HISTORIES OF
GEORGE HEBRON BOWLER &
NANCY ELIZABETH HOLT
History of George Hebron Bowler
Like Nephi of old, I can say, “Having been born of goodly parents,” I am blessed with a wonderful parentage, and a birthright in the best country on the earth.
My father, James Samuel Page Bowler and my mother, Matilda Hill Bowler were born and reared in England and all of my brothers and sisters were born there also. Myself being the only one of the family who was born in America. I am very proud of my birthright in this goodly land. The children were, Lizzie, Harry, James,(who died in England), Kate, Annie, John, Florence, Walter, Francis and myself. The family came to America in the fall of 1880. They had joined the Mormon church there and had kept open house there for the Elders. The late apostle Francis Lyman was a very frequent visitor to their home.
They passed right thru Salt Lake City and reached Milford, which was then the end of the railroad, about the middle of November, 1880. It was a four days journey from there to Hebron which was their destination. When Bishop Terry wished to send some teams out to get the family he told the young men that there were a number of young women in the group and it would be a good opportunity to get a wife. So Aaron Huntsman came to Milford to get them. It was their first experience in camping out and cooking over an open fire. It was a slow and tedious journey for them and they landed in Hebron, Washington County, Utah after dark on a very cold day late in November. They were taken to a small log cabin, and there my father and mother with eight children made their beds down on the bare floor of what was to be
their home for some time to come, and it also was to be the place where I was born.I have heard my father and mother both tell in after years, and laugh about it, how when it got day light, next morning, my mother arose and dressed and went to the one window and looked outside, looking as far as she could to right and left, and then as she turned from the window in disgust she muttered, “Hm! I shan’t stay here long.” My father said he ducked his head under the cover so she would think him still asleep. But he thought to himself, “You are apt to stay here for quite a long while, as it was hard enough task to get in, and had used up all their resources so that it would not be so easy to get out.” But when father finally arose and went to the only door to look outside, he had no wonder at mother’s comment on what she saw. They had been born and raised all their lives in highly cultural parts of England, had been
fairly well situated and used to the conveniences of that day. It was a serious let down for them.All along the way they had noticed the fairly nice homes in the thriving towns and settlements as they crossed the country. And they supposed that they would find something similar in the town they were coming to. But what a sad dissapointment to them. As I have stated before, it was dark when they entered town that night. There were no street lights, only the occasional glimmer of a coal oil lamp thru the windows of the few scattered homes along its one and only street. So they could not see just how things looked that night. And they were taken to this one room log hut as their future home, the only vacant house in town, and the owner thought he was doing a fine thing to place it at their disposal for a home as long as they might need it. And as that was all he had to offer it was fine too. For although they
were crowded in that one little room, it was a shelter from the storm and cold. It had a fire-place in it which kept them warm. And it was a good thing they had even this shelter for it snowed nearly all night that first night. And that was the sight my mother saw when she looked out of the window that first winter morning from the house that was to be their home for some time to come.The fences there in those days were made from cedar posts in what they called a stake and rider fashion. These fences had been there so long that the sage brush had grown all up thru the timber almost in some cases completely hiding the fence. There was brush also growing along the ditch line of the sidewalk and also in patches along it’s only street.
This one street was divided into blocks by side streets, there were four of these short side streets, on each side of this one main street. There were only two houses to a block or sometimes only one house and in a few cases no houses on an entire block. These houses, what there were, was always in the corner of a block. In all there were fourteen houses in this straggling little country town. The foothills came down just to the rear of these lots. All the country seemed to be covered with high rank sage brush breaking into cedar and a few fine trees at the foot hills. And with everything laden down and covered with over a foot of snow is the sight that met my mother’s eyes that cold grey November morning in
1880. It was a cold bleak world she looked into as most of the homes were very little better than the one she was in. A very dismal sight at best. Owing to the fact there was no water for the town, there were only a few cottonwood trees and no shrubbery at all. It was enough to make a stout heart feel faint.But soon after the morning meal the neighbors began coming in to make themselves known and to welcome the strangers into their midst. Their children and our children told each other their names and soon all the children were outdoors playing, running, shouting in high glee. It was here then that out children saw their first snowman and learned to roll the snow up and make a snowman for themselves. The older folks too were all soon talking in a very friendly manner. And the good sisters showed my mother how to cook various things and vegetables in the quick American way and as they would depart for their own homes each visitor would leave an earnest invitation for mother and father to come and visit them, which they did as the days went by.
And it was this exchanging of visits and the good people of Hebron showing my father and mother how various things were done and by giving of their substance and in lending various things that were needed that a deep and lasting friendship sprung up between them that lasted till their dying day. Such great kindness and hospitablity won my people to this country and soon they were quite content to stay.
Up to this time in that part of the country there was no music or singing only as one man played the fiddle for dances or in singing each singer alone or in groups would all sing the melody or tune, there was no part singing.
It got rumored about town that my parent’s family were good singers. So soon after their arrival here there was a town social in their honor. And my parents were asked to sing after a few of the others had taken various parts. So they sang. Father was a fine bass singer, Mother, Lizzie and Annie had very sweet soprano voices, Kate had a sweet rich alto and Harry a wonderful tenor voice. And they all sang, again and again. It thrilled the people so it was such beautiful singing. The news spread like wildfire thru the country. And from then on my parents had a hearty welcome in the homes wherever they went. (I will just state here that I heard them all sing together on many occasions after I became a large boy, and altho I have, in later years, had the opportunity to hear wonderful singing of fine trained voice, I have never yet heard anything that was grander or sweeter than the singing of my father’s family.)
But my parents passed thru many hardships that winter. They were strangers in a strange land. With no home or farm or stock nor resources to draw from, and without things to do with. My father by trade was a shoe maker and had hoped to start up in the shoe business in his new home town. But in such a small village there was no chance for a business, and no work to be had. The boys did odd chores for the few farmers for a little stuff such as they might have to share. But they were forced to live in very straightened circumstances that winter. And it was under those conditions and in that humble log hut that I was born January 15th 1881.
I will here refer back to that first night that my parents and family sang their songs in that public gathering. Some of the young men as usual hung around the outside and waited for them to come out so they could see what kind of marriageable young women might be in the new group. But our girls were all young and small, and as they came out one young man, John David Pulsipher by name, remarked, “Oh they are just scrubs,” (meaning small). My sister Lizzie showed her English in an instant; she retorted quickly, not knowing the meaning of scrub. She said, “We are no bigger scrubs than you are.” This tickled all the boys so they laughed right out. Two years later however this same John married my sister Lizzie, both of whom I shall refer to often as I proceed with my story. For at this stage of my narrative I
enter the scene and will become the center figure in the story from now on. I will only refer to others as they may be connected with incidents related.However, I have heard my mother tell many times how good some dried corn tasted to their hungry group one time when they were invited out for dinner. So later when some of our boys found an ear of seed corn they brought it home to mother in great joy for to cook so they could have some more of that wonderful corn. So mother boiled it for hours trying to get it so it could be eaten. And the hungry children could hardly wait for it to get ready to be eaten. It was a sad dissapointment to them when some of the neighbors told mother that kind of corn could never be cooked for eating.
