Eda's trip to the East to pick up Ellis Doty, Missionary
Colaborador: Jane Little Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
This is the story of and by Eda Doty Smith
MY TRIP THROUGH THE EAST
The day was drawing near when Ellis would be released from the Mission Field. The thought of journeying back to meet him was forming in our brains. Dad decided to buy a pickup model of a new 1931 Ford. We could bring it home from the factory, thus saving on the price of freight and furnish means of transportation home.
Ellis wrote that he was planning on driving a car home for someone. This would furnish transportation for more of the family. That wasn't so much of a problem, as I was teaching school at Clarkston and wasn't thinking much about going.
Ruth began perusing the newspapers. She saw an ad wanting 2 passengers to ride to New York and share expenses. Feb. 22 Mother wrote to McComb in answer to the ad in the Tribune. Feb. 25 we received an answer saying he would take 4 passengers for $15.00 a piece. That let me in on the trip. I got permission from Supt. Kirkbride to be gone two weeks, perhaps three weeks. Mr. Malmberg said I couldn't go, but relented when I told him I had gone to the Superintendant. Abbie Scholes Godfrey took my place.
McComb arrived from Roosevelt. In the meantime, Merlin was strongly tempted to buy a new car and have us drive it from the factory. We were hoping very strong, as Ellis' opportunity to drive home a car had failed. ‘Twould be very uncomfortable riding in the back of a truck. However, we were all determined to go--Mother, Ruth, Ina and I.
March 9, 1931 we left Richmond at 8:15 A.M. We got along safely until we got to Brigham. McComb started in the wrong direction. We righted him. Then again at Ogden he started up through the canyon. We could have gone that way, but that wasn't the route we had decided to take. We were going on a southern route #40.
We arrived in Salt Lake City. We cashed a traveler's check at the bank. Ina walked off and left the balance of hers on the counter. Luckily, Ruth noticed it. She picked it up, saying not a word about it to Ina. We left the bank-walked about a half a block when Ina thought about her checks-discovered they were missing. She went back on the run. She was ready to cry when Ruth gave them to her. She was plenty worried. That served as a lesson to all of us. We were, thereafter, very careful with our money.
We stopped at Provo to visit Ben for a few minutes. Richard cried when we left. We had to hurry as McComb wanted to get through Price Canyon before dark. We soon found out the reason. His tires were old. We had a blowout near Colton. We walked the railroad tracks while he fixed it. Twenty-one miles from Castle Gate the sun went down. We drove through the canyon at dusk. We begged to stay at Colton, but McComb refused. The rooming houses weren't good enough for us he said. Before we reached Castle Gate it was dark. There were no lights on McComb's car. I had to ride the fender shining a flashlight on the road so McComb could see. Someone threw a potato on us. Here again we begged to stay at Castle Gate, but again McCloud refused as he said, "Castle Gate is too rough a town for ladies like you to stay in. We were certainly disgusted. We were almost ready to go back. Still McComb insisted. We reached a junction. Mother read, "Price, 10 cents". That gave us a laugh. It should have been Price, 10 miles.
Now I was determined to have my way. I wanted to hail a car for some help. McComb tried, but failed. He refused to let me. I insisted. The first car stopped. They agreed to help us if I would ride with them. The fellow was "kinda" cute. I told him I would if Mother would let me. I knew that would relieve me of riding with them. They drove in head of us, making light for us to reach Helper.
My! The accommodations at Helper were poor. The mattress on one bed was so dirty that none of us would sleep on it. We slept 4 in a bed. Helper is a small railroad center. It was here that Ruth Hendricks Anderson was killed by a train.
Mar. 10 we stayed in Price until 1:30 waiting for McComb to fix the generator so that we could have light. I visited school for a few minutes. We walked around the town. Everything was dry--l'll bet Price is a hot town in the summertime. We played card games. Ruth invented one we called Orlando. We laughed so hard at it. I wish I could remember how we played it. The name Orlando stuck. We began calling McComb, Orlando. Finally we got started again. This time the roads weren't paved. Had another flat tire on the desert. Walked railroad tracks. My, we were a dirty mess! The dust just flew in our faces and hair. We had to stop at Green River to fix the generator again. Then we hit the "bad lands" of Utah. Bad roads, curves, places where bridges had washed out and had dried up, making the road barely passable. For miles we saw nothing but sagebrush. Then a few sheep camps, some cattle. Finally we hit Grand Junction, Colo. at 8:40 P.M.
Were we glad! The tourist camp was clean, even though we had again to sleep 4 in a bed. The water was soft. We all had a shower, washed our clothes, shampooed our hair. The soft water actually made my hair curl all over my head. Fruita was the first town in Colo. Just 513 miles from Salt Lake. I don't know why we didn't stay there.
Mar. 11 we left Grand Junction at 9:00. Rode along Colo. River. Drove through Glenwood Springs. Had chicken dinner there. Then we hit Minturn and Gilman, mining towns. There was quite a bit of snow. Gilman was high up in the mountains. In 4 miles we dropped down to Red Cliff. I've forgotten just the number of feet. However, it was a tremendous drop--then back up again to the summit of 10,424 feet over the Tennessee Pass. Here we had quite a time. The spark plugs were no good. His engine began heating, and he had to use chains and ropes to get us along the road.
Finally we reached Leadville at 6:00 P.M. We tried to get rooms at the Quinney Hotel, but it was such a "Chinky" place, the men scared us. We didn't dare stay there. They didn't have lights, only gas lamps and couldn't give us a double room. We were too scared to stay in separate rooms so we went back to the Star Hotel. There weren't so many men staring at us. Here we had to sleep 4 in the bed again. Good thing we are all small. Here there wasn't a private bathroom--the only bathroom seemed miles away from our room. We didn't dare go alone. The reason we were so scared was that Leadville is a ghost town, the population once 30,000 had fallen to 1000. There were so many deserted places, and the town built on a hill.
That night I was almost determined to take the train and go back home. At the rate we were going it would take us a month to get to New York, and I felt that I couldn't spare so much time from my teaching. The kids would get along—but I might not. However, they coaxed me to stay as I was the one who had to ride with Orlando in the front. Either they were bashful or else were afraid of him. So I got the "breaks". I'm glad I didn't decide to go home. The trip was certainly worth it all. I don't know when I'll ever go over the same territory. Some day I hope.
March 12 we left Leadville to ride along Pikes Peak Trail. They were fixing the roads. One big boulder was in the middle of the road. We just could get past it. We saw Pikes Peak--14,000 or so feet in the air--one of the highest peaks in the west. Here we reached the Continental Divide, Wilkerson's Pass 9500 feet. From now on all water would flow into the Atlantic Seaboard.
Leaving Leadville we drove through some very picturesque scenery. The snow melting through the pines--a small lake surrounded by pines. Met a car full of people--dirty--tousled head kids. They were stuck in the snow. Orlando gave some assistance. Mother talked to them. The air was so hot and stuffy in their car. Thereafter we referred to it as the "Showboat".
