads, but use sheet iron and steel. These
are shaped and grafted into the end of the wooden point and bound tight with sinew.
History relates how the Indians sometimes poisoned the points of the arrows before going
to war. Sinews are the tendons of dead animals. These were taken and carefully shredded
and while moist were twisted into bowstrings or used for various other purposes. A
bowstring made of this material is very strong and holds the bow at a good spring. A sinew
back bow was a prize article. This means that the bow was reinforced with strips of sinew
spread over the back of the bow to give it added strength.
I suppose such Indian sports equipment is now to be seen almost nowhere except at
Indian curio stands, they having taken entirely to the use of firearms.
You remember the Indians sometimes camped near the Service Berry bushes out from our
home. It was a common thing during the stillness of the night, after we had retired, and
for that matter, the Indians too, except for one solitary Indian, who for some reason sat
alone by a low smoldering fire and sang a monotonous Indian melody. This, I have
understood, was some particular ceremonial the meaning of which I never learned.
I have formerly stated this is a semi-arid region. There is not enough rain for
dryfarming, nor is the soil of a nature that will hold moisture long, so, of course,
irrigation must be frequent. The summer sun is very hot which also makes frequent
irrigation necessary. Water for irrigation is very limited, so there are thousands of
acres of nearly level land lying idle.
Nearly all the moisture there falls as rain except at very high elevations. From our
doorway we could always see the white covering in winter on the Kaibab. It has an
elevation [of] about 8000 feet. Sometimes it snows on the lower lands but the snow usually
melts as fast as it falls. I remember an unusual snowstorm we had one winter. About six
inches of snow had fallen during the night. Three or four of the young men thought they
saw a chance for a sleigh ride, but no one had a sleigh. They explained their plight to
John Brown, the
[Page 17]
village blacksmith, who at once agreed to help make one. Construction began at once but
before the sleigh was half done the snow was gone. That is how ones high hopes sometimes
fall flat.
In summer the region is subject to sudden heavy electric storms, often of cloudburst
proportions. The clouds producing these storms usually form over the high mountains,
because the cool air there favors condensation. These mountains are peculiar in that they
have but little soil on them, nothing much but exposed rocky slopes. A heavy downpour,
therefore runs down the slopes into the canyons below. I remember being some two or three
miles up the main canyon with father and another man. The threatening storm had sent us on
our way home, but before we had gone far the storm was upon us. We sought shelter under a
projecting rock near the roadside. Within fifteen or twenty minutes, in any direction we
might look, from every little hollow place on the mountain side came streams of red
colored water spouting over the cliffs in dozens of waterfalls of various sizes depending
on the area of the basin drained. It could be easily determined that when all these
streams became united in the main channel of the canyon, it would be impossible to cross,
so if we didn't cross at once, it would be necessary for us to wait until the water
subsided. We lost no time to cross over. We were soon home and away we boys ran to the
creek to see the "flood" go by. This "seeing the flood go by" was
always an interesting sight as long as it kept within its banks for then it did but little
or no damage. Some places along its course it cut down clay banks, and as clay will not
readily mix with sand, the water rolled the clay limps along the sandy bottom until it
deposited them where the water spread out and became shallow. When the flood water had
subsided, these clay rolls lay on the creek bed like hundreds of barrels from the size of
a gallon keg to those holding hundreds of gallons.
The last flood I saw and the only one of any importance, occurred a few months before
we moved away. Heavy clouds had been forming rapidly over the mountainous highlands to the
north. They were unusually heavy and blue-black in color. Soon the heavy bolts of
lightning began to flash and we could hear the deep rumbling of the distant thunder. Soon
the whole northern sky was overcast with the dense blackness. It seemed to cast a shadowy
pall over all nature. Even the birds and all small life seemed to have sought cover and
were silent as in the darkness of night. we knew, in a measure, what to expect because of
past experience, but in this instance we had very much underestimated the result. The
storm exhausted itself over the mountains and canyons above. Within an hour we could hear
the
[Page 18]
roaring of the heavy soil-laden water rushing down the canyon toward us on its' way to
the Colorado. The roaring became louder and louder as it came nearer. Some of us boys, as
usual, ran to a low point on the creek bank to see the angry waters rush by as we had done
many times before. A good sized crowd of men, women and children, attracted by the unusual
roaring, had gathered on a higher and safer point near the channel. The roaring was almost
deafening. It would soon be here. The crowd on the higher land gazed spellbound in the
direction of its approach. They could begin to see it pushing and spreading rapidly
forward. Suddenly they realized the danger we boys were in on the low bank. we must move
quickly or be swept away by the overwhelming waters. The crowd began to call excitedly and
we ran for safety, and none too soon for as we gained the high ground the thick muddy
water swirled around and over the "pond," which was a wide bay like indentation
of the creek flood plain, where several cows were grazing. When the water reached them,
they were picked up bodily and carried toward dry land where they found footing and walked
out. The water following the main channel came more rapidly with about an eight or ten
foot front adorned with a large clump of willows torn from the bank somewhere upstream. I
t looked like a huge serpent winding this way and that as it followed the winding creek
bed. We saw several cattle being carried away, having been picked up along its course up
the canyon. At its height the water in the main channel must have been at least 25 feet
deep. Just south of town the main channel was lost and the water spread over a broad
plain. Here much of the debris was deposited--trunks of large trees, rocks weighing
hundreds of pounds, large parts of banks that had fallen in and carried down bodily, some
as large as a 10 x 12 room. The city fields were on the broad plain. I remember we had a
field of corn just in the tassel. We had just cultivated it and left our plow at the head
of the field. After the flood we could not even identify our field or its boundaries. We
have never seen or heard of the plow since. we had a small field of wheat that had just
been cut and shocked. The shocks were buried to the bands of the bundles in sand. It was
necessary to use a hay-knife to cut the bundles loose so they could be hauled. When the
flood waters had all subsided the creek bed had been cut down about 60 feet below the
former level and had a width of approximately 200 feet. This was the condition for several
miles up the canyon. the cubic yards of earth thus removed is beyond comprehension.
[Page 19]
At the time of our visit there about 45 years later, the immense guly was almost
unchanged. It had cut down to what appeared to be a gumbo clay bottom. At this depth in
the clay were to be seen stumps of what seemed to be ancient willow growths. Tracks of
animals were seen imprinted in the stiff clay. No one can estimate the hundreds of years
that have passed by since this was the natural surface of the earth.
