Thursday, September 29, 2011


Bears and more Bears
By Eugene Halverson
Keith Webb--Levi Bullard--Gene--Nuffy going to Donkey Lake
As I wandered here and there in the high mountains above Bear and Galena Gulch above Bingham, even those above Butterfield, Middle Canyon, Markham and Dry Fork, I was always looking for new animals and birds.  I was twelve years old and wasted my hard earned money to join the Audubon Society to get their bird pictures, but the birds I found were quite different from their pictures. 
Bingham 1903
There were a few lions, bobcats and coyotes but all the bears had been killed years before my time.  It was legal to shoot any and all of these poor animals back then.  In 1903, Edla Antbrams in her story in “No fa ja te America!”  tells us about mountain lions and bears in Bingham. 
The boardinghouse was located in the canyon between the mountains and to reach the city itself, you had to walk through the mountain.  On the road to and from the dances the girls were afraid to be attacked by mountain lions.  If you run into one you were supposed to stare them straight in the eyes, and they would leave you alone.  It would stay still or run away.  Edla was told that mountain lions had attacked some from behind and killed them.  Something else you could do on your free time was going on hikes and picnics.  Up between the mountains was an open, beautiful place where youngsters used to have their picnics. .
Muddy  Manti Forest
Emil Backlund and the other men from Esse, Herman Warn and Ant Jansson were not satisfied with slaving down in the mines in Bingham.  They were dreaming of owning their own mine.  During weekends they did prospecting up in the mountains.  Northwest of Bingham there was a place that contained silver and they made a claim to that.  Together with the men from Esse, Pi Soderlund, Fred Andersson, and Jonas Jakobsson they started to work the claim in their spare time.  The problem was that it was so far away and there was no water or electricity.   In order to keep the claim they had to dig at least 10 meters a year.  But without equipment the men really had to work hard during the weekends.  For some time the men from Esse slept on pine tree branches and under the open sky, but later they purchased a tent.   During the nights they always kept a gun or an ax close to the bed because there were bears and rattlesnakes.  One night when Jansson went over to another claim to borrow some light, he met a bear.  Jansson rushed down the mountain to Bingham.  Only the next morning did he dare come back up the mountain. 
David Thorne
Cooked in tin-foil in ashes
I remember the time Gene and I went fishing in Yellowstone Park in the fall.  At that time of the season, there were very few people in the park and the scavenging bears were hungry.  One night I was sleeping soundly when a black bear started tugging on my sleeping bag and pulling me with me in it, out of the tent.  At first I thought it was Gene trying to wake me up early to go fishing, as was his custom.   When I realized it was a bear, I let out a blood curling scream and the bear bounded off (with Gene chasing).   Later that morning, out in the woods, we found the blanket , that had been over the foot of my sleeping bag with big rips in it.(tents in those days had ties, no zippers then) He must have made a lot of noise and almost tore the tent down.  They were canvas ties and almost impossible to break, yet he broke every tie across the bottom and one side, David’s side.  Probably why he was who was dragged away.)

Billy Houghton, Oh! You should the one I just saw.  A deer, did you shoot?  Nope, well I wasn’t ready.  You were asleep.  No, not really.  Where was your bow?  OH, just lying there.  Billy loved to hunt but he was always sleepy.  In camp he would fall asleep playing “Dice”, dice in his hand ready to shake and his eyes would close. 
Today he came back with a real whooper of a tail.  I was watching this trail and when all of a sudden,  there was this cougar just standing and watching me, eight feet away, his ears was laid back and he started to crouch, I thought I was a goner, I didn’t know what to do.  So, I reached down and picked up my bow and then an arrow, he didn’t like that.  I pulled back and shot, he jumped over the arrow, missed him, and he was gone.  Before I could stand up he came back in another direction, so, I shot at him again.  The arrow seemed to wait for him to jump over it and ran back in the trees.  He was back behind me now and I could not find my quiver.  God, I was really scarred then when he started walking, ears laid back and just beginning to crouch down but still walking.  We asked him if he got killed and he did not think that was funny.  As I was feeling for my quiver, I found a three foot club, and as soon as I jumped up he ran away and did not come back.  (I wasn’t the club that chased him away; it was when he discovered Billy was bigger than he was)  David Thorne and I chased many a bear away doing that.
Billy was sitting in this tree watching another trail.  This time a Great Horned Owl hit his fur cap and knocked he right out of the tree.  He hates owl now.  (a Forest Service Warden walking a trail was killed when a Horned Owl’s claws entered his temple.)
Pine Martin

I loved Yellowstone in those days.  Bears were mooching food in every garbage can and every campground.  Cars were always stopping to feed the bears and taking pictures.  It was the best wildlife park anywhere.  Every night we took a trip to the garbage dump.  There were bears and more bears and it was fun watch them tearing big holes and eating what they found.  But as many as they were they did not seem to hurt anyone, scare them, Yes, hurt then NO.  It seem like bears are always hungry and searching for food and leave food laying around the camps and in the tent.  They are just asking for trouble.  It really is too hard to leave it in the car or hoist it up a tree, just do whatever you can.  A real problem for bears and people is caused by the Bear Hunting Guides who leaves food all summer long so their client can shoot the dumb thing.   I remember seeing bacon hanging here and there on many trees to bring them into the big feast is waiting.

Then the Grizzle Bears came, off and out of the way the brown bears scampered.  They looked and were mean.  Then some high muck-it-y-muck said this is not good and closed all the dumps, wrote tickets like crazy.  Then the bears starved to death by the thousands.  Now if you want to see a bear, you get up early in the morning and start driving.  Now I can find more bears here in Utah than Yellowstone. I have over the years got quite close, maybe even too close to quite a few bears in the Uinta and Manti Forests. 
It seems like every bear I seen almost run over the top of my brother, Lee.  It had rained for two days down on Elk Ridge and yet Lee could see dust raising from the tracks and seen dry ground where his claws tore the ground up. 