We passed through Manitou--Dude Ranches--Villages for Millionaires. We ate dinner at Colorado Springs. I still wish we had taken time to see more of that city. What we did see of it was very beautiful. We ate a bounteous dinner for 35 cents--pork chops, beans, salad, potatoes, pie and milk. At Buena Vista we were stopped by some cowboys who inquired about the roads.
That night we got as far as Aroya—a one--house town. A bearing had burnt out in the car. Orlando had expected something of the sort, as he carried a spare. Here at Aroya we had our choice of sleeping in a dilapidated, remodeled schoolroom or in the car. We chose the schoolhouse. There were no lights, only a lamp. As we marched up the stairs I stumbled over an old stove on the stairway. I surely barked my shins. I'll bet I said some naughty words. There were no modern conveniences, all open air. Even the "bite "ouse" as Grace once called the "back house", had no door on it. Here we had 2 beds, but we had to sleep in bedding that had been used. They didn't have any clean. However, we slept the sleep of the just--awakened only when the train went by and when some people stopped and asked for gas. There wasn't any in town to be had. We were afraid they would steal from us, leaving us stranded until the trucks brought gas in. They didn't.
The next morning we hit out for Kansas. Left at 8:00. Now we had left the mountainous country. Level plains stretched for miles. We could now make some good time. The fields all were green. We passed through Kit Carson--the place we were trying to reach before the bearing burnt out the night before. Ate lunch at Winona. I guess we remembered this because of Winona Johnson--a neighbor. Here Ruth lost her dark specs. That day we traveled 300 miles and stayed at Wilson, Kansas. The cabins were clean--double showers, unlike the shower bath at Helper, which was just a tub of cold water.
March 14 we stayed at Sweet Springs. Here it was very cold. The day before there had been a very bad blizzard. 75 cars had been stalled. Consequently they had little left in the line of food supplies to offer us. We made out fairly well. This night Orlando didn't have to work on the car so he came in and preached to us on the ways of Youth of Today--some sermon. We had to race up and down the road to get our blood in circulation. The cabins were clean, but there were no modern conveniences. We used large "slop pails". I lost my comb down one. I let it stay.
Orlando stayed shy of the large cities for some reason. We passed through the outskirts of Kansas City, Mo. late in the afternoon, but he wouldn't stay there. If my memory is good, Kansas City, Kansas and Kansas City, Mo. were separated only by a large bridge. We crossed from one to the other.
March 15 was Sunday. We ate breakfast at Columbia. I bought a postcard on which I could check items of news, saving having to write it. One I checked was that I was broke. When Merlin received it, he was about to send money to us. He didn't know me so well then, as he does now.
Orlando made us arise at 4 o'clock Sunday. We certainly wanted to make good time. We held Sunday School along the way. We crossed the sluggish Mississippi River over a toll bridge at Louisiana City. I was rather disappointed in the river--it was so muddy and slow moving. It hardly seemed to be moving at all. At Springfield we saw the monument of Abraham Lincoln, also his home. We arrived late that evening at Tuscola. It was raining somewhat. We stayed in a Tourists' Home at Tuscola. We ate supper in a cafe and were scared walking all the way home---or rather to the "hotel".
Ina and I were slow getting ready for bed. Ruth and Mother, therefore, had their choice of the beds. Naturally we wanted Mother to have the best bed and were quite surprised when they chose the old had cot. The cot had clean bedding--the good bed did not, so they wouldn't sleep in it. We fooled them. We asked for clean bedding and got it.
We arose the next morning and ate a very greasy breakfast. The day was dark and dreary--a light mist was falling. We drove through Indianapolis--quite the city--to Richmond, Ind. Here we stopped and bought some oranges. Two boys from Wyoming came running over to the car. They wanted to talk to someone from the west. That night we stayed at South Vienna. We were nearing our destination of Pittsburgh. We were scolded because we used too much water. Their wells had run dry and they were saving rainwater. There was a scarcity of water. To us who were used to letting the water run because there was always plenty it was quite an experience to talk to someone who realized the value of good water.
We crossed the Wabash River--made famous because of the song "Wabash Blues". March 17 we saw an Irish parade at Columbus, Ohio. At first were all excited because we thought was a strike or perhaps a breadline we had heard so much about. Here we dressed up in our best. We stopped at Stuebenville, cashed our traveler's checks and made our final payment to McComb. That was the arrangement, that he should receive only half of his money at first and the balance when we reached Pittsburgh.
That reminded me of an incident in some "jerk water town" where Mother and I wanted to cash one of our checks. In one of the towns the bank was closed for a funeral. We couldn't find out the reason for the closing of the bank in another town. We asked some kids but they only laughed at us. At the third town we came to we were nearly an hour late because the town was Eastern time and we were figuring on Central time.
Getting back to Stuebenville: We had passed through Wheeling, West Va. the coal town-We saw lots of mines, miners and coal-Also a funeral. We got caught in the middle of it. Finally we reached Pittsburgh about 4:00 P.M. I'll never forget the first glimpse of the city--seemed like the houses were built on terraces--the smoke and the trees just beginning to awaken to Spring.
We inquired of a policeman the way to the address where we might find Ellis. We met him at the chapel. How shall I describe our meeting? To say we were glad to see him after two years' absence would be to put it mildly. We brought in our things from the car and Orlando left us to go to New York for his wife. I never saw him again. That evening we went to a party the missionaries had arranged for us. Mother couldn't go. She was worn out completely. I shouldn't have said it was a party for us. The Saints had been expecting us the night before; and had held a part for us Monday evening. It was Tuesday evening we arrived, just in time to go to Mutual. A dance was held after.
When we arrived in Pittsburgh two telegrams were awaiting us. Merlin had decided to purchase a Chevrolet coupe. Both telegrams were sent confirming the final arrangements and telling us when and where to get his car. That made us very happy as having another car to drive home would give us more room, also would be much more comfortable. I, especially, was happy, as Merlin would be able to have a car of his own to come "court" me any evening he so desired. As it had been, he was dependent upon his father--having to share the car with Lyman and Eldred. Sometimes Mer couldn't get the car when he wanted to. Then I'd have to ride the street car.
Ellis had made arrangements for us to stay at a private apartment while we were in Pittsburgh. It was just a short distance from the chapel where he stayed. I can't remember the name of the lady who owned it. She had a little boy, Jimmy, who was rather a cute child, until he made a pest of himself.
The next morning we were shown the town. The Elders held a street meeting in our honor. First, they had to obtain permission from the police. One policeman refused. Another referred them to another. Finally, permission was obtained and a meeting was held. I can't remember much about it as I was too excited about everything. That morning we had a family discussion which had led to some misunderstanding, and consequently ended in tears. I had cried so hard I had made myself ugly--then they had to coax me to come to the street meeting.
At first it was quite hard to attract a crowd. People would just walk on. We sang one or two church hymns, had prayer, then the Elders began to preach. I can't even remember who talked, Elder Doty and Elder Gunnell, I suppose. Then they passed out tracts. Ruth and Ina entered right into the spirit of the occasion--l couldn't. I don't know why, but I couldn't.
Then Ellis took us through the large Department Stores--one of the largest. We clung together. It was such a big place we were afraid of getting lost. If my memory is right, we spent the next evening at dinner at Dr. Link's. I'll have to ask Ellis to refresh my memory about Dr. Link. His wife is some relation to Aunt Laura McCarrey.
