Great-Grandparents of Keith M. Chandler
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Ivan Vane Turner 1882-1945 |
Compiled from the writings of
Ivy Beatrice Turner Chandler one of their Children
Before I start my story (Ivy Beatrice Turner Chandler), I must give a little family history. Ivan Vane Turner, my dad, was born in Onsborrow Kentucky in 1882 to George Washington Turner and Georgeann Yates Turner1. He was the oldest of six kids2. His folks were converts to the Mormon Church. Before that, they were Masons. Grandma belonged to the Eastern Star ladies organization of the Masons. When dad was fourteen years old, they left their home in Kentucky and came to Utah were they went to the temple to be sealed for time and all eternity, on 15 Sep 1898.
The fourteen years Dad [Ivan] spent on the Ohio River, he learned to excel in boating. He could go anywhere in a rowboat, also an excellent swimmer and fisherman. The rest of dad’s early life was spent in Murray. They lived at 601 Vine Street, Murray. His [Fathers (George)] profession was a Steam Engineer.
My mother Harriot Elva Potter Turner, was born in Dover3, Utah. She was the seventh child4 in a family of thirteen born to Wallace Edwin and Harriot Susan Kempton Potter5.
My father and mother were married on 6 Jan 1904 in Salt Lake City. They were early pioneers to the Uintah Basin about 1906 or 1907. I can see why they wanted to move here as it is a Beautiful place, with the mountains and streams, many places to fish and hunt. In all our traveling around, I have never found a place I liked better for a year around climate and things to do. None of dad’s folks [George and Georgeann] could never understand why he wanted to come here, but at this time most of mother’s folks [Wallace and Harriot] moved here. My Dad and George Potter [Harriot’s older brother] came together the first time by team and wagon and brought their first load of belongs. The trip one way took about ten days. The next trip they brought their families.
Dad’s first homestead was about where the Ballard6 Church house stands nowa then North to the hill, but he was getting out wood and posts north of LaPoint in the Deep Creek7 area. And, he found a place he liked better. So he gave up the place he had and re‑filed on Deep Creek. Dad moved his family to Deep Creek when I was very small. Here we lived for about twelve years in a three room log house with a dirt roof. They now had three kids, having buried a boy just older than meb, just before I was born, in this humble homec, five more children were born, making a total of nine—five girls and four boys in this order: Bernice [Pronounced Burnis], Harlan, [Jessie] Arnold [(died)], Ivy, Wanothel, Hurley, Wilbur, Earnest, Vera8. We had a happy home but a busy one. One of my earliest memories is of threading green beans on a string to hang up and dry.
I was not quite three when I moved there and I remember so well getting lost in a cornfield. Seemed like to me it was hours, but mother said that it was probably twenty to thirty minutes as I wouldn’t stay in one row long enough for Bernice to find me.
My mother was a good homemaker and our log cabin was a happy home. Mother played the organ and we had one in our home. She would play and we all helped her sing, mostly church songs, as she was very religious. One song she sang a lot and there were tears in her eyes lots of the time, was “Oh Where Is My Wandering Boy Tonight.” Later I realized, this was because my brother Harlan ran away so much. Even from early childhood.
Mother was very talented as all the Potters were. Some of her talents were music, art, homemaking, and sewing. She had taken a correspondence course in sewing early in life so she could make anything. One time Dad’s folks had sent a box of clothing to make over, and mother made her a dress out of a serge overcoat, trimmed it in brown satin. She wore it to a dance. Everyone was bragging about her new dress. Dad told them she made it our of an overcoat. He said he was just bragging about what she could do, but mom was real mad at him. She didn’t want people to know she made it. I am sure they must of had their quarrels, but we kids never heard them. There was lots of love in our cabin. One time when Grandma [Harriot Susan] Potter was staying with us, we had a bad storm and the house leaked. She was getting after Dad and he told her, Well, mother, when it’s raining I can’t fix it. After it quits, it don’t need fixing.” After the scolding he got, needless to say, we fixed the roof.
I have a dearly beloved sister Wanothel or Wanda as we called her. It fell her lot early in life to help mother in the home and tend the newest baby at the time, and from earliest memories I have, I did the outside chores: feeding chickens, bringing in the wood, carrying water, anything a small child could do. I learned to milk when I was seven years, but we always found some time play. We had two play houses. One was the hop house, it was about a twelve by twelve woven wire over top and all. In early spring this would be completely covered with hops. The hop house had two purposes—play house, and mom gathered the hops. We always had a hop pillow. This we used if we had ear ache or head ache. We warmed the hop pillow to put us to sleep. As a play house it was great; but our best play house was down by the creek in the willows. Here we made our furniture out of rocks, boards, or anything we could find. Any cans or bottle lids, everything was taken to the play house. We always had a few things sent from Aunt Ivy’s that her daughter Wandaquin had got tired of (dolls & dishes). Many happy hours were spent here. We could always do our washing in the creek.
Dad worked in the mines off and on all his life. Many is the time we got very little for Christmas, but they were happy times. We would go with Dad to the hills for a tree, decorate it with popcorn threaded on a string, rose berries that we gathered along the creek—also on a string, colored chains made at school, fancy cookies, and whatever else we could find. We always got some candy and nuts and whatever the folks could make for us. Dad always made the boys new sleds and tops he could whittle out of wood. Mother made clothes for everyone, and doll clothes from the scraps. One time we got cradle for our doll made from a shoe box. The lid made the rockers. Always happiness and love for one another.
One time when Earnie was about three years old (He was always a chatter box. I think he must of been born talking), we couldn’t get him and Wilbur to sleep, so Vern Sheffer, Bernice’s husband, dressed up with some wool for whiskers and a stocking cap and looked through the window. When Earnie saw him he said, “Oh Santa, am I glad to see you. Go up to the hay stack and feed your reindeers. Mom has some milk and cookies for you. We will be a sleep in a minute.” And I don’t think either of them moved the rest of the night or said another word. But, we couldn’t convince him that Christmas was only one night, so Dad put a horse manure biscuit in his stocking. Was he excited. Said Santa brought him a horse, but he got away.
Some years we spent Christmas with the folks in Bennett with Amasa, Arnold and George Potter. These are special times and memories. As I have said, Amasa played the fiddle, George the harmonica, Arnold would find something he could beat or drum on. Everyone would sing or dance or just listen, then the grownups would play cards a lot.
Sometimes we spent Christmas with the Labrum’s, Jess and Bell and family, as they had a bigger house than we did. We always played games or cards here. Sluff, Rummy, and Hi‑Five were most popular. When I was about ten, the folks sent in the catalog and got me a new bridle. I was the happiest kid on earth right then. Some of the other things we got were over boots, leggings, and wool socks; also mittens and caps. Whatever they could afford, but they were happy times for me.
One of my earliest memories was going with my brother Harlan behind him on a horse to the sheep camp for bum lambs. I couldn’t of been more than four then. We knew every trail, every spring, every hill & hollow for miles around; and we always stayed for dinner at the camp—fried mutton, sour dough biscuits, and gravy. To this day, I like all three. We usually hit all the herds around two or three times a week. We never got a lamb every day, but usually, sometimes two or three. We had lots die, but usually raised anywhere from thirty to fifty. We had one Holstein cow that always gave three or four gallons of milk at a milking, all through the summer while feed was good. My sister Wanda never cared much for the horses or out of doors like I did. She would only ride a horse if necessary to get where she wanted to go, but me, I was just like a mountain sheep. I covered the hills after cows or horses, always bare feet in summer, on a horse if I could catch one, but by the time I was five or six, you couldn’t of lost my any where on Deep Creek.
Dad did lots of tracking and from the time Harlan and I were quite small, he would let us go along on our pony bare back. He had a pair of hounds called them Punch and Judy. They were both big, but Judy was a greyhound and she could run down a coyote easy. Punch was a real big dog and slower, but would kill anything. Put them after a coyote and follow Judy’s baying, and cut corners, pretty soon we catch up, then Punch would kill it. He used to trap all kinds of animals. Caught several black bear, coyotes, lots of bobcats, badgers, muskrats, and a few beaver, lions, and weasels, anything to make a dollar. I loved to do anything out of doors. With the stock, I always broke all the little colts to lead, the big ones too. If I could get a rope on them and get the other end over a snubbing post, they stayed tied up until I could handle them.
I don’t think I ever talked back to my Mom or Dad in my life, and I loved them both so much. Dad whipped me twice. Both times I needed it. One time in May, mother was in Vernal9 with the smaller kids (just before Wilbur was born) at Grandma Potter’s, and Dad started after the horses. He said I don’t want you and Harlan playing in or around the creek, still snow in the canyons. I was seven or eight at the time. Well, he wasn’t gone long and came to look for us—found us playing in the creek. He had a rope in his hand and he gave us a good one that we needed. The other time we were playing after school till dark. He warned us several times then we got it with the razor strap.
One day during the war, Winter of 1917 or 1918, everyone had the flue. Most of our family had it at once, but Wanda and I were the last ones to get it. We really had our hands full for a week taking care of the sick and doing the chores. She was six and I was eight. Mother stayed up and around until Bernice got to feeling better, but Dad was the first one down and the last one up. For two or three weeks, he was bed fast, ate very little food, but would drink current juice and apricot juice. One day, Alf Johnson come from the head of the creek six or seven miles with team and wagon to break a road from the coal mine about two miles into our place; had all his horses leading behind the wagon to brake the road. We had a bad storm with eighteen inches or two feet of new snow and we hadn’t been out for a week or more. He also bought a fifth of whiskey. Now days the Doctors say that won’t help, but from then on Dad started to improve. Mother fixed him a hot toddy every night and he would sleep instead of raving all night.
I have always felt like he saved my Dad’s life. I have always been thankful for the things the Johnson’s did for us. Many is the times that they led a string of horses down the creek to break the trail about two and a half miles so we could go up the creek instead of around by the Government coal mine. This they did spring and fall. Made it a couple of miles closer to school. I might add here that Mable, his grand daughter was my very best friend all my life. I used to ride my pony up there every time I got a chance. Mable ‘s mother, Cloe, would always fix me something nice. Sometimes, I would ride down the creek to see Ella Smith. I think I was the oldest of the three but we grew up together, Ella has been dead many years now. I grew up chasing the horses if Dad needed one, and handling the cows. Dad always had a few to look after for folks and friends in Bennett. These took more care as they never stayed with the milk cows; but I got a few extra dollars. By now I knew every spring and stream and the face of the mountain, where the feed was best at different times of the year, where the horses and cows were most apt to be. We always went bare footed in Summer, but they would take us to town in the fall to buy our winter shoes—usually split leather, boys lace up above the ankle. These were both for warmth and wear.
Mothers three brothers still lived around. Uncle Amasa and Arnold still at Bennett, George and Abby had moved to Neola. About this time Uncle Arnold and Aunt Hazel moved in with us for one winter. They built a lean‑to on our house for a bedroom and we all ate together well. They moved some fruit and vegetables into our cellar. I went to the cellar most of the time and I opened a bottle of Aunt Hazel’s sweet pickles. I had ate most of it when Bernice caught me and told Mom. Well, I had to get the bottle, take it back, and tell her what I had done. I must of been eight or nine then, and it was a hard thing to do. I cried and coaxed Mom, but she said take the bottle to her. I finally did. She said, “Oh, that’s all right. Just ask me or bring a bottle up for dinner.”
Amasa and Arnold played for lots of dance at the old schoolhouse—Amasa on the fiddle. The Taylor’s played the guitar—just anybody they could find to play. Everybody went, kids and all, always had pot‑luck lunch and a very good time.