My earliest recollection was of being carried along the street one night going home from some meeting. I may have been cold anyway I was crying. It seemed about all the children were there and they tried to keep me still by showing me the man in the moon. I remember crying and trying to see the face in the moon. They kept pointing and saying, “There he is, look.” But all I could see was the moon racing across the face of the sky at a very rapid rate, yet it always remained directly overhead. lt was many years later that I learned it was not the moon that moved so rapidly but it was the clouds which scurried past so quickly that it seemed the moon was moving. I suppose I was asleep when we reached home as I remember nothing more of it. I do know, however, that we were living in a different part of town from that which I had been born in.
My next recollection was being in Salt Lake City, which my parents later told me was when I was only a Iittle over two years of age. During the year my people were in the City, I remember only three incidents. One was when my parents had gone out and had left the children all at home with a few cents with which to buy some ice cream. All I remember is that I heard a bell tinkling and the others all went rushing and shouting. In a few minutes they came back jubulant over something they had in a bowl over which they were all crowding and tasting the contents thereof. I cried and kicked up such a fuss that finally one of the smaller ones gave me of the last there was in the bowl; a part teaspoon full of something most delicious to my taste, and sent me screaming for more. I learned after it was ice cream that had tasted so wonderful to me. It was not until I was fifteen years did that I had a chance to taste ice cream again. That was in Parowan, Utah of which I shall speak later.
Of the two other incidents within my memory in the City was once when a deer escaped from a park and went bounding along the street causing a great deal of excitement, and the other was being carried in one of their arms as the family was walking along the sidewalk and stepped out onto the street to board a street car drawn by mules. I distinctly remember seeing the car as similiar to the modern street car only not nearly so large, and that they were drawn by mules. And I remember after we got on the driver whipping and cursing his mules to make them hurry. I must have fallen asleep as I remember no more of the City. My next remembrance is of being back in old Hebron, the place where I was born. But later in life when I told my Mother of the things I remembered in the city, she said yes that was all true. There seems to be vacant spots in my life when I don’t recall a thing.
My earliest recollection of playing with anyone was with one smaller and younger than I. And I remember trying to think who he was or what about it. He seemed to be in some way connected. Later as we played together, I came to realize that he was my sister Lizzie’s boy “Lewis”. My parents had no home of their own and lived in first one and then another of the various empty shacks or cabins in the town. So I remember being to my sister Lizzie’s home a great deal. Sometimes all our family living there.
They had a nice three room rock house, very substantial and for those days a very good home. It was one of the last houses to stand in old Hebron. I remember while here of one evening falling into the fire. As I threw my hand out to catch myself it went right into the red hot coals of the fire. Someone pulled me out. All I remember was the terrible pain and agony from the burn. And that there was quite a commotion among the folks. I do remember that they tied my hand up in molasses and that it gave me much pain. I would wake up in the night crying with the distress of it and mother would sooth and comfort me back to sleep. How long it took to get well I do not remember.
It was also at my sisters that I first saw a drunken man. It was Brother Daniel Tyler who married one of John D. Pulsipher’s sisters. He was a cripple and walked with crutches. I remember we children coming into the house and his carrying on so until Grandpa Pulsipher went and got the dish rag from the kitchen and told him to shut up or he would cram the dish rag down his throat. I remember how frightened we all were and of the women folks who all seemed to be there crying and screaming and interceding for Bro. Tyler. But Grandpa Pulsipher who was a very large powerful man said, “I will not allow such talk before these children. He will either shut up or I will fill his mouth with this dish rag.” It seems he had been trying for some time to make him stop and that this was a last resort. And it was effective for Bro. Tyler ceased talking and soon fell into a drunken stupor and they took him into the bedroom. There seems to be
periods of times when I don’t remember a thing, not even of being alive. It was only when things outstanding happened that I came into remembrance.Then I remember John D. Pulsipher having a long iron bolt which he threw on the ground. I rushed and picked it up. I remember the pain and surprise as I picked it up, it was red hot and he had thrown it down to cool off. I remember as I screamed out in agony that he laughed and said, “Next time you will learn to leave things alone.” And I did, it was a lesson well learned, from there on I have been cautious about such things. I remember John D. had a fine black stallion of which he was very proud. He used to feed the horse carrots. It seemed to be winter and the snow was on the ground. The winter birds were very numerous and they would gather in large numbers on the manure pile. They were beautiful as the feathers on their heads and necks were a bright red or black with some blue ones. John D. would toss his pitchfork into their midst and they were so thick that the tines from the fork would pierce several of the birds thus holding them right on the fork and killing them. At that time I would only admire their beautiful color. I did not know until years later it was a sin to kill the birds.
It was here also that I first remember seeing Charles (Chot) Pulsipher, John D’s younger brother. Charles was about the most perfect speciman of a man I have ever seen as to physical form and build. He was slow of speech, and backward but I doubt if any man was better than he in the things of his training, that of riding wild horses and handling a rifle. Of him I shall speak later as he may enter into my story.
Then I remember living in another house and mother had an old hen with some little chicks. The biddies seemed to be droopy and sick. A neighbor told mother the biddies were lousy and that the lice were sapping their strength and for her to rub some grease on the top of their heads and the lice would leave. This mother did and when I asked her why she did this, she said so the biddies will live. But they all died and I wondered and tried to puzzle it out why in putting something on them to keep them alive that they should die. And I felt angry that the man should have told mother to do the thing that killed them. And I told mother and she said, “No,” they would have died anyway that she was too late with the grease to help them. Still I was unable to understand until long after that the thing she did to save them was not the
thing that killed them.I only remember one more incident while living in this house. It was when we were eating and a big Indian came in and sat down. He could see that father was gone and that mother was very frightened. So he just kept sitting there and mother getting more frightened all the time. I was sitting in a highchair at the table and did not know mother was frightened, but she sent one of the children to tell our neighbor Bro. Elias Hunt to come quick. He was a powerful man and when he came in mother was crying and by that time we were all crying. And that big old Indian still sitting there. When mother told Bro. Hunt what was the matter he told the Indian to get out and he refused. Bro Hunt took him by the arm and neck and there was a short scuffle then the Indian was hurled thru the open door receiving a hard kick as he went out from Bro. Hunts foot. I remember Bro. Hunt shouting to him, “You know better than to come in here and act like that, don’t you ever dare do it again.” The Indian yelled something back but I could not hear, as by that time we were all making too much noise inside. Bro. Hunt stayed and talked to mother quite a while until she and the others of us had ceased crying. Then he went.