After we came home that evening we discussed our going after the cars-to Detroit for Dad's car and to Flint for Merlin's car. We called about bus connections and decided that Ellis and I would leave that evening--Ellis to go because he knew more about the country around, besides a man was needed to take care of the business end. Dad had given Ellis’ name as the one to pick up his car, and Merlin had done the same.
We left that evening about 12 midnight to get the bus for Detroit. We had 26 blocks to go to get to the station and about 10 minutes to do it in, so we had to call a taxi. That was my first "offense" in a taxi with a meter clicking off the miles. We got to the station in time. There weren't so many people on the bus. I tried to sleep, but the driver "honked" at too many cars and stations. It seems like Cleveland was the place the bus stopped at for breakfast. I can't remember right. I can visualize the place in my memory, but not enough to describe it, nor tell the place. We arrived in Detroit that afternoon. We got the new Ford truck. Then we drove through town to the Post Office. Merlin had promised to write me at General Delivery at Detroit giving instructions and final details about getting his car. The letter hadn't arrived. I never did get the letter even though we called at the Post Office on our way home from Canada. It was finally returned to Merlin. He wouldn't ever let me see it.
That night we drove to Flint--about 65 lies beyond Detroit. Ellis tried to get in touch with the missionaries but was unable to do so. I stayed that night in a Y.W.C.A. place. The room was nice and clean. I was to share the room-not the bed-with another girl, but she didn't come.
That morning we drove out to the Chevrolet Plant. Luckily, we had taken one of the telegrams Merlin had sent to us to identify us in getting his car. We must have had an honest look about us, for the "headman" didn't question us except to ask us through which firm Mer had bought the car. We supposed it was the Cache Auto Co. which was a right "suppose". Now we were ready to go with the exception of one thing--we had no licenses for the car. The red headed man suggested we wait until the plane brought the airmail in--a mere chance that Mer would send licenses by airmail. He did. While we were waiting we were conducted through the plant. Such a big place it was. So much noise. Each worker had one job to do such as putting the gears in place, another fastening the bolts down, etc. I'm not very mechanical minded so I didn't know much what was being done, except there was a lot of noise, pounding, etc, and the cars were assembled very quickly. Then we went out and chose the car I was to drive home. Merlin wanted a black car, but I couldn't see anything except a blue with yellow wheels. That was the one we got. Then we started on our way home or rather to Pittsburgh.
It was tiresome driving alone. I could hardly keep awake. I sang, talked, did almost everything I could think of, to keep me awake. It was tiresome for Ellis, too--especially after not having driven for 2 years. His leg bothered him so, so whenever he got the chance he would pick up a "bum" and have him drive for him. Sometimes he would ride with me and let the "bum" drive the car alone. One evening I was plenty scared. It was getting dark, about 8 o'clock. Ellis was with me. Some kid he had picked up was driving the Ford. We were driving through Toledo, Ohio. You bet I clung onto the trail of the Ford as closely as I could. The kid was going to take us to a boarding place to sleep-his mother's. How easy it would have been for him to slip in one of the side streets, lose track of us, change the license and have a new car for his efforts. He was honest, however. The Lord must have been watching over us, as we did have his protection all the way on our trip.
The house on the outskirts of Toledo was a funny little place--dark hallways, no outside windows on the room they wanted us to take first. They changed us to a better room. We had to pay for it--the rooms in advance as we wanted to get up earlier than they did to be on our way. It was more expensive when we each had to have separate rooms--if we had been 2 girls or 2 boys.
We arose very early that morning and started on our way. Again "Bud" got tired. A well dressed young man was on the road. Ellis picked him up. He rode with him until noon. Then Ellis got tired of the Ford, so he got out, waited for me, and the kid drove on. I picked up Ellis and away we went. Ellis dozed all the way. The kid and he had made arrangements to meet outside the city limits of Pittsburgh. I wasn't driving as fast as the kid in the Ford. He got out of sight. We never saw hide nor hair of him until we got to the "heart" of the city. There he was waiting for us. I'll tell you we were plenty worried. So worried that we promised each other to say nothing of the matter to the folks. We never said anything about it until years afterwards. I was glad to get to Pittsburgh so I could get out and stretch my weary legs.
Mother, Ruth & Ina had gone to the Carnegie Institute while we had been gone. Also they visited the Heinz Pickle Factory. I was sorry that there wasn't time for me to do the same. However, I did go to the Carnegie Institute. We rode the trolley down town. Ina and I were very fascinated by the number of "coons" we saw. I was tempted to sing "Coon, Coon, Coon, I wish my color would fade, etc." every time we saw one. We even had to sit by them.
Ina and I were so taken up by the dinosaurs and specimens of worms that the rest got tired and went home. At that time the dinosaur there was the largest one that had been discovered, over 400 ft. long. I think I have made a grave error in the length, perhaps it was only 76 feet. I shall have to look that up. There was also a collection of every different kind of money used in the world. Then the worm collection. Both of us are frightened to death of a worm. I can spot one a "mile" way. Seems as though I have a sixth sense when it comes to spying a worm. I can't enjoy nature because I am always on the "lookout" for them. I scream my head off whenever a worm gets on me. Nevertheless, the worm collection had sort of a horror fascination for me and Ina. We couldn't stay away from them. We'd wander away and then keep coming back to the worms. I'll probably dream about them tonight.
After the others had gone, we got panicky. We didn't know which trolley to take home. Ina had walked home once before, so we decided we needed the exercise, so walking home we started. I don't know how we did it, but we kept on walking until we got to the right place. We did ask the direction once. We were hungry so we stopped in a drugstore, ate a sandwich and inquired if we were going in the right direction. It was dark before we got home. The folks were rather worried about us.
The Elders-Belnap, Giles, Gunnell, Baptist, and Doty were certainly a fine group of young fellows. Ellis was the Conference President. LeGrande Gunnell was to succeed him. The Saints held a farewell for Ellis the Sunday we left. Everyone cried. It's sad to think of the good friends one makes in the mission field, then has to go home in 2 short years, perhaps never to see the dear friends again. Sister Elizabeth Simmons sang a song—words to fit the tune "A Perfect Day". She could hardly sing for crying. Sister Baetz felt badly about it, too. Then she felt that way about all missionaries, so they said.
I had quite a chat with LeGrande one evening. I was telling him about all the scandal and town gossip--his being a Richmondite. One thing I remember talking about was Vean Bair giving his Frat Pin to Billie Glenn. LeGrande spoke up, "If there's one thing I hate, it's giving a girl a Frat Pin. It means nothing and never amounts to anything. If he wants to be engaged why doesn't he buy a diamond or else just come to an understanding? The Frat Pin Engagement never lasts." Then he looked at me. My face was growing redder every minute. I was wearing Merlin's Frat Pin. Imagine his embarrassment when he discovered it. I laughed heartily, but was embarrassed for him. This time he was mistaken about Frat Pin Engagements. Both Vean and Merlin married the girls to whom they gave their Frat Pins.