The people of Kanab claim that the water supply has been greatly increased because of
this deep channel but fruit growing has been ruined for some unexplained reason. Hayfield
and pasture up the canyon were all destroyed and have never been regained. To my mind this
event has added greatly to the unattractiveness of the country.
I was baptised in the city canal at a point
northeast of our house by Elder Charles S. Cram and confirmed by Elder Edwin Ford. I tried
to be regular in attending Primary, Sunday School, and Mutual. I was also generally at
Sacrament meeting. When I became a Deacon I was at Deacon's Quorum Meetings.
I well remember the first Sunday School I attended. It was in the old church house in
what was once "The Fort," called so by the early settlers, and had really been a
fort for the protection of the settlers against the Indians. It was west of the city near
the creek bank. I attended with father and our text was something from the New Testament.
I do not remember the subject discussed for I did not understand the lesson but the books
distributed were the New Testament.
I would further state that the place where this church building stood is very near the
point where the people gathered to see the flood spoken of. Northwest a few rods was the
pond in a wide spread arm of the creek flood-plain, on the high banks of which was located
the tannery formerly spoken of. All refuse from the tannery was dumped or drained into
this depression. It was a place where grew considerable green rushes eagerly sought by the
cows of the neighborhood. It was very boggy. I remember that one of our cows, especially,
was very fond of these green rushes and would sometimes try to reach just a little farther
after the enticing green--until she was in mud and water fully half-way up here sides. She
could neither go back nor turn around--only forward. She was stuck and could not get out
without help, which, from repeated experiences, she seems to have learned was sure to
come. I remember the aggravating experiences we had in the dirty mess to get her out. But
there has been no pond there since the big flood cut the deep drain nearby.
[Page 20]
Speaking again of Sunday School. We were soon transferred to a new brick church house
up town. It was used also as a public school building. This was a common practice in
nearly all communities in early days. We had a wonderful Sunday School which had
outstanding officers and class instructors. The two class instructors I remember best were
Zadok K. Judd and Jacob Hamblin known sometimes as Brigham Young's Indian scout. You have
perhaps read his wonderful story written by James A. Little also of Kanab.
As I remember Jacob Hamblin, he was a large raw-boned man dressed in shirt and
overalls, no suspenders, and always wore a red bandana handkerchief about his neck. He
always spoke in a low quiet tone, slow in his movements and sound in judgement.
Zakok K. Judd was interesting in that he had gained much experience as an early member
of the church, was a member of the Mormon Battalion, and liked boys.
I was present at the organization of the first primary at Kanab. Three or four ladies
came there from Salt Lake City for that purpose. They were well dressed in plain black and
black brocaded silk dresses. I noticed this because it was a sharp contrast to what was
the custom where we lived. They brought with them a gold watch belonging to President John Taylor which was worn by him in Carthage Jail
when he was shot and wounded by the mob at the time of the martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum
Smith. A rifle ball had struck the watch thus saving President Taylor's life. This watch
was shown to us by one of these ladies and it's story told.
It was the Father's and Mother's ambition that we should be regular in our attendance
at organization meetings and also at sacrament services. When I was twelve years old I was
ordained a Deacon on the 6th day of December 1882 by ????? ???? and took an
active part in the duties of this calling. Two deacons were assigned each month to do the
janitor work at the church house. I remember it was no small task for two young boys to
sweep & dust and have everything ready in time for Sunday School. We swept with a
broom and dusted with a feather duster. With the latter it was sometimes found necessary
to make a second or third application.
Our Deacons meetings were well attended. Our lessons were interesting and instructive.
I remember a marvelous message our bishop brought home from attending conference in Salt
Lake City. He had attended the session at which President Taylor received a revelation to
[Page 21]
the church. He tried to impress upon some of the things spoken of in the revelation and
with what great power he had spoken it. The revelation is on file in this collection page
??[Appendix A]. He also related to us what he had
experienced with the "miracle" of the telephone. None of us had ever heard of
such a thing. It was just being installed in a limited way in the city at that time. He
had stood in the home of his friend and talked to another friend a half mile or more away
and had heard him as distinctly as if they had been face to face. He could even recognize
his friend's voice. A little box arrangement on the wall received his words and sent them
to his friend and another little instrument on a string held to his ear brought the voice
of his friend. It was all very thrilling. Once a month we had testimony meeting. No one
was absent for fear of being asked to speak. Some young man, braver that the rest, arose
first and the rest was easy. The others followed even if they had to repeat most or all of
what some one else had said.
We had now spent some ten years fulfillment of the call made of us by the authorities
of the church to assist in encouraging settlement of this part of the state. Father felt
it would now be of greater worth to the family to return to Newton in Cache Valley. He
desired to be near better schools and we could be among our kindred with whom he could
co-operate in temple work, now that the Logan Temple would soon be open for work. We boys
were getting bigger and could soon do a lot of work, so he envisioned Cache Valley as a
better field. Neither did he like the unavoidable prospect of his boys becoming range
riders. So he placed these reasons before President Taylor and asked for a release. I very
clearly remember the arrival of the release. Father and Mother seemed to feel very pleased
about it. It was of course, an honorable release, but expressed abundant faith in the
development of that part of the state, notwithstanding its present handicaps.
Our future efforts were now in preparation for our move north. We sold our bees for a
book, "The History of the World" with a promise of future cash payments. We have
never received the cash. We sold our home to a Mr. Little with promise also of future
payments. The collection of this money was left with Bishop Johnson but for some reason we
never got a cent. Mr. Little never even paid the taxes on the property, neither did
father. It was sold for taxes and Mr. Little bought it and got title to it that way. So
our property there netted us nothing. It became necessary to begin all over again in
making a home in the North. Of course, we brought a few pieces of household goods with us
in two wagons drawn by a span
[Page 22]
of mules and a span of horses. We had an extra horse and a young colt. I was to drive
one of the wagons.
A Mr. Marble from Arizona was on his way north to visit relatives some of whom lived
along the Sevier River and some in Deweyville. It was arranged that we should travel
together so that, if necessary, we could help each other over difficult places, for though
it was April we expected some trouble in passing over the south rim of the Great Basin
towards Panguitch. When we reached this "divide" we found the snow just melting,
the road soft, and in some places the little hollows, now running with water, almost
impassable. We made but slow progress over this region but finally reached Panguitch, the
first little town on the Sevier river. This river was running high on account of the
melting snow over its drainage basin. In some places low dugways near the river were
covered quite deep with water so that it had become necessary to place willow sticks at
intervals along the outer edge to guide the driver from going in the river. Sometimes we
found rickety bridges that were a guess as to their safety. I remember we had a great deal
of rain which kept the road heavy and retarded our progress. When we were passing through
Circleville, we found the road badly cut up with a great many "chuck-holes," as
they were called. The right front wheel of my wagon fell into one of these deep holes and
I was thrown from the seat of the double wagon head foremost to the ground. I was a little
frightened but otherwise unhurt. Mother was riding with me at the time and I remember Mr.
