BINGHAM HANG-GLIDING IN TELEGRAPH by ELDON bRAY

The Accidental Hang-Glider

By Eldon in his “Copperfield Remembered” book -- page 186-7-8

Flight from the top of the Giant Chief  Dump top right

Telegraph was the upper most part of Copperfield, (Upper Bingham) in 1938.  The old U.S. was a mile or two farther up Galen Gulch so it was not generally referred to as part of Copperfield.  Halversons lived in Telegraph just below the sharp turn of the road that went up to Galena Gulch.  Their house was the very farthest up the canyon in Bear Gulch as it turned right towards Queen so they were somewhat isolated.

Gene’s Story; I started building model airplanes while living in Frog Town.  “Buck Rodger’s” got me started with his airship.  Then mother bought a few more as they eventually passed into history.  I was crippled by an automobile accident and could not walk by the time they moved to Telegraph and there were no other kids his age so mother bought me more models to build.  They came in a box containing long strips and flat pieces of “Balsa” wood with plans and paper to cover the finished model.  Each rib or section were cut and notched for the spars to exactly match the blueprint.  It was sanded and covered with the furnished paper.  Lee is still amazed with how good they looked.  Well, the first thing that went was the wheels, they were worthless in rocks and boulders, skids were better.  The propeller and elastic was soon eliminated and adjustments made for balance and they flew father.  When repairs could no longer be made the top wing on a biplane was fitted with a front extension and balanced.  In time I just made wings, I made two or three out of one kit.

Glider landing

He continued making small airplanes for two or three years.  With each plane be become more adept at improving their flying ability by such devises as adding adjustable weights to the wings.  He made lots of twelve to fourteen-inch wingspans.  These planes never did fly more than a hundred feet or so.  Some stayed up in the air for a fair while and did some dipsy-doos but they had their limitations.  He tried many launch sites; they could be thrown from the top of the stairway in his front yard, and at Marcel Chia’s house also built on a mine dump and even on the dump in Dinkyville near Carter’s house. 

Gene’s Story; One day while trespassing on the U.S. Mine property for some reason or other I came near this great big saw and watched these two guys cutting strips of wood off these big boards.  As soon as they left with their boards, I ran behind the saw and grabbed a whole armful and ran home.  OH, what fun! I can really make a big airplane now and I did. 

He decided to embark on a grandiose project.  He would build an airplane that was bigger than any that they made kits for.  He went down to the lumber shop of the U.S. Mine (The Niagara Tunnel) in Copperfield and found some 2-inch wide by ¼ inch thick by 14 feet long pieces of scrap wood that were laying out in the yard.  He took as many pieces as he could drag and took them home.  He worked in his front yard to build this enormous model.  Rather than airplane glue he used bailing wire (also from the lumber yard) to hold it together.  The covering for the plane was an ingenious material that most boys don’t often see—his mother’s and Mrs. Bodmer’s petticoats and bloomers.  It took him two or three months to build this huge plane.  When finished the wing had a fourteen-foot span by four-foot wide and weighed about twenty-five pounds. 

Gene; well, the word got out and the boys from Copperfield and Dinkyville had come to watch it fly. I can’t really remember how many were there six maybe seven, I can remember Leon Miller and Max Ivie but then my memory fails me.  I really did not expect to fly it that day because there was nothing around the house heavy enough to balance it.  Well the boys just grabbed the wing and took off as I was making excuses.  I grabbed a pliers and some wire and followed.  I did know a place by the mine where there were a lot of pieces of iron so they dropped the wing and followed me over there. 

There was one critical problem with the plane, however.  It wasn’t balanced properly.  Gene got a large bearing cap from an old abandoned steam-driven hoist engine at the old Giant Chief Mine.  It weighed about twenty pounds, as much as the wing itself.  He attached it to the front extension so that its position could be adjusted to fine-tune the overall balance.   

