A Letter to the Johnson Family
My mother, Signe Elisabeth Holmes over the years gathered pictures of her friend Irene. One of the pictures was at the Tintic Standard (Dividend), a company town east of Eureka. Both Irene and my mother were just young girls then. Later they both ended up in Bingham, Irene at Carr Fork and my mother at Telegraph. I remember many Swedish girls coming to our little old house in Telegraph, Irene included. I also remember my mother taking me to Irene’s at Carr Fork. The last visit was when Irene came to my mother’s house at West Jordan in 1955 to give me a really nice serving bowl with cover for my wedding with Joyce. I remember the coffee pot was always simmering on the stove. The coffee was poured but in those days each person added cream to her cup and poured it into her saucer where it was sipped or drank from. The sugar was a piece of cubed sugar held between the teeth while sipping. Mrs. Viktor Matson was usually there too. They played cards, crochet, knitted and gossiped. I have given Karen some pictures Irene’s children and even one of her mother. Edna was such a pretty girl.
I worked with Dick in the Boiler shop for about 20 years or so. Many of us were from Bingham and about the same age. We came s helpers for an older generation of Journeymen, Lewis Ballamis, Mike Verdikis, Eagle Eye (George Blake)and Philip Compagno to name a few. In time we all became Journey men and the shops became more modern. We worked hard but there was always time for fun and laughter. We worked in pairs or groups and we had fun. I can still remember when Dick held the pattern in place for Al Pollock to mark with a center punch. Dick’s hands were spread out wide and Al was supposed to hit the punch in and around his fingers. Dick said, “Hit it harder I can’t see the mark”. Al did and Dick screamed, “I mean the punch not me”, his nail was already turning black. “Okay, my turn”, you hold the pattern and guess what happened. We worked together, eat together and played together.
I liked to work with Dick. He always had a smile and never complained. I never did much with Gene except talk or say hello as I passed though the machine shop. I still remember him sitting on a stool while his little lathe pealed the shavings off his job. I heard he got some training in the Seabees.
Love Gene Halverson