One incident I won't forget in the Sunday School held that morning was the faith of a little 6 year old boys who was a cripple. He walked up to the front so bravely to be blessed for his affliction. It was a very touching scene to me. That evening Ellis went to one of the branches about 35 miles from Pittsburgh. He wanted us to go, but we were too tired. Ina went. The Saints were expecting us. They were glad to see Ina, but very disappointed in not getting to see Elder Doty's Mother.
We left Pittsburgh and went to New York City. An Elder Christensen took time off to show us the city. We contacted the missionaries when we got there. I don't remember where we stayed. We visited Macey's--the largest dept. store and almost got lost, it was so big. We went to the top of Woolworth Bldg. which then was the tallest in the world. The Empire State Building was only in the making.
We went to a Broadway show--Marie Wilson and Ken Murray's Blackouts. We were so tired, we slept through half of it. Mother was so worried seeing 3 girls asleep with purses on their laps. We rode the Subway and took a boat trip to the Statue of Liberty, climbing to the top and looking over the city, etc.
We visited Philadelphia on the way, visiting the historical places such as Independence Hall, etc. Went to Washington, D.C. Mother called Fred Schow. He used to live in Richmond. She taught him in school. So he took the day off and showed us around Washington. The White House wasn't open to the public but we visited the Congressional Library and the Senate and Representative rooms, sat in the Speaker's chair. We visited the Smithsonian Inst., Arlington Cemetery--Pres. Washington's Tomb. Went to Mt. Vernon and toured the house of Washington, visited Lincoln's Memorial and rode to top of Washington Monument.
We went to Palmyra, visited the Sacred Grove. It was pouring rain. We visited the Joseph Smith home and were told it was where Joseph had received the visit from Angel Moroni. It was quite a let down when later we were told it wasn't the room. We visited Niagara Falls and went to Canada--re-entered U.S. through Michigan. We were impressed with the falls.
We visited with some of Ellis' missionary Saints-the Lindts-Otto and 2 or 3 girls and their mother. They fed us. That was the first time I had tasted Campbell's canned tomato soup, this was at Buffalo, N.Y. The Saints were good to the missionaries.
I don't remember where we stayed on the way home, but I do remember driving through Wyoming, getting to Rawlins in the afternoon about 4 P.M. and Ellis thought we ought to keep on driving. It began to snow. Mother was so tired and so worried. She rode in the Chevy with us and kept reading the mileage signs. It seemed like an eternity before we got to Rock Springs--there was no other place to stay. It was so cold we were afraid our cars would freeze up. Luckily they didn't and we were able to be on our way early the next morning and arrived home safely.
The next day we washed and shined the Chev and I drove down to Logan. Merlin was surely glad to see his car. Don't blame him. That was quite an accommodation to let us drive his car 2000 miles before he got to see it.
George Ellis Doty biography by Eda Doty Smith 1957
Colaborador: Jane Little Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
This is a story of a man born in poverty and hardship, who, through abiding faith, unflinching courage, and prodigious hard work pulled himself up by his bootstraps and carved a niche for himself in his community and gained honor and respect from those with whom he came in contact. Of course, as his child I am partial and will be far more interested in his life than any one else will be. Nevertheless, I will write the facts as I learned them and will leave it to you to judge just what kind of man he was, should any one of you be interested enough to read this biography.
Benjamin Landon Doty, son of Ellis and Amanda Landon Doty was born in Canton County, Penn, Mar 12, 1835. He lived the first few years of his life there, receiving some schooling and training from his father who was much interested in law.
As a young man of 19, B.L., as he was called, felt the urge of the times, "Go West, go West." This he did and became interested in the Gospel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which he joined, coming to Salt Lake city in 1856. Here he met Mary Jane Huffine and was married Dec. 1856 by Pres. Brigham Young. To this union was born 7 children, 2 died in infancy. When he wife died and left him with 5 children he was sore perplexed as what to do. (Not true, they were divorced and she died in 1878 in Montana)
When Mary Jane Butterfield Whittle's husband died leaving her with 4 children, it seemed the natural thing for B.L. and Mary Jane to get married and make a home for 5 motherless and 4 fatherless children.
They were married May 12, 1874 at Richmond, Utah and lived in a 2 room house that Thomas had provided for Mary Jane. To this marriage were born two children, a boy on Sept. 20, 1875, and a girl on August 29, 1877. The boy was blessed and given the name of George Ellis Doty by John Robinson, Dec. 5, 1875, and his name was entered in the church archives. The girl was blessed and named Alfaretta.
It is of this boy who became my father and of whom I am very proud that I write.
You can imagine what a commotion there would be at times in this two room house where father was born with his kids, her kids and our kids. Benjamin or B.L. as he was called realized that there should be more room so he made an addition to those 2 rooms by adding 2 rooms on the ground level and 2 upstairs. This relieved the situation a great deal. Then too, Mary Jane's boy, Edwin, fell in love with Adeline, B.L.'s daughter. These two were married and moved to a home of their own. Several of the older children soon left home to work or be married. Consequently George and Etta didn't get too well acquainted with their brothers and sisters.
Dad didn't ever have time to tell us much of his early boyhood days. He was too busy making a good living for his own children. He wanted us to have things much easier than he had. We did! As a result, the chapters about his early life will be very skimpy. Mother kept a good record of the work he did after they married.
You might say that Dad was born on the wrong side of the "tracks", because his father was not a farmer. Richmond was a farming community and any one who wasn't a farmer didn't move in the "upper circles". The Dotys were very poor. B.L. worked at all sorts of jobs. He operated a saw mill up the canyon what old timers called "Doty Holler". The blade was one that went up and down instead of around. This was slow work, but it was the best to be had until the circular saw was introduced.
One day when B.L. was up the canyon working at the sawmill he came face to face with an old brown bear. He didn't stop to think what to do, he just turned and ran through brush. A young sapling was in the way and caught B.L. in the crook of the elbow as he was swinging his arms running. The break in the momentum threw B.L. right around the tree a couple of times. This lacerated the ligaments and muscles in his arm. As a result his arm was crooked the rest of his life. This ended his sawmill at the canyon. He then set up a chopping and grain grinding mill at home--chopping grain for all farmers who needed it.
B.L. was the first man to introduce commercial ice cream in Richmond. He learned how to make it when he went back east to gather genealogy. He tried running an ice cream parlor but wasn't too successful. He tried his hand at law. He had some of his father's law books, so he studied up on the subject and was elected City Judge.
Dad started to school when he was six and completed the third grade. He learned to read well and was an avid reader all his life. What's more, he could remember what he had read. His favorite poem was:
"Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchor of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
'Tis of the wave and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock and tempest's roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee--are all with thee!"
The books they used in school were McGuffy's Reader, the Book of Mormon, Webster's Blue Book, Spelling Book, Ray's Arithmetic.
Because Dad liked to read so well, Santa one year, brought him a story-book, "Tom Tear-About". Dad read this book from cover to cover many times. One day it turned up missing. He looked high and low for it, but couldn't find it anywhere. Lo and behold, the next Christmas there it was in his stocking again. Poverty?