Chea's house top left   hea's damaged Garage

The dump of the Old Giant Chief mine was an ideal place to launch from it was at least a quarter of a mile above my house with the wind blowing up the canyon.   It was a half a mile walk up Bear Gulch and back over an overgrown trail to the top of the dump but was well worth the effort.  The wing if successful could actually fly hopefully over Copperfield and even the Copper Pit. 

Waist rock from the Giant Chief had been hoisted out of the mine and ejected over the hill for twenty years or so beginning in the 1870s or 80s.  with each carload of waist that was hoisted out of the mine and tipped over the edge the dump extended  father and farther down the hillside.  By the time the mine shutdown in the early 1900s the waist material had covered all the bushes and trees for a distance of two hundred yards down the hill and the vertical from the top of the dump to the bottom was over two hundred feet.  In later years a road had been bulldozed so there was an elevated point on the very end. 

Gene decided that this dump was the perfect spot!  The vertical height and the unobstructed takeoff path were more than adequate.  And for a glide space—he could see down the canyon for miles!  If a plane, after takeoff, didn’t lose altitude too rapidly and kept to a course down the canyon it might soar for three miles or more! 

Gene when he flew

This was the “Big Day”.  His brother lee and six or eight of the boys from Copperfield carried the plane from the house to the dump while Gene followed behind with some tools.   There was a strong wind coming up the canyon—this would help the airplane take off.  He and all the bystanders envisioned this flight in their minds—Gene would hurl the plane off the dump. It would swoop down the hill, gaining speed, and then lift up and over the trees and glide away down the canyon like a huge bird.  It would fly on and on, becoming smaller and smaller in the distance until it was only a speck in the sky above Copperfield and then they would lose sight of it as it sailed over the open-pit copper mine and went on past the main town of Bingham.  Hundreds of people would see it and point at it in the sky above them.  There might even be articles in the newspaper of the sighting of the mysterious silent airplane.

Gene stood on the high point of the dump and held the plane up in the air with both hands.  Then he shifted it around to determine whether the nose was too heavy or too light.  He laid it back down and moved the brass bushing to adjust the balance.  He checked the balance and moved the bushing several times until it felt right to him.  Then he held the plane above his head with both hands and prepared to launch it.

He wanted to take a short dash forward and throw if off the dump just as a gust of wind came up but it was hard to guess when that would be.  It was hard to stand steadily upon the tip of the dump while holding the plane that was being buffeted by the wind so the other boys crouched down by his side and helped him keep his balance.

it flew over the Halverson Home

Gene took several quick steps toward the edge of the dump but the wind died down so he stopped short and held the plane.  He almost fell but the other boys caught him.  Then he tried again but with the same results and the boys caught him once more.  On the third try, however, there was a sudden, extra strong gust that caused the plane to lift up higher above his head and he slipped over the dump.  The other boys tried to catch him but missed.  Gene held on helplessly as the plane pulled him off the tip of the dump and started flying down toward the trees and roadway below.  At first he tried to run while holding on to the plane but after about twenty yards the plane picked up speed and his feet barely touched the ground a couple of times.  The surface of the dump was a hard as a rock and very rough—he didn’t dare fall off.  Then the plane lifted still higher and, with him dangling below it, zoomed down the mine dump at what seemed like forty miles an hour!  He had no control over the plane and held on to it for dear life, not knowing what else to do.  For a fleeting moment he thought the plane might crash into the trees so he had only to hold on until then.  However, by the time the plane reached the bottom of the dump Gene was ten feet above the ground and was gaining altitude and speed every second. 

The other boys, after failing to catch Gene as plane pulled him over the edge, were stunned to see him still holding on to the plane and racing at breakneck speed down the dump.  Then, as the plane continued to go higher and faster, they realized the seriousness of the situation.  They all started to shout, “Let go!  Let go!”

Harvey Halverson  Marcel Chea

He finally did let go when the plane was flying over the trees, he fell eight or ten feet down into the chokecherry trees.  The branches broke his fall somewhat but he still hit hard.  He was scratched and bleeding and his cloths were all torn.  A small tree stump had gone up between one leg and his pants.  He had some bruises and limped for several days but he wasn’t seriously hurt.  The other boys hurried down to help him and were relieved to find him in as good a shape as he was.  It was a good thing he let go when he did.  If he had hung on until he was over the road he would have fallen a hundred feet on to the hard surface and could have been killed. 