Marble jokingly remarked "You better hand your mother the lines next time you take a
somersault." Brother Joseph became very sick about this time and when we reached
Gunnison he was judged to be dangerously ill. Mother gave him a thorough going over and
found he was being bitten and poisoned by a wood-tick. In a day or two after its removal
he began to improve and soon recovered. Mr. Marble had left us to visit friends and we
were left to find our own way. He and his wife had been splendid company.
The roads were now dry and travel was much easier. We were soon in the region of the
railroads. Soon a passenger train came by us. What a wonderful thing! The engine all
polished, with polished brass bands around the boiler and puffing great clouds of black
smoke. It was all very interesting to us for we had seen no such thing where we lived.
We entered Salt Lake City by way of State Street. As I recall it, the first store we
saw as on the south-east corner on about fourth or fifth South Street. It was not a large
[Page 23]
store and seemed, as I thought, to have all the goods hanging on the outside. The
entire front at least was covered with tin cups--strings of them, pans of all sizes for
household and dairy, and many other items of practical use to home and farm. A block or
two farther up I got mixed up with a funeral procession. The young cold we had being weary
and footsore, lagged behind. Just as our wagons had passed the street intersection, the
procession crossed and cut off the road for the colt. I understand now how rude I was, for
I got off my wagon, dashed through the procession and tried to force the colt through,
making no little confusion, but I got the colt. It was a very long procession composed
entirely of horse-drawn coaches, surreys, and buggies. Automobiles were unknown at that
time. Salt Lake City was wonderful, especially to us "kids." I recall the temple
was far from being completed. Men were all about the yard chiseling and trimming the huge
granite blocks, while some completed blocks were being hoisted into the top of the wall
with powerful tackles to be placed in the particular spot in the wall for which it had
been hewn according to previous measurement.
The tithing office corner was just across the street, east, where now stands the Hotel
Utah. That was our camping place while in the city. This particular yard could not but
bring a feeling of sadness to father and mother, especially the latter. That was the
particular spot that marked the end of their journey by emigrant train in Sept. 1868.
During the latter part of his journey, mother's mother had suffered ill health, resulting
from the hardships of the journey, and because of this long sea and overland passage, she
had buried two of her children; a boy at sea and a girl on the wide open prairie east of
the Rockies. So when the train reached this spot, Grandmother asked to be helped from the
wagon so that possibly she could enjoy the change from the wagon to some luggage already
unloaded nearby. Within a few minutes, while reclining on the luggage, she was dead. She
was given a hasty and simple burial somewhere in the city cemetery. Sister Mary, a number
of years ago, sought the location of the grave but the records of those days are so
indefinite that it was not located. So it is no wonder that the short stay in the city
brought anew to them sad memories of the past. We journeyed on. When we reached Brigham
City we spent a week resting ourselves and our teams. We were the guests of Father's
sister, Laura Jenson, mother of cousins Joseph and James C. Jenson.
[Page 24]
We must not stop long for we had hoped to be at the end of our journey in time to plant
a small crop of grain for harvest, but the trip had taken longer than anticipated, so we
must try to reach Newton as soon as possible. It was after the first of June when we
arrived at Grandfather Lars Nelson's home -- June 1884.
Grandfather's full name was Lars Nels Christensen. He was my step grandfather on my
mother's side and later my uncle on my father's side. He had set aside a small piece of
land for our benefit. We planted some wheat and took changes of it's maturing. As I
remember, the crop did not fully ripen. Grandfather befriended us in many ways. He used
his large pasture for our horses. He allowed us the use of one of his cows, which died
soon after coming into our charge. I remember one night hearing her bellowing in distress.
All others were asleep, and being anxious to know what was wrong I got up, and was rushing
toward the door but stumbled over something before reaching it. Upon examination I found a
sheep hog-tied lying just inside the door. Father had come home after we children had
retired. He had bargained for a sheep somewhere and brought it home and had placed it
inside the door to make it safe from the dogs, which he thought might otherwise destroy it
during the night. The stumble so frightened me that I forgot about the cow whose noises
had ceased, for she was dead. We lived, at that time, in a little log house standing where
Ruth Rolph's home is now standing. (1934) We lived one winter in part of the house
occupied by Anders Jenson (Fulgdesang). We arranged for a lot from grandfather and built
the low rock part of the present building on the old home as it stands at present. I
remember that before we owned the place, we cut wheat there for grandfather with a
harvester called a "dropper." This machine was little more than a mower, plus
the ordinary reel, and a fingered table of slats behind the cutter bar for holding the
straws as they fell back when cut. When enough to make a nice bundle had been gathered on
this table, the operator could drop the table into the stubble and the loose bundle would
drag off, ready for someone to make a band from a handful of straw taken from the pile.
This handful of straw was held near the heads with the left hand, and with the right hand
it was divided into two equal parts. With the right hand one of these parts was given an
overhand twist around the heads. The band thus fashioned was held in the right hand and
placed around the loose bundle. The free ends were united and given a close solid twist,
and the ends forced under the band, then the bundle was made and thrown out to clear the
way for the team on the next round.
[Page 25]
We arranged for five acres of this little field and made our home. It seemed to me it
took a mountain of rock to build the four walls of the small house we planned, but before
the second winter came we had it completed in a rough way so we could move in. Niels
Hogensen, father of Prof. J.C. Hogensen of the USAC was our mason. I remember we paid him
partly in wheat. It was necessary for us to provide hay for our horses and cow for winter.
There was considerable free range country--government land--midway between Newton and
Clarkston that grew a fine crop of bench hay. We got our share of this and so, with little
expense, had plenty of hay for winter. Yes, w bought another cow from Tom Bates. We called
her "Limpy" because she was so very lame. I well remember how embarrassed I felt
to drive the ungraceful critter and was much relieved when she also died.