It was still quite dark if it wasn’t for the smell Lee would not have noticed the dead cow and that something had been eating on it.  He walked a little farther and found a large rock to sit on.  Something big and brown was coming through the trees, maybe an elk. No, it was a big brown bear; he stopped to sniff and then ran right up to the rock.   Bears have poor eyesight but a wonderful nose.  He knew Lee was there but he must not have known where.  But Lee never thought the stupid bear would rise up on his hind legs and mover closer still.  There he stood just four or five feet away, sniffing.  He stood seven feet high and his head was as high as Lee’s.  Lee sat quite as a mouse.  He could see the new fur was growing through the old dark fur, an old bear but not very pretty and he was very close.  The bear would look at Lee then away, then back to Lee a few more times and then he finally just turned and slowly walked away.
MUDDY  on the Manti
I loved Mohawk Lake, it was mostly above “Timber line” just rocks and more rocks, some as big as a house.  Pica lived in these rocks and if you could be patient  and be quite you could see and hear them with a mouth full of grass scurrying here and there preparing for winter.  They were so cute and quite tame.  They look like a small tan rabbit with short ears and usually sat with their front paws holding the grass as they chewed on it.  The Pine Martine was their only enemy and maybe if you were lucky you could see one of them too. 

 I saw a Wolverine, a Pika, a Pine Martin at Mohawk Lake
I smiled when I heard their shrill scream, but it was not me they were screaming about.  I was close but not close enough to tell what was wrong.  Then there it was the strangest animal I had ever seen.  He saw me and just wandered away, he just ignored me like I was nothing to worry about.   

I looked at hundreds of pictures and described it to everyone I knew, even the Fish and Game and Forest Service, and that was a waste of time.  Then 10 years later someone near Randolph  took a picture and put it in the newspaper.  It was a Wolverine! They said it was the first ever sighting of a Wolverine in Utah.
Once on the Muddy, near timberline, I looked up on the branch just above be and looked eye-to-eye with a cougar, ears laid back and just looking.  I needed a camera not a bow and arrow.  The other mountain lions were farther out and running away.  Boy, they can sure run, faster than a deer I know. 
Two Grizzle Bears
Well they killed them all off and will not allow the wolf to come to Utah, shame-shame.
Frank Clark shot Old Ephraim in the head on 22 August 1923 with a .25-35 carbine rifle with seven rounds. It reportedly took all seven rounds to kill the bear. Clark described killing Old Ephraim as "the hardest of them [the bears] all". Clark planned to kill the bear in 1914, but did not succeed until 1923. On the night of 21 August, he woke to "a roar and groan", and took his gun to investigate. At this time, Clark says he was unaware it was Old Ephraim. After several unsuccessful shots, Clark finally found the bear, which had been caught in a trap Clark set earlier. Even after he used six of his seven rounds, the bear did not go down and shot Old Ephraim in the head. Clark would express remorse for having to do it. "Eph" bit a 6-inch , aspen log off in one bite, that was 9 feet, 11 inches above the ground. He also bit a 13-foot log, 12 inches in diameter, into eleven length, as if they had been chopped.  At the time of his death, Old Ephraim stood 10 feet tall and weighed 1,100 pounds.  And later his mate was also killed. 
Trevor waiting for a deer
A giant Grizzle roamed the Boulder Mountain, killing cattle and sheep. He would range clear across the mountain from Boulder to Coyote (Antimony).  In April of 1919, the snow was three or four feet deep, when the bear arrived he killed five steers and a burrow with a bell on.  Claud Vee Baker took hounds and went to chase the bear.   When he got on to the mountain, the snow was so crusted the horses could walk on the snow, but the bear was too heavy.  He kept breaking through.  In spite of this he got away.  He went all around the mountain, but was finally killed by Rube and Charley Riddle near Coyote, Utah.  The bear weighed 2,200 pounds and was 20 inches between the ears.  He made a trip around the Boulder Mountain every 30 days.  One foray, he killed a five year old steer of Johnny Kings.

Monday, September 26, 2011


William Adams Hickman.
And the
1857 Mormon War 1858
From the Hickman web-site by Steve Richardson
Letters of Capt. Jesse A. Gove, 10th Infantry, U.S.A.,
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Our whole train is 9 miles long. It takes about 6 companies to guard it. I wish you could see the train as it moves along. Two Mormon spies were taken in camp yesterday by the 5th Inf. They are two brothers Hickman, brothers to the celebrated Bill Hickman who is hovering around our rear with a large party. We are in constant expectation of an attack, mostly in the night with a view of stampeding our animals. Dandy is blanketed and in front of my tent. We sleep on our arms, ready at any moment to fall in to receive our Mormon friends. It snowed yesterday morning and also last night. It goes off readily; all this is excellent for us as it wets the grass so they cannot burn it. It is a Godsend for us.  

On this night we (our wagon train) were riding along leisurely, not realizing how rapidly the army was moving on a forced march, so that when we passed through the train on the divide, about midnight, we were fully four miles behind the regiment.  Then a force of Mormon cavalry under Bill Hickman descended upon us and set fire to the wagons and all their contents.  Hickman soon afterward told me in Salt Lake City that his force stood in a cedar forest half a mile south of the road when the regiment and its wagon trains passed, and that he started to fire the train when he heard horses' hoofs coming up from Green River, when he turned back under cover and waited until a small squad of mounted men (which was myself and my eight companions) passed.  The same night or early the next morning the Hickman's and other Mormon cavalry burned up the two large supply trains at Green river and Big Sandy--thus depriving the army of about 500,000 pounds of provisions intended for its maintenance during the long and severe winter then setting in. . . .  
 Tomorrow I am detailed for the advance, and I hope that I may meet some of the murderers. I do think from all I can learn from the mountain men, who know them well, that they are the greatest set of villains on earth. They say that this Bill Hickman, who is one of the 70 destroying angels, has murdered more than a hundred men in this country with his own hand. We hope to meet him ere long. Our grass is much better than we expected to find. We made today 10 ½ miles over a rough road.
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With the loss of all their wagons, food and tens of thousands of animals the Army could no longer march into the Salt Lake Valley and fight their war.  Instead they had to camp in Wyoming and endure the many hardships that Wyoming snows, wind and blizzards could give them.  In the meantime, there was lots of footwork by a truly heroic figure, Thomas Leiper Kane of Pennsylvania, who managed to work compromises from both sides that allowed the Army to enter Utah without bloodshed and Governor Alfred Cumming to take over the civil leadership of the Territory of Utah.  Col. Albert Sidney Johnston, was to lead the troops into Utah the following summer.  