Dad used to tell me I would chase my pony ten miles to get to ride her two. He was right about the miles we covered as whoever went to look for the horses might cover from Johnson’s to the top of Little Mountain, then if the hobbles were broke, chase them home. So we grew up fast on foot like the Indians. Speaking of Indians, we saw quite a few usually in early spring or fall. One time Mom and Dad and the smaller kids were in Vernal to be gone a few days and three big fat Indians come up to our gate, the trail that went down creek, and just sat there. Bernice and Harlan both started on me to go let them through before it got night. Finally they won. I go out with hair in braids, bib overalls on. One of them said, “Are you a boy?” I said yes. They sure did laugh. This broke the ice. They wanted something to eat, so I pulled them some turnips. They went on down the trail.
Wanda had a real bad scare; she was about nine. She had been sent to the neighbors to borrow something from the Perry’s on the south about two miles. On the way home, she heard a noise in the brush. She said it sounded like someone screaming. She wanted to go see, but the folks had always told us never to go into the brush for anything so she ran on home. Dad said it was probably a lion sure enough. Perry’s killed one the next few days along the creek.
It’s a wonder that some of us wasn’t seriously hurt as we were thrown from horses every few days. Horse jumps sideways, off we go. If it bucks you off again, then ever so many times you just fall off. Never anything worse than skinned elbows and knees. Another thing I learned to do real young was to fish. Harlan and I started to fish in the creek for suckers with a lasso made of a piece of screen wire tied on the end of a stick. We would spend hours getting one out, getting the lasso behind the gills then jerk, land him on the bank. As we got older, we tagged along behind my Dad to help carry his fish. Was nothing for him to catch a flour sack full in a day. He was the best fisherman I ever saw. I don’t think to my knowledge he was every beaten. All his relatives tried for years to beat him. As us kids got older, he would cut a willow pole and tie a line and fly on it for us. He never used anything but flies. Guess that’s why I love fly fishing.
All my life I have spent time with Harlan, looking after him, as he ran away when he was real young. He would go to the neighbors and stay all night, but if I was with him I could get him home at night. When he was gone, either Bernice or me had to go look for him. Usually me on my pony. Most of the time I kept it either staked or hobbled, but she was constantly getting loose. So It become mine and Harlan’s job to herd the cows, round‑up the horses, do the milking and other chores—by now we had several cows.
One thing I forgot to mention so far was that I owe my life to my sister Bernice and brother Harlan. As the cows had been turned out to get a drink, they didn’t come back. So, Mom bundled Harlan and me up in leggings over boots, everything to keep warm, and sends us after them—three cows and a calf. Well, they had decided to go down the creek to Perry’s about two miles, so foolish kids, we take their trail and follow them in fifteen or twenty inches of loose snow. We were wet and cold when we got there. They dried us off, getting us ready to go home. About this time Bernice come after us. Start the cows home, us following. About half way I get cold and tired. I kept falling down. Bernice keeps butting me with her foot, making me get up and go on. I remember crying and saying, “let me lay down and rest; I am not cold any more.” The next thing I remember was mother putting my feet and hands in cold water and me screaming, “It hurts”—to draw out the frost. Bernice and Harlan had taken turns carrying me on their backs which was quite a job as I was past eight then. I never forgot the pain of getting them thawed out. My feet were froze, so when they put them in water, ice froze on my feet. Then Mom rubbed them with Watkins Liniment several times a day, but it was two weeks or more before I could walk on them. They were red, swollen and sore.
We had many hardships in those days, but learned to cope with them. I often wonder what courage it took for Mother to let us leave for school in snow, but guess she thought there was safety in numbers, and that we would look after each other. One of the first things we were taught was how to find things to burn, to build a fire in all kinds of weather. Many the times we stopped and built a fire and we very seldom left without a pocket full of matches. With all the work we had to do, we found lots of time to play.
Seems like Harlan and I were always wet from playing in the creek. Sometimes Wanda was with us. Or we were going rabbit hunting with a flipper and a barb wire to twist them out after they ran down a hole. Mother was always glad when we brought home rabbits as it helped with meals. Many times Mother spanked us and scolded us for leaving our assigned jobs to do things we wanted to do. This I still do—what I want to first—the rest when it has to be done.
Some of the other things we did that was fun at the time, was taking the entrails out of a rabbit and rolling it in a ball of the mud, then roasting it in the fire for several hours. Then break the mud ball. The hair and hide will stick to the mud. The meat comes out clean and very good. Also corn thrown in a fire with the shucks on is very delicious, also onions and potatoes.
We had a spring about a mile from our house; about half way up a hill. It was Dad and Mom’s dream to build a new house at the foot of the hill and pipe water in for pressure. We had a big garden planted here and when Harlan and I were sent here to weed it, we always found something to cook for dinner in the fire. Many of a Sunday picnic was shared with all the family watering or weeding the garden, or just having fun. We never seemed to worry about what we would do. We made our own entertainment. Of course, there were parties and dances most every week and everyone went, brought a pot‑luck lunch, and fun times for everyone.
One time when I was about nine, we had a real bad winter and all the cows had to eat after February was what Dad would carry home from the mine, where the guys that come after coal would feed their horses and leave the scraps. This he brought home from work in a sack so we had to quit milking her. Well, about May, Harlan and I made our first trip to the sheep camp and came home with two bum lambs. Dad says “We can’t buy milk for no lambs. So after crying a while I took my lambs to the coral and milked the old cow, got about a half cup, it looked just like water, and fed the lambs. Next morning one was dead, but we milked the cow again. Milked her three or four times that day and fed the lamb each time I got a few more squirts. By the time the herds quit lambing, Harlan and I had thirty lambs and enough milk for the family besides. Now the feed was good and it was late fall before she had her calf. So if you have enough determination and stay with it long enough, you can finally get milk.
Another thing that stands out in my mind was the good times we had with the Arnold boys. There were four of them. They lived about one and a half miles to the north of us on Crow Creek. They were the first family I remember on this place. Wilbur and Bill were older, but Manford (or Kay), and Kimble were our age. Me being a tom‑boy, Harlan and I mixed right in. We went by their place to school. One day we gathered pine cones before they were ripe, put them in my stocking cap, got pine gum on two braids as big as your wrist. Well, my head was washed in coal oil, turpentine, then just combed and pulled out. Dad would never let us get our hair cut.
Another thing, every day for a month before Easter, all the Easter eggs were hidden by Easter time about a bushel basket full. To color eggs in them days, we used onion skins, rabbit brush, cedar bows, and beet juice. For years after, the Arnold’s left the creek, I couldn’t eat eggs. Ate too many every Easter until I got sick.
Another day, we played hookie from school and spent the day throwing rocks carried from the hill at a badger caught in one of Harlan’s traps. Needless to say, we spent the next Sunday carrying the rocks out of the hay field. Lots more work than carrying them down. Another job Harlan and I took on about this time was going to the store for groceries once a week on our ponies. At first Harlan always went with me. We always rode Indian style, no saddles, but Harlan could never go alone as he never got back the same day and sometimes I would have to go find him. Sometimes Wanda went with us. Bud Mullins was the store keeper then. It was around twenty-five miles round trip.
We would carry a seamless sack with the necessary things that Mother would need for a week in each end of the sack. Threw it over the pony’s neck. Then a fifty pound sack of flour on top of that. Bud Mullins would load me up then give me a can of coal oil to carry in my hand. The trips we had the oil were the hardest ones to make, but we always found time to visit with Ella Smith either going or coming; so, I was always in the dark getting home. When I got close to home, I could always hear Mom calling me. I can see now how she must of worried about me. With a little effort, I could of made it before dark. During these years, I spent more and more time on my pony either hunting cows or horses or going to town for groceries. By now I am doing the milking alone and most of the things Dad don’t have time for.
All the schooling we got up to now, we had to walk up by Johnson’s two and a half or three miles up the creek, or four or five miles around by the government coal mine. So we didn’t go to regular in the winter time. Never if there was a storm on. We always had to walk as we never raised enough hay to feed the horses. They had to winter like the deer on a sunny side hill and eat brush and weeds. We never had one die, but they always come out in the spring real poor. All this time the school had been up by Johnson’s, ten or more miles from the kids on the lower end—the Smith’s, Justice’s, the Guy Long family, and later on Parish’s, so they built a new school house—one room, one teacher—half way. Less than a mile west of the government coal mine.
Now we were one of the nearest ones to school. We did, a time or two, get up to twenty or twenty five kids, but most of the time around fifteen. I have a picture of the whole school, fourteen kids. Five of them were Turner’s That’s the last year Bernice and Harlan went to school. Bernice went to Salt Lake, Harlan just quit.
My Mother was never very well and most of the time Bernice stayed in the house to help Mother; and Wanda tended the smaller kids a lot. But Harlan and I helped Dad in the field, but Harlan got worse to run away as he got older, so more and more I helped Dad in the field. By now I could do most any kind of farm work. It was did in those days with a team. But I harrowed, mowed or raked hay, or planted whatever was to be done. Every year or two Dad would trade off the lambs we raised for cows or horses or whatever he needed the worst, and buy new. We were milking ten or more cows and had a small cream check. Dad was still working in the coal mine part time. Us three older kids did the milking.
A scary time, bad experience—about this time, Mother and I and all the younger kids went to Vernal to spend a week with Grandma Potter. I did the driving—took a full day to get there. Well, we picked apples and apricots and plums, were bringing them home to can and we had got nearly home when one of our old slow work horses went loco and ran away. Just after we passed Johnson’s, they left the road and ran into a big gulch. The horse that was running away jumped, the other slid down the bank, the wagon tongue stuck in the ground, the back wheels stayed on top of the bank. I jumped out; Mother went out to the bottom of the gulch with the horses. I managed to drag her free before I went for help. Also, got the rest of the kids out of the wagon. Mom was knocked out; was still out when I got back with help. She was months getting over it, if she ever did. The horse that went crazy had to be killed as he would take spells after that and just run for half a day at a time. Seems like we had more time to visit then than we do now. After we started to milk more cows we could never all leave at once for overnight as Dad never was a good milker. His hands had to many calluses. Would pinch the cows tits and they would kick him. About this time, my sister Bernice met Vern Sheffer who was working in the mine for Dad. They met at a dance. Well, they started going together. At this time, there were dances at the school house once or twice a month. Also parties around the community. At this time, Vern would come to see Bernice on a big Chestnut Sorrel passing [sp?] horse. All that first summer, Mom would send me and Harlan along with them to the dances on our pony as a chaperon; but by fall they were so serious and Bernice was only Sixteen, so the folks sent Bernice to Salt Lake to go to school. But she went to work at the Murray Laundry instead. After two years, she come home and married Vern anyway. They moved into a two room log house on Vern’s homestead on Mosby Creek. Vern still worked for Dad at the mine. Here they lived until Mother died in 1928. Then they lived on our place on the creek for a year or two; then we lost the place and they moved back onto their homestead.
I will never forget the first time Grandma [Georgeann] and Grandpa [George] Turner came from Murray to see us. They come in Uncle Earnest new Model A Ford. There was Earn, Odie, Grandma and Grandpa Turner, and Florn Brown, my cousin. Well, they stayed two weeks and we fished and hunted sage hens most every day. We had borrowed all the saddles we could form the neighbors, also a few horses to have enough to go around. Grandpa never went unless we took the wagon, as by then he was getting quite crippled up.
One morning before day light, we were getting ready to go. Everyone had picked their horses the night before. Dad was always playing tricks on them. We had one horse that had been tin canned. This is tying a string of cans to a horses tail to scare them away from your place. Naturally she was afraid of anything that rattled so Dad ties the tin cups and coffee pot behind the saddle. This was Earns horse. So we had a rodeo before we left. We took the wagon and went over to White Rocks and the Uintah River so Grandpa could go along. Grandma and Mom and the small kids stayed at home; also Bernice, as she never liked the outdoors or fishing like I did. Usually Grandma and Grandpa stayed home with mother as Grandma was afraid of bad roads with either car or wagon, Uncle Earnest said she walked half way. Every time they come to a narrow dugway, she would holler “LET ME OUT.” That’s why it took them two days to get here in a new Ford. I think it was a Model A. Grandpa and all the boys loved to fish, but she never went along.