A distressing malady came upon me soon after we came to Newton. My system seemed to
have become filled with poison of some kind for an eruption started in my face around the
eyes, then down my back, then down my legs to my feet. My ankles began to break out in
pussy blisters which broke and dried forming scabs. This condition spread until a solid
scab formed from my knees to my feet. I was not sick but found it very distressing,
especially when the hot sun beat down on it. Some thought it was the result of a change in
climate.
Father bought forty acres of land in the south field bordering on the flood plain banks
of Bear River. Most of this was broken up with a hand plow. We soon had quite a patch of
wheat. It was of the variety called Blue Stem. It was decided that in line with the
general expansion of our farming operations, we ought to have more modern equipment for
harvesting. Therefore, Father and Andrew Petersen bought a binder together. This was a
great improvement on the old method of hand binding.
In the fall of 1886, I began school on the opening day of September. I don't know why
Father was so willing to let me begin so early, unless, if I remember correctly, it was
that the teacher, Charles England, had encouraged Father to do so. He was one of the best
teachers under whose instruction it has been my privilege to be placed. Parley P.
Christensen had met with an accident that fall while cutting grain with a binder. He was
walking beside the binder and fro some reason put his hand to the machine to steady
himself just as the binder tripped to tie a bundle. His fingers were caught, just as it
ripped, in the cogs and he finally lost two of them. Being unable to do any work, the best
thing he could do was to start school. We both attended and studied the same books. There
was yet no grade system
[Page 26]
as at present. We being the only advanced students, the teacher was able to give us
considerable personal attention which of course was to our advantage. We completed school
the next spring. During the summer arrangement was made to take the examination for
entrance to the University of Deseret (University of Utah). Each county of the state was
entitled to a definite number of students free of tuition charges, if they would register
in the Normal Department. We agreed with Cache County that, if called upon we would teach
in the schools of the county for two years. It was simply and encouragement for young men
and women to take Normal training to help raise the standard of the teaching profession in
the county. It also made teachers more available. Cache County never held us to our
contract. Being able to enter without tuition was a decided advantage. We entered the
University in the fall.
Father took us both down in a wagon and found me a place to board with James Lambert,
Sr., whose wife was a sister to George Q. Cannon. They were very nice people and their
home was a good place to live. I have always remembered them with the highest regard, for
their home life has always influenced me to higher ideals.
Dr. John R. Park was president of the University. Among the faculty were such men as
Evan Stephens in the music department, George Ottinger drawing, J.H. Paul Penmanship and
English, James B. Toronto, and one or two more. I enjoyed my work immensely, although I
could not enter into activities as freely as I should have done because I felt greatly
handicapped from the lack of means to make myself as presentable as was really required.
The University at that time stood about where the West Side High School now stands. It
had a very unpresentable campus being mostly covered with an impenetrable growth of weeds
as high as a man. The whole University was housed in two simple buildings of three stories
built of an unattractive light-colored brick and no lawns whatsoever.
It is certainly refreshing to note the progressive change that has taken place in the
whole education system of the state since those days--better buildings, better grounds and
better facilities. Numerous high schools now excel in appearance and accommodations over
what the University had to offer at that time. A few studies were offered too advanced for
general high school work, but otherwise it was just right good high school. The common
branches were taught in somewhat advanced form. I registered in this department, reasoning
that if I ever would think of teaching, these subjects would be of the most practical
value to me. I have never regretted my decision.
[Page 27]
I did not board with the Lambert family longer than to the Christmas holidays. A young
man from Springville, Alex Johnson, who was also boarding there proposed a scheme to live
cheaper. He had a married sister who, with her husband and small child, would agree to
come after the holidays, keep house and cook for us for only their board. They would do
this for us until spring when work could begin on the farm. It was therefor agreed that
arrangements should be made according to this plan. At the close of the holidays, we were
to bring with us from our homes, all the provisions we could. I remember contributing
several articles such as prok, flour, butter, etc. We found rooms in the fourteenth ward,
near the railroad north of the depot. The railroad from Ogden to Salt Lake City was called
the Utah Central and used yellow passenger coaches. The road to Preston from Ogden was the
Utah Northern and was a narrowgage. The engines and cars for this road were very much
smaller--really little playthings compared with the heavy equipment of today.
Our new scheme of living worked very well. Including all, there were six of us in this
remarkable school family. But when spring came we had to break it all up again. The lady
of whom we rented room was Mrs. Ellsworth, who made a living by running a store which she
called the 14th Ward Store. She had a nice assortment of goods but seemed to
give it rather indifferent attention. Her husband was a drunkard and was, therefore, more
of a liability than an asset.
I remember a daughter came to see them one Sunday and had brought with her a pint of
alcohol she had just purchased for medicinal use. He watched his chance and when she was
off her guard he drank it all. Oh boy. That night he sure had snakes in his boots. She
came for me to help her lock him in a room to himself. He was undressed, prepared to
retire, but had strolled into the kitchen and found a very large butcher knife. He waded
about the room with the knife raised in striking position trying to overtake some
imaginary victim. As he seemed to get worse, it got on her nerves, so that she sent me to
the depot for the police. I could find no policeman. A workman thee became inquisitive and
asked me why I wanted a policeman. I explained. He answered, "You go back home and
throw the man in the water ditch and hold him there until he becomes thoroughly soaked,
then he will get his balance, for he will be soaked on both the outside and the
inside." I didn't like the looks of the butcher knife, so dismissed myself. I never
saw him again and made no inquiry.
When our housekeeper left, I joined Parley P. Christensen in bachelor quarters in a
[Page 28]
back room rented of a Mrs. Jenney, a half block west of where I had just lived. One of
Mrs. Jenney's sons was a "turnkey" at the state prison. She had a few gruesome
relics from the prison in the form of some bullets that had passed through the bodies of
prisoners executed after having been stood up against the prison wall and shot to death by
a firing squad. She was a widow of about fifty-five, not very handsome, but a splendid
disposition. She had some admirers who often called on her. She seemed to discern their
intentions, especially one old gentleman, who rivaled all others in persistent visits.
During one of these visits, she whispered to me to incidently call in and she would give
me something to do in the room to detain me during his call, "for,' she said, "I
am afraid he might propose and I don't want to meet the necessity of saying no." I
entered and he vamoosed in a few moments. She thanked me for saving the day.
The difficulty met in this new way of living--doing your own housework and our own
cooking, doing study work and going to school was rather a handicap. In the first place we
were too far from home to get supplies as we needed them and in proper variety. Bread and
bacon twice a day was monotonous and unhealthful. It was a relief when school was over.