Dad's father taught his children to work hard at what they were doing, and to do it well, while doing an honest day's work. Dad followed this advice to the letter. Indeed, Dad's favorite axim was, "I can't is a sluggard, too lazy to work."
Leaving school, Dad, in the summer would hire out as a farm boy wherever he could get work. One summer he worked for Apostle Merrill for 50 cents a day and his lunch. Mrs. Merrill gave him bread and honey every day. No butter on the bread--never any variation. That was a pretty poor lunch for a growing boy.
In the winter he would go up the canyon to get wood for his parents. When he got the logs home he would have to saw them up for firewood. That was hard work for a boy to do alone, so Dad got his inventive mind to working. He rigged up a saw and using a horse for power, would saw those logs into blocks and then split the blocks into fire wood.
One day his mother's churn broke while she was making their butter. She didn't know what she was going to do. She didn't have money to buy another one.
"Never mind, Ma," said Dad when he saw what had happened. "Just put that cream away and I'll get you one in just a little while."
He went out to the corrall fence, dug up the corner cedar post, and fashioned a new churn for her--top, bottom, dasher, staves and all! His Mother was surely pleased and used it for years. Dad was always repairing things. I don't believe there was any thing he couldn't repair.
Dad was baptized in the L.D.S. Church July 1, 1883 by C.H. Monson and confirmed the same day. After that he attended Sunday School pretty regularly. After going to his own Sunday School he would go quite often with Oscar to the Presbyterian Church. He learned a lot about their religion--Came in handy when he wanted to argue about religion, which he did quite often. He liked the songs of the Presbyterian church and tried to sing. Poor Dad, he couldn't carry a tune in a sack, he said.
One day in company with Frank Whitehead, Parley Wright and Brig Hyer, he went to the Presbyterian Church. They sneaked in and sat on the back bench. A little dog followed them in. They began to tease the dog. They got him to growling and barking. They all laughed and created quite a disturbance. The minister knew these boys, so he called them by name and asked them to come to the front. Dad was sitting on the aisle, so he marched right up to the front. The other boys ran out the back. The minister gave Dad quite a lecture, then let him go. He had the other boys arrested and fined for disturbing the peace. The punishment that the judge meted out--Dad's father--was to work on the water ditch for 5 days without pay. Parley Bright lost his Sunday coat while serving out his sentence. His mother never forgave Dad and his father for this. She lived next to Dad and Mother after they were married and she was forever reminding Dad about this.
In 1892, when Dad was 17, his father and two brothers and himself left for Millard County--Deseret they called it--in Dec. They drove a team of horses and a covered wagon--using this for shelter at night along the way. The wind was blowing and the snow was falling, making the traveling quite difficult. They were going down there to homestead land. Mary Jane stayed home with two children, Etta and Charles, until B.L. could clear the land and get a title to it.
When the father and the three boys arrived at Millard there was no place to stay, so they selected a place and made a "Dug-Out" to live in during the winter. They didn't have too much food and the dugout was damp and cold. Dad became very ill, so ill they finally had to send for the Doctor, who said George had pneumonia and should be taken out of that damp place. They had nowhere to go. Discouraged, the father decided to go back to Richmond, and Dad heard him say, "I'll go, but I don't know how I'll get him home alive."
Dad spoke up, "Pa, I'm sure if you'll get the Elders to administer to me I'll get better. The Elders came. Dad said as soon as they laid their hands upon his head he felt better. Several other men from Richmond had come to Millard at the same time. When they heard of the serious illness of Dad they came to give what little help they could. Martin Thomas brought him a quart of milk every day and Dad was soon better.
Grandfather Doty was very discouraged with this homesteading venture. The land didn't look too promising. He couldn't see any future in it so in the spring he and the two older boys went home. Dad remained there, giving up the homesteading idea, to hire out for Mr. Eakle to do farm work.
Mr. and Mrs. Eakle were fine L.D.S. people. They had two small boys. Mrs. Eakle was so kind to him. She was a very good cook. The Eakle family had family prayers and asked the blessing on the food each meal. One day Mr. Eakle told Dad that he was going to call on him to pray. This worried Dad a great deal. At home his father would have family prayers frequently, but had never called on Dad to participate. All the prayer Dad had ever said was, "Now I lay me down to sleep, etc." When Dad went out to plow that morning he composed a blessing on the food and a prayer similar to Mr. Eakle's. Next day, true to his word Mr. Eakle called on Dad, who was ready to respond.
Then and there, Dad made up his mind that if he ever had a family he was going to have them participate in family prayers. He kept his word. All of us kids were taught to ask the blessing as soon as we could talk. Then as we got a little older each one was taught to say the prayer. As soon as we could read, and sometimes before, we repeated a verse from the Bible before we said the prayer.
How well I remember the time when Ben was thumbing through the Bible to find an easy passage to read. Dad was in a hurry. He was always in a hurry. "I gotta eat, gotta go" was his byword. He grabbed the book from Ben, opened it and pointed at random to a verse. "Read that," he said. How we all snickered when Ben started reading, "Take the book and eat the book and it shall make thy belly bitter."
Another time, Mother had been trying to teach Ina a new verse to say, "Judge not according to the appearance." When it came her turn she recited, "Judge not according to the Pearts." We all laughed and laughed. The Pearts were a family in Richmond.
That summer Dad built a two room house all by himself. He hauled the rock, dug and built the foundation, planed the lumber, made the adobe for bricks for the chimney, plastered the house and finished it throughout, even doors, windows etc. After he finished building the house he was so homesick that he returned to Richmond.
Years afterward, he kept wondering whatever happened to the house. Aug. 13, 1941, he and Mother were in Salt Lake City when Dad remarked again that he would like to know if "his house" was still standing. Mother convinced him the only way to find out was to go down and see. It took a lot of persuasion on her part. He kept saying it would be a "wild goose chase", but he finally gave in. It was 48 years since Dad had been there. Things had changed somewhat. He finally located a friend who directed him to an "old timer", Herbert Taylor. Mr. Taylor remembered all about the house and directed Dad to the Place. Dad was real delighted to find the house intact. It had never been painted, but had been lived in until about 10 years ago. Dad also located the dugout where he had spent such a miserable winter.
Dad always called the place Deseret, so one day Ruth asked him, "Did you ever sing "In Our Lovely Deseret?"
"No," replied Dad, "But I sang, "In Our Lovely Helleret."
War had been declared with Spain. The country was asking for volunteers. April 29, 1898, Dad was the first in Richmond to volunteer. Several days later five more young men volunteered. Richmond City held a big meeting and farewell for these young men. At the close of the meeting the officers of the Y.L.M.I.A. pinned white satin badges on the boys. Mother at that time was the secretary. She had to pin the badge on George Doty--not paying any attention to him, as he had never noticed her. Afterwards he said to the boys, "I'm going to get that girl when I come home." He did!
The following is a record that Mother found among Dad's things:
"The boys left for Fort Douglas, May 5, 1898. I was the only one from Richmond that was accepted. We left via train for San Francisco, May 20, 1898 and embarked on the U.S.S. Colon for the Philippine Islands, June 4, 1898. We arrived in Cevite Harbor July 17, disembarked the next day. We were sent to the trenches before Fort Malote, July 29. We engaged in several battles--one being the surrender of Manila, another in the first engagement of the Philippine Insurrection, Feb. 2, 1899.