The next year, we had this group plus Aunt Polly and Uncle Gerold Brady. Also Aunt Ivy Brown, a widow. She was my name sake. Her son Florn, Earn, Odie, Grandma and Grandpa Turner in two cars. In them days it took two days to get to our place from Salt Lake. The first night they stayed at Heber. Come on in the next day.
Dad would never let Wanda or me have our hair cut, and we had so much—two braids as big as your wrist and below our waist. The first thing Aunt Polly done was grab the scissors and cut it off. We felt pretty naked for a while.
We never saw to much of Dad’s folks for it was so far away and the roads were so bad, but after this whenever they could all get vacation at once, they would come out.
One time when all of Dad’s folks were there from Salt Lake, we took everyone on horses and in the wagon up to Dry Fork River fishing. Grandma was afraid of bad places. This was the only time her and her two girls, Ivy and Polly, ever went. We went up past Mosby Creek, up the face of the mountain past Lighting Springs to the end of the road and made camp. Had a couple of tents that they had brought. We spent three or four days up there. Some of us had to go down each night to do chores, but fun times for me. The ladies and Grandpa stayed in camp as it was a mile down steep hills to the river. Well, in them days, we salted our fish to cure them in a box. Needless to say, we had lots of boxes of cured fish when we come home. The ones we brought home fresh, Dad would put a layer of fish and a layer of leaves. These would keep several days; kept as cool as possible, wrapped in a wet blanket. As I say, this was the only trip Polly, Ivy, and Grandma ever went on with us. They enjoyed the scenery, but to much hassle for them.
Uncle Gerold Brady, Dad’s youngest sister’s husband had a good car and him, Earn and Odie Turner, and Florn Brown come out quite often for quite a few years to go rabbit hunting and go fishing; and they loved to hunt sage chickens. The first time they brought home a bunch of sage hens, my cousin Florn said Aunt Elva “If I can have the gizzards I will clean them all.” Mom just laughed and when he got started to cleaning them he found out their gizzard is just like the crow—no meat on it. He was sure one surprised guy.
Another experience we had with Dad’s folks. They had all gone fishing with the wagon and tents and taken Grandpa. I was left home to catch up on my cow herding and Uncle Royal Potter had got in the night before, and Harlan stayed home too. In the afternoon we had a cloud burst up near the spring and above it where our main garden was planted. Well, it was a ten foot wall of water down the draw, one‑half mile south of our house. Aunt Ivy had been in a flood in Bountiful in the spring. When she heard the rocks hitting together and the noise, we had to leave the house and cross the creek that went by on a foot plank and go up on the hill on the other side. Needless to say, we really got wet. Harlan and Royal come home. They had been up on little mountain side where the cloud burst was. Pretty soon they are down at the house looking for cigarettes or bull durum. Polly and Ivy are screaming at them to get over here before they get washed away, but it took them (Royal and Harlan) more than an hour to talk Polly and Ivy back home. But a few days later when Dad took them up to the garden and there were tons of rocks and sand covering the bottom of the garden, some rocks two or three feet across, they felt like they had a right to be scared.
After this, Harlan ran away more often and I spent more time looking for him at the neighbors. As far as LaPoint and Bennett. I always felt like part of Harlan’s trouble was the way Dad treated him. All my life Dad never thought that I could do no wrong or there wasn’t anything that I couldn’t do. So for this reason, I put forth more effort to please him; and he picked at Harlan who was slower and compared him to me which I think was unfair to him. And he quit even trying to do things. When I tried to talk to Harlan he would say, “Well I can’t do it right anyway.”
About this time, he ran away and went to Salt Lake to live with Grandma. He left on my pony; road her to Heber. By then she was so sore footed he sold her and hitch‑hiked on. In a year and a half later the pony came home. Needless to say the time he was on the road and I couldn’t locate him, Mother nearly lost her mind worrying about him. When he got there, Grandma called Burton’s, the only phone on the creek, and Tom brought us word he was in Salt Lake. Harlan and I were awfully close and I missed him the year and half he was in Salt Lake. All my life I had looked after him.
The scaredest I ever was, I believe—one time (I am thirteen now) my Dad sends me to take Mother to White Rocks to the doctor. It was just before Vera was born. In the wagon had Wilbur and Earnest with us. By the time Mother got in to see the doctor, it was late afternoon. We started home—come to the forks in the road, Mother said take the right. I said no mom, the left. She was so positive that I gave in; couldn’t defy my Mom. After dark we end up at the end of a wood road. I get the horses headed back, got about a mile, Mom says stop the wagon lets rest a while. We had a little hay in the wagon box so Mom and the two little boys lay down. We had a couple of quilts; this is the first of November; and I built several big fires as I knew Dad would be looking for us. He had went to White Rocks and back home not realizing that it was me building the fires until he got home and we weren’t there. At the time, our fires were five or six miles north of Tridell—they could see the lights in the homes. About midnight Mom asked me if I could find my way to Tridell on one of the horses. I was so frightened. It was no problem me getting out for help or getting back to her, but leaving her. She said I’ll tell you if its necessary. Dad found us at daylight on his second trip, and Vera was born that night after we got home.
Mother was never very well. She used to pass out for no reason she knew of. And no doctor ever told her what caused it. She never knew when she would have a spell. She might be in the yard or garden or in the house. She would be limber as a dish rag. Many the time I have run from our place to the Little Walter coal mine four or five miles and Mother would still be out when we got back on foot. Have known her to be out for twenty four hours. She would tell us that some times when she was out that she could hear us crying, but she couldn’t move or say anything. The Doctor never did know for sure what caused her to do this. Not to often, but sometimes, two or three times during the summer. The doctor just said “Put a wet towel on her head and keep her warm.” She did have some medicine she took, but I don’t remember what for; but she hadn’t had a spell for several years before she died. For this reason Dad always had one of the kids old enough to go for help with her at all times.
When I was fourteen, we moved to the Little Walter coal mine. Dad had bought half interest in it and Mother and Wanda and I were going to run the boarding house. There was anywhere from six to twelve men working depending on the demand for coal. By now, Wanda and I were getting to be young ladies, but if we had a date to take us home, the boyfriend tied his horse behind Dad’s wagon and rode with us. And Dad was always pulling some trick on the boyfriend. One time a guy asked Dad if he could take me home. Dad said if you are man enough to crank my truck. Well he spun the crank for half a dozen times, then Dad says “Vern you try it,” and then he turned the key on this time and it starts right up. Well, after kidding him a while I was allowed to ride home on his horse with him. This was the summer I was sixteen. Most of Mom’s brothers and sisters now have moved away five of them with their families had moved to Anderson and Redding California, most of them had sold out and gone into other kind of work.
Grandma Potter was getting ready to move to Park City with Millie and Cliff. Mom’s one sister Aunt Chrystol and Charley Lewis have lived in Vernal all their lives, both of them are school teachers.
While we were living on the creek, we had a branch Sunday School in the summer time and one day the Bishop come to see Dad and wanted him to be Superintendent of the Sunday School and have it the year around. Dad said no. He couldn’t do it because he smoked. He couldn’t set up front and have people know that. The Bishop said, “Ivan, you work in the timber a lot cutting posts and poles. If you break the reach or tongue of your wagon, do you unhook and go to town to get a new one?” “No,” Dad says, “I just find the best stick I can find, whittle it down and use it.” Bishop Morell says “In the Church that’s what we do. We go into a community and choose what we think is the best we can find. We give him the job, and the priesthood and responsibility will whittle him down and make him fit for the job. We know you have a testimony of the gospel. We think you can do it. You are honest and fair, always as good as your work. Just try it for a while.” Day says, “No, I will quit smoking first,” which he never did.
After Dad bought the mine, he rented the place on the creek to our school teacher, brought three or four horses to the mine and also the cows, but sold the cows after a year. Our neighbor, Jess Labrum, wanted six of the best ones; would give him $10 a head more if he could pick them. Well, the first cow he picked, I had named kicky. She was to have her calf in a couple of weeks. One of the best cows. Dad told him he couldn’t milk her—that no man could. Only I had milked her for several years. Then we proceeded to tell him why. About three years before, I was milking ten head by myself so Dad decided to help me. He choose this cow. She would run over a three gallon bucket night and morning, but she was nervous anyway; and Dad’s hands were so calloused and cracked that he pinched her tits and she kicked him. Dad had an awful temper so her beat her. This goes on for over a week. The only way he could milk her was to tie her so she couldn’t kick, then she would stand and beller. So Dad gave up and turned her out. The calf had frozen so after the first day her bag hurt so bad, I started working with her, just kindness. Finally I got her milked out. After that, I had no more trouble with her, but she was afraid of men. But Jess said, “If Ivy can milk her he could”. But a few weeks later he told Dad you were right. He had made her a nurse cow. Had four calves on her. This is another case of kindness. I handled both the cows and horses with kindness.
Well, a friend of Dad’s bought the rest of them in Bennett10, so me and my pony take five cows and a bull to Bennett. I spent several days with Amasa and Aunt Maggie. While there, I went to my first big dance. I went with a crowd of six. My date was Wayne Snow. This was a really a thrill for a girl like me and my first real date. I wasn’t quite sixteen then. We went to Victory Park Dance Hall. Wanda and I become much closer now that we were at the mine and doing the same kind of work. We were happy there and Mom and Dad seemed real happy too. Dad had talked her into moving, but she said it wasn’t to be permanent. She still wanted the dream house by the spring. The work wasn’t too hard compared with what I had been doing. Usually from six to nine men besides the family, Wanda and I had lots more time to read or do what she wanted to. I still had two horses at the time, so I rode a lot just for fun. We brought hay from ranches for them. Well, before we realized it, three years had gone by. I am now seventeen, Wanda fifteen. Well about this time, Jim Rasmussen asked Dad if I could go to Randlett and stay with his wife Bessie and help his boys do the chores—mostly the milking. My folks talked it over and decided I could go, but before I left, Mother had another real long talk with me about the facts of life and boys I might meet, and what to expect from them. Mother was a good teacher. All our life we lived by the ten commandments: Thou shalt not steal, shall not lie, shall not commit adultery, love one another, keep the Sabbath day holy, all these and many more were taught to us regular. Now she tells me I am leaving home so young, and that I must never drink or men will take advantage of you. I was young for those days, mainly in experience as I had been sheltered so close. But she ended her lecture by saying always act like a lady and you will be treated like one. Never be ashamed of the standard you have set to live by. I can testify this is true. For the next two years, I went out with dozens of boys, but was always treated like a lady. My mother had never drank any liquor in her life and never been around drinking. Right after they were married, Dad come home drunk. He was so sick she thought he had been poisoned. She was holding his head with a wet towel, but he got no better. So she ran down the block get Grandma [Georgeann?]. The minute she opened the door, Gram said the darn fool is drunk—end of sympathy. Grandma said that when Dad [Ivan] first started thinking he should be big enough to get drunk, it was Christmas time. He was going with Mom [Harriot]. He had a date. Well Gram told him to bring his bottles home, not to make a fool of himself in town. As he come through Murray that night, he stopped two or three places to have a beer. Each place gave him a fifth of whiskey. He brought it home, told Gram to fix him a drink while he got ready to go. Well he had two or three stout drinks and passed out. Grandma put him to bed. He slept in his new suit until the next evening, gets up and says, “What did you give me? My head feels awful.” “I only mixed what you told me to,” Gram says. He started to get ready for the dance. Gram says, the dance was last night. She says it was a good lesson for him. It must of been as I never saw my Dad drunk in my life. He did drink a little after Mom died in later years, but not while he was raising his family. It’s a wonder we didn’t drive him to drinking.