William Adams ("Wild Bill") Hickman was one of the most notorious outlaws of the nineteenth-century American frontier. As a bodyguard and spy for Mormon Church presidents Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, he was popularly known as a "destroying angel." However, a matter of disagreement among historians is whether he acted more often in his church's interest or independently as a true renegade.
Hickman obeyed the Mormon teaching of polygamy and was husband to ten wives and father to thirty-five children. During the Utah War of 1857-58, he rallied with his fellow Mormons and was one of the most effective guerillas in the hit-and-run attacks that wore down the attacking U.S. Army. When he was later arrested and jailed for murdering a government arms dealer during the war, his troubles multiplied when he implicated Brigham Young. Young returned the favor by excommunicating him and never speaking to him again.
When he died in Wyoming in 1883, his reputation in three states forced many of his relatives to change their name to escape the social stigma of family ties, while the residents of the small town in which he died refused to bury him in the city cemetery. Still, whatever one thinks of his motives or degree of loyalty, Hickman left an indelible impact on the history and myth of the West as a rough, undisciplined frontiersman who nevertheless helped to establish the Rocky Mountain kingdom of Mormons.  
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 I, William A. Hickman, was born in Warren County, Kentucky, on the 16th of April, 1815. My parents moved from Missouri when I was a boy three years old. My grandfather told me I had twenty-one blood relations in the Revolutionary War.  I went to school as a boy. I fell in love with a pretty, black-eyed girl, Miss Burchardt and married her at the age of seventeen years. My father tried to get me not to marry so young, but failed. The first six months after I taught school. I had seventy-five students. My employers said it was worth more than all the schools they had before. I investigated every religion I ever heard of, even Mormonism and I continued to investigate it for two years. I lived on the road the Mormons traveled from Kirtland, Ohio, to Western Missouri. I had almost a daily chance to talk to them.
Being thoroughly convinced they were right, I joined them the spring before they left Missouri. I had good standing in society.  The Mormons were very disliked by the Missourians and there was much sorrow expressed by my friends and relations for my joining them, but I told them I was honest in my convictions, which was true.  Nothing but salvation could have induced me to do so.  My opinion was then and is yet that the Mormons were greatly wronged and abused. I sold my farm for a low figure and left for Illinois. I saw much suffering and distress among those who were leaving Missouri, women and children barefooted and hungry, but these things were soon remedied. Our people were helped in Illinois, got work to do and could get things they needed for it.  I gave away as long as I had a dollar to those sufferers.
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In April following, I saw the Prophet Joseph Smith for the first time and had a long talk with him and liked him very well.  I spent a year in Hancock County and then went to Nauvoo and stayed another year, then moved back to the country and stayed until the spring of 1844. Going to Nauvoo frequently, I heard Joseph Smith several times. I considered his preaching Bible doctrine. I heard him speak of the United States Government several times, which he always did in the highest terms. I heard him say once to a public audience that the Constitution of the United States was part of his religion and a good part, too.  He said that he was satisfied there would be war in which the United States would be engaged, but he did not expect to live to see it. "No," said he, "Brethren and friends if any of you have anything against me, come and tell me, and I will make it right. Do not be backward.  Come publicly or privately and see if I do not satisfy you, or anyone that has anything against me."
  I went to bid Brigham Young good-bye when he crossed the Missouri River and he asked me to stay back to help protect the Saints. 1 arrived in Utah in the fall of 1849. 1 received the appointment of Deputy United States Marshal under Joseph L. Heywood, he having been appointed by President Z. Taylor, which office I held until 1858, about four years.  I was licensed to practice law. That winter a new county was granted by the legislature, taking in Green River Ferry. W. J. Appleby was appointed probate judge with power to organize said county and to appoint all necessary officers to hold offices until next election. We went on to supply Fort Green River, where the county was organized by Judge Appleby. I was loaded down with offices.
Fort Hickman
William Adam Hickman was one of the 52 men who started commercial mining in Utah. The company was organized Sept. 17, 1863, under the name of Jordan Silver Mining In Salt Lake County.
 William Hickman lived with his ten wives in what is known as HICKMAN'S Fort. This was located by the Jordan River near 59th South and one mile East of Redwood Road. The Fort was built on a slope facing East. In the Fort each wife had a front and a back room with a door in front. They were built together making one long house. The house had a dirt floor and a dirt roof, with a high wall around the house with holes with lookouts around the top. The Fort was later used for a blacksmith shop.
His later life is somewhat obscured in confusing stories as to the reason for his disfellowship and ex-communication from the L.D.S. Church. No record of his official ex-communication can be located in the Church Archives, other than the local ward record of the West Jordan Ward under direction of Bishop Archibald Gardner. It is certain that he left all but his first wife in Utah when he returned to Missouri
William Hickman was born April 16, 1815 in Warren County Kentucky, and died August 21, 1883 at Lander, Sweetwater, Wyoming. He was the son of Edwin and Elizabeth Adams Hickman. His mother was a cousin of john Quincy Adams. The following notes record one phase of the life of Bill Hickman, while his son's story tells of his character as a father, neighbor and defender of his church and friends.
April 22, 1859. It was rumored that five marshals started for Camp Floyd yesterday sworn to arrest Bill Hickman or kill him on the spot. A young man, a friend of Hickman's rode across the mountains from the camp to Hickman's ranch and told him; he rode so fast that his horse died an hour afterward. The young man then crossed the river to Mayo's brewery and met the marshals, who were very solicitous to know his business; he told them he was going to the city to buy liquor.
Wm. A. Hickman was elected by the people to be a member of the first legislature of Utah, which met at Fillmore. I have been told by Church members that he was called by Brigham Young to go to Fort Bridger, Green River, and he performed a great mission while there. He had his ferry so the saints could cross and come on to Utah. I have always been led to believe that my father, William A. Hickman was to Utah what Daniel Boone was to Kentucky; a great Indian fighter in early days and a dealer in fine horses. My mother has often told me how in early days he protected and guarded Brigham Young laid, his hands on his head and blessed him, that he might be able to protect the Saints from Wild savage Indians and outlaws.
General Connor and Seth M. Blair, the first prosecuting attorney of Utah spoke well of my father. I could name more who gave spoken well of him to me all of which led me to believe that he did a great deal of good for Utah and her people.   
He had ten wives, whose names are as follows: Bernetta Berckhart, Sarah Luce, Minerva Wade,
Sarah  Meacham, (our GGGrandma)Eliza Johnson, Martha Howland, Hannah Hor, Mary Hor, Margaret Hetherington and Jan Hethington. He was the father of thirty-five children.