Later we lived in another house a block away. One night we were all very hungry. Lizzie and John were there, and I remember Lizzie telling John to go home and make a fire and put on a kettle of “Lumpy Dick” and that the rest of us would be up later. John said, “I will go up and get ready a pot of ‘Baby Food” as he called it. John went and later I found myself with the others eating the most delicious food, it was hot and tasted so good. I suppose because we were all hungry. It is supposed now that there was no bread in either house and no flour in our home the reason for this.
Then I remember being to a place where there were a lot of people (Sunday School) and a man I after came to know as Orson Huntsman was up in front waving time and everyone was singing “Come to the Sunday School, Come, Come, Come.” And I remember how wide I thought he opened his mouth when he sang. I found out later in life that he could not sing but people did the best they could in those days. But the song I never forgot and later identified it with the one mentioned and found today in our S.S. Book.
Then I remember an unusual excitement in the community. Everyone seemed joyful over something. They were all dressed in best clothes. I also was cleaned up. They took me down the one street. Many people were there. On the sidewalk we met a man who stopped to talk to mother and father, he seemed friendly, and I remembered his face so well. Afterward in life I found him to be Bro. James A. Barnum, whom I came to know and honor and respect much in later life. But we went on to the school house. I had heard at a distance some wonderful sounds that please me very much. As we approached it became more wonderful. Then I saw what it was
Afterward I found out that sometimes a good many people from St. George would come up to Hebron where it was cool to celebrate the 24th of July and bring their own music, in this case it was a ”band“. I remember a fat man who beat with a short something in his hand on something big and round on his stomach (a drum) and would make a noise loud and rumbly. Later while the people inside were doing something ( a program) he with others were outside. He seemed sleepy and I remember him lying on the ground face down trying to sleep with the drum straps still round his shoulders. Someone tickled him in the ear with a stick. He became angry and made a fuss. But the time the band played would on my memory and would reoccur to me and later when I got so I could hum or whistle I could perfrom it. And I could always recall that tune which was a sweet melody all thru later life. That is all I remember of that instance.
Then I remember being with the other children and they had a pet lamb. Everywhere the children went that lamb was sure to go. I only remember the one instance with the lamb; it was upon what was known as the “Old Onion HiIl” (on account of so many wild onions growing there). We wandered along under a ledge, higher up was something growing that the children wanted for the lamb to eat. Some of them climbed up there and secured some of its leaves. I’m calling up to them from where we stood, the other children heard their voices, repeated. So they called again and again. They told me it was “echo” and it amused the children for sometime, shouting out and their listening to the “echo” of their voices. Then the other children brought down some of the leaves from that big green bush and the lamb ate them and
some were taken home for it to eat. That oak bush still stands up there in the rocks at the foot of that high ledge. Many, many times after as I might be going past there I have recalled this incident.Then we seemed to have moved into another house and I had a little motherless biddie. I suppose now it was the only one the hen hatched and mother gave it to me. Anyway I mothered it and became very fond of it. And the little thing became so attached to me that it would follow me everywhere about the house. And it would ‘chirp’ so loudly if I were out of its sight, I took great pleasure with it. Then one day a lady who was staying at our house accidently stepped on it and smashed it dead. I will never forget how badly I felt. Its little body was smashed open and flat (a 160 pound weight on it). I had to pick it up and take it out. It was my first sorrow and for me then it was a deep one. This lady who stepped on and killed my little pet was very sorry about it. She cried about it. I did not blame her as the biddie was running along behind her and as she turned just at the middle door it ran under her foot. She did not know it was there until I screamed as I saw it all and how it happened. This lady I afterward came to know as “Aunt Mary Ann”, my father’s sister who lived in St. George. The only one of my parents folks who ever came to live in this part of the country. She was a good old soul and of her I shall refer again many times.
Then my folks borrowed a small machine they turned by hand, and they had meat they were turning thru it and the meat came out all ground up fine (sausage). They had just started good when as they turned to do something else I just had to examine and see how it worked and knocked it off the table and broke it. I remember how badly my parents felt about having to take it back in a broken condition. In those days things could not be mended as they can now. But all I felt sorry about then was there was no more of that wonderful delicious meat to be eaten. My parents did not scold me but they did the older children for allowing me to tamper with it.
Then one cold frosty morning I remember crying to go out doors and the other children in trying to comfort me said “Old Jack Frost” will get you if you go out there and nip your ears and nose. So I cried to see Old Jack Frost and they carried me to the window and pointing to an old quilt hanging on the fence by the gate and covered with a heavy coat of frost said, “There he is, see him?” But I cried all the harder to get to see him. They kept saying, “There he is on that quilt and on the ground.” But I could not see anything that looked like a man to me and that was what I was expecting to see as they used the name “Jack Frost.’
Then I remember being in St. George, Utah. All the family was riding in a covered wagon down the street. There was a big white bundle tied up in the wagon. I thought it was something to eat. I cried for it. They said it was clothes. I wanted to know what clothes. It seemed like a long time going down that street and me so hungry seeing that bundle and the girls scolding me for crying. It seems to me now that the other children especially my older sisters had most of the care for me. Finally we reached a great white building, (the St. George Temple) and we all went in and were all dressed in white. We all went together thru various rooms and up great winding stairs. Finally we were all gathered round a white throne or alter of some kind. Father, mother and the children all kneeling. There was a strange man dressed in white
saying something which I did not understand. I do remember him asking my folks various questions to which they all answered “yes”. I found out in later years this was when my parents had their temple marriage and their children were all sealed to them. I remember nothing of the homeward trip.Then we were back in old Hebron, the children were all going down the creek to pick wild currants. As usual I had to go. The girls protested, but I went. Later on I have looked at the place many times. It was less than a mile down there. I was in high glee for a while then I got tired and sleepy and cried to go home. My sisters were cross at me that they should be forced to bring me along. They carried me most of the way back. And scolded me all the way. When we got home they told mother. There was quite a rumpus at home about it. I don’t remember having gone with the girls any more.
Then I was in St. George again. We were living with my Aunt Mary Ann. (She who stepped on my little biddie). We must have stayed there quite a while. Someone gave me two beautiful blue pigeons. My aunt put them in a box and put them upstairs to be kept until we went back home. How proud I was going to be to take those pigeons home to my brothers. One day my Aunt came rushing in from outdoors exclaiming anxiously. “My goodness I have forgotten to water and feed those pigeons for so long I am afraid they will be dead.” I had forgotten all about them. I hope I am not too late.” She seized some water and feed and rushed upstairs. By her exclamation when she got up there I knew the worst had happened. When I got up there the poor pigeons were both dead for lack of care. My aunt felt so badly she cried about it, to think she I had allowed the innocent things to remain shut up helpless without food or water until they died. I didn’t seem to care much as I was not much attached to them. I had only seen them as they were put in the box and taken upstairs. Nothing could hurt me as I the loss of my little biddie had done. I don’t recall going back home.