Well, Mother helps me pack my few clothes in a sack. She also made me two new dresses. I get on my pony, still no saddle. I had just turned seventeen then, when I started for Randlett.11 I had never been further south than the China man’s store east of Ft. Duchesne12.
We had never been to Church much as we were part of Tridell, ten miles by team and wagon. In good weather they had Church in the school house at Deep Creek, but Mother was a good teacher; very religious. She taught us from Church works, The ten Commandments: Honor they father and mother; Love one another; Honor the Sabbath day to keep it holy; Thou shalt not commit adultery. We always had blessing on our food. These teachings and many more were always part of our daily life. These teachings had helped me keep from doing some of the things other kids did. Then she taught us that the veil was so thin that people that had passed away could see what we were doing and greave for us, but could not help us.
I often thought of this when I was asked to have a drink or smoke, or come up against temptation. When dating I often felt myself saying to myself, what would Mom have me do. Then I could hear her saying act like a lady and be treated like one. No truer words were ever spoken. The young girls now days don’t want to look like a lady and most of them don’t act like one either.
Jim Rasmussen come home one weekend and said my Mom was real sick and bed fast. The next day, me and my pony started for the Little Walter coal mine and home. I got an awful shock when I got home and one of the first things she told me when I got home was that she wasn’t going to get well, and that Dad was going to take us kids to the temple and have us sealed to him and her. Well, we all cried and tried to talk her out of this. Told her she had been sick before, but she said not this bad. Then she would say be good girls, help your dad, and remember what I have told you, and always act like a lady when out with boys.
That night she was worse. She was not rational. She would talk about her family and sing Church songs, talk about the ten Commandments, The Articles of Faith, all about religion. I sat up with her the first two nights, then Wanda come home too.
The next day I went to Roosevelt for the doctor. He did not help her at all, so I went to Tridell for the Elders. When they got there, as soon as they lay their hands on her head to anoint her, she would quiet down and by the time they finished with the sealing and the blessing, she would be OK, and stay that way for many hours. These next three weeks gave me quite a testimony of the gospel. To see this happen over a period of three weeks. Every couple of days we would go get the Elders she could be singing and not know any of us for hours, maybe 24, but by the time the Elders left, she would be OK again. Then we could talk to her and visit sometimes up to fifteen or twenty hours; then she would drift back again. We had the doctor three or four times during this three weeks, but nothing seemed to help her. The doctor told Dad she was pregnant. Mom said she wasn’t. After nine kids she should know, but she hadn’t had a period in months.
Nothing anyone did seemed to help and after three weeks, she passed away.d The day before she died, she told me while she was awake that she had been for a walk with her Dad into the most beautiful garden; that he was coming back for her soon. The next day she was gone from us.
Well, most of Mom’s brothers and sisters that were anywhere in Utah came to the services. Arnold, Amasa, and George with their families were in Anderson and Redding California. Dad’s were still in Murray. They all came. I can’t remember to much about that time. Seems like I was in a daze. I remember Grandma Potter holding me close and saying why couldn’t it of been her instead of Mom. That she was old and worn out, but Grandma lived another twenty years or more after that. I know most of the folks were there and friends by the dozens. I remember Bill didn’t come, and I was real disappointed with him. I remember Jim and Bessie Rasmussen were there.
We had the services in Tridell, as we were a part of the Tridell ward. I think this was the saddest day of my life. Also end of our happy home, as a home isn’t happy without a Mother. My sister, Bernice, had two little boys by now. Dad lived seventeen years after Mother died, but his life was shattered and he never forgot my mother. And raising the family was nearly too much for him. Also, the farm on the creek could never be home again for him. The cabin by the spring would never be built. My Dad got old nearly overnight losing Mother and leaving him with seven kids at home, two of them teenage girls. Vera only four was nearly more than he could take.
Well, in them days, you made your own casket. The neighbors came in and made her clothes. Also, the casket. They lined it with cotton bats, white satin and lace. When it was finished it was real beautiful. We buried her in Tridell 13. We were never left alone for the next two or three weeks, but nothing seemed to help much. Things didn’t go to well. Dad had promised Mother he would go to the temple years before. Now he blamed his self. Said she didn’t put up enough fight. Well, he threw his Bull Durum away. In less than a month he was sick and looked like an old man.
We took him to Doctor Franks in Vernal. He told him his first responsibility was to the family he had left. He gave him some medicine, told him to get a sack of Bull durum, and go ahead and raise his family; that he could fulfill his promise to Mother when he got his kids grew up. Well in the few weeks since Mother died, his hair which was black and waving had started to turn gray, and he began to look old. I have been around death quite a bit, but never have I saw anyone suffer and as lost as my Dad was. He couldn’t sleep and didn’t try much. He would sit up most of the nights and drink tea. And this really took his health away. He worked long hours, ate very little and worried about his family. We that were close to him watched this change take place. So I was real glad when he started to talk about going to California among Mom’s folks. I realized later that this was a bad thing to do as it brought back to many memories.
About this time, he started to talk about going to California, to pay the Potter’s a visit. Uncle Amasa lived at Bennett all the years we lived on the creek and he was a horse trader, also broke horses. He would buy a balky horse then fight with it until he made a pulling horse out of it. Then trade it for two balky ones. He was to our place two or three times a month over the years as he cut posts and hauled wood from the creek so we were real close. Then several years they lived at the mine and worked for Dad.
One time when we lived at the mine, I was just getting ready to go to the creek to get five barrels of water when Amasa drove in. He said, “take my team and wagon. Save going after yours.” So I did. He didn’t tell me he was driving a balky horse. It was one and half miles to the stream; got there OK, filled up, got half‑way back before they balked. I was nearly two hours getting home. Tried to ride him, to lead him, to beat him. This is the kind of things he did for a living; but he and Dad were the best of friends. Also Dad and Arnold. They all loved fishing. Spent many days together so when he talked about leaving that’s where he would go.
Dad had an old Model T truck with a low speed rear end. Fifteen to twenty five miles was the best it would do. This we started to get ready to go.
Well, Dad leased the place to Bernice and Vern Sheffer and he had borrowed $500, on it to make the trip—they were going to pay it back, and turned his half of the coal mine to his partner, Clarence Jensen. Visit all the folks in the Basin. George Justice was working for Dad at the time and he asked him to go along so in June, we packed up what food and clothing we had, bedding and camping equipment. Dad and George and seven kids. Well, the next twenty-five days were quite an experience. We made it to the other side of Heber the first day and camped on a stream. Had fish for supper and went on into Murray the next day. We spent a couple of weeks in Murray with his folks.
This was an exciting time for us. Since Mother passed away, Wanda and I had been closer together and I knew that I needed to be a buffer between her and Dad as they both had fire hot tempers.
Well, Odie, Dad’s brother, was about twenty-two at the time, and Florn Brown, my cousin, a little older than me. They really took us around. Odie was always the center of the group. No matter where we were he knew everyone. Out at Salt Air, Lagoon, the Old Blue Bird Dance Hall in Salt Lake, also the show, our first show time. They really gave us the works. This was our first trip to the city. It was hard to believe the things that went on in the city.
From this time on, Odie held a special place in my heart.
California
We left Murray, went out past Wendover, Lovelock, Reno that route. It was worn out gravel then and a hot 110 or 115 degrees in the shade but no shade. So hot if you patched a tire with a cold patch, all you could try then, the patch would melt off. And we couldn’t keep a spare. So when we would have a flat, Dad would have to push his tire to town and back while all us kids sat under the truck. This went on day after day until Dad decided to drive at night while it was cool. Thought maybe he could keep the tires on it but couldn’t keep the lights going so decided to drive by the light of the moon. Decided to camp about midnight. Dad was going to get some sticks to make a fire to make some tea. First sage bush he got close to had a rattler in it. “George, I think there is a snake in every bush, drive on.”
The next day, Dad stopped and picked up enough wood to make tea when we camped. So that night when we camped, we camped in a sand flat. Just got the fire going good when the scorpions started to crawl out of the sand. “Drive on George.”
After that, we either camped by a town or stayed in the truck. One morning we had got within about fifty or sixty miles from Reno, had a blow out. Dad had to walk to town, after he had been gone a while, it was so hot I told George to take the old tire off and fill it full of old clothes and rags and see how far we could go on it. He said “It won’t work.” “Well if you don’t do it, I will.”, so we did. We started slowly down the road, me sitting over the tire, watching it. “Hold it George, It’s smoking.” He stopped it with the brake up and filled it full of water. “Drive on George.” By the time we met Dad coming back, we had used two ten gallon cans of water but we were nearly to Reno. Was Dad glad to see us coming. When they took the tire off, the rags were just like paste. Well after nine days of these kinds of things, we got to Redding California. We had quite a reunion with Aunts, Uncles, and cousins.
For a while we lived with Uncle Arnold and Aunt Hazel, as they had a farm with cows, chickens, and a small orchard. Since Mother died, Wanda and I have become real close. I loved her dearly and I thought that I should keep her with me as much as possible because things that the other kids did were a temptation to her. Drinking and smoking and worse. These things were never a temptation to me and I thought if I kept her with me, Dad would have to blame both of us for the things we did and I could be a bumper between them. When they were having a battle, if I stepped in he never slapped me. But by then I was crying and she would be yelling back at him. If I stepped between them he would always cool down. He had a real hot temper. So did Wanda and they always clashed. He would never let us wear anklets or bobby socks in them days. It never bothered me but when she got away from the house, she always put them on. We were to wear long stockings and a garter belt when we dressed up. Dad was always showing up and catching her. Then sparks would fly.
These next few months were fun times for Wanda and I. Everyone accepted us and made us welcome. We all went to work picking fruit. This was hard work but we were all used to working hard. Wanda and I went to work for one of the wealthiest families in the community. They had a big orchard and owned their own packing house. They also had a big family. Both girls and boys about our age. Their oldest boy, Lee Grisson, was twenty-two. They had all the things money could buy. Fancy house and several cars.
Well, we started work, picking peaches at eight cents a box. Well, the field boss watched us awful close. “Only pick the straw colored ones. These are for packing. The next crew will get the ripe ones for drying.” Well, after the first day, the boss’ son, Lee, started stopping at our trees to help us. He drove the truck to pick up the full boxes and leave us empty ones. Lee would hurry like the devil then stop and pick peaches for us for fifteen or twenty minutes out of every trip he made. With this extra help, we could just about keep up. Uncle Royal’s ex‑wife could pick one‑hundred boxes each day. More if she really hurried.
Dad went with us lots of times to the fairs; both county and state. He finally learned to like my boyfriend. Anyway, he quit fussing about him, but we never quite got in on time and Dad always waited up for us. The later we were, the madder he got. I tried to be a bumper between Dad and Wanda, she always yelled back at him and got in trouble.
In the spring, Grandfather Turner died in Murraye so within two days we were ready to come home on the train. Uncle George took Dad and the kids.
We buried Grandpa the first of January and we all stayed there with Grandma Turner. Here is where our city relations got even with us for the tricks we played on them. Like telling them the sage chickens in the field were our turkeys until they told Dad he sure had a big flock of turkeys. Dad said there was not a turkey on the place. Then we told them we had a pony that had been bucked in the rodeos and never learned to let a man ride her. We were always putting one of them on her and then laughing when they got dumped off. Now Odie got even by telling his friends, “Well, we have had the girls tied down by the track to get used to the trains and traffic.” Then he would say, the girls were, “here for a month before a man got shoes on them.” Or he would say, “You don’t need a phone. Just put your head out of the windows, they can hear you.” Then he would tell my date, “A good thing you didn’t get here early. Man just got her shoes on her.” But Uncle Odie always took us with his crowd to Salt Air, or Lagoon. He always saw that we had money for rides, also partners for dancing. We used to go to the old Blue Bird dancing in Salt Lake. Odie was always the center of the crowd and he always showed us a good time. But he never got over joking with us and telling his crowd that we were his nieces from the sticks. But Uncle Odie was always my favorite Uncle. He always had a spot in my heart.