After Gene let the plane went straight out over the trees, crossed the road and flew over his house.  Then it climbed high in the air and seemed, for a long time, to float lazily on the wind that was coming up the canyon.  After several moments it slowly dropped downward and floated backward as it got lower.  Then it gently began going down the canyon again.  It appeared to be floating like a feather.  But then what looked like a feather crashed into Marcel Chea’s garage with a loud bang!  It hit so hard that the body and wings of the airplane were broken so badly that they were only good for kindling wood.  The brass bushing came loose from the rest of the plane and made a big hole in the top of the garage.  The length of the flight was about a half a mile.

Gene   Paul   Vivian   Mother

There were no gown up witnesses to the mishap but the boys were afraid of being held responsible for the damage to Chea’s garage.  And what might the heavy brass bushing have done to Chea’s car?  They gathered hat was left of the plane and hid out.  Thankfully the car was away and hadn’t been in the garage.  Gene saw Mr. Chea look at his hole in the garage many times and Gene always wondered if he knew who did it.  It would have taken a monster to lift the bushing and throw it that high and with such force!  Neither Gene nor Lee ever told their mom and Dad about Gene’s hang-gliding experience. 

This hang-gliding flight, though accidental, was certainly the first in Bingham Canyon and probably the first in the state of Utah.  It wasn’t a particularly long ride (just a bit longer than the length of the Giant Chief mine dump) and it wasn’t reported in in any newspapers.  But it has lived on in the memories of all who witnessed it and of many who heard the story.  It is remembered by Gene as one of his outstanding lifetime experiences.   

   

BINGHAM MY HOME TOWN

My Home Town

By Salvador Chinky Aguayo  Page 22 in Copperfield Remembered by Eldon Bray

back -Dinkeyville  center-Terrace Heights  bottom-Copperfield 

How I envy all of you.  You can go back whenever you have a mind to and visit the town that you grew up in.  You can go back to the place of your roots and visit the old school house you learned to read and write in.  You can look at that old building which may look old a dilapidated but it is the where the memories will come rushing back to you just by standing there and looking.  Your memories can go back to the good teachers you had and maybe to some bad ones.  You will remember the friends you had while going to this school – the first girl you had a crush or maybe the first girl that had a crush on you.  You can walk around on the streets of the town and remember the stores that used to be there before the new building were put in their place after the old ones were demolished.  Just standing there in the street you can remember the parades o the 4^th of July, the fireworks, and the races with the quarters and dimes as prizes. 

Copperfield School

Yes, I envy all of you that can go back to your home town and sharpen memories of day gone by, because I have only my memories to reflect on.  The town I spent my youth in is gone.  There is no remnant of the town to sharpen my mind---nothing to focus on and bring in to sharper remembrance those long-gone days.  No brick is left of the old school house where I studied for six years.  The very street I walked on is no more.  No old-timer sits on his front porch chatting with any one passing by about the old days.  There is no porch, there is no house, and the old-timer has moved twenty or a thousand miles away.

The copper mine that used to be the cause for our existence in the city had growing pains and swallowed up everything within its grasp.  Homes, buildings, streets, and all the signs of vibrant life that had kept the mine operating are gone.  All that is left is in the minds of thousands of others like myself that remember the wonderful days of living in the melting pot of Races and Nationalities of all descriptions.  The cultures of dozens of peoples merging into an army of workers intent on extracting a living—the way of life—from Mother Earth. 

Lower Copperfield

Every few years I go back to that giant hole in the ground just so I can guess as to where the town used to be but when I do I envy you even more.  All I can see with my eyes is a big scar on the earth.  Only when I close my eyes and think back to those carefree days of my youth can I remember Bingham Canyon as it was. 