But now we are in old Hebron again. And I was playing with a little boy my own age. How happy I was to play with him each day. His name was Ashel Barnum. We had little spool wagons and would play for hours with them making little roads. One day we went down the creek to where the wild currants grow. He had a big yellow dog named Kizer. We were having such fun when suddenly a coyote let out a dismal howl near by. It sounded so loud we thought he was right by us. With a shout of terror we ran for home, constantly looking back over our shoulder and expecting each second to see him right after us. I have never been so frightened in all my life since. We got so tired yet we dared not stop running until we reached home. The dog did not seem a bit frightened. He was chasing thru the brush hunting rabbits in spite of our many calls and efforts to get “good old Kizer” to stay by us. We were sure he could kill the coyote if only he would stay close enough to get home when he came. But Kizer would not stay with us nor did the coyote make his presence known anymore. But it was two badly scared and tired little boys who staggered into town that afternoon. When we reached the first house we felt safe.
Then one day I remember being to Grandpa Pulsipher’s home, the place where Ashel Barnum lived. It was he who made Bro. Tyler stop talking when he was drunk that time. He used to make shingles and I watched him for hours. They were made by having a long sharp heavy knife pulled cross ways down over a block of fine wood with a foot lever. This split off the desired thickness of shingles. Then he went to milk his cows. There was a corral full of fine cows. He would stand for some time and stroke or rub each cow and talk quietly to them. I thought what a wonderful man.
Then my father owned a little farm known as “Sheep Springs” about two miles out of town. All the family would go up at times to work in grubbing brush, fencing against rabbits (which was very numerous and would destroy the crop if not fenced out,) and in working in the garden. One day I only remember starting for home and mother was very tired. Father had one old horse leading along. All were walking. They kept trying to persuade Mother to ride the horse, a thing she had never done in her life. Finally she consented to try it, and they lifted her upon the horse after considerable effort as she was a large woman and not active or handy in such cases. When she was finally sitting sideways and bareback on the horse’s back they stepped away and one started to lead the horse down the road toward home. Here mother began to scream and carry on so it frightened all the smaller children so that we all began screaming and created quite noise of distress. Mother yelled for help and for them to stop the horse quickly. They stopped and tried to persuade her to remain on and try again. But she grew so dizzy and began to fall that they helped her down. As we got just to the edge of town there were some man and a dead cow, she looked so big and funny. When Mother asked what was the matter, father told her the cow had the colic ( bloated). The reason she looked so funny they had skinned her. I have since seen beefes look that way with their hide off.
Then father was going to build here on this farm and he decided to level a building site on the side of a little hill just back of the reservoir that he had made to store the spring water for irrigation, Father had my brother Francis and I with him. It was fun at first for us to help scratch the dirt and rocks down but we soon got tired and wished to wander off to play. But father was firm that we must stay and help him. He did not seem to care how little or how much we did, just so we stayed there with him. He only worked there the one day. But even to this day that small level spot on the side of that little hill still stands where we grew so tired being made to stay with father. I found out later the reason he was so determined to keep us with him was on account of rattle-snakes which were very numerous round that locality.
I remember later of hearing him tell how one day he had my brother John up there with him and father heard John who was a little way off make a peculiar noise and look to see what was wrong, saw brother, John, then a boy of about ten years of age, standing looking intently at the ground just before him with a terrible expression of fear upon his face. Father rushed over to him still with the hoe in his hands. As he got there he saw a big rattlesnake just going to strike at my brother. The snake had charmed John and held him powerless to move while he had crawled close enough to strike. Father lost no time in bringing his hoe down on the snake’s head and cutting it completely off.
Another time my father’s hoe served him well was soon after than when one evening about dusk, he was hoeing weeds up there alone. As he was hoeing, he heard a viscious snarl close behind him. As he turned quickly with his hoe raised in his hand a very large coyote sprang back away from him and then just stood there eyeing father greedily. As father began to look around he saw another and then another. There seemed to be a gang of them and they acted as tho they meant to have father for their supper. Fortunately he was close to the fence with a high gate post, as father saw the situations he edged his way to this post. As he climbed up this post on the fence still holding his trusty hoe the gang of coyotes, about a dozen in number, gathered around at the base. some of the bravest even trying to reach him. At this point some stock men including John D. and “Chot” Pulsipher came along on their horses and rescued father. Some of the coyotes even followed them along the road aways. I have heard them laugh and tell about it many times how the coyotes had my father “treed” as they called it. Father said he intended staying there all night if someone had not come along. The men said they had never known coyotes to act this way before and were quite at a loss to understand the reason for it.
Then we are moving someplace. All the family now at home were there except Harry. We were all in a covered wagon and it was raining as we journeyed along the rough dirt road. Then there was a shout from behind and father stopped, we all looked back and there stood my brother Harry soaked wet and feet all muddy. He had followed us on foot. Father was angry and wanted him to go back This Harry refused to do. There was a quarrel. Harry insisting he had a right to come along with the others. Father told him he should have stayed with his sister Lizzie Pulsipher where father left him. Harry cried about it but was firm that he should not go back. Then mother cried and pleaded for Harry, then we all cried
about it. Finally father consented and Harry got into the wagon. and we journeyed on. It seems now that Father was having a terrible struggle caring for his large family. He was moving to Panaca to try and better his condition and had left Brother Harry to live with Sister Lizzie Pulsipher in Hebron, thinking that Harry who was almost a grown young man might rustle for himself. But Harry thought different. When or how we reached Panaca I do not know. But the next morning father said France and I might come down to his shoe shop. It appears that he had been working in the shoe business here before and had just gone over to move his family to Panaca.There was a big fine looking old gentleman named James Wadsworth who owned a large store and father’s shop was in the rear of this store. That was the first “store” I remember being in and my, how good it smelled. And he had candy, the first I ever knew. His little boy George Wadsworth, about my age, would slip out a few slices of coconut candy once in a while. My, how delicious it tasted. We called it bacon candy because it looked like strips of bacon, in thin strips with different colored streaks through it. Everyday we would have to go down to the store and play with little “George” and coax him to (“steal”) out a slice or two of this candy. I think his father got wise to it as George quit playing with us and I don’t remember anything more about him or the store.