Father was quite unable, financially, to have afforded sending a student to school and
living away from home for four or five months at a time. I am not sure whether it was his
lack of judgement or his sheer willingness to make the sacrifice and run the risk. I
suffered a great deal from lack of funds but am very thankful now that the privilege was
not withheld. I was started out with a cheap mixed suit, the dye of which was extremely
prone to stain and fade. It was soon very untidy and I was greatly embarrassed from the
necessity of having to wear it. I sent a letter of complaint to the folks at home. One
morning President Park announced in assembly that there was a package in his office for
Lorenzo Larsen. Upon inquiry, I found a suit of clothes had been sent me by mail. Do you
suppose you could buy a suit of clothes that way that would be satisfactory in fit, style
and color for a university student? I was really delighted until I examined them and tried
them on. The first I noticed was the color--a coarse, green tweedy material, all cotton.
When I tried it on it was much too large. There was no one I could ask to alter it. I
couldn't afford to hire a tailor. What could I do? Nothing. Imagine the picture of a
university student in such a garb. Soon my shoes gave way and I remember going to a pile
of discarded shoes and selecting a pair, each of a different style. I polished them up and
wore them
[Page 29]
for weeks until I afforded a new pari. These conditions made me despair at times. This
gave me the wrong attitude for school work and of course hindered progress.
My studies interfered with what religious ambitions I might have had. They always came
first. I often attended Sunday afternoon services in the [SLC] Tabernacle where Angus Cannon was generally in charge. Evan Stephens always conducted the choir. The temple was still building. There were many stonecutters cutting
and trimming the rock for their places on the upper walls. A railroad track extended up
South Temple Street and into the temple grounds for convenience in hauling the huge blocks
of granite from the quarries.
It is interesting to draw a comparison of Salt Lake City in 1887 with the city as seen
today [1934]. The Deseret News Publishing Company was housed in a comparatively simple
building which stood where the Hotel Utah new stands. The
printing was done on a cylinder press, the sheets fed into it by hand and printing only
one side at a time. The Hotel Utah was not there, neither was the big Deseret New
building. Many of the larger buildings down Main Street have been built since that day.
What did I do at school? As I have said, the course I registered for was what would now
be considered a good high school course, though I am sure our classroom instruction was
much more thorough. The University of Utah was first called the University of Deseret. The
state of Utah was first called the State of Deseret. There was no Utah State Agricultural
College. We had the Brigham Young College at Logan, the
Brigham Young Academy in Provo, now called the Brigham Young University. The Church had
their schools throughout the state for convenience of the communities. The Church was
really advanced before the State in providing instruction of higher learning. Most of
these have now been discontinued because the state has become fully able to take care of
the needs, and the church does not desire to compete or to duplicate their work.
At the university, I studied English Grammar and Classics, such as Scott's lady of the
Lake, Merchant of Venice by Shakespeare, The Deserted Village, Evangeline, etc. Also
Penmanship. Prof. J. H. Paul was instructor in all of these. I studied drawing under Prof.
Ottinger, who at the same time was chief of the Salt Lake Fire Department. I have always
been thankful that I took these studies in preference to higher work, for which I might
have been very unprepared. But just think of these subjects being taught in a University.
The BYC at Logan would have been nearer but I feel that I received value
[Page 30]
for time and inconvenience at the University. President John R. Park taught me advanced
arithmetic. I am sure I gained an appreciation of good English and good authors. I learned
to analyze thought to get the proper meaning in that it stands out as a finished product
full of color and life. So with all the other work. I appreciate the help and sacrifice my
parents made to send me there to school. I shall always look back upon this period as one
of the most profitable of my life.
School was out and it was Parley Christensen's father's business to see that we got
home. He sent funds to take us to Ogden by train. We would be met there with a team and
wagon and I was to ride in this wagon to Brigham, where Hyrum would meet me with an outfit
to take me to Newton.
The next fall I entered the Brigham Young College at Logan. Parley went back to the
University where he graduated in due time. He then went east to study law and then
practiced law in Salt Lake City. He later received the nomination for president of the
United States on the Farmer Labor Party, but lost at the election.
As stated, I entered the Brigham Young College at Logan. Joseph M. Tanner was
principal, some of faculty were Douglas Todd, W. J. Kerr, Kate Preston, who taught German,
and one or two others. We figured it would be easier and more convenient which, of course,
the former experience had borne out. Three of us, Nephi Larsen, Charles M. Christensen and
myself arranged for rooms at Peter Maughan's home on east Center Street. We also arranged
with Aunt Anne Christensen to be our housekeeper and cook. It might be related that Peter
Maughan is the father of Russel Maughan, the "dawn to dusk" flier from the east
to the west coast across the United States.
At the College I registered in theology, algebra, physiology, history, and music. The
instructors were well qualified for their work, which intensified our interest in the
subjects.
At the close of school in the spring, President Tanner made arrangements with about six
of the best students to go east to higher institutions for more advanced study. There were
Frank K. Nebeker, law; George Swenson, engineering; Mose Davis, law; Joseph Jenson,
engineering; George Thomas, and John A. Widtsoe, chemistry. The latter, after his return
eventually became president of the USAC and later of the University of Utah. He was next
chosen as a member of the quorum of the twelve apostles of the church, and as such has
just returned
[Page 31]
from presiding over the European missions. George Thomas became a member of the faculty
of the USAC and was then made president of the University of Utah, which place he now
holds. All in all, the church schools have given to the state and the nation some of its
greatest men. I was well acquainted with the above from our school.
The next year Prof. Kerr secured a position with the University of Utah and Nephi
Larsen went there as a student of mathematics. He graduated there and was engaged to teach
in one of the schools in Salt Lake County. He became ill with Typhoid Fever and died.
C.M. Christensen went into the furniture business in Loga, first as a partner with a
Mr. Spande and later as principal stockholder and manager. He became a member of the Logan
City Board of Education. He was also a counselor in the presidency of the Cache Stake. He
held this office when he died.
I wanted to attend the BYC again the next year but we were too short of funds, so
decided to find a school and teach instead. I sent out several applications and finally
accepted the offer from the trustees of Grouse Creek, Box Elder County. This place is one
hundred miles west and very close to the Utah Nevada boundary. I found the community very
scattered with their farms here and there along small streams; so some had no short
distance to school. The School Board had arranged a boarding place with a Mrs. Hale. She
was a very lovable lady and I soon felt much at home. She owned a store and was therefore
a woman of business--the only one in this part of the country. She soon confided many of
her business problems to me for my decision, but I am not now so sure of the quality of my
advice.