In the Spring, Dad came back to the Basin. He brought Hurley, Wilbur, Earnest, Vera, and Harlan home with him. Traded his part of the mine to Jensen for forty acres in Tridell with a four‑room house on it. But Hurley was awful young to take over the managing and cooking for a family of six people. She was only twelve years old then and Vera was five. Wanda and I stayed in Salt Lake with Grandma but I realized later that it was a selfish thing for me to do, as I know now that things would have been different if I had come home with the family. As Hurley was like Wanda, very hot tempered, and she needed a buffer to keep the tempers down. But we got used to the good times we were having in the city. Wanda was not sixteen and I was eighteen. We had, both of us, found jobs we didn’t want to leave. But Dad wouldn’t stay in the city. I went to work in a broom factory making brooms for $4.50 a week. Wanda was doing house work for people. We paid Grandma $1.50 a week for room and board.
Well when I got back to Salt Lake, Wanda and I stayed with Grandma, we followed two continued shows each week. For four or five months and only missed three issues. We saw every show that came to Murray. If we didn’t have a date, we went by ourselves.
Every Saturday Grandma Turner would take Wanda and I out to dinner and a show. We always ate at the New York Cafe on Broadway and went to the old Pantages Theater. They always had a vaudeville between the acts. Grandma enjoyed these trips to Salt Lake on the street car as much as we did. We just gave her an excuse to go. We always went in time to do a little shopping too. Grandma always paid for these good time Saturdays.
Grandma was a kind and generous person. She always kept sweet rolls and fried pies for us on hand for us to eat. Grandma raised six kids of her own. Also two orphan boys just younger than Dad. They were five or seven when she took them. Florn and Wandaquin Brown that were early teenagers when her daughter Ivy died. Then Earnest’s wife ran away with his boss and left her four to raise the youngest, eighteen months old. The four were the age of my four oldest kids. Grandma was in her middle sixties to sixty-five when she took on these kids. She told me that every night when she prayed, she would ask God to let her live long enough to see Earn’s kids through school. This she did with the help of Uncle Odie. As Earn died with cancer of the lungs a few years after his wife left him.
Grandma worked hard. She had two or three acres of ground. Some fruit trees of all kinds. She raised her own vegetables. Always had a lovely garden and until the day she died, she did her own canning of fruit and all kinds of garden stuff to help with their living and to take care of Earn’s kids. About the time the youngest of the four started high school, she fell and broke her hip. This made it real hard for her as it never healed proper and she must work from a wheel chair now. But she still did her canning with the girls help. I went there one time and found her canning peaches with the girls help but she tightened every lid.
I must of picked up mother’s knack of sewing, as I could make most anything. Made all our clothes for both boys and girls. We never threw away any scrap, no matter how small. We made all kinds of quilt. We also sheared the sheep, washed the wool, corded it, made the bats for the quilts. We also made several different kinds of throw rugs for the floors.
All this time my Dad and the kids are living in Tridell. I made it up to see them three or four times a year. But was team and wagon time. Took most of the day to get there, so [I] would stay three or four days when I went. During these years my little brother, twelve years old had died with a mastoid ear.14 He was in the hospital at Vernal for six weeks before he died, but in those days they didn’t know how to treat it. Then they didn’t have the medicine that they have now.
Then Dad had blood poison in his foot and I went up and stayed a couple of weeks until he was on the improvement list.
About this time, Hurley had trouble at home with Dad and ran away to Salt Lake and went to work at sixteen years old. Dad always managed to raise a good garden. Worked a little on W.P.A. and managed like the rest of us. Willis and Ardell Hackford lived close to him and Ardell helped what she could with Earnest and Vera. That’s all he has home now. Bernice and Vern have spent several winters with him since they left us on the Lyman place.
In the summer I hear through the grape vine that my sister Hurley that left home a year and half ago was in Murray and was going hungry and her little boy, the same age as Bea, was about to starve. That she was married to George White and he was too lazy to work even on W.P.A., so I took my baby Bea, left the others with Bill and Grandma, went to look for her. She was to proud to go to Grandma Turner’s in Murray for help. Also, Wanda was married to Owen Hanson. Then he worked for the railroad, but she never went to her either. Well, it took me a week to find her. She was living in an old sheep wagon down by the Murray dump. I found her about 11 a.m. Could hear her trying to make George get up. She was cussing him because he wouldn’t get up to go to work that morning. About that time I yelled, “Is anybody home?” Well rumor was true. All they had in the place to eat was a half dozen dried up oranges. Well, after reading George the riot act and telling him if he couldn’t get out of bed and even try to find something for his family never to show up at my house as I was taking them home with me. We gathered up what few clothes they had, and took them to Wanda’s. Wanda felt real bad to think that Hurley never come to her for help. Well, the next day we saw George again. She told him she was leaving him and to never show up at our place.
I had gone to Salt Lake with Mildred Night on the cream truck. The next day, she would be in again, so I bring Hurley and Glen home with me. I felt so sorry for poor little Glen. He was the same age as Bea and she was crawling all over and he couldn’t even sit up alone. She stayed with us for three or four months upstairs at Muriel’s. Then one day, George showed up. He had a job at Moon Lake and had got an old car that run pretty good. Also, he had rented a house a block from Dad in Tridell. Well, he come two or three nights a week until she went back to him. By now we have an old car, so I see them and Dad quite often that summer. Well, Dad felt bad about her leaving home and was awful good to her. He saw that she had eggs and milk and garden vegetables to eat.
For the next few years they lived there and did fine. When Glen got old enough to talk and walk, he would come over to Dad’s every day. Dad would take him to gather the eggs. Any cracked ones we eat them. Then he would scramble some. Well, Glen goes to the coop one day, gets two eggs, gets just inside the door, hits his eggs together and says, “Here Grandpa, two cracked eggs. Cook them”. I think he was born talking. He remained me of Uncle Odie still yet.
I still see Glen and family once in a while. He lives in Salt Lake. Has a lovely wife and family. They come out some times on their vacation. His mother, Hurley, died when he was eight years old with cancer. She was in the hospital for months before she died. Her and George had separated, she was engaged to Johnny Barns. He and his dad and two brothers drove taxies. It took all the bunch of them could make to keep her in a private hospital. They didn’t want her in the county one. But, the family had to furnish someone to sit up with her nights, so I went to L.A.. Took Earnie, he was a baby. I stayed six weeks. Sit up with her every night. Dad tended Earnie. I was nursing him and I would be gone ten or twelve hours. Dad said he never cried, but he wouldn’t have told me if he had. That was the hardest six weeks I ever went through. I never saw such suffering in my life. One hates to think of death, but when you see what I did in those six weeks, it is quite a relief to know she won’t have to suffer that kind of pain any more. I hope she has some happiness where she is at, she didn’t have much in this life.
The next two years were really fun times for us. We would make good gypsy’s. The depression here was in full swing. Everything burned up or blew away. No snow in winter, just cold. No rain in summer, just hot breeze. Bill wanted to go some place else. I said OK with me if we go to the coast where Mother’s folks live. So we sold everything we owned, horses, harnesses, saddles, bridles, what furniture we had, everything but our clothes and kids and a camp outfit. With the old car we had, we made a down payment on a new Chevy. A new one then cost $800. We put our camp equipment, bedding and clothes in the truck. Took the kids, headed for Redding, California. Took the same route I had been over in 1928 with Dad, but the trip was somewhat different. Little better road, new car. We didn’t have any trouble. Landed at Uncle George Potter’s the next day. Not much money left. They really made us feel welcome. They were all glad to see us. Uncle George and Abby’s kids were all married but two, and they all lived close, within twenty or thirty miles of each other. Had quite a reunion. All kids come home the next day to see us. Then too, they were having a Fireman’s Ball the night after we got there. Blocked off a bridge and danced on it. Took a good part of what little bit of money we had left for a ticket. But everyone insisted we go, so we did. Had lots of fun; danced all night. Good thing we both liked to dance. These were dancing Potter’s. The Potter’s were all musical. Different ones spelled off the music. They knew every one, as they had been there for years.
Uncle Amasa and Aunt Maggie Potter live there close too. Aunt Millie and Uncle Cliff Daniels lived at Redding. Grandma Potter lives around among her kids from one to another. Now she is just like a little kid. Play hop scotch on the walks, jump the rope, also run away if they didn’t watch her. Uncle Royal and his wife lived in Red Bluff.
Uncle Arnold had lost his wife a few years before and two of his kids with typhoid fever. So, he had moved on to Empire, Oregon. Laura and Glenn Perkins had gone up there to Oregon in the winter a few months after we got to California, and Glenn went to work in a saw mill, making pretty good money.
We got along fine and had lots of fun. The few months that Bill’s job lasted. But, around Thanksgiving time he was out of a job. We moved in with Wanda and Ray Giles. They were my favorite. We were about the same age, liked lots of the same things. Ray and Bill did odd jobs around for a while. We got behind on our car payment, so we traded it for a one and a half ton truck straight across. The truck was paid for, but a few years older.
We still had quite a few folks living within a fifteen or twenty mile area. Uncle Arnold Potter at Empire, his daughter Ivy and Chance Willmot at North Bend, George’s girl Ida and Less Desmond at North Bend. We visited back and forth on weekends, played cards and partied.
About the middle of December Bill asks his boss if he could come home to Utah for Christmas. Well, we come home in our home made camper. Got here and things were worse in the basin, if that is possible. Folks all still living at Randlett. All doing anything they can to make ends meet. While we were home Robert Moore and Orval, Bill’s brother, made a trip to Oregon to look for work, but they wasn’t as good as Bill had been, couldn’t make anybody believe that they had worked in the Timber. By now, my Dad [Ivan] and Vera are alone. Earnie, my youngest brother, had joined the C.E.E. camp, a government created job for teenage boys. Some jobs were digging canals by hand, making roads with pick and shovel, cleaning up the forests, anything to keep them busy. They were fed and clothed, paid a small wage for spending money.
Dad decides to go back with us and spend some time with Uncle Arnold Potter, his favorite brother‑in‑law. Dad and him had been close until Arnold moved to the coast, a couple of years before Mom died. Well, Dad had one milk cow, we butchered her, put most of her in tin cans and took it back with us. Give the bony parts to Bernice.
Hurley and George White and Glen are now in Salt Lake again. We stopped by to see them. George was working. We left right after Christmas, as the road over the coast range is closed around the first of the year. Then it’s clear around by the Columbus River. So when we got to Redman, they said it was closed over the mountain, that they had about a foot of snow, that they had cleared their half to the top of the mountain, but they weren’t going to clean the other side till spring. Bill tells them he has got to get over for his job, and if it’s cleaned to the top of the mountain he can make it. The road boss tells him he is taking quite a chance. My dad tells them we got everything with us to stay till spring plenty of food, so they let us go on. We didn’t have to much trouble. A little where we hit any up hills. Took us all day to get down the other side. Well it was quite an experience, but it was a beautiful drive.
Well we took dad straight to Uncle Arnold’s. Him and dad go out and pick up his crab nets. Arnold cooks a pressure kettle full of fresh crab. When my dad took the shell of and saw the entrails inside, he said, “it looks like a fresh cow pile”. That was his first and last fresh crab. Was quite a reunion for Dad and Arnold.