Now we are in Hebron again and I am playing with a little boy my size. His name is Frankie. As we were playing he says come on in the house and I will give you something good. He says be quiet. We slipped in the kitchen! I was still wondering what for. After carefully looking around he got on a chair and got down a plate with something on it (pie). He gave me a piece, it sure was good. As we were eating and going toward the back door a woman rushed in. It appears I was too dumb to know what it was all about and had probably made too much noise. Anyway his step mother, so I found out later, rushed in and seeing us both eating this pie she became very angry. Frankie must have been into it before for she grabbed him and scolding loudly shook him good all the while he was trying to eat his pie but it was shaken out of his hands and dropped on the floor. The woman says, “I will teach you better this time and opening his mouth wide she poured a lot of red powder (cayenne pepper) down his throat. He screamed and coughed and choked. I thought he was going to die. But still I did not know what was wrong with him. As the woman turned on me I slipped out the door and round the house. I remember how frightened I was as I heard Frankie scream so terrible. Finally he came outside still crying. His mouth and lips were red and swollen and seemed very sore I asked him what she did and he said she poured cayenne pepper down his throat and that it burnt so badly it choked him. I always remember the name cayenne papper and later I found out what it was and then, I knew why Frankie had carried on so.
Then we were living in another part of town again. My brother John is carrying mail from Pinto to Panaca. He would stop for dinner every day. One day he brought a lot of eggs. We said they were duck eggs. I thought they should be different, being duck eggs. I remember the folks talking to him quite a bit about them. But all he would say was that they were just duck eggs. I have often wondered since where and how he came to get them but never did find out.
Then one day he brought a very young baby coyote for a pet. It was very timid at first but I soon won it over and it became quite a pet. It was getting so it could run around good and yelp a little when one day brother Harry killed it. It appears they were having a scalp hunt in town and he was on one side so he killed my pet coyote for its scalp. I cried about it and mother scolded but that did not bring back the little coyote. It seems that no one ever cared whether I had anything or not.
Then one night a skunk got in the house and caused a terrible stink. We three boys Walter, France and myself who always slept together could hear it on the floor, tap tap, and we covered up our heads. Harry got up and opened the door and it went outside.
There were many quails there and sometimes the other boys would bring one home to eat. One day as I was coming down the street from Lizzie’s place I found a quail lying dead where it had fallen after it had hit itself against the telegraph wire that was stretched on poles running thru the one main street (I will just say there was a telegraph station in this town). I was overjoyed, I could bring a quail home too. It’s neck was broken and both eyes put out. I ran home with it and told the folks I had killed it with a rock. They seemed to doubt that I had killed it (thinking I suppose that I was too young to be able to kill it with a rock). Nevertheless, I stoutly maintained that I had killed it.
So it was cleaned and put in a pan of water with another one brother Walter had also caught that afternoon, to keep until morning for breakfast. But Walt and France would not give up questioning me about how I killed it. How I wished they would let me alone and quit asking so many questions. In the first place wishing to become a “hero” like the rest and bring something home. And not realizing the seriousness of it, I had told them a blank lie, that I had killed it. And they seemed to know this, so would just keep asking me how I killed it and where. Walt and France even had me take them to the place up the street where I said it was done and show them where I stood and how I threw the rock and just where the quail was and how it acted. I had told them I had killed it, thinking that would be all there was to it without questions. Now I hated to change my plea. But the more they questioned me the more lies I had to tell to build up my story. Even tho as young as I was it hurt my pride to admit that I was wrong. So I stoutly declared that I killed the ‘quail, telling all the additional lies necessary to substantiate my story. How I wished that I had never seen a quail. How I wished that they would quit asking so many questions about it. I was very much worried and sick over it. But still they would not let up.
Finally France said, “which side of the head did you hit it on.” I promptly told him the left side, it stood just this way and I stood right there and threw and hit it just so. Then he said, “How come the other eye is out also?” That question had me stumped for an instant, then I said, “I threw the rock so hard it put one eye out and went right thru and put the other eye out.” Here they knew they had me. Then said Walter, “How come it’s neck is broke?” “Oh,” I said, “I hit it so hard the rock bent its head over so quick and hard that it broke it’s neck.” I was determined to hold to my story but they finally wore me down. And that night after we had been in bed for some time I admitted that the bird was dead when I found it. Immediately the boys shouted and told father who also was in bed. Not knowing how long my quail had been dead or what about it’s death and fearing to eat it on that account father told Walt to get up and throw it outdoors. He did but not knowing now which was which in the pan of water he had to throw them both out. There was a deep silence. No one said a word. Father and mother never did mention it again. But I was so sorry and humiliated it made me sick. I had learned a great lesson in life. “to always tell the truth”. I have never forgotten how badly I felt over that incident.
Then one morning some men going by on horseback called to father as we were eating breakfast and told him his calf was bloated. We had a big steer calf named “Ben” and it was bloated. The men got off their horses and caught the calf and tied a big stick in its mouth, and worked with it for some time. Finally it got all right.
There was a vacant lot covered with high sage brush between our house and that of our neighbor, Bro. William Laub. This neighbor had a nice lot of corn just coming up good. We three boys crawled thru the fence at the back and got some of his young corn, digging it up by the roots with our hands. It looked so pretty growing so nice and green that we wanted some also. So we took it over in our lot and cleared off a little place in the brush. (Our lot was all brush), we planted it. Then we went to the house and found Bro. Laub there telling father that he had seen us boys taking his corn. He was very nice about it, telling father not to scold or whip us, only that we should not do it as it molested his corn and would do us no good whatever. Father had us go show them what we had done with the corn and when we got there it
was all wilted to the ground. Then we were sorry and could see what Bro. Laub meant. Father never punished us but we never bothered the corn again.My father could play the accordian. And how it would thrill me to hear that music. I still can remember some of the tunes he would play. There was another man in town named John Almus Barnum (they called him “Pidge”) he also could play fairly well and would come and play with father.
A good many of the young men would come to see my sisters, most prominent among them was “Chot” Pulsipher, who with Len Conger, were trying to “get on the good side of sister Kate.” Chot was a very good hand with a rope and one day when a crowd of men were there by the corral he had his new lasso. A man by the name of Jimmy Huntsman (a very odd and homely man) was there also. Chot threw his rope on Jimmy and snubbed him to a post, winding his rope round and round Jimmy and the post until the rope was completely wound round him and the post. There Jimmy was left to stand for hours bound helpless to that post. What thoughts passed through his mind as the crowd was laughing and jesting at him no one knows. But when he was finally released he grabbed the rope and before anyone could
realize what was going to happen he rushed to the woodpile nearby grabbed the ax and laying the rope across the block proceeded to cut the rope up into foot lengths. Chot went as if to check him. But Jimmy raised the ax as if to strike, there was murder in his eyes. So Chot left him alone while he completely destroyed the rope. No man interfered, they knew better. Altho ropes were scarce and very valuable in those days, they all thought it best to leave him alone.Then there was a big man with a black beard named Tom Brandon, who wore his pants inside his boots. He was working for father cutting posts and living at our place. I remember he and father would sit and talk for hours in the evening. Each morning he would saddle up and taking an ox ride out into the hills to cut posts. One night he never came back. Nor was he ever seen again in that part of the country. He had stolen father’s horse and saddle and gone away. That was the first time I heard the term “horsethief”.