The school house was a one-room log building with dirt roof and "factory" for
ceiling. The stove pipe extended through the roof with plenty of room for the pipe. When
the wind blew hard, as was often the case, the dirt and gravel from the roof drifted into
the room and rains streamed down the pipe onto the floor. We used wood entirely for
heating.
The janitor work was part of my contract, so it was my work to chop the wood, sweep,
and build fires. I had about twenty-five students distributed through all the eight
grades. Really, there were yet no grades and school standing was referred to by readers.
If I remember rightly, the fifth reader was the highest. I had a splendid group of
students--friendly and congenial. This was my first attempt at teaching and I
"felt" my weakness. I soon found that success was based largely on confidence in
myself. The feeling "I can do it" is often the keynote to success. This feeling
gave me courage and determination and put me over many discouraging periods.
[Page 32]
I found too, that discipline is one of the main responsibilities. So to get and keep
the respect of the boys and girls, I learned that I must use great wisdom and judgement in
my dealings with their problems. When school was over we thoroughly disliked to think of
parting, perhaps, never to see each other again. This has really proven to be the fact so
far. I have never seen one of that group of students since. However, many were the
expressions of appreciation from the students hoping for my return.
I should have mentioned that the summer before I spent much of my time working on the
railroad as that year it was built to go through Bear River Canyon instead of around the
east side of the valley through Logan and over the divide from Mendon to Collinston. It
was also changed from a narrow road to a wide and standard gauge road. With the money I
earned on the road I finished paying my board bill to Mrs. Lambert where I lived while at
the University.
While teaching at Grouse Creek, I spent the holiday vacation period at Newton. It was
quite a long trip and cost some to make it, but there was a little girl in a red dress who
had so impressed herself on my mind and whose brown eyes and bewitching smile was so
inspiring that it would have been disappointing and really painful not to have been free
to return and enjoy here companionship for a few days during the Holiday period. I said
"A girl in a red dress" for that is how I always visioned her. That was the
color of her dress the day she became the outstanding girl to me. I was riding bareback on
an old, ringboned, swaybacked horse, when this girl in red loomed up ahead. It was near
the south-east corner of the public square, and there were a few words of courteous
greeting. I suggested that she take a seat with me on the horse and ride home. She
surprised me by accepting and showed no little ability of mounting. She seemed as pleased
over the incident as I was, although I felt some embarrassment when I thought of the
spectacular picture we presented, on account of the ungainliness of the horse we were
riding. She has since told me that she never noticed the horse. But that girl in a red
dress always comes to mind as a satisfying and beautiful vision.
While home for the holidays, I had provided myself with a few personal necessities and
had packed them in a canvas telescope case. I took the train to Brigham City and walked
over to Corinne. I noticed the time of my departure from Brigham City, and agin when I
reached Corrine. When I arrived at the latter place it was exactly the same time by the
clock as when I left Brigham. I was puzzled. Upon inquiry I found that Corrine was
operating on
[Page 33]
Pacific time and Brigham on Mountain time. That was for railroad convenience only. I
went by train from Corrine to Terrace in the western part of Box Elder County. At Terrace
someone stole my suitcase with all it contained. Such acts were not so common then as they
are today. There would have been some consolation if I were sure the one who took them
needed them worse than I did.
My salary at Grouse Creek was only fifty dollars a month, but I saved enough so that,
with some help from home, I entered school again the following season.
J.H. Paul of the University of Utah had come up to preside over the college. During his
term of office, enrollment at the college was greatly increased. Since my last attendance,
the student body had almost doubled in number.
This year I registered for Theology, Algebra, Geometry, German, Bookkeeping, and more
English. This was rather a hearty course and I got behind in Geometry. I finally decided
to petition out of it. They tried to get me to give up German instead but I was very
interested in German and had lost interest in Geometry. For that reason I could not become
interested in their suggestions. Prof. Kerr occupied a whole class period advising against
my change but I couldn't see how I could regain my lost ground and renew my interest in
Geometry. However, I think I have gained a fair understanding of elementary Geometry from
independent study. At least I have been able to help a number of High School students who
have come to me for assistance in that subject. Neither do I regret staying with German,
though what actual benefit it could be to me I could not then explain.
A number of parents in communities where I taught school were German and they seemed to
be more cordial and took more interest in me because I could speak a little German.
Sometime before closing of school in the spring, my name appeared among others for
graduation. Of course that was important. It was the second year a graduating class had
graced the college. There were only eight of us. Later, I saw the school turn out over a
hundred graduates at one time. During my school days, the school occupied what was later
called the East Building. As more students entered, more commodious quarters were provided
by the erection of the West building. In due time, the church discontinued the school.
It should have been mentioned that preparatory to this last year of school, a number of
boys mad arrangements with Aunt Anne Christensen to do our housework. We rented
[Page 34]
a small house midway on the block just south of the Logan
Tabernacle Square.
The following students lived there: John E. Griffin, William H. Griffin, Jr. Joseph A.
Christensen, William Jenkins, Alice Jenkins Christensen, Ephriam Jenson of Mantua, and
myself.
This group characterized itself by refraining from engaging in frivolities through
which a lot of valuable time might have been lost. To their credit be it said that they
held themselves close to their school work and completed the year with creditable results.
We often attended church in our ward (Logan 1st) whose assembly room was in the
basement of the tabernacle. Bishop Lewis presided over the
ward.
It was during my attendance at the BYC that Utah became divided into the two standard
political parties, Democrats and Republicans. Formerly the people had been divided almost
entirely on the basis of Mormon and non-Mormon, or the Peoples Party and the Liberal
Party. Students at school were asked to study the doctrines of the parties and choose
their standard. We had our rallies and our political campaigners. I remember C.M.
Christensen made a short political speech during which he made the following statement:
"Future historians will dip their pens in the sunshine and write upon the golden
pages of history the achievements of the Republican party." Of course, you will
note, that discloses his politics.
That fall the Republicans won the election. Several large bonfires made from stacks of
dry-goods boxes were built several places down main street. Another night soon after a
triumphant torch light procession was formed several blocks long and led by a fine little
band. Politics had never been demonstrated with such a glamorous spectacle before.