The peace treaty was signed Dec 10, 1898, but several of the provinces took part in insurrection. It wasn't until 1901 that peace was finally accepted.
The company that I belong to--Battery A. Utah Light Artillery set sail for home on the U.S.S. Hancock. We visited Japan on the way. We arrived at San Francisco harbor July 29, 1899 and arrived home Aug. 20."
Upon his arrival at the station, the city en masse, with band in lead, went out to meet him. The people carried him from the train to the carriage. That evening a big reception was held in his honor. People have said it was the largest celebration ever held in Richmond. Dad made the remark that he hadn't been as frightened in any of the maneuvers of the war as he was standing before the vast audience he was now facing.
The following is a hand bill circulated throughout the city the day before Dad came home:
Dear Sir: Through the graces of an all-wise Providence, our brave and patriotic volunteer, Geo. E. Doty, has been permitted to return to his native land. He is glad to get back. We rejoice because of his return. We are proud of him and his record. All should aid in making his heart glad by being present at the Ball to be given in his honor, Monday Evening, August 21st, 1899.
Show your patriotism by buying a ticket, (50 cents) to help defray the expenses of our Richmond Volunteer's Celebration. Committee
Dad never said too much about his experiences in the army--just like all soldiers of today--said he'd like to forget the fighting. He said he did his share of K.P. also. He did bring home a pet monkey as a souvenir, but had to get rid of him. He got too mean.
Dad now began trying to find work. His father had died in 1896 of pneumonia, leaving Mary Jane and Alfaretta with nothing except a few chickens, a horse and a cow.
Dad worked at various jobs, then the mayor appointed him city policeman. He soon cleaned the city up of drunks and troublemakers.
He was afraid of no one. This wasn't very high pay. He could make more at building so he resigned and set about in earnest to become a carpenter. Then the city appointed him street supervisor, a job he held for one year.
True to his word he began courting the girl who pinned the badge on him. He said it took as much courage as it did on the battlefield for him to ask her for the first date. Here she was, a well educated young lady teaching school, and he just an ex-soldier who hadn't gone beyond the third grade. It always rankled that he didn't have as much education as she, so he kept studying and read a great deal to keep up.
George Ellis and Hannah Elizabeth Adelaide McCarrey were married June 26, 1901 in the Logan Temple. They held a big reception June 28, 1901 out under the stars--used kerosene lamps to supplement the light. On two long tables they served pressed chicken and all that goes with it--cake, ice cream and strawberries. They received many lovely presents and set up housekeeping in the two north rooms of his mother's home. Here they were as happy as could be for three months, Lizzie teaching George how to sing. She had her own organ. This is what Mother has written about that little episode.
"Never say you can't learn to sing. When we were first married George could not sing at all. Could hardly tell one tune from another. I had bought an organ while teaching with my school salary $25 per month the first year and $35 the next. One of the School Board said, "Why pay that much? That's more than I pay my hired man." Well, I'd play for George. He learned to sing "Love at Home", "We Thank Thee O God for a Prophet", and "Do What is Right" in the three months he was home, before starting on his mission to the Western States. The ward gave him an L.D.S. Hymn Book. He took it on his mission and learned to sing many of the hymns. Someone showed him how to play "Peter, Peter Punkin Eater" with 2 fingers on black keys. One day someone said, "Can you play, George?"
He said, "Sure." He went to the piano and played "Peter, Peter
Punkin Eater" and sang "Do What is Right" at the same time. Beat that if you can. So don't say can't."
This account of Dad's mission I have copied from her diary. "We lived in Mother's house three months before George was called on a mission. We left Richmond Sept 29, 1901. He had saved enough money to keep him on this mission for one year. I, with my school teaching money, the money of my relatives and his mother kept him the rest of the time. He traveled without purse or script as much as he could. The winters were long and cold. He and companion would go into Denver, rent a room and keep house. He worked hard, studied and memorized scripture, which was useful to him throughout his life.
When he returned Jan. 14, 1904, I was teaching 1-2-3-grades in Millville, boarding at Mrs. Eliza Garr's home. He lived with his mother until June, when he came with a team and wagon, bringing me and my belongings home. While George was on his mission I gave music lessons, taught school and saved money to buy a four room house from Mr. Gridley for $575 cash. There were two rooms below and two rooms upstairs, and a good rock cellar.
When George came home from his mission he did not like the looks of the house, so he raised it up, put a foundation under it; to make the ceilings higher he put logs all around, put in larger windows. I knew nothing about this; it was a surprise to me. He would stay with his mother during the week and come down on week-ends to see me. To pay for his board with Mrs. Garr he topped the trees around her place, cutting and sawing limbs into firewood. Sometimes he would have to walk, then he would go on the railroad tracks because the roads were almost impassible. During the winter besides working on our house, he papered Mother's house, also Hattie Christensen's, built Gilbert Bright's house (now Nellie Jonas'), furnished the material all through, receiving for his work a house and a piece of land, north and east of R.R. water tank, below the high-way. In later years he had so much work to do and nothing with which to farm, that he sold the piece of land. Never knew how much or to whom he sold the land. He also built the iron fence in front of our house.
We moved to our own home in June. Then George started to build a barn for Emily Smith. He then got some work at Sego Milk Factory. He would get up at 4 or 5 o'clock, as soon as he could see and work on Smith's barn till 7 o'clock, hurry home, eat breakfast, then go to the factory. After work there, he would go work on Smith's barn again as long as he could see. This is just a sample of how hard he would work."
That fall the City hired him to lay street crossings with lumber (2x4), as Richmond is a very muddy city. Some of these crossings are still in the ground where no pavement has been laid. I saw them in 1950 when I walked over to Maggie Merrill's home.
Dad's life was full of hard work. If it wasn't on hand he went in search of it. He has been a contractor for churches, schoolhouses, homes, barns, granaries, factories. He built the Pea Factory at Franklin, the Sego Milk Factory at Preston, Idaho, the Can Factory at Richmond, and was Building Supervisor of Sego Milk for a great many years. He has been a plumber, electrician, mason, locksmith, has fixed clocks, watches, sewing machines, any type of machinery he could fix. He put in water systems in Richmond and Lewiston, dug trenches, drilled wells. Everyone laughed when he "water witched" the well for Sego Milk, but he got a dandy. He has installed generators, dynamited under buildings to make basements, made auto wagons, (Hoover wagons they were called), invented hitches for wagons, made stanchions of his own invention for cows, invented a litter carrier and track for the barn he built, and made a derrick fork. He had a blacksmith shop where he made all things. Many is the time that I had to go help blow the forge or hold something, or run errands for him or hand tools to him; and all the while he would keep swearing and saying that he didn't know how to make it. He always had it made well, though.
When the W.P.A. built the gate and posts at the city cemetery, the City didn't like the job, so the City Officials hired Dad to take those out and make some good ones. They said, "What George Doty builds he builds well." When Dad put in the new Water System for Richmond, the city officials were very proud of the job that Dad did. They said that it was the first time that they thanked anyone for presenting a bill to them, but they were so proud of the work that he had done that they couldn't help thanking him repeatedly. The Mayor said, "George has given true service to his community."