So I ran home crying and when Mother said what is the matter. I said “I ain’t smart am I Mother?” She said I don’t know, why, and I said Frank Hunt just said I thought I was awful smart; and I ain’t am I. She looked at me for a moment, then smiled and said. Well, perhaps not, very.
One day as we were all going along the street in a wagon some of the people were looking out the window at us. Harry did not like for them to look at us that way though. I suppose now it was only idle curiosity on their part. He said, “I wonder if they have any gawke seeds to sell?” At once I wanted to know what gawke seeds were. He said why they are seeds people have when they gawke at you that way. I kept wanting to know more about it but that was all the answer they gave. But soon after I got home I was playing down by the corral and found a number of old squash seeds where they had been feeding stock. I gathered up a handful and ran to the house to show them and asked the folks if these were not gawke seeds. As usual they smiled and said, “Don’t be so simple.”
There in only one more incident connected with old Hebron for several years to come. This should have been related sooner in my story as it has to do with the recollection of my first Christmas to know what it was all about. It seems that my parents had very little to give us children for Christmas while most of the other people were far better situated. They all felt sorry for father’s folks so the word was passed round and our children were told that if they could slip quietly and quickly up to a neighbor’s house open the door and yell to those inside, “Christmas Gift” before they could say the same to you then they would have to share their Christmas candy and nuts, etc. with you. So we all went together and would sneak quietly up to a house, throw open the door and would all shout at once at the top of our voices, “Christmas Gift” and repeat it several times as we rushed inside. How those good people must have enjoyed peeping thru their windows and watch us as we thought we were “stealing” upon them. And how they would all seem to be surprised that we had gotten the best of them and had yelled first. In each case they all had a pan or dish of candy and nuts with apples or doughnuts, etc. to go with it. They would laugh and say, “Well, you are got it on us so here is your gift,” and would have us help ourselves. I feel sure now that I must have been very greedy about it as I was so hungry for such things and they all tasted so good and I did not understand then how it might appear. But people were just like that those days. And it made us children so happy. I remember how thrilled I was over it. That was the most delightful time I ever remember. But the next day I wanted to go again but they said “No, today is not Christmas”. Often I wished to go again but the other children explained that it would do good as people only did such things on Christmas. I wanted more Christmases but they said there was only one once a year and I wondered why. We never went like that again to every house in town as we did that time. It was such a glorious time but I don’t know why we did not.
There was a girl living in the town, the postmaster’s daughter, Edith. She had a silver dollar tied to a string by a hole in the dollar. This string was round her neck. One day she had it in her mouth, went to cough and swallowed the dollar. They pulled it back up by the string that was tied to it.
Then there was a man, Frank Snow, from St. George was there. Each day he would go out in the woods to chop posts. One night he did not come home. Next morning his horse was by the gate with the saddle all covered with blood. They tracked the horse back and found the man dead with a deep cut in his leg and he had bled to death and fallen off his horse. They tracked back still farther by the blood stains to find out how it happened. It appeared that when he was galloping home that night with the ax on his shoulder the horse had stumbled and fell. The man was thrown in such a way with the ax that it cut an artery in his leg. He mounted his horse and rushed for home to get half but became weak thru loss of blood and fell from his horse and died.
There is nothing more now around Hebron, the place were I was born until I am about eleven years old as we seemed to have moved to Gunlock, Utah which place becomes the scene of my life for a few years to come.
In dear old Gunlock, and what a contrast. In Hebron it was dry and barren, no green, nothing growing, having to haul water for drinking and cooking purposes, all stock were driven to the water. There were no gardens or shrubbery. While in Gunlock the fields and the town lots were all green with abundant crops. Abundance of fruits, grapes, melons on every hand. Peach and apple and plum trees hanging their branches over the fence onto the sidewalk so that one could easily reach up and pick these fruits as he walked up or down on either side of its one and only street. And the gardens with everything good to eat. It seemed such a wonderful place, and I would eat the delicious fruits until I would make myself sick and would go crying to mother with the bellyache. We moved into an adobe two room house, later known as the Ed Leavitt home. And there my home life began in Gunlock.
One of my earliest recollections was going with mother and another lady called Aunt Martha Leavitt. We were going thru the lower lots. Mother and Aunt Martha had their aprons full of fruits they had picked up off the ground while I was trailing along still eating all I could hold. There was a roan bald faced horse tethered with a long rope by his front foot to a peach tree. He seemed to have been thru eating from the green hay that grew so abundantly there and was just standing apparently dosing. As we went to go fast behind him, he roused up and with a viscious squeel, he kicked with both hind legs at Aunt Martha who was a little in the lead. He just barely missed her head. With a scream of terror Aunt Martha turned and fled to the right still holding the apron full of fruit and running fast as she possibly could. The horse ran backwards just as fast as he could squeeling and kicking with both hind feet. Each time he kicked backward his heals would just barely miss her shoulders. As he would let his feet down on the ground together for another quick viscious kick she would hurry on just far enough that his heels would barely miss her shoulders again. And so it went on until the horse had reached the end of his long rope with which he was tethered. Aunt Martha ran a few more steps still holding her fruit then paused and looked around pale as death completely out of breath. Mother and I had been a little in the rear of Aunt Martha when it started so we whirled and ran also being about even and to the side of the horse all the time. But I will never forget the sight of that horse with his head down, ears back against his head with the whites
of his eye shining out, giving a terrible squeel as he made each viscious kick. Each time he kicked stretching his heels as far back as he possibly could in an effort to reach his victum . And as I would see his feet go right up against Aunt Martha’s back just barely touching her shoulders each time I would think, well next time he will hit him, But each time she had gone on far enough that he just did miss her again and so on until he was stopped by the rope with which he was tied. The man who owned the horse which was an old work horse said he never knew him to act that way before.Then one day mother showed, or pointed, to a trail winding and leading up thru the black rocks and boulders up the black ridge and onto its top. This ridge was just across the creek from town and this trail which was very steep and rough was used by the town’s people for their milk cows in going over on the bench land to graze. When mother pointed this trail out to me she said, “That trail is where the other little boys in town take their cows off to graze. I hope some day we will have some milk cows so that you can take them up that trail also.” Well, her wish came true for in later years we had many cows to go up and down that rough old trail and I had the pleasure of driving them part of the time. As I have said this trail was very steep and rough with big boulders that it was almost impossible to ride a horse up and down it. The rider would almost invariably get off and lead his mount the better to give him a better chance to
going up or down the huge boulders that were imbedded in the trail.Well, one day thought I would wander up that old trail and see what it was like. I was about five years old at this time but very small for my age. I was so small that I had to climb up over the high places, but was going along happily enough when suddenly without warning a huge rattlesnake sprang from behind a rock right at my feet making a terrible loud singing rattle as he did so. Whether he jumped at me and missed his aim or whether he landed purposely in front of me so as to get a better strike, I do not know. Instantly and instinctively I knew he meant to kill me. He knew I was alone and he knew I was small and helpless. For an instant I was struck with deepest terror. I had been with the other boys when they had killed snakes, but I had never encountered one alone before. I wanted to whirl and clamber down the steep rocky trail but something said if you do he will get you as he can go much faster down the trail than you. can. Your only hope is to kill him. I sprang back as he struck at me and missed, his black beady eyes blazing fire, his forked tongue darting out rapidly and all the while he kept up that terrible loud singing rattling sound. As I sprang back I reached for something with which to hit him. I only found a small hand-ful of loose dirt. I threw this in his face just in time to check him. But he kept crowding me backward down the trail. I faced him all the while backing down and reaching frantically for something to hit him with. I dare not take my eyes off him as he was so close to me and always trying to strike me. He would have finally got me but something placed a small rock a little larger than an egg in my hand as I was grouping round. And something directed the throw of that stone for it hit him squarely on the head and smashing it to a pulp. The fight was over and I had won and how weak and frightened I was.