The college held its graduation exercises in the Thatcher Opera House. Samuel Oldham
was the valedictorian. There were eight of us graduating as has been stated. Now, hundreds
are proud to name themselves as graduates of that most worthy institution. President J. H.
Paul presided at the exercises and conferred the certificates.
There was only one event of any particular importance that occurred the following
summer. It was the 24th of August, 1892. The county paper referred to it as
follows: "Yesterday Lorenzo Larsen and Altena Erickson went
to Logan as two and returned as one. They were married in the Logan Temple."
It seems that I had been unable or unwilling, or both, to dismiss from my mind the
attractiveness of that little girl in a red dress. O boy, I have seen red ever since. The
announcement referred to come out almost forty-two years ago and they have lived happily
ever since.
[Page 35]
We drove to Logan in Bishop Funk's "white top" buggy which had no white top.
There were yet no automobiles, so, of course, our conveyance was strictly modern.
We had a wonderful reception that evening. Scores attended. We had invited the fife and
drum corps which was the pride of the town in that day. Their music helped to enliven the
evening with martial airs.
Carl Anderson of Clarkston, because of Altena's acquaintance with him from working with
him for Mrs. Ballard at the Cache Junction railroad eating house, was engaged to cook our
wedding supper. He had made the wedding cake at his ranch home near Clarkston and must
bring it to us by team. He must drive these several miles very slowly for fear that some
jolt or jar would cause the cake to "fall." This made him a couple of hours late
and no small amount of worry at this end wondering what was the matter. Much concern was
felt for fear that what was intended to be the outstanding event of the evening would
bring disappointment. But in the midst of it all, he arrived. By reason of his thoroughly
understanding his work in every detail, he soon had everything going on three kitchen
stoves, so that by the time the hour set for supper had arrived, everything was ready,
tables set, the first group seated and trying to satisfy their eager appetites. We set two
tables and served about sixty people. The band played Yankee Doodle and Home Sweet Home.
That winter I was employed as principal of the Newton Schools. It was held in two rooms
under the instruction of two teachers. Ira Bowen taught the lower four grades and I had
the upper four grades. This arrangement greatly over crowded the rooms. I don't know how
much truth there would be in saying we "taught school" under such conditions.
Rather, it might be said we "kept school." Efficiency in teaching was impossible
under such circumstances. Sanitation and accommodations scored low. Neither had boys and
girls been trained out of the idea that the schoolroom was a place to play pranks as well
as study, if they could get by with it. At home they heard many things their parents had
been able to put over and escape detection and punishment. These experiences the parents
related in the hearing of their children and with much resultant merriment. The children
partook of the spirit and many were on the alert to duplicate these satisfactions in their
own experiences. This taxed the teacher's tact as a disciplinarian, so that with an over
crowded room and over crowded time, a teacher's work under such conditions was not
productive of very great results.
[Page 36]
A most wonderful progress has been made in educational lines in the years since then.
Many of our district school buildings today are much better looking and give greater
accommodations than our state University of that day. Boys and girls have greater respect
for the school room and receive a culture productive of better discipline and a finer
dignity toward self and surroundings than was possible under the old conditions. For this
reason, I never look back over my work in Newton with any very great degree of pride or
satisfaction.
We lived at the home of my wife's mother until, we could build, which we did on the
north-east corner of the block. The house was a neat three room frame building, though
very plain in it's accommodations. People have learned very much since then how to build
for interior convenience. We did not live in it so soon for we were always moving away for
school work through the winter and back again in the spring. Niels Jacobsen built the
house and Jonas N. Beck painted it. The location proved to be very wet, especially in the
spring time. At times it became almost impassible. This condition was repeated for several
years but has of late almost disappeared.
We decided to sell the place and build on our field property just south of town. We
sold it to Eli Hanson for $1200.00, but instead of building we bought 160 acres of land
near Bancroft, Idaho--a rather unwise investment, inconvenient because of distance crops
injured by frost. We sold it again but lost money.
After selling to Mr. Hanson we moved down to father's where we had the use of two rooms
until we arranged to buy my wife's old home of my brother William, who had been living
there. It is still our home at this writing.
The next winter after teaching at Newton, I contracted to teach at Rosette, Box Elder
County, receiving a salary of $50.00 per month. I came to town on Sunday as school was to
begin the next morning. Joseph Burton, one of the trustees, brought me from Kelton, the
nearest railroad station, to my boarding house previously arranged for at the home of
Jacob Kunzler. Here I left my luggage and then continued with him to the school house
where church was in session. Mr. Burton stepped inside to make announcement of the
beginning of school. This is what he said, "School will begin tomorrow morning at 9
o'clock. I have just brought the teacher up from Kelton. I think he will be a good teacher
and strict in his discipline for he looks like it." The first I every had revealed to
me anything about my looks.
[Page 37]
Well, the next morning school began. I believe we had every boy and girl eligible for
school in attendance. I don't know if Mr. Burton's remarks had made any great impression
but every student was a model in behavior and studiousness. It proved to be the most
congenial group of patrons and students it has ever been my privilege to meet during the
seventeen years I spent at teaching. Most of the boys and girls showed a refined dignity
and culture unusual in a group so isolated from cultural centers. I learned that many
times several of them spent weeks or months with friends and relatives in the larger
cities. This gave them contacts that influenced them toward good personal appearance,
selectiveness in their speaking and general behavior. Their kinspeople in the cities were
of the old established and educated class which influenced them for good studentship. I
taught the same school for seven years and had a most satisfactory experience.
It is always a pleasure to hear of or to meet personally any of my students. I often
find one and of course must ask many questions regarding others with whom we have had a
common acquaintanceship. Some of my students are professors in colleges, some in the
professions, others engaged in the ordinary pursuits of life. I am proud to meet any of
them. May it be understood that I do not mean that I should be credited with the full
achievement of these boys and girls, but I hope at least that I have not stood in their
way or retarded them in their ambition to go forward. I did try to encourage many of them
to continue their study in higher institutions. Some did attend the Brigham Young College
at Logan and a few others at other high schools.
I became the first Sunday School Superintendent of Rosette Sunday School. Previously we
had always attended at Park Valley, or, rather, it was the Park Valley Sunday School which
was held on alternate months at these places. Finally Rosette had a Sunday School all its
own.
I have never left an organization at the close of the school year so reluctantly as I
did our Sunday School at this time.
While at Rosette, I tried to be helpful in civic, recreational, and religious
activities. I put on several school entertainments that would have been a credit to any
school. The students were very suited for such activities. Many of them were exceptional
musicians and good singers. This could be said especially of the Campbell and Raleigh
girls.