Things went along fine for a while after we got back to Oregon. Then towards Spring the Unions moved in an called a strike in all the Timber work. No more long hours without overtime. Well, depression had hit the coast. Hundreds, no, thousands were out of work. After a week most of them were going hungry. Well, bread lines formed. You would go and stand in line for hours. Would take all day. The government was issuing a little sack for groceries to each head of families, a small sack of rice, beans, corn meal, a few cans of beef to last a family of six or eight for a week. Well, it would last part of the week if you were careful.
Well, the next two months were the worst I ever put in. There was stealing and robberies every night. It didn’t effect us too much as we had all this stuff we had canned, like meat and dried fish, and blackberries by the case.
Now Dad and Vera are with us and we rent a house on the hill above North Bend. Well, I used to go with Gennie Coats and stand in line for my government allotment and give it to her. Well, both sacks wouldn’t last the week. If I had been using them, they would have. But she was from a rich family in the east. Her folks disowned her when she married George Coats, because he drank and she didn’t know how to manage. This was the first time George had been out of work very long in the twelve years they had been married. Well, we had known them ever since we went to the coast. He worked in the timber too. We were over there playing cards one night and their baby, LeRoy, eighteen months old, crying in the bedroom. Finally Dad says, “What’s the matter with Gerry, is he sick?” Gennie says, “No, Ivan he is hungry. Had to put them to bed tonight without any supper”. Well Dad gets up, walks the block and a half home and brings her a box full of our groceries. When we leave Dad says, “Well Ivy, when ours are gone, maybe we will get some more.” Well, Gennie and George’s boy eleven years old was in juvenile court three times in the six weeks they were without work or pay, for stealing pop bottles and beer bottles out of people’s garages. Judge ask him “What did you do with the money?” “Bought a loaf of bread to take home to my little brothers and sisters.” Gennie called her folks for help, hoping they had forgiven her, but they hadn’t. They told her they would send her and the kids tickets to come on home, but otherwise no help. She said, “No thanks, we will starve first”. When one like her has always had everything she needed, it’s hard to try and manage. Now us, we had always been short on worldly goods, but lots of happiness in our family.
About this time, we heard there was work in Klamath Falls, Oregon, so we loaded up again and go there. Bill had lived there when he was small and wanted to go back anyway. Well, we got there, a hundred jobs with five hundred in line for them. Well, we camped on the river. Dad caught a mess of fish while we decided what to do. Didn’t have enough money to get back to North Bend, but had to, as we were waiting for our unemployment checks to come. Was to be $25 a week. We had four or five coming now, if they ever got to us.
During the next month, we fished a lot and Dad spent a lot of time down on the docks where the fishing boats come in. They got to know him and were always giving him fish, anything that was bruised or rejected from commerce selling, so he had lots to give away. Then Dad got to know one of the county commissioners and talked him into giving him and Bill a job cleaning up bricks out of an old house they were tearing down. Didn’t make much, but kept us and several of Dad’s best friends in stable groceries.
One trip I will never forget was a trip up the Coos River fishing. Took our camp outfit, but money was scarce and Dad wouldn’t buy a license. Said he didn’t feel too good and wasn’t going to fish. We should have known better. We get up there and Dad starts out following Bill, but every time Bill missed a big one, Day would say, “Give me that pole Bill for a minute”. He would catch that one, then go on fishing. Pretty soon he would remember it was Bill’s pole, he would give it back and say, “I am give right out”. Needless to say, by the time we started to go home we had several limits cashed away. Are going home around a dugway, Dad look down, a huge redwood had fallen across the river. Dad says, “Bill let’s fish that one more hole. Only fifty yards.” Bill says, “You go fish it, I’ll wait for you”. Dad gets down there, takes him quite a while to climb upon that huge tree, just gets started to fishing, hears a car coming. He runs to the end of the tree, jumps off, lays the pole down and sets down. Sure enough, it’s a warden. He checks Bill’s license and fish, then he spies Dad down by the river. Down we all go. He says to Dad, “Let’s see your license.” “I am not fishing today.” “How come you’re all wet? Your son‑in‑law is dry.” “He has boots in the car.” “How come he is up on the road, you down here?” “He went up to check the kids.” “Them your tracks that jumped off that log?” Dad says, “Yes. Any law against me jumping off that log?” He gets out his book, but don’t write anything in it yet. He says, “I still say if you weren’t fishing, you wouldn’t be wet to the waist.” So up the hill we all go to check the boots. He finally puts his book away. Says,”I know you were fishing, but I didn’t see you.” Dad just out talked him. As he drives away, Dad says, “That’s a relief. I was expecting Elva May to say any minute, ‘Grandpa’s fish are in the grub box.” Needless to say, next time we went, Dad had a license. We were luckier that a lot of our friends, as we could always drop over to Uncle Arnold’s for any kind of off shore salt water fish, such as crabs. Also oysters and clams there for digging. Then, we knew how to make a meal out of what we had. Never in my life did I live where I could run to the store or send a kid.
Well, about this time, everyone got their unemployment checks. Got the first six all at once. It was $25 a week for six weeks ‑‑ $150 in one envelope. Well, I was ready to come back to the farm. I told Bill, “I am going home one way or another.” After about a week, he decided we better come home, so we loaded everything we were taking in the camper. But, with Dad and Vera, had to have one bed outside. Tom and Dad slept outside. If it was stormy, we pitched a tent. We left lots of good friends, happy times, and one of the most beautiful spots to live I was ever in. The timber, the flowers, ferns, the ocean, the fishing. We left some very good friends. Some family and lots of happy memories. I left a few sad memories, but won’t dwell on them.
We come over the mountains to Eugene. Went north from there on, what is now Interstate 5. Got up in a beautiful valley. Saw a sign “Olive Pickers Wanted”. So we stopped. The whole bunch of us made about $7 in two days. From the ground looking up the trees are loaded, green olives. But get up the ladder and couldn’t see anything but leaves. So after two days, Bill tells the boss, “We got to have our money for food and move on.” So we get it. Get up into the hop center around Salem, sign says “Hops 8 cents a pound”. Dad says, “Bill, we should be able to do pretty good picking hops”. Well, they gave us baskets about three feet high and eighteen inches across. Well, by now, you got about four or five pounds in it and are still pushing it down. We had three baskets and all the kids and Vera helping. The best we could so was a couple of dollars a day. We stayed three or four days, then moved on again. We saw a lot of beautiful country on this trip and got lots of new experience. But now we decided we better get for home, and get the kids in school. We go around Portland and head up the Columbia River Drive. This is a beautiful drive.
We got up the Columbus River Falls. There was an Indian camp there, catching fish and drying them for the whole tribe. They had two or three platforms built on each side of the falls with two or three Indians on each platform with huge dip nets about three feet across with about eight or ten foot handle with a rope on the handle. They would dip down on the falls, get the fish trying to go up. Catching salmon going up the river to spawn. The size, anywhere up to 50 or 60 pounds. They had a cable car across the river to bring them across from the other side. They had dozens of tents. Rows and rows of them with wires stretched across them to hang the fish on to dry. It took two or three weeks for them to get enough fish to do their tribe. I don’t have any idea how many pounds of fish they would have dried. Then they were allowed to sell all they could catch for one week. This would be tribe money for the fish.
Well, Dad and Bill hunted up the officer in charge, tried to buy one or two, but he said we would have to wait two more days before the Indians would be allowed to sell any. We got part way back to our outfit when a half‑breed stopped Bill and told him to go to his camp on the edge of the tents and he would bring us a fish in thirty minutes. He sold us a red salmon that would weigh around 45 pounds for a dollar and gave us two steel‑head trout close to ten pounds. Well we canned 47 cans of salmon. The can size like beans and peas you buy. We ate the two steel‑head that day and the next.
Dad was really worried about Bill getting the fish. Said the law would be after us for having hot fish. Dad kept looking back for miles, but no cops. Well, we pulled off by the side of the road under some trees, was a small camp spot to eat dinner. Just got everyone around a quilt eating, when a car with two cops in it pulled off and stopped near us. Dad says, “I told you Bill”. I thought for a minute he was right, but they had stopped to eat too.
Well, we stopped early that night and canned them, as we carried cooker and canner also cans along with us.
Home
Well, we decided it’s time to get started for home, did stop at Grandma Turner’s for a few days. She now has her son Earnest’s four kids, as his wife Dorothy had run away with Earn’s boss. They are managing pretty good and Earn and Odie are both working at Kennecott Copper, part‑time anyway. Grandma has a wonderful garden spot and several different kinds of fruit trees. She does her own canning of vegetables and fruit.
When we get back to the valley, things are a little better, but not much. Vera, my sister, stayed with us. Dad went to LaPoint for a while, around Willie and Ardell Hackford. Roxie and Vera were going to Alterra High School. Clifford going to Fort Duchesne school.
The next summer we take two weeks to move Dad and Vera to Baldwin Park, California. Hurley and George White now live there. They have a big place with lots of nice chicken coops on it. Dad wants to go into the chicken business, so again we take our big truck. We have taken the homemade camper off of it, so we put sheep wagon bows over the top and buy a new canvas for it. Again we take the same twenty people we took fishing and load up and leave for California. We had two bad scares on the way down. We went through Zion’s Canyon through the tunnels. They had a check station to check your lights just before we went into it. When we got into the tunnel, the kids all started yelling turn on your lights. Just around the first bend, there was a turn out and a hole cut to look down the canyon, but our big long truck couldn’t get off the road. Here we are in the road, when here comes a bus barreling through. He just got stopped about a foot from us. Jumps out and starts cussing Bill for not having his lights one. Bill says, “no lights”. “In that case, I will stay here with mine on until you get it fixed”. This he did. We were all pretty shook up.
Camped that night in southern Utah and the first thing Dad does is kill a rattlesnake, so we spent an uneasy night. The next day, we had another close call, there was a cow standing in the road on the left hand side. A car coming about 80 mph towards us. A small raise in the ground kept him from seeing the cow. He only had a very short distance to decide what to do, and he cut across in front of us. Missed us by inches and was a quarter of a mile out in the desert before he got stopped. If Bill hadn’t been going so slow, he would have hit us square. I shut my eyes and yelled, so did the other ladies. But we made it on to Hurley’s. Then the next day, with the canvas rolled up on the sides we picked up Hurley and Glenn and Amy Bower and her kids an went down to the Ocean. We were quite a novelty to California. They thought the circus was coming. But that was the first any of the bunch had seen the Ocean. And everyone went swimming in it, but Mom. Was quite a sight. Some of us only waded, but we all got wet. In those days you could pick up lots of big shells on the beach, now you can’t find anything.
Well, Dad [Ivan] raised him five hundred laying hens. He had plenty of chicken coops. He did all right with them. In a couple of years Vera got married to Kenny Weidner. Dad stayed on with his chickens. It wasn’t long until Willis and Ardell moved down with Dad. They later bought the place, and Dad moved in with Ken and Vera. By now, Dad’s not too well. Has got heart trouble. Had to sell his chickens, too much lifting. He come up and spent a summer or two with us, but the high altitude bothered him quite bad.
Dad never gave up trying to get us to move to L.A., but my experience in Oregon with the strike in the logging camp was all the working for wages I wanted.
Dad gradually got worse and every time he had to go to the hospital, they would call me. Dad is asking for you. In the next two years, I made ever so many trips to California. Sometimes I would catch a ride with someone on vacation and sometimes I would go by bus.