Music of any kind always thrilled me. While in Parowan at the age of 14 I took 14 lessons on the organ under the late Thomas Durham Sr. I learned to sing and could play most any common music. Brother Durham wanted to continue on with my lessons, said I could be a great musician; Dad said no.
We went back to Gunlock for the last time in 1898. It was at this time I renewed my acquaintance with Nancy Holt, now age 17, who was a school chum of mine while in Gunlock in my childhood. I was now 17 going on 18.
Back in Gunlock I was made chorister and played the organ for all singing. I also learned to play the violin and later played for dances in many towns in many states. I was President of the MIA, Justice of the Peace and Ward Clerk in Gunlock up to 1910. I attended 10 weeks summer school, University of Utah, 1909. Took English under Howard R. Driggs, obtained a certificate and taught school in the same small schoolhouse where I went my first day when a younster at six years of age. I secured a school position down in Mesquite, Nevada and moved down April 25, 1910. Taught school ten years, became Principal, was choir leader, ward clerk and postmaster.
Helped build and operated a flour mill. I had it all paid for in two years. Was the first one to ship cream to Salt Lake City. Soon all were doing the same thing. Was secretary of YMMIA and we won the stake pennant for achievement three years in succession. Was made one of the Stake Council of Seventy when new stake was organized in 1912. Attended the first MIA convention ever held in the West in Salt Lake City in 1912. Attended first summer school held in Nevada at the University of Nevada in Reno, 1913 Worked my way through waiting on dinning hall tables. Went again in 1918.
Was in many plays and theatricals. Moved to Wendall, October 1920. Was chorister and Ward Clerk there and played for many dances. Moved to Enterprise, Utah, November 1922. Operated a flour mill all winter in Enterprise. Moved back to Mesquite. Found work in plaster mills then at Glendale, Nev. Then moved on to Lone Star Ranch, brought a house down from Enterprise Desert. In 1923 obtained a position as counterman in a store house. Union Pacific Railroad stayed there five years. Family lived on the Ranch. We build a school house, organ-ize a school district and many of our children passed it. Eight rode there. First to ship milk out of valley into Las Vegas, Nevada. Operated a quick freight with the milk. Brought all milk from Beaver Dam to Bunkerville for two years. Operated a Cafe and U.P. Bus station in Mesquite 1931-32. Assistant engineer on power house night shift, Beaver Dam Lodge, Arizona. Moved to Hawthorne, Nevada 1 941 . A ward was organized, I was presiding elder for two years. Moved back onto the ranch, started another dairy. 1943-44 attended Dixie College at St. George and attended the University at Reno for 10 weeks summer school.
Was given the principalship of Logandale schools for two years. Secured a position as teacher in Mesquite, attended summer school at BYU. Was in the Sunday School Superintendancy most of this time. Went to BYU again in 1949 and taught two years in Barclay, Nevada. Worked two years as traveling for Review Journal going to many towns and cities. I had sold Lone Star Ranch and bought in town in Mesquite. Was Ward Clerk under Bishop Rowley, financial clerk under Bishop Phil Abbott. Was time keeper during the building of new chapel in Mesquite; this had to do with all reports with which to obtain all church money for the chapel. Was appointed Seminary teacher for the winter and had six graduates. Was made special interest teacher in MIA, instructor for Elder’s class in Priesthood and later instructor for High Priest class and ward teacher supervisor.
Operated a calf nursery with my son Harold for two years. It was quite successful. I was appointed chairman of the first Juvenile Delinquent Committee in Mesquite which position I held for three years. Appointed by the late Judge Henderson. I was appointed to farmstead Water Board 1 955 and was made president for six months then I resigned as president and became secretary in 1956; still holding same position in 1962. In 1960 I was appointed lineman for Farmstead to operate Wells and make repairs on all lines, install meters and read some. Holdng positions of secretary and lineman up to 1962 and on.
Traded some property for an equity in Wagon Wheel Motel, 1960. Fairly successful while holding on. Fenced 40 of the 60 acres on Johnson Bend. Planted dry land grain. It grew well but I pastured it off and it did not make a crop for 1961 . Planted another crop in 1961 and is coming o.k. this spring of 1962 so far. Cleared off land on the Mill Piece and made improvements on land and built corrals and hay yard.
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Diary of events which happened after March 17, 1939. This to be added to life story when I reach this point in my narrative.
Thursday, March 17, my wife, Rachel, Clark and wife, Harold and myself went. to Overton, Nev. and played for an old time dance. We all had a very good time but on our way home a block from the fan broke off and cut a hole in the radiator and let the water all out. It was 4:00 am. Friday when I got to bed. The usual routine for working to the Beaver Dam Lodge all week and going home for Sunday. Went to the Junior Prom at Bunkerville and enjoyed the dance very much.
Thursday, March 30, the shaft in our water wheel broke. The boys had another shaft and already so I stayed from meeting Sunday, April 2 and we fixed the wheel. Monday, April 3, we went to Gunlock for the funeral of Bert Truman. It was a fine funeral. On the 4th at the lodge I was placed in charge of the new power lawn mower with the job of mowing all the lawns. On the 5th washed the pool and repaired the sewer lines.
April 6, a terrible wind blew last night and it was cold now. I spent all day mowing grass andinclearing up the lawn in the rear.