Where was my house               Page 22 Copperfield Remembered    by Eldon Bray

Now just where was it—the place I grew up?  Not only was my house gone but the whole neighborhood and even the entire towns were no longer there.  I feel like a homeless vagabond with no place to call his own.

The view from the lip of the huge open-pit copper mine offered few clues to the previous existence of the Terrace Height, of Copperfield, or indeed, any part of the town of Bingham with its miles of streets and hundreds of homes.  They were all gone—either mined out or covered with waste dumps by the Utah Copper mine.  The site of my old home must now be occupied by a space up in the air hundreds above one of the mine levels along which huge haulage trucks now bustled. 

Melting pot of Races and Nationalities and cultures

By Eugene

It’s hard to explain the pain I experienced when I first parked and looked at what they did to my home and town.  We shed tears of pain as each one of our friends disappeared one by one.  People in our Capitalistic system are never considered.  In the “Dog-eat-Dog” world of today money is everything and people lives are worth nothing at all.  I never heard a sorry or thank you, just go.   As a family was forced out his house it was demolished.  One at a time until all the people was gone.  The Restaurants, Bars, Drug Stores, Schools, City Hall, followed suit.  We had lived under or near and put up with the noise, smoke and dust for a hundred years and now were not wanted.  Where-o-Where did all my playmates go?

Lower Copperfield

The mountains outside the pit were beautiful, some of the canyons still ran water.  I still remember the trails I walked and when to pick the flowers and berries and where to find the birds or animals.  Now our so-called-good neighbor has closed off the whole mountain Range.  Forty miles of signs and fences, what are they doing up there to be so afraid of discovery.  The old Utah Copper and us got along quite well before the

English Mining Giants moved it away.   

There used to be a town there,

With trestles, trains and play;

We climbed up to our homes there,

“Till giants moved it away

By Violet Boyce

Brigadoon appears every one hundred years in Old Scotland, as it comes through the mist people are singing and dancing.  Our people lived in Bingham a hundred years and disappeared in a cloud of dust and smoke.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could make a deal with God to bring Bingham back like the Scotts did in Brigadoon? 

Mining Companies separated their workers into ethnic or racial camps.  They lived where they told them to live. They had no choice live there or quit.  A family of Mexicans or Japanese would not be allowed to live in Copperfield.  We had a Jap Camp, a Greek Camp, and Mexicans in Dinkey Ville, the Austrians and Slavs lived in Highland Boy, and Swedes and Finns in Carr Fork.  Most of the Greeks quit and opened up grocery stores and boarding houses in Frog Town and Copperfield.  There were

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also Greek bakery and candy stores.  Swedes had stores in Carr Fork.  The Austrians and Slaves had stores in Highland boy.  Of course with twenty or so nationalities all of them had their own stores too.  In Company Store times, workers were paid in script and only redeemable in the company store.  They had their workers caught between a rock and a hard spot.

The melting-pot of peoples brought the smell of food that made your mouth water with delight but there were some that gagged you.  Carr Fork smelled of fish soaking in pots weeks before Christmas time.  Nobody liked the smell of a freshly killed goat or lamb either or cleaning of the intestines.  But when the cooking began the whole town was licking their lips.  We all got It was wonderful time to live.  “Bo hunk Christmas was really something to be invited to but you had to be important or live in Highland Boy.  Just how many people can a family feed?  I know there were lambs cooked outdoors on grills and probably many other meats as well.  Things were cooked as they did in the old country.  Lutefisk was a traditional Christmas dinner it is a rather strong tasting fish.  The way to separate the Swedes from the rest of the world is a lutefisk dinner.  I loved it.   

The Greeks ran herds of goats in the mountains.  A pig, a sheep or a goat would be slowly roasting and turning on a spit all day long.  Greeks were famous for their cooking and their parties.  It paid to have friends in all the camps.