J.H. Beadle, who wrote my fathers history, had only one object in view, and that was to slander the Mormons. (And he slandered Wild Bill) He admits that he changed the original manuscript in some respects, and I may say many. His corroborative evidences, as he calls them, in the appendix, proves that. He never spoke of Brigham as being governor and executive officer who wanted law and order or that the Mormons had been driven from their homes and had endured great suffering. My oldest sister, Katherine, was the manuscript and she said it was changed to a novel form, much to her and to my father's sorrow. Father told his brother, Dr. G.W. Hickman, that there are many things in that book Beadle had written unauthorized and that were entirely untrue. Beadle got his data, then went East and wrote the book and published it without my father ever seeing the manuscript. Beadle might in justice have said that Utah, like all other states in her early days, had outlawry and Indian troubles, and that Hickman, as an officer, tried to protect the people from such conditions.

I review some of these events for two reasons. One is because they portray me father as I knew him, for to me he was an embodiment of generosity and gentleness. The other is because in those early days of rough pioneer life men became bold and daring, and often did things which today, with milder civilization, would refrain from doing. For these reasons, my father like Porter Rockwell and others, often did things that brought criticism upon themselves, but what would the country have done without such daring men? They were willing to give their lives to save and protect the people and vouchsafe to coming generations a country free from the savage Indian and murderous enemies of the pioneers--
Warren W. Hickman. Copy L.D.S. Office. Historian’s 