Then in the fall, before he died, we went down and stayed all winter. Elbert did our chores. Dad was so sure if he could get us down there we would stay, but the kids didn’t like it and we let Tom come home on the bus to help Elbert with the chores. Tom as about fourteen then. Bill went to work for Consolidated Rock Crusher. I worked in the fall, packing dates. Then I got a job in an aircraft factory using a rivet gun. We moved in with Vera and Dad. They had a real big two story house in Corona and Vera’s husband, Kenny, was in the service and Vera had two little girls. She worked nights in a cafe. Earnie was about nine months old. Vera tended them days, I took care of them nights. Dad was real bad all winter. He was to be operated on and we were hurrying to get there in time for it. Just barely made it. Went in the next day, and they said they would operate the next morning at eight a.m. to remove one lung, as he had cancer of the lung. They shaved him, got him all ready. I was the only one allowed in with him that morning. I thought it was probably something they had given him, but when the specialist got there, he said “How do you feel, Ivan?” When Dad spoke, he said, “Put him back in bed.” Then they called us all in and told us it was too late. The gruff voice meant that it had spread to his voice box and he wouldn’t operate. Said he knew Dad real well and he knew Dad would rather be dead than hang on for another year or so and not be able to talk. Well Dad felt like the doctor, so no operation.
They kept him in the hospital for a couple of months, then said, “Take him home if you want to, that’s where he wants to be”. So we did. He was in a lot of pain and was never rational at night and I spent most of my nights with my head on Dad’s bed and sitting on a stool, as he smoked if he woke up rational, so someone had to stay with him. Then too, it was a problem to keep him in bed when he got restless. It’s a very hard thing to watch one you love so much die by just wasting away. I watched my Dad die with cancer, watched my sister Hurley die that way too. When I look back now, I think my mother died with cancer too. Then Uncle Odie, Dad’s youngest brother, was with us for four months just before he died with cancer of the lung and throat. His older brother Earn died with cancer too. That’s five out of one family. Dad used to tell my kids “When you are tempted to start smoking, just remember what your old Grandpa suffered, and don’t start smoking”. It worries me as most of my kids smoke. The specialist told me that you didn’t inherit cancer, but you inherit the weakness that caused it. But none of them believe me.
We made a rush trip home to Salt Lake in the spring because my sister Wanda’s husband, Owen Hansen, was killed; got hit by a train while at work. He was putting in overtime on Sunday. Dad said, “You will have to go back Ivy, to be with her, as she has no one else.” He said “I’ll be all right.” Well, it wasn’t too long after we left until he was back in the hospital, as Vera couldn’t take care of him alone, but Wanda moved down in the summer to Pasadena and I kept the road hot all summer, running back and forth. I don’t think that Wanda every forgave Dad for the trouble they had when she was young until she came to California that summer. She told me later that she went in everyday and spent hours talking to him. She told me she didn’t know how much he meant to her until then. But every time he would get worse, he would say “Call Ivy, ask her to come down again”.
I never had any trouble with my Dad when I was growing up. And I never talked back to him or argued with him. I loved him too much to quarrel with him.
Dad
The winter before Dad died, we spent the winter with him. He was in and out of the hospital. When he was at home, I spent most of my nights by his bed, as most of the night he wasn’t rational and he would rave and talk about his not keeping his promise to mother to have the kids sealed to them. This had bothered him ever since she had died. That’s what aged Dad so fast. He was a young man of 45 with black wavy hair when she passed away, but in a couple of years, he was an old man with gray hair. Now he knows he is about to die and according to our and his belief, he would see her again, if his temple work is done. Then he would say, “I don’t know how I will face her after not keeping my word and doing it myself. But better to have you do it than not to get it did”. I made ever so many trips to L.A. that next summer. Everyone we knew told everyone else that I would like to ride to L.A.. I made several trips with Young’s, Bert and Bill.
But I wasn’t there when he passed away.f But, he had also made us promise to bring him home and put him beside my mother. So, Willis and Ardell Hackford brought him home on the train to Murray. He was in the mortuary there for twenty four hours, as Grandma was in a wheel chair and couldn’t come to the Basin. But the rest all come. We held services in Tridell. Buried him beside his loving wife Elva Potter Turnerg. It was hard to bury my father, but not as sad as seeing my young mother laid to rest at forty one years old. As now, he has all his family grown up. Vera is married to Kenneth Werdner and has two little girls and she was the youngest.
The Old Home Place
Ever since Bill and I have been married, seems like we have had someone living with us off and on. When we first moved onto the old place, after we come back from Oregon, we had my Dad and my sister live with us for a while. Then we moved him to California. This is in 1939 and 1940. Then Robert Moore got out of work. Jobs were hard to come by and pay was small. He went south to look for work. On the farm we always had plenty of milk, butter and eggs. Also, chickens and pork. Then we lived across the Duchesne River for two or three years and my sister Bernice and Vern lived with us for about one and a half years. Then Bill helped Earnie move a house down from LaPoint and rebuild it over on the sand wash. They lived here for quite a few years.
Then our place has always been a place where all Bill’s folks and mine could come on vacation and go fishing and hunting. So we have always had lots of company. This we enjoy too. Most of them help out with groceries while here.
Then my brother, Harlan, lived with me for about ten years before he died. Him and Helenh and Annie lived with us off and on over the years. Annie has always been like my own kid to me. Harlan’s wife, Helen, had diphtheria and it left her real deaf and real bad eyesight too. So it made it real hard for her to take care of Annie, so she never got much care.
Mainly, Harlan took care of her, and I had to run back and forth to take them to the doctor. Mainly, Harlan, as he had high blood pressure most of his life and developed a heart condition in early life too. When Annie was real small we built them a pine log house down by the pond at the old place. Here they lived for about four years. Then Helen’s dad convinced them we should pay Harlan for anything he did around the place. They paid no rent and we kept them in milk, eggs and we had a garden and I could look after them. The garden Harlan helped me with but he, Mr. Woodruff, talked them into moving from here. Annie had a hard life. She learned to do for herself real young. We went and helped her what I could, as she was always asking to come and stay with us as my girls and her got along so good. Well, Helen got the idea that I was trying to take Ann away from them, so she always made a fuss every time she come down. But Harlan still let her come a lot over the years. She stayed and went to school with our kids several winters, but Helen never really liked this. Well, I could see why as Ann was all she had, but I thought that Ann needed our family. We all loved her and she was just one of our girls. She has always been a part of our family.
We didn’t see much of her after she married Bryan as he was a twenty year man in the service but we saw them a few times over the years. Now she is back with our family as they live at Randlett and I see them as much or more than I do my own kids. We are proud of her and Bryan and their family as I am happy that they live close to us. When she was staying with us we would take her home every week or two to spend the weekend with them. I realize this was hard on them and hard on Ann, but she grew up to be one of the sweetest people I know and I love her like my own daughters.
Right after we got our new house built, Bernice and her family moved into our old house. Some of the boys were married then, they came too. Here Bernice lived until she diedi two or three years later. I was always glad that she was there so I could help her and look after her when she was sick. I think she was happy there with me. I know I loved having her, but it is hard to see your loved ones suffer like she did. Just die by inches over a period of years.
Deer hunting close to home while Harlan, my brother, was still living with us we decided to go down south of the old place. Between the Duchesne River and the Green River on opening morning. Bill and I load our horses. Harlan won’t ride anymore. Well, we go down the west side of the hill until the road is real close to the river and there is a big four‑point buck standing on the skyline. So we unload our horses. The draw forks up there about a quarter of a mile. The deer is on the middle ridge. Bill tells me to get on my pinto horse and go back to where the pipeline comes across and get behind it. Well, I just get to where he sent me and I hear him shoot, so I pile off my horse. Just then he comes over the hill. I shoot an break a front leg. It turns and goes back down the draw past Bill. I hear him shoot two times, so I get on my horse and gallop down where he is. I said, “Did you get him?” He said, “We got all three.” They had two right close together, but when he went to cut the third ones throat it was gone. It had rolled to the bottom of the hill and looked like he was flopping one leg. I asked him if I could go look for it while they dressed those two out, he said yes but it is probably ten miles from here. Well, it was about two miles to the Indian drift fence, four foot high. Well, I head for the drift fence. There is a trail around it, and I am going down it on a trot looking for him. When my horse spots him out in the timber about fifty feet away. He is really going on a run, so I kick my horse, he keeps up with my horse on a gallop. I think if I can beat him to the next clearing I might get him. Something looked queer about him. All I could see was that big set of horns. When he comes out into the clearing I start and break a front leg. I can see now what looks wrong, both back legs were shot off at the hock joint. My horse runs away. I follow him into the brush, get another shot at him. About that time here comes Bill, leading my horse. I tell him I got him, no use of me going after a good deer as I had a heck of a time getting this one with both back legs off at the half way mark. We had all three filled up, all four‑points, and all big. They dressed out 205-210 or 215.
That was my last deer hunt with my brother as he went to Washington in the spring to spend the summer with Annie. He stayed until just before Christmas. Died in Salt Lake on Christmas day. We had gone to California to spend Christmas with the kids, I talked to him as we went through. He said he would come out after the holidays, and take care of his rabbits and help Earnie and Joan do the chores. We got to California one day when Tom called to tell us what happened, so we flew home to take care of his services. Flew back the next week. I really missed Harlan, as I had looked after him all his life, and for the last ten years he had lived with us. Him and me had fished every stream and lake in the Basin. He would buy the gas, and we would go some where two or three times a week. Well I had lost the best fishing partner I ever had. He would help me with the yard and garden so I would have time to take him fishing. These are special memories to me.
Iowa Back by Oklahoma A Hitch Hike Trip
One time we decided to go to Iowa to see my sister Vera and Kennie, at Washington Iowa. I wrote and told her we were going to Wyoming for a week or two and after Thanksgiving we were coming to Iowa. Well, Ken drove truck for North America Van Lines and Moving Company.
She had gone to Los Angeles to see my other sister Wanda and Joe. The kids got the letter and called her. She called me at Bea’s and said Kenny was loaded to Rapid City, South Dakota, and they would meet us at Bea’s and drive down together.
Well, the day before Thanksgiving here they are. Well, we go rabbit hunting Thanksgiving afternoon. Hunting is great over there. Next day we are on our way. Snowing just a little, wind a blowing. We have a small camper on our truck, and we sleep in it, also do our cooking there too. Well, we spend a cold night in Rapid City. Vera and I have been driving our truck, Bill was riding with Kenny. The next morning we are getting ready to leave. I come up with, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could load our truck in Kens and all ride together.” No one says a word, but about two miles out of Rapid City Kenny starts to back off into the bar pit. Vera drives up beside him and says, “What’s the matter.” Kenny says, “We are loading Bill’s truck into the trailer.” He has a 60 foot trailer. We just get the tail gate down here comes the cops. He said, “What do you think you are doing?” Kenny tells him, “I am loading this truck into my outfit.” They say, “You can’t do that.” Ken says, “My license says I can haul any thing I want to, and I have a license for South Dakota.” By then we have three or four cops, someone had turned in a wreck. Kenny paid no attention to them, and went right on loading it. They did a lot of squawking, but finally decided to let him go.
Well from there to Iowa we hitch hiked in Kens van. Well, Ken is allowed to take an extra driver if he wants to, and Vera and I rode in the sleeper right behind the two seats. Ken says, “If I say close the drapes, you pull the cord and don’t make a sound if I get stopped.” I told him, “If you get stopped one of us is sure to sneeze.” He said, “You hadn’t better!” Well, we stayed in Washington, Iowa, for ten days. Crossed the Mississippi, and went over to Nauvoo. Also down to the Cartage Jail, where Joseph and Hyrum Smith was killed. Saw all the places of interest while there. Saw the Corn Palace in South Dakota. I forgot to mention we went through the Black Hills. That’s one interesting place with so many things to see.