Dad built houses all over the valley, up in Montana and in Marsh Valley in Idaho. The last house he built was when he was 65--the house in Preston we are living in at this time, 1957.
Dad was always fixing cars. The first car he had was an old Reo that he had fixed up, getting parts from several cars. Then there was a succession of second-hand cars--Fords, Model T., etc. His first really new car he bought was a Chevrolet Sedan, the first glassed in car with a heater. We got it for Christmas. How well I remember riding all over town, rolling down the windows and calling out to anyone passing--"Look, no coats." Our Sedan was the first one in Richmond. After that Dad always had a new car, and drove fast to be the first one to get there.
Dad was good to Mother. He was always trying to fix things to help her. When they were first married Mother used to turn the washing machine by hand, giving it so many hundred turns (usually 500), then rest. Dad rigged up something for Old Nell, his horse, to turn the washer. Mother has written, "Something like horses use to go around to make threshing machines go."
When the city decided to put in a water system, Dad sawed off the end of the kitchen, added a bathroom and pantry, built a cabinet for the pantry, installed the bath tub, toilet, basin, tank and sink, then installed a motor to turn her washing machine with water power, which she used until electricity came.
In 1924, Mother attended an Extension meeting where Mrs. Barrows of the U.S.A.C. talked on kitchen improvements. Mother decided to do something about hers. When a contest was announced for the best kitchen improvements, she entered it. Dad helped her. Together the two of them remodeled her kitchen and won first prize, even though Dad was still hustling and fixing things up at the last minute the judges came to score.
When Uncle John was called on a mission in 1922, Dad took care of his farm, or rather the boys did. This experience gave Dad the idea that a farm of his own was a necessity, especially to keep the boys busy--also the girls. Many is the caw I have milked and row of beets I have thinned, hoed, and topped. Many an acre of hay I have cut. Dad said this farm work was "recreation" for us. So he bought 160 acres of irrigated and pasture land, also some rock piles, just north of Richmond. He also bought some land on the river bottom from Mother's sister, Kate, and rented 26 acres of beet land from Aunt Becky.
With this much land you would have thought he should have been satisfied to stay home and farm. But not Dad--he went out contracting and building--to make the farm pay he said. When the work would pile up on the boys Dad would hire men to help, and Mother would have to board them. Dad always had some hired man working for him. I vaguely remember one called "Happy" and Jesse Horn, a queer old duffer. When Ellis went on his mission, George Kennington, a young boy with no home, his mother was dead, came to stay with us. He stayed seven years.
Dad didn't have any trouble getting men to work for him. He always paid them well and on time even though he would work them like the "devil". He had no use for a lazy man. Everybody had to "step around in a hurry" when working for Dad.
Dad had a quick temper and a sharp tongue. When things didn't go right or someone wasn't moving fast enough to please him, Dad certainly would yell and let a person know. One time when a young man tipped over a wheel barrow of cement, Dad yelled out, "What in the hell do you think you're doing? Why in the Sam Hill can't you watch where you're going?" It liked to have scared the poor kid to death. When Dad realized what he had said and how scared the kid was, he came up to the boy and said, "Forget about it. I've done the same thing myself." (Orval Christensen told me this.) That was the way Dad was though; he would speak out so quick and loud, then be sorry for what he had said. Orval also told me, "You learned to love "Old Dote" when you got to know him."
Dad was very big-hearted. He never turned a man away in need. Any old tramp could always get a meal and a bed from Dad. One time he even made an old buck and his squaw sit up to the table and eat. No one ever said "No" to Dad once his mind was made up.
One time during the Flu epidemic when everyone was afraid to let anyone in, a knock came to our door. Dad called, "What do you want?"
A man with a long beard stepped into the room with a pitiful tale of how cold and hungry he was. Dad said, "We'll give you something to eat, but we've got a family of little ones and Flu being so prevalent we are a little afraid of taking anyone in."
The man said he would not come in but would be very grateful for food. So Dad gave him a stool to sit on the porch. Mother fixed him some hot biscuits (we were just going to eat), meat, fruit, coffee. Dad took it out to him apologizing for not letting him come into the house. The man thanked Dad saying, "The Lord will bless you, I am so grateful."
We all watched him through the window until Dad made us quit. The men ate, then handed the plate back and thanked us again, then went on his way. He went half way down the block then turned and came back. Mother was watching him. Dad went to the door asking, "What is it, now?"
The man walked right past Dad into the house and said, "I just want to thank you for what you have done." Then he pulled off his beard. It was Fred Christensen, a local man. We sure had a good laugh. Fred said that he wanted to test George Doty to see if he would turn a man away hungry.
Dad would help anyone. One day as he was walking down town he saw Ivy Albiston mowing the parking. The grass was quite high. Dad said, "Ivy, that is too hard work for you. You ought to get your old man to do that." Then he turned back home and went home, got a rope and came down the street again. He tied the rope around him and fastened it to the lawn mower. He pulled the mower while Ivy pushed it. He wouldn't do it for her, but he would help.
He would lend his tools to anyone who needed them. It got so that the neighbors would come right in his shop and borrow things without asking. "Old Dote won't care." Harvey Wilding borrowed a plow share that Dad had made and sharpened before Dad even had a chance to use it himself. Harvey took it on the hillside and plowed among the rocks until he ruined it. Just brought it back without a word of thanks.
Roy Albiston borrowed one of Dad's rubber tired wagons, had a flat tire, took it to the garage, had it fixed, and charged the bill to Dad. Dad told Hen Plant, "That's one bill I won't pay." He didn't.
Dad loved to play jokes. Mother used to call April 1, "Dad's Day." We were the only on on the whole block either side that had a telephone. The neighbors used it all the time. So it wasn't hard for Dad to call them to the phone on April Fool's Day. They'd come hurrying over, then Dad would surely laugh at them. He used to drop parcels half way down the block so people wouldn't suspect him. when anyone would open the parcel they would find a message, "April Fool."
One April Fool's Day Dad got up early, fixed his parcel with "horse biscuits" in it and dropped it on the street. Then he walked down to the factory. He left his car home on purpose with a note,
"April Fool" lying on the seat. This and the package was supposed to be for Ivan Christensen who always used to come and wait in Dad's car so that he could ride to the factory. This morning Dad said, "Here's once Ivan will have to walk." When Ivan came and saw the note on the seat and not wanting to be fooled, he got Harvey to come help push the car out, then went coasting down hill to the factory. The laugh was on Dad. Mother was watching out the window to see what happened to the little box Dad had wrapped up. Jim Peterson came along before Ivan, saw the box, picked it up, shook it, then went back of Steed's house, (he rode to the factory with Steed) and opened the box. He just slammed the box away. He was surely mad!
Dad and Mother were very proud of their five children. He made all of us work hard--maybe that's why I like to get out of work now. Dad did all he could for us. He provided well, gave all of us a good education. When Ben was nine years old, Dad and Mother bought him an accordion, then later a violin, and Ben began taking lessons from Omansen, the High School music teacher. Then Mother got a wild idea. She would have an orchestra. Dad bought the instruments--not the best but what he could afford. Dad never went into debt for anything. He always paid in cash.