Monday, September 19, 2011


Max a Hostage
In Iran
By Max & Clay Robinson
“Bah-la, bah-la”   The shrill warning cries of the Luristan tribesmen disturbed the tranquility of the Zigros mountains.  For an instant I, photographing a beautiful lavender thistle in the warm April sun, froze with fear. 
To me, a technical advisor to Iran, that cry was foreboding.  Radical terrorists had been striking at Americans, and in some cases murdering.   Where I worked, dissidents had made open threats to “kill an American engineer.”    
Apprehensively I glanced upward.  Against the horizon, war-painted, weapon-brandishing Luristanions shouted down at me.  They beckoned me to come quickly.
I scanned the oak-wooded slopes for Masood, my Persian counterpart.- a biologist assigned to me by the Iranian government for training in conservation work.  The Shah’s government was to be praised for its advancements in range management.  But it had not taken in the immediate needs nor the temperament of the tribesmen, who for centuries had depended on the rangeland to grace their herds. Now by government edict all lands of the Keshvar- had been closed to grazing.  In return the people had been promised work and food. 
Through bureaucratic bungling, work had been curtailed, work had been curtailed.  Without money or or their traditional home-grown wheat and rice from the fields, and milk and meat from their herds.  The tribesmen had become desperate and fighting mad. 
Earlier that morning Masood and I had left our Land Rover and native driver at an abandoned village.  He was to remain there until we had finish our inspection.  Masood now stood several hundred paces up the hill, nearer the tribesmen.  Suddenly the tribesmen swooped down on him.  It appeared unrealistic, almost as a staged performance in a western movie of an Indian attack.  The tribesmen pounced upon Masood, knocking him to the ground, with their wooden canes and hard boney fists.  They pummeled him severely.  I grew fearful for his welfare.  I quickened my pace, I felt an urgency to help my friend. 
As I drew near some of the Lurs turned on me.  Their voices rang with mob anger.  Masood still on the ground, pleaded for the angry excited young men to be seated, cease their violence and talk.  Some heeded his advice and dropped upon their heels to listen.  Their more violent comrades rushed at me.  Then the more mature, who had squatted to talk now shouted to them not to kill.  The Lurs now commanded Masood and I to start walking cross-country to the road. 
For provocation the young Lurs, prodded us with their thumbs and sticks.  They made funny noises, as if they were urging donkeys along the trail.  “Uh-huh, pa-r-root,” they’d call with each jab.  Their tongues twilled to effect a strange sound taking to flight.  Each prodding and utterance was followed by group laughter.   Teasing me had become their game.  They flipped pebbles and sticks at me.  And occasionally some ruffian dashed in to grab my large Texas-style hat to sail it through the air.  More considerate men would retrieve the hat for me.  And some of the pranksters frequently made well placed kicks to the seat of my pants. 
Fortunately the more mature among our captors became guardians.  I would turn to see them wrestling, shoving, kicking and reprimanding the pranksters.  To ease my tension, a few young men, including one with light blue eyes, came close and smiled.  Each made a linking of his fingers and nodded to me; “Me-you –we brothers!”  I returned their smiles and nodded in approval.  As we strode along young lean men pointed to their mouths.  They wanted me to know that was their only food for several days past.
After a mile or more, shuffling in the dust, we came to a high precipice.  Thousands of feet below the Keshvar River flowed.  It rushed over and around boulders in a deeply encased channel.  Its turbulent waters slowed only by jutting rocks or fallen trees.  We turned from the roadway and headed down a long zigzagging, narrow and hazardous trail, to their camp.  Cautiously I placed my feet, a misplaced foot could catapult me hundreds of feet to death upon the jagged outcroppings.  The trail in many placed had been laboriously hand cut into the steep, slick rocks. 
In the distance, on the exposed sections of a roadway that also led into the valley, women and children in tribal dress, intently rolled huge boulders onto the road.  Their plan was to form barriers against vehicles coming to recue us. 
If there was any comfort for me that morning, it was when we reached the bottom of the cliff.  We left the steep, hazardous trail and approached the government work camp.  But the camp had been captured by the tribesmen.  Normally government soldiers would be manning outposts and gates.  Now no military men were seen.  The camp was swarming with tribesmen, some two hundred of them.  They chatted excitedly as they awaited the arrival of the hostages. 
Many horses stood tied at random or grazing freely, on sparse grass shoots among the Persian Oaks.  Their heads rose and their ears pointed to us at the gates of the camp were flung open.  Masood and I were herded into the compound.  A few older men with greying hair and beards, recognized me and steeped forward to extend greetings.  Masood and I were not the only hostages.  Among several Iranian engineers and technicians held captive was, Kamyab, a man who I was well acquainted.  This gave me some comfort. 
Courteously, was asked to be seated.  Through interpreters the cathodahs related to me the plight of their people.  Their men had been without employment.  Their families needed twelve Taman’s a day on which to live—at that time about $1.58 in American money.  Unless aid came soon, they pleaded their men, women and children would starve. 
In their serious weather worn faces I saw human beings, who as their forefathers had known great hardship.  Their parents and grandparents under the reign of Shah Riza Kahn Pahiavi were nomads, proud and independent.  When the Shah Riza Kahn commenced his reformation programs these people refused to give up their old ways.  They refused to be settled in small towns.  
Listening to the broken-English of the interpreters, it was made clear that I was going to help persuade the Shah’s government to make a concession to these desperate tribesmen.  They wanted immediate relief from their starvation.  They would insist on measures that had long range implications, I along with the other prisoners, would be held until their demands were satisfied. 
The discourse was long.  The elder tribesmen presented their views and argued, much of their discussion was not interpreted to me.  Under such circumstances I found tensions easing and my mind drifting.  I thought about my wife, back in at Khurramabad, anxious by now.  On captive, a native technician informed me that he had succeeded in sending out a message about our plight.  The conference broke up and nothing had been accomplished except to bring my mind back to the present.  Time dragged.  We moved freely about the compound.  Our captor knew we could not escape.  Late in the day we observed a four-wheel-powered vehicle as it inched its way down the Dugway.  Its gears whined as the driver shifted down to circumvent the barricades. 
Much to my delight the vehicle carried Nashabree, a native technician who had worked with the native folk and with whom he enjoyed an exceptionally good rapport.
“Do you want to go home, he asked.  “I am not anxious to go out there in that angry mob again,” I replied.  “These people are my friends, “he added.  “I have advised them to let you go so you may inform the head of Forestry division about their plight.  It did not take much to convince me that I might do more good for the tribe if I were to leave with Nashabree.   I climbed in the Land Rover alongside of Masood and Nashabree.  The gates swung open.  The vehicle rolled out into the crowd of young, impetuous belligerents.  They surged close, shouting and making threatening gestures.  I looked into dozens of fierce dark brown eyes.   Many I feared wanted my blood.
The chieftain held back the milling crowd, but they could not stop the wild-ear piercing cries.  One hot-blood, his fiery lack eyes focused upon me, made a throat cutting gesture.  It amused me.  I smiled at him and with my finger made a gesture of cutting my own throat.  Then followed a big smile and a calm expression of  humor.  He was normal; quick to anger, just as quick to extend a feeling of brotherhood, even to an American. 
The vehicle climbed the crude roadway, up the face of the steep mountain, bypassing the barriers. The women and children stopped work, curiously watching with black curious eyes.  At last the insurgents could no longer be heard.  In my final look they looked like a swarm of angry ants whose hill had been disturbed.  Distance and trees blotted out my view.  I was on my way to the city, to my wife and to safety. 
I did not betray those people, those children of Allah.  They had their reasons.  Desperate hungry people are often violent.  I pleaded their cause in my reports to higher authorities.  Their needs were made known. The government provided assistance.  A small sore spot-- One of many in Iran-- Soothed temporarily.  