April 9, the usual routine of caring for the grounds all week. Went to the ranch last night. Everyone well and the cantaloupes all planted and watered and part of them up They all went to the show but mother and I. This Easter morning went to town and held Sunday School. Louise left Philip and Claude left Janice with us while they went Eastering. After Sunday School all on the ranch went up to mothers and we all went from there up to the lodge under the big trees and a wonderful picnic dinner. Every one had a good time. Mother and I went over to the Carbridge place to see good old sister McKnight. She is very low. The end is soon here for her and she will be at rest where she wishes to be. After we all got home, the boys; Austin, James, Clark and I went to town and got Dewey’s cultivator so they could get into the melons. After supper I came back up here to the lodge. Good old sister McKnight passed away last night at 11:00. I took Marjorie and Bortts home to Mesquite tonight when they quit work.
Tuesday 11, went to the funeral of Sister McKnight and found that she had given a standing request for years that I be one of the speakers. I spoke at the funeral. I noticed a good many wiping the tears from their eyes as I spoke. After the funeral, President Jones and wife, Milton Earl and wife, Bishop Reber and others said they enjoyed the talk very much. I took the folks all back home and came back here for supper.
Wednesday, the 12th worked at overhauling the big Diesel Engine all day; the expert mechanic was in from Los Angeles to supervise the work. Dewey and Rex also helped. I received a card from Myrtle stating that I could go up to Gunlock with them Saturday to Brother Francis’ retiring Bishop’s party.
Thursday 13, Cold and very windy all night and all day. Hauled rock and made pathways. Saturday nite we went to Gunlock with Bishop Howard and family. They had a wonderful time. The house could only hold about half the people who came. It made me feel proud to think I had a brother who could draw such a crowd and had so many friends among all classes of people from all different towns and communities around. It was a grand time and we got home at 2:30 a.m. The same daily routine at the Lodge and I go home to the Ranch every Saturday nite until Monday morning. There was a Union meeting Sunday after church. Bro. Lyons presided. We had a nice rain. I went down a few days last week to cultivate melons, but I can’t go any more on account of gas. I have decided not to run my car any more until I can get caught up with expenses.
We just made a new fence for the Lodge. Same daily routine at the Lodge. Working nine hours a day. Mine is cutting off all the grass with the new Power lawn mower, and keeping the hedges clean. We went down to Mesquite and played for a mutual dance on Tuesday, May 2.
Saturday, May 6 when I went home with Bess, I found the ranch looking much better. But the weeds were terrible. I hoed until dark. And again from sunup until time to go to Sunday School. I walked to town as no one else wished to go. I came back right after noon with Marjorie as the only chance to come. I have been very lonesome all afternoon. I feel home sick and depressed. If it were not for the comfort and consolation I get thru constant prayer to my Heavenly Father, I don’t know what I would do.
We had a fine Mother’s day program May 14. But not as many Mothers out as should be. I got three days off to go home and work and I borrowed $25.00 from St. George Bank and hired a few men to hoe weeds in the cantaloups. They were very bad, the worst we have had yet. We got most of the worst ones out. I hated to come back and leave the job unfinished. The boys secured $25.00 advance money and are hiring help to thin out the cantaloups and finish weeding. I feel more encouraged now. The prospects are better as there are the most vines we have ever had and if taken care of will give us our biggest crop.
Monday, the 15th of May - 1939 my shift changed to the hours of 3 p.m. to 12 midnight. It is much cooler to work then. I get up at 7 a.m. as usual for breakfast. Read or write until noon, shave and take a shower and rest after dinner till time to go to work again at 3 p.m. I feel fine about it. I am left all to myself to do as I think needs it most. I mow grass in the afternoon, sprinkle the grass in the evening and at night.
I have left my car down at the ranch for them to use as I don’t like to have them left there without a way of getting out in case of sickness or accident. I will ride down with Dewey Sunday morning and back with Marjorie, Monday noon. We spent a pleasant conference at Bunkerville on Sunday, May 21.
The boys have all the melons thinned. A wonderful stand but still a little weedy. A few small melons are setting on. The hay crop looks average but the grain crop is poor. It is costing heavy but I think and hope the boys will learn to farm in time. We treated a sick pig. There is a good outlook for our pig crop this year but the price may be low. We decided to sell old “Bill” the bull. He got so mean could not keep him out of the field or hay stack. The boys went down to see Elmer about him as I left to come up to work yesterday. I mowed the big piece of grass yesterday afternoon and cal (?) comined one of the cabins last night.
May the 24th, I took the bus to St. George, Utah to see Dr. McGregor about a growth of right under my left eye. It has been there for about a year and never seemed to be getting worse. Lately it was getting a bad look to it that I did not like. It had me worried consider able. I should have gone to the Doctor much sooner but it seemed that every dollar I could get hold of was needed in the home so I kept putting off going until I could get some money. But it finally got so bad I was compelled to go without money, to protect myself from disasterous results. The Doctor froze it first then burned it with an electric needle. He told me he thought it would be all right for me to come back in about ten days for a check up. He said however that I should have come a few months sooner, that it had quite a start on him, but he was sure it would be all right now. Today, the 27th it seems doing nicely now.
We are having some very cold weather for this time of the year. Just got Jim’s appointment as “Trustee” of schools. Mrs. Edna Leavitt has applied for the school. We signed her up on the teacher’s contract so she could make money to go to summer school.
This Sunday, May 29, Br. Thomas Abbott was appointed teacher for the Church History Class. Miss Bernice Pulsipher was also chosen as a teacher and placed in charge of the Cradle Pool and Kindergarten Class to oversee methods and means of instruction for the little ones. Monday 29, Mrs. Bowler began working at the Lodge again, going home every night.
The weather still stays very cool for this time of the year. The boys cut the second crop of hay this week. The wind has blown and delayed them in hauling. This Sunday, June 4th the Virgin Valley met in conference at Mesquite to talk over creamery business. A committee of L. R. Abbott, Geo. Hunt and myself was appointed a committee to find out the various facts pertaining to the business.
Monday, I went again to St. George to see the Doctor. He repeated the sore on my face was doing nicely. There was nothing he could do so advised that I come back in ten days. Tuesday, I sent money down to Harold so he could join the instruction class for chorister to be sponsered by the church. I think he will become a fine instructor. Nothing happened. The pupils did not appear in sufficient number to justify a class of instruction. Things have been going on in the same daily routine.
They are picking a few ripe cantaloups now the first of July. Went down to Mesquite and played for the welcome home dance of Bro. Arthur Hughes and Sister Marienne Abbott as returned missionaries.
This Sunday, July 2 is the last I will be able to attend Church for a few weeks on account of picking cantaloups. They picked five crates this day to ship to Santa Clara at $1.50 It does not appear now that there will be much of a crop.
We are still considering the creamery question. Monday July, 3rd, just received word from Mahave County Board of supervisors to put four men for four days on the road to Lone Star with the State Highway equipment to fix it up for travel. This is in answer to my letter concerning the matter. We heard of the tragic death of Alva Hunt’s wife, Bunkerville.
July 4th 1939 very quiet, as there appears to be no program. I am not going down. Will work as usual.
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