The "famous Doty Orchestra" consisting of piano--Mother, trombone--Ben, violins--Ruth and Eda, Drums--Ina, coronet--Ellis, went all over playing for programs and dances. Busy as he was, Dad always had time to take us wherever we were asked to play. The most auspicious occasion that we played for was for Gov. Bamberger. It was quite a novelty in those days for a family orchestra, but we played for dances all over the valley. The orchestra was disbanded when Ben went on his mission. Someone asked Dad what instrument he played. He replied, "I play the bills." Dad sent both Ben and Ellis on missions. Dad was very proud whenever any of us achieved. I suppose the most famous one is Ellis the Doctor. He was featured in Life Magazine several years ago in the "Life of a Busy Interne." Ben follows a close second. He has a very important position in the T.V. world.
All of us kids had at some time or other gone to Yellowstone National Park. We finally persuaded Dad to take Mother and go. That was the first vacation they had had since they were married. Dad enjoyed himself so much that he found out a little recreation does a person a lot of good.
The next year he and Mother went to the World's Fair at Chicago. Dad had a wonderful time. Another trip that he and Mother had a lot of fun was the time when they climbed to Cherry Creek Peak--over 9000 feet. He and Mother in company with George and Ethel Webb, Noah and Libbie Woodland rode horses up to High Creek Lake, then hiked to the top of the peak. It was a beautiful view of the entire valley.
Mother had promised Ben and Leona if they would have a baby, she and Dad would come over to Hawaii to see it. Ben was teaching school in Honolulu. When word came Sept. 9, 1937 that a fine baby boy was born to them, Mother began planning to keep her word. Dad kept saying he wouldn't go, said he had crossed the big pond once before and nobody was going to get him to do it again, but he went right ahead and sent for reservations. What a wonderful winter they had. They visited all over the island, going to the Japanese and Chinese sections--visiting their celebrations and funerals. They went to the Hawaiian feasts and Hula dances. Mother even learned the language. Mother kept busy, played accordeon. But Dad--it was hard for him to be idle. Finally he rustled up a job working on the L.D.S. Temple at Laie. Now they moved 40 miles away from Ben but Dad was happy, he was working. He still called the island "Alcatraz." They stayed six months there.
Dad and Mother spent a winter in Mesa, Arizona. Dad remodeled Clarinda's house. He just had to work to keep happy. They visited all of Mother's cousins and saw a lot of Arizona.
The folks spent a winter in California with Ben and Ellis. They had a wonderful time. They got to see all the radio programs and celebrities--Lum and Abner, Tom Brenneman, Dr. Pepper, etc. Ben was radio technician. They visited Ellis at the Navy base at Majave. Each time they planned a trip, Dad said, "I'm not going." But Mother would proceed to get ready and when the day came, Dad was always "raring to go."
Dad was a great reader of the Bible. I believe he could tell you where to find any subject that you asked for--the Book, chapter and verse. He read all the Church books. He was considered quite an authority on religion. He used to love to discuss it, especially with Reverend Nutting, the Wagon Missionary. He could prove every point that they talked about in the bible. Once he made the Rev. Nutting retract a statement because, as Dad said, it was not in the Bible. Dad liked to go to Sunday School. He received recognition for perfect attendance.
Dad had reversals in life. He had lots of runaways with teams, thus breaking wagons. Just after he took over Uncle John's farm, he had nine head of horses die. He had horses run away and he never found them. One time he had bought a small team of white horses. He had tied them to a post in the hot sun. Mother felt sorry to see them standing there in the hot sun so she moved them and tied them under the trees. She didn't tie very good; they got loose, ran away and Dad never could find hide nor hair of them.
One day when he was fixing the water in the basement and had all the water turned off, sparks from the forge flew into the shavings on the floor and set the shop on fire. All Dad had time to move was his Dodge and 48 sticks of dynamite. His truck, paint, tires that he had piled up for the wagons he was making all went up in smoke, and what a smoke it was. The whole town turned out to help. They were fortunate in keeping the fire from the house.
Dad was a good Democrat. He never missed "exercising his franchise". He always was an important figure at election time. Mother was a Republican. She was elected City Treasurer at one time. Mother said she believed Dad was such a good Democrat that she thought he didn't even vote for her.
Dad was appointed City Judge, a position that he held for years. He was always fair in his decisions and treated everybody alike. He played no favorites. When young men were arrested and brought before Dad, his favorite sentence was to fine them so much money and so many days in jail, then he would suspend the sentence if they would go to church so many times and learn so many verses of Scripture. A good many boys were willing to do this.
Dad was a small man, was 5 ft. 6 1/2 inches tall, weighed 136 1/2 pounds. His eyes were grey, his hair brown. The condition of his health was fair. I think he would work too hard--far beyond his strength. He had pneumonia several times. He had chronic catarrah, suffered a lot with his stomach. He had his tonsils out when he was 50 years old. He had a lot of kidney trouble. He was in the Veteran's Hospital several times. He would never take ether. One day when he was working in Preston at the Sego Milk factory, Orval asked him to look at some machinery that wasn't working just right. Dad got down in the pit to look at it. He had Orval turn off the motor. He was examining the cog wheels when Orval forgot and turned on the motor. Dad yelled, "You've got my hand in it. Turn it off!" It was just through sheer strength that Dad held those cog wheels and kept them from tearing his hand to pieces. They took Dad to Dr. Cutler at the Preston Hospital. It took two hours to clean the grease off, sew and dress his hand. Dr. Cutler wanted to give Dad ether while he sewed up his hand, but Dad refused. He said, "If I ever take that damn stuff I'll never come out of it."
Dr. Cutler didn't know what to do so they called me to come to try to persuade Dad to let them give him ether. I tried, but Dad said,"No!" very emphatically. So I told Dr. Cutler to go right ahead, that if Dad said no he meant it and that if he said he would lie still that he would do it. Dad held my hand all the while they took 20 stitches in his hand, the sweat just pouring down his face, but never flinching, just squeezing my hand when the pain was too much to bear. Never have I had my hand squeezed so hard. Just the other day Dr. Cutler reminded me of that incident. He said he had never seen so much courage.
True to Dad's prediction, he was operated on for a removal of a kidney on October 9, 1945. Dad died under the shock of the operation at the Veteran's Hospital in Salt Lake City. He was buried with full Military Rights on Oct. 13, 1945 in the Richmond Cemetery. Tributes were paid by Bishop Johnson, Mayor Plant, H.F. Olson and Casper Merrill. They praised him as a staunch and fearless defender of the right, as being well read in the Gospel, always willing to be of service in the church, as a valuable citizen, for his honesty and efficiency, his untiring service to the community as a builder, his fair and wise decisions as city judge, and his fearless insistence that judgment he carried out, his loyalty to his country, his love and consideration to his fellowmen. Just as Taps were sounded, the sun broke through the light drizzling rain, making a picture that will always remain in my memory. He was truly a kind and loving Father.
Written by Eda Doty Smith
July 11, 1957