Saturday, September 17, 2011


Travelling in the Good Old Days
By Eugene
Horseless Carriages / Automobiles
Maybe a 1913 Dodge?
Grandpa Boel had one of the first of its kind in Springville.  No one seems to remember what kind it was, but it was fancy with lots of  brass, shiny and polished.  Looked like a million dollars but was quite unreliable, sometimes it would not start, always had a flat tire and sometimes he never got there.  I guess my father drove it more than he did.  Dad would crank the motor until it started and off they’d go.  There were no traffic lights and no rules of the road.  Who had the right-of-way, I’m not sure even witch side of the road they drove on.  But Grandpa was always in trouble, he always thought he had the right-of-way and went way to fast through the cities.  He said he hated cities and had to hurry to get out of them. 
Eugene's 1931 Chevy
My first car was a 1931 Chevy Coup.  The gas tank was over the engine.  20 inch wheels, a lever on the steering wheel to start and move to run and another for something or other.  I loved that car, I’ll never understand why I replaced it with a stupid
“Ford”Fix Or Repair Daily  
Dad always had a ford but because of a poor fuel pump would not climb the hill to our house in Telegraph.  So, we backed it up the last half a mile to get home.  I remember leaving it in places that day and having to come back the next to get it.  It had mechanical brakes and Dad was always working on them.   They looked good but we left our house more or less out of control.  Lee drove up under a big semi when he couldn’t stop.
1929 Ford Model A
In those days every gas-station was a repair shop to help the unfortunate driver.  Very few women would dare drive, if they did not far.  When you went to get gas, you could never tell them to fill-it-up.  You could only ask for so many gallons.  He would then grab this pump handle and pump five gallons into this glass cylinder above the pump stopping at five gallons; gravity would send this amount to your tank.
With a screw-driver, a wrench (ever hear of a monkey wrench), a hammer and some bailing-wire, you could always get home.  If the ignition failed you could shine them up or replace them.  Gas ran by gravity to the engine, no problem.  If the battery failed, you pushed it and someone would pop the clutch to start it.  If that failed you could jack one of the rear wheels off the ground, put it in gear and turn the suspended wheel until it started.  I started many vehicles this way.  We were lucky to go a hundred miles without a mechanical problem of some kind.   Generators (now alternators) never seemed to work but most gas-stations carried them.  Admiral Ray of the Bingham Navy said his skills at the shifter-shop got us to the High Uinta’s once. 
I drove down this road to get to Fruita, Utah--Capitol Wash
The roads were terrible back then.   There were two-lane roads in the city but some had a street-car on tracks to contend with, Grandpa got a ticket for refusing to allow the street-car to go first. 
Rural roads were narrow, mostly one lane where you had to pull off the road when another car approached.  Once I was in a spot where it was unreasonable for me to back-up so we sat an looked at each other until he decided to back up.  You can still see some of these old roads, if you look close while travelling to Logan you can see why it was called “Sardine Pass”.
To get to Fruita down in Wayne Wonderland (now called Capitol Reefs), if there was no rain you could drive down Capitol Reef Wash but take a shovel because there could be rocks and holes to contend with. Once I had to leave Dads car at Bowns Reservoir and come back the next day and build a road. 
But there were no people and hardly anyone fishing or hunting.   It was a wonderful time to live.  

Sunday, September 11, 2011




She was the mother of fifteen children, her first two children were, Floyd and George.  Floyd lived 16 months, was a very bright child, talked like a man.  Just before he died our father was on the mountain over by Boulder.  He (Floyd) said,  "I wish Jack would come."  At this time father said to the men on the mountain,  "I believe something is wrong at home, I am going."  He reached home a little while before the baby died.  George died soon after birth.  Our mother was so nervous when their third child, a daughter, Amanda was born, she didn't take much comfort, every time she (Amanda) would cough or act different she would think something bad would happen

When she (Mother) was 36 years (old), I remember she was jovial, full of life, always laughing.  She looked so pretty and good to me.  (She) Was a very good cook and always had people around to eat the food, besides her own family.  They never turned anyone away hungry.   Only one time.  We lived on the farm now owned by the Harwood's.  A tramp came along, my father said,  "There comes a man, he will be hungry.  Could we feed him?"   Mother said,  "We don't have a thing but, bread and tea, so they let him go by.  But they always felt bad they didn't ask him in to bread and tea.  (the Three Nephites were roaming the earth at that time if you fed one of them you would be blessed or cursed if you turned him away)  

About this time she (Mother) had a dream that worried her.  Floyd came.  She said to him,  "How far are you away from mamma?"  He measured the distance with his little hands and said,  "Only a little ways."  He said,  "I want you to come with me."  She had a family, her children only two years apart.  She said,  "I am so busy I can't go Floyd."   He said and was out of sorts,   "I will take Art (Artie) then."  Now this was a great worry to her.  I was taking music lessons at the time.  She would go cry while I played the Organ.  She kept it a secret for a long time.  Then praying to her Heavenly Father (that) I (Artie) would be spared to live and raise a family.  "I think she always lived with a prayer in her heart."  She would say,  "My prayers have been answered." 

She had many friends and was very entertaining.  In those days, people would come and visit all day and if they lived better than a days drive in a wagon, they would stay all night.  It seemed like they were very happy to have their friends and relatives come. 

We were never with out a baby in the home.  There was a new brother or sister every two years and they were always welcome.  I was 15 when the twins, Norman and Norma was born.  There was a small room piled up high with dirty clothes.  Mother came to the door where I was sorting them and said,  "Artie, we may have twins come to our family.   What will you say?"  So, not thinking much, I said,  "I guess, I'll say,  Which one are you going to drown?"  But when they came, she said,  "Well which one shall we drown."  I said,  "Not either one,  I will try and keep their clothes washed but it will double the washing." 
There were four more babies after the twins and we loved them all and took good care of them, or the best we could under the circumstances.  

Then about 1916 they moved to Midway, Duchesne County.  Soon after her health failed, found she had TB. (tuberculosis) in her knee.  It traveled up her leg into her spine.  She suffered many death for ten years but I have always tried to remember her at 36 years old. 

"One day long before this, she gave Alma and I some eggs.  We walked to town to the old Rock Store (that still) stands today.  Got each a stick of candy with a ring on it and walked back home as happy as if we had a million dollars. 

Friday, September 9, 2011



author unknown

Hans Peter Ottesen   wife Ane Johanne Larsen
Hans Ottesen was born in Kokkenborgled, Hjorring County, Denmark, 7th August, 1823.  He was the son of Otte Pedersen and Anne Katrina Hansen Pedersen.  Hans was blessed with two brothers and three sisters;  Niels Christian, older, Christian, Mette, Marie and Birgette were younger. 

The Family owned a home, and a farm stocked with dairy cattle.  At this home all the children were born and grew up.   When the children were old enough, they went out to work and help themselves.  The salary on the farms consisted of board and room and $20.00 per year.  

Hans was fortunate in obtaining work on a large farm where he received fair wages.  He worked on this farm until he was 29 years of age when 5th January, 1853 he married Ana Johanne Larsen.  She was 22 years of age. 