Most of my mothers folks when they left the basin went to Northern California. Now the kids have spread to Oregon and Washington. Well, they have a Potter reunion most every year. My mother was a Potter, and we were awful close to each other until her folks left for the coast. About 1975 they had their Potter reunion about forty miles out of Bend, Oregon, on the DeSutes River at the Cow Camp Park. Bill and I took our camper and went. We stayed there four days, sure had a wonderful visit with all. It was a good reunion. Most beautiful.
In 1977 they had the Potter reunion at North Bend, Oregon, and we went over to Bea and Melvin’s and they went with us. We had spent one and a half years there in 1937 and 1938, so we thought we would like to go back for a visit. This was really a fun trip. We were right on the beach there and one of the highlights of the trip was a deep sea fishing trip for salmon. My cousin Laura’s son‑in‑law was a pilot on a fishing boat and they had made reservations for all that wanted to go, had him engaged for two days. Some of them went out twice. The boat was only equipped for eight passengers and all together there were nine salmon caught. I caught two, one twelve and a half pounds and one six.
Then one day we went down the beach with dune buggies, everyone that wanted to. Then one day we had an auction. Everyone brought a white elephant to be sold, and food you never saw the like of. The money from the auction went to buy the dinner, or help with it. Then each night they all got together and had a dance.
My Sis Wanda
This same year my sister, Wanda, passed away in October. Joe hadn’t called as he didn’t realize how bad she was. He said that they were both looking forward to us coming down to spend the winter. They had both talked to me a little over a month before, and I told Bill she really sounded good. Her voice seemed stronger and I told them we would probably see them for Thanksgiving that year and all get together. So, it was quite a shock when they call to say that she had passed away. Joe said she had just woke up, and didn’t feel to good. So Joe goes to help her to the bathroom. But they never made it. He felt her go limp, and caught her. She was gone. I am so glad that she went that way, as she had plenty of suffering the last ten years. Well, there were nine of us kids, now there is three of us: Vera, Earnie and me.
As I look back now, I will never forget the good times that Bill and I have had with Wanda and Joe. The many places of interest that they have taken us to, and the many nice places they have taken us out to dinner. I have many good memories of my sister and the many things she has given me over the years that has brought happiness to me.
One time when Joe and Wanda come up to spend a couple of weeks with us we took them up to Crouse Res, on the mountain, fishing. We took the camper and let them sleep in it. They really had a good time. We caught some big fish, as Ivan Sheffer [Bernice boy] had his boat up there. It was something new for them, as they never went camping. This was their first time. As when they went places, even if it was trips to Mexico. They would go to inland cities, Acapulco, and spend a week or two and go to Arizona for a week for ten days. But they always stayed at a motel or a resort. Sometimes to big Bear Lake. She had lots of expensive Indian jewelry, and things that come from Mexico inland. She liked city sights and museums, but she also loved the beach. We used to spend hours walking the beach. For years they lived one and a half blocks from the beach. Went to it every day.
My Sister Crystal Wanothel (Wanda) ‑ Joe Stienfeldt
Over the years we have been in California for some winter months. It’s been ten or twelve years since we started this. One reason for going was so I could spend some time with my sister, as Wanda hadn’t been well for ten or fifteen years before she passed away. All this time Joe was working for pest control, and he made fabulous money. He done some jobs on the side, then he got his license and worked for his self. He used to take Bill with him and they would be gone a couple of hours and come home with two or three hundred dollars. After Wanda had that first major operation, Joe never allowed her to do anything. We always ate out when staying with them. I insisted on cooking breakfast. I made ever so many trips to Los Angeles in the summer over the years to help Wands. Not that Joe couldn’t afford a nurse, but because she wanted me. I would make her get up in the morning, have Joe take us with him or over to Elva’s. Get her tired enough so she could sleep nights. Some of the times I went down for a week or ten days, was when her incision tore out after four days. Then when she fell and broke her ankle. Also when Joe had his wreck and trouble. Many other times for things I won’t mention here. But when Joe would call and Bill would find me crying at night, he would say you better go down for a week.
Then I made one or two to Idaho, Gallis, when my brother Earnie lived there. One time Leona called and wanted me to come up and talk to Earnie, as he was drinking. Bill said I can’t go right now, but you take the two little boys and go up with Ira and Ester Wilson to Lava Hot Springs. Then go on up on the bus. This I did. The next morning Ester brought me down to catch the bus, and I just missed it. So, me and the little boys waited five hours for the next bus. I asked the station lady if we should stand outside with our suit case. She said no, they always stop here. But he was late so he goes on by. Well, she gets on the phone. There is another one coming. We catch it, but find out that it only goes to Blackfoot. I have Earnie and Jim, one suitcase, and a bed role. The agent says where are you going to stay tonight. I say right here. I bought a ticket to Idaho Falls, not my fault he didn’t stop. Well, he gets on the phone, pretty soon here is a bus to take us to Idaho Falls. One ticket one half fare. That’s all that’s on the bus. Earnie meets the bus, no Ivy. Well, when I get there I call a taxi. When I walk in he says how did you get here. Well I tell him about a special bus.
One time we took Vera and Ken, Elbert and Sadie up to cart creek before they closed the stream and fished all day. Each of us had a gunny sack we were fly fishing, we put them in the sack in the creek. If we caught a big one we took out a smaller one. By night we had our limit of big ones. The next day Kenny was supposed to leave, he said let’s leave here at daylight and go back fishing for a couple of hours. So the four of us went again. They weren’t biting as good, we stayed all day, Kenny kept telling Vera just one more fish. We got home at dark a day later.
We are expecting visitors in the next day or two, as this will be our Golden Wedding Day. We expect all the kids, most of the grand kids, our brothers and sisters on both sides of the family. My sister Vera called from Iowa, and said they would be here with some of their kids. Some of the Sheffer boys and their families will also be here.
a: Approx. 8 Miles West of Roosevelt along U.S. 40
b: Jessie Arnold Born 9 Aug 1907 died 28 Aug 1909
c: Given the name of Beatrice Ivy Turner but always called only Ivy, born 13 August 1910 in Salt Lake city, Salt Lake, Utah
d: She died 15 Feb 1928 in Deep Creek, Uintah, Utah
e: George Washington Turner Born 29 Jan 1861 in Kentucky, died 30 Dec 1928 in Murray, Salt Lake, Utah; Buried 3 Jan 1929 in Murray, Salt Lake, Utah
f: Died 29 Oct 1945 in Los Angels California
g: See note on burial for Harriot
h: Helen Woodruff was a descendant [Granddaughter?] of Wilford Woodruff president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter‑day Saints
i: Died on 2 Aug 1949
1; George Washington Turner born 29 Jan 1861 of Hudson, Kentucky, and Georgeann Yates born 29 May 1860 at Hartford, Ohio, Kentucky. Married 11 Sep 1880 in Salt Lake city, Salt Lake, Utah Ancestral File of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, George AFN# C4K2‑XH
2; Children of George and Georgeann Turner, in order, are; Ivan Vane 18 Jun 1882 AFN 3822‑MD; Ivy May 19 Apr 1884; John Harlan 12 Oct 1886; Earnest Quinn 9 Aug 1895; Polly May 21 Mar 1898; Othel Walter; 21 Oct 1902
3; Dover, Sanpete, Utah; on the west side of the Sevier river opposite Fayette (near Gunnison and Manti). Named after Dover England hometown of several of Dover’s settlers. Homesteads originally established in 1877. By 1890 the land had become alkaline due to improper irrigation methods so the village declined. During 1930 a drought struck simultaneously with an epidemic, forcing abandonment of Dover, which then became a ghost town. Utah Place Names; John W. VanCott
4; Children of Wallace Edwin Potter and Harriot Susan Kempton, in order, are; Elizabeth Rosetta 29 Dec 1872; Wallace Edwin Jr. 21 Aug 1874; John William 19 Sep 1876; George Jerome 18 Jan 1879; Amasa 23 Aug 1882; Harriot Elva 25 Jan 1886 AFN 3822‑NK; Arnold 16 Aug 1887; Welcome Elwin 12 Mar 1890; Crystal Dean 9 Jun 1892; Ann Craven 27 Jan 1894; James Reed or Reese 20 Jul 1896; Amelia Ivy (Millie) 30 Jul 1898; Royal Elmer 29 May 1900
5; Wallace Edwin Potter born 14 Apr 1850 Mill Creek, Salt Lake, Utah, and Harriot Susan Kempton born 21 Mar 1856 Salt Lake city, Salt Lake, Utah. Married 21 Aug 1871 in Salt Lake city, Salt Lake, Utah Ancestral File of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, Wallace AFN# 1JNP‑FB
6; Ballard; a small community west of Bottle Hollow. It was originally called Wilson for President Woodrow Wilson, then the name was changed to Ballard for a Mormon church Apostle. Utah Place Names; John W. VanCott
7; Deep Creek; Although this label for this creek seems to have been not noted on most maps (probably due to the multiple places called Deep Creek) it is a very long creek that flows generally North South. On the South it joins the Uintah River just north of Fort Duchesne. On the north it goes past the canyon called Mosby. This area here called Deep Creek refers to a rather large area described as twelve miles north of LaPoint, and is dominated by this drainage.
8; All Children of Ivan and Harriot Turner, in order, are; Bernice Elva, 17 Nov 1904; John Harlan 7 Feb 1906; Jessie Arnold 9 Aug 1907 died 28 Aug 1909; Beatrice Ivy 13 Aug 1910; Crystal Wanothel 7 Dec 1912; Harriot Hurley 1 Jan 1916; George Wilbur 20 Jun 1918; Earnest Edwin 4 Nov 1920; Vera Levorn 5 Nov 1923: Ancestral file of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter‑day Saints AFN of Ivy is #3822‑FC
9; Vernal; in the heart of Ashley Valley, it was settled in 1876, although trappers and mountain men previously explored the region and the Ute Indians had inhabited the area even earlier. Vernal has had various names, such as Ashley for the valley where the settlement is located (General William H. Ashley led the early trappers into the valley). Jericho was another early name used to compare the walls of the early local fort and the walls of ancient Jericho. Vernal was also known as the Bench for its location, and Hatchtown for the several Hatch families who settled in the area. In the late 1800's the town name was finally formalized as Vernal, which refers to a beautiful spring-like green oasis covered with grasses and numerous trees. Utah Place Names John W. VanCott
10; Bennett; Located 6½ miles south of Whiterocks and 5 Miles northeast of Roosevelt. It was one of the many town sites laid out shortly after the Uintah Basin was opened to homesteading in 1905.. The site was officially laid out in 1914 but had been settled earlier by John B. Bennett, before James Jones filed for a town site which he wanted to name Cunela. He was not successful. Utah Place Names, John C VanCott.
11; Randlett; First settled in 1902 abandoned and resettled in 1905. Colonel James Randlett was the local Indian agent and commanding officer at nearby Fort Duchesne. Indians and whites both considered him to be a good officer who tried to help the Indians. His name was given to the settlement after it was previously called Leland for a short time. Utah Place Names John W. VanCott
12; Fort Duchesne; Near the Uintah river, originally a fur trading post prior to 1841. In August 1961, the fort was established under President Lincoln. In 1886 two troops of black men from the ninth calvary moved in. They served the fort for twelve years. The fort was abandoned in 1912, then re‑established as the headquarters of the Uintah Reservation. Utah Place Names John W. VanCott
13; Harriot Elva Potter Turner Born 25 Jan 1886, died 15 Feb 1928 in Deep Creek, Uintah, Utah. She was Buried on 19 Feb 1928, outside of Tridell in a cemetery on the hill. Her gravestone simply reads; Mother H. Elva Potter Turner Jan. 25,1886 - Feb. 15,1928.
14; George Wilbur Turner Born 20 Jun 1918, died 25 Oct 1930; [editors note; although this was a shock and concern, it was something striking to William Thomas (Tom) Chandler Jr. who I remember often talking of him and this event]