I contracted to teach the same school the next year. We were given the use of
[Page 38]
Mr. Kunzler's old house which served very well after it was rigged up for housekeeping.
We are now a family of three. Our first son, Lorenzo David Larsen, was born December 24,
1893 at Newton, Utah.
Mr. Kunzler and his wife were exceptionally anxious as to our needs and general
welfare. Our own parents would not possibly have been better, and we have regarded them
very highly in all the many years since. To remember them is always a pleasure accompanied
with a high degree of sincere gratitude for the many kindnesses shown us.
However pleasant the memory of our experiences there may be, we were not without some
unpleasant periods also. When Loren was five years old, he was sick with typhoid,
contracted just before leaving Newton, where there were a few cases. There were no doctors
nearer than Brigham or Ogden, a distance of eighty or a hundred miles. Dr. Rich came out
from Ogden on another case and we asked him to call and advise. We managed well, though
with considerable worry and hard work, which, of course, means constant careful nursing.
Another year our third child, Rosabel, was very ill with what might have been called
pneumonia. At another time my wife became dangerously ill in the spring, which detained us
most of the summer. We have been greatly blessed regardless of the number of serious cases
of illness while away and also at home--regardless of this, I say, we have all been spared
to each other and lived to enjoy each others companionship. As parents we have lived to
see our children grow to maturity and form partnerships in the eternal cycle of life.
In making a general review survey, it is interesting to note the places students have
taken as heads of families and whose children are or have been attending school as they
did and are themselves parents of a younger generation, and my students are grandparents.
Nephi Anderson, who has contributed so much to church literature was superintendent of Box
Elder County schools during most of my time at Rosette. I became very well acquainted with
him. He was an unusual companionable person. Other superintendents under whom I worked in
Box Elder County were John D. Peters and Angus Vance.
Aside from Rosette, I taught at Fielding and Riverside in Box Elder County. I had all
the grades except at Fielding where there were two teachers. Miss Adelade Mason of Willard
taught the lower grades. She was an exceptionally good teacher for those grades. She was
gentle, kind, and considerate with altogether a most lovable disposition and personality.
While teaching at Fielding she married a Mr. Esterburg who, the same
[Page 39]
week of their marriage, left for a mission to the Northern States.
While at Fielding I boarded at Calvin Richard's home, a ranch place some distance out
of town. While there we nearly had a disastrous fire resulting from an overturned lamp in
one of the boys bedrooms. We had all retired except the girls who were downstairs with a
couple of young men callers. It was Sunday evening, you know. I had not yet fallen asleep
and soon noticed an unusual glare of light from across the hall. A hasty investigation
revealed that his room lamp had fallen, breaking a hole in the oil bowl. The oil was
ablaze and flowing over the floor and under the bed. I had not taken time to dress for
speed was of first importance. The only thing to do was to smother it, which I tried I
tried to do with pillows and other bedding. It was gaining headway under the bed and I
received several burns while working against it there. I succeeded in putting it out, but
believe me, there was no mistake about the smell of burnt woolens and feathers when the
excitement was over. I was allowed a couple of weeks board for my part in the game.
I felt that the teaching game was getting quite laborious and wondered if something
else might not be interesting and profitable. So I quit teaching for a number of years. I
had been able through the years to save some money and pay for a piece of land which I
bought of my wife's mother. So I tried farming. This, I have since discovered, was a
mistake. I should have been satisfied with teaching.
Along with farming, my brothers and I had the courage to start in the lumber business
at Cache Junction. We had very little capital, but what we had together with a certain
amount of credit extended by the lumber mills, we started. Soon after this I had an offer
to enter the Peoples Mercantile Company, general merchandise, with Andrew Peterson. I
worked with him for about a year when the management was turned over to me. I was not
thoroughly familiar with the liabilities of the company, and no stock was taken to
determine the exact standing of the business before I took it over. My immediate orders
were also rather heavy. The country plunged immediately into a depression which affected
all employment so that from available employment for all who needed or wanted work, to
enforced idleness made bills difficult or impossible of collection. We had been giving
quite liberal credit on the assumption that people could always earn money and pay. But
this changed suddenly and it hurt our credit. Other merchants who owed us for eggs and
chickens and veal, etc. found it difficult or impossible to meet their bills to us. We
found ourselves
[Page 40]
in bad circumstances to meet our bills and our creditors were crowding us. Finally a
couple of our debtor merchants failed, and business and we were the losers. I resigned in
favor of Andrew Peterson who again took over the business. He held it until it burned down
some years after. While I was in the store, Hyrum managed the lumber business. He did very
well but lacked capital to run a business of that nature.
The opportunity to teach came to me again at about the beginning of the First World
War. The teacher at Cache Junction enlisted in the army and I took his place. I taught
this school for three years after which I failed to see any particular dignity in teaching
a small four grade room in a town like Cache Junction. So I gave up teaching again. This
was another mistake. I might have gone elsewhere and continued teaching. I liked teaching
just a little better than anything else I have tried.
We four brothers also operated a steam thresher during the harvest time. We did all the
work connected with the threshing job, furnishing men, boarding them, and put the wheat in
the sack for a certain price per bushel. The combined harvest-thresher has now largely
done away with the need of stacking the grain and afterward pulling in the regular
thresher to thresh from the stack. We never made much money at that work and yet we
practically wore out three different machines and two steam power engines. The best and
simplest thresher we sued was the J.I. Case.
One year we shipped our outfit to Bancroft in Idaho and threshed several thousand
bushels in the region from Bancroft through Central and up towards Grace and Alexander
where we loaded for return shipment. It was up toward Alexander that one night it was
showering a little and a clear full moon made a rainbow clearly visible at about eleven
o'clock at night. That occurred to me as being a little unusual. I owned a farm at
Bancroft at that time and spent a lot of time and money to make it go but after about
three years I sold it, but finally lost money on it. I gave him full title to the land on
his promise to pay me in full when eh would have received a Federal loan he was trying
for. When he got the loan he was short on the amount he expected and I did not get it all,
but accepted a second mortgage on the property. He went bankrupt and the Federal Land bank
foreclosed on him and I was unable to follow up for my equity.
Additional information will eventually be added here. If you have memories or Lorenzo or Altena Larsen, please email me and I will add them. I would like to complete Lorenzo's biography to the time of his death.
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