Ane Johanne Larsen, his bride, was the daughter of Lars Christensen and Christine Pedersen Christensen.  She was born 24th September, 1830 in Norreskoven, Hornby, Hjorring, Denmark.  She had an older sister who died six months after Ane was born.  She also had three younger sisters and two younger brothers. 

Her parents were also a happy family who owned their own home, a farm, and they operated a small mercantile business.  The children were well cared for and schools were provided, and attendance was compulsory in Denmark then. 

1900 picture of Ottesen family
Ane Johanne graduated from school but was taught to work in the home and help with other children on the farm.  She then went to keep house for her grandfather who was a widower.  She worked here for two years, then took a position in an other home.  There she met Hans Ottesen and they were married after two years of courtship. 

They made their home with his widowed mother and younger sister, Birgette.  Ane Johanne's father gave them there dairy cattle and many things to help out the young couple. 

Soon after their marriage the Latter Day  Missionaries arrived in their home, arrived in their home town.  They became interested in the gospel and on 14 February, 1854, they and Hans' mother and sister were all baptized by Andrew Petersen and were confirmed 18 February, 1854 by Elder Lars Larsen.  Hans was ordained a priest in 1854 in Aalberg, Denmark. 

When Ane Johanne's father Lars Christensen learned that they had joined the Mormons, he became so angry he demanded that they return everything he had given to them.  This they did, then they sold everything they had left to make the long journey to Utah.  Ane's father was so angry the young people were afraid to let him know where they were while they were preparing to leave.  Their last night was spent at the home of a dear friend, the sister of Kate Carter' grandmother.  Here Ane Johanne's mother secretly visited her daughter, son-in-law and their six week old baby son.  She bid them good-bye at midnight. 
Hans's exit visa

(The following information is taken from the Church emigration records)
Eighteenth Company;---"James Nesmith", 440 souls.  On the 23-24-25 of November, 1854 about 500 Scandinavian Saints sailed from Copenhagen, Denmark on the steamship "Slesvig, Cimbria and Geiser" under the direction of Elders Peter O. Hansen and Erik G. M. Hogan.  The two smaller companies which embarked in the Slesvig and Geiser traveled by way of Kiel, Hamburg and Hull to Liverpool, England, where after successful trips, they arrived on the 27th of November and the 7th of December, respectively.  The larger company of nearly 300 souls, under the presidency of Peter O. Hansen, left Copenhagen, in the Cimbria on the 27th of November, all the emigrants being good heath and excellent spirits.  They had an exceedingly rough passage over the German Ocean.  At 10 o'clock on the morning of the 25th, the Cimbria arrived at Frederickshaven on the east coast of Jutland (Jylland), where 149 more emigrants from Aalborg and Vendsyssel conferences came aboard.  (Hans Ottesen and his family were among these)  With these additional passengers the voyage was continued on the morning of the 26th. 

The prospects were fair till about 2 o'clock on the morning of the 27th, when the wind turned south-west, and began to blow so heavily that the captain, who appeared to be an experienced sailor but very cautious, deemed it necessary to turn back and seek the nearest harbor in Norway.  Consequently the course was changed, and about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, the Cimbria put into the port of Mandal, which is an excellent harbor--surrounded by very high steep cliffs of granite.   This romantic place and it's surroundings were as much of a curiosity to the Danish Emigrants as a ship-load of Mormons were to the people of Mandal. 

In the Harbor,  the emigrants tarried for several days, while the wind outside spent it's fury on the troubled sea.  Some of the Saints went ashore to lodge, they found the inhabitants of Mandal very hospital, and by request some of the brethren preached several times to the people on shore.  The results of this was that some of the inhabitants subsequently embraced the Gospel. 

Ottesen sisters    Emma on right
On the morning of 7th of December, when the weather seemed more favorable, the Cimbria again put to sea, and steamed off toward England once more, but the captain and all on board learned that the change in the weather was only a lull preceding an outburst of more violence of a long winter storm.  About midnight of the 7th the wind became so terrific it shattered the ship's bulwark and broke a number of boxes.  About 2 o'clock, on the morning of the 8th the captain decided to turn back to Mandal but as the wind, waves, and strong current rendered it very dangerous to turn the vessel in the direction of Norway, it was necessary to go back to Frederickshaven, where the ship arrived on the 9th about 4 P.M.  By this time the Saints were suffering severely, but with the exception of two or three, all stayed with the company. 

While weather-bound, most of the emigrants went to shore to refresh themselves and were able to hold several meetings with the people there. 

On the 20th of December, the captain decided to make the third attempt to reach England.  The Saints were rested and felt better, but in the night between the 21st and 22nd, a terrible storm arose threatening the ship and all, with destruction.   For many hours they fought the storm, but finally turned back the third time.  The captain and the crew were discouraged, but the Saints thanked the Lord for saving them.  About 2 P.M. on the 22nd the wind changed and the Captain immediately steered for Hull, and 24th of December about noon the ship anchored in Humber.  They journeyed by rail to Liverpool where they joined two smaller companies who had awaited their arrival.  The Heloi--previously chartered for them had gone, so the James Nesmith, under Captain Mills sailed 7th January, 1855 with 440 saints from Scandinavia, from Liverpool, England to New Orleans. 

On 18th February, 1855 the ship arrived at the mouth of the Mississippi after a fine voyage, during which 13 deaths had occurred. 

At New Orleans, where they landed 23 February, they boarded a steamboat, Oceana and sailed from New Orleans on 24th February, 1855.  On the journey up the Mississippi, seven more saints passed away.  They arrived at Saint Louis 7 March, 1855. 

One hundred and seventy five members including the Ottesens left Saint Louis 12 March, under Peter O. Hansen by the Steamboat Clara for Atchison, Kansas.  Low water forced them to land where they waited for the company led by Elder Hogan to arrive.  During their stay 20 immigrants died. 

They selected a new camp because of an outbreak of Cholera and many immigrants moved to Mormon Grove, 5 miles west of Kansas.  It became a real outfitting post.  Ottesens went there 22nd May, where they obtained a wagon and team of oxen.   They were then ready to journey west.  The James Nesmith log list them as;  Ottesen, farmer 31,  Anne Johanne Ottesen 24, Anders H. (son) 3 months, Annie C. Ottesen (Hans' mother) 59, and Birgette Ottesen 17 (Han's sister).  (page 200) 

The Ottesen family were members of the Secrist Company;  368 people, 51 wagons, 317 oxen, 100 cows and 5 horses. 

They left Atchison 13 June, 1855.  Captain Joseph F. Secrist died 2 July, 1855 at Ketchum Creek and Noah T. Guyman was made captain. 

While crossing the plains Hans' sister, Birgette, then 18 years of age, became seriously ill with colary (now called cholera).  She died 15 June, 1855.  The company halted long enough to dig a shallow grave.  When they had dug three feet, a large flat rock prevented them from digging any deeper.  While the grave was being dug, Ane Johanne prepared her beloved sister in law for burial.  Birgette was dressed in clean clothing, the body wrapped tightly in a sheet and placed in the rock bottomed grave, a short service held and a saddened company went on their way after only a one hour pause to leave another faithful member by the way. 

They arrived in Salt Lake City 6 September, 1855, almost ten months after leaving Denmark.  They were sent that same year to settle in Brigham City.  While they were still living in their wagon they stopped work on their own home and made 4000 adobes for the Church. 

They moved into a dugout and continued to work on the house. 

They built a small two room house, but before it was finished, a large tree fell on Hans' leg, breaking it in two places.  The fracture was set by his wife and a neighbor man.  Of course, the recovery was long and tedious and never completely successful.  John S. Lewis helped to put on a roof before the winter storms set in. 

The food was very scarce, and all the clothing that could be spared was traded for bran and shorts.  Flour was almost never seen.   

In December 1855, another son was born.  He was named Joseph Grant Ottesen.  He died when almost two years old. 29 October, 1857. 

In 1857, wolves killed a fat cow in the night.  The meat was divided among the starving saints who felt this was a blessing from Heavenly Father. 

Because of the scarcity of food and Indian trouble they were advised to move south.  Before they left, while Hans was in bed with his broken leg an Indian came demanding food.  The young wife tried very hard to explain she had no food.  He had a knife in his hand with which he threatened to kill her.  With  a prayer in her heart she bravely grasped him by the wrists while she prayed.  He dropped the knife.  As in previous incidents, her faith was strengthened.  She picked up his knife, handed it to him and he walked away. 

Leaving their little home and their son's grave they moved to Spanish Fork in the spring of 1858.  Here they built a small home and then a larger one, so well it still stands in very good condition.  This home they lived in as long as they lived and here eight more children were born

Moving to Spanish Fork did not end the Indian troubles.  Hans was lame from the time of his accident, so he never participated in Indian fighting, but spent many long nights standing guard.  His son, Joseph now a large boy, often helped an older herder guard the cattle from the Indians.  One night When Joseph was home ill with the mumps, Mr. Knudsen, the herder he was to help, was killed and scalped.  Joseph often spoke of this and wondered at the Lord's method of saving his life.  Ana Johanna often dressed in a man's clothing, went out to get the cows.  She knew she would not be safe if the Indians saw her dressed as a woman. 

Hans Ottesen again made 4,000 adobes which he donated for the Spanish Fork Central meeting house. 

In Spanish Fork, Hans Ottesen homesteaded land and was a very successful farmer.  He bought more land and livestock and became a very prominent man.  He worked hard on his farm and for many years he made shoes for the entire family, and also , the neighbors.   He was a good tinnier and was an expert Marksman and he and his family enjoyed, wild geese, quail, ducks, and much other game. 

Upon one occasion, he had a severe case of pneumonia, the Elders came, and after prayer and administration, an opening appeared between two ribs where pus drained out and he soon recovered.  He and his family never failed to give proper thanks for all blessings. 
His wife was a worthy help-mate at all times.  She corded and spun wool and made beautiful fabrics, she raised silk-worms, and even made many yards of beautiful silk.  She made her own clothes, candles and soap.  She made bread, butter and cheese, raised sugar cane and made molasses. 

Letters were frequently received from the Elders laboring in the Scandinavian Mission asking them to help some honest person, and at times, whole families to come join the Saints in Utah.  This, they did until 64 persons had been helped.  Many of these people were met in Salt Lake City and conveyed by ox team and later by horse drawn wagon to the two homes maintained by the Ottesens.  Here the new-comers remained until employment was found.  Some paid back the money advanced to them and others never did. 

Ane Johanne would always explain to her children if they protested that they needed new clothing or other things,  "We are only doing what is our duty and we are helping our friends and ourselves to gain salvation."  

Hans Ottesen was ordained an Elder 10 May, 1858 by John Lewis, at Spanish Fork, Utah.  He received his endowment with his first wife, Ane Johanne Larsen 29 November, 1861;  also with Meete Mortensen, his second wife.  She died in Spanish Fork, 27 January, 1863.  Johanne Petersen, third wife was endowed and sealed to him 19 January, 1867.  She had one son, Hans Peter Ottesen, born 10 August, 1868 and she passed away 6 September, 1869. 

In November 1869 he married Nicolena Jensen, forth wife, a lovely young bride, and they were the parents of Nephi Ottesen, Ephraim Moroni Ottesen, and Emeline Victoria Ottesen Fowler.  (Endowment House # 14611 book 7, page 51) 

Hans and his devoted first wife, Ane Johanne were the parents of 10 children; two of whom, Joseph Grant and Christine died in infancy.  The other children are, Andrew, who crossed the ocean as a baby but died at 47 years of age in 1901 and those others who survived their mother;  Hans Joseph, Johanna Katherine, Sarah Laure, Hyrum, Eva Christine, Emma Johanna, Erastus Laurats. 

Hans Ottesen died on New Years Eve, December, 1892 and Johanne Died 17 December, 1906.  They are buried in Spanish Fork Cemetery.