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Sweden and Finland was very dark in the winter, almost totally dark at Christmas, a very depressing time. So, they celebrated Christmas for a whole month, starting with “St. Lucia’s Day the 13^th of December when the prettiest of all the pretty girls would go from house to house singing carols and serving coffee and cakes.  Christmas Eve found them honoring the dead with a wreath.  Christmas day was in Church, but the next half a month was a time of fun and merriment and ended on St. Knut’s Day on the 13^th of January. 

We lived during the “Great Depression”, and a time of sickness, Dad was out of work for two years.  So, we did what we could to have a normal Christmas.  Our tree came from forest just back of our house.  We made strings out of pop-corn and colored paper, no lights but lots of icicles.  These were hard times very few presents but our stockings were filled. 

Perhaps the most characteristic feature of Scandinavian life is the sauna.  They had public bath houses in all of the mining camps.  There is still one or what's left of it in Scofield.  Water was thrown on rocks that had been heated so they were red hot, thus creating some steam along with the dry heat.  Then they beat their skin gently with switches, and this was followed by a jump in the snow or a cold shower.  I remember roasting until I had enough, running naked to the dock and jumping into a Lake.  Four or five times.

When we finally moved from Telegraph to West Jordan we were not welcome.  I lived there for two years before someone stopped to talk to me, it was Marv Jensen what a wonderful neighbor.

Highland Boy Restaurant and Bar 

We were “Wild and Rowdy”, we were from Bingham, and “Brigham Young”, said there was blight on our souls.  Old West Jordan founders believed every word Brigham said, if they come from the mountains, keep an eye on your daughters.  Do not allow them in your home.   The Politicians sent Sheriffs up, time and time again.  Even after Prohibition had passed into history, they were still breaking family casks full of wine.  I remember when Bingham’s Mayor was call to SLC about problems in our town.  Joe Dispenza answered one blow-hard with a chuckle, “Yep, we gamble, we drink and we even have “Whore House”, and SLC is their biggest customers.  Our city is clean, no crime and no discrimination.  We had a crazy old coot in Copperfield.  He was always doing things that made him different but it would have been great to know him better.  He was “Joe Berger.  The old whiskered gentleman loved to make us jump.  I remember my brother went in his store to buy a piece of candy, “The Greeks have candy, what are you doing here”, he asked?  I thought you were supposed to have the best candy, he spit in the spittoon, smiled and was happy.  He gave me fifty cents for a porcupine.  That was big money back then.  He made a big show when he cooked rattlesnakes for friends, It smelled good and I would have loved to have a taste.  He had the first camper I had ever seen but I never heard where he ever went with it.

1935 Copperfield

 

I kept seeing these ski trails going up Bear Gulch toward Queen and then up the ridge where he had built a ski jump, boy that was neat.  A couple of tries showed me that it was just an accident waiting to happen.  It was Doctor Frazier preparing himself to go with the Byrd Expedition to the Antarctic.  But, how in the world could he go up-hill on a pair of skies?  I loved to read about him in the newspaper.  Later he was running the Colorado River with Dr. Inglesby and Frank Swain from Bingham.

Then there was “Chicago Charley” who always looked and acted like a nut, probably did more for the war effort than ay one in Town.  He shamed people into buy war-bonds.  The Victory Flag Society” honored him for all the work he did.  They send weekly letters to all of Bingham’s service men and gathered hundreds of pictures for the Societies picture book, what a treasure.

I seemed like for every occasion or crises new leaders stepped forward to carry the burden, I have always been proud  to be a “Binghamite”.

THE ADVENTURES OF KEITH AND ME byEUGENE

The Adventures of Keith Webb and ME

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By Eugene

Fishing the Uinta’s   Lightning and thunder was just showing us what it could do.  It was beautiful and scary.  We were well above “Timber-Line” sleeping under the only tree around.  We had our camp in the rocks just above the lake but our sleeping quarters was under a lonely tree. When it was time for bed we walked about 80 yards up the mountain, it was a wonderful spot, fairly level with some pine needles and cones to sleep on.  We had been sleeping here for at least a week and loved it.  A storm was coming tonight so we went to bed early; we had already eaten supper and were tired.  We watched the rain-clouds move in.  We had already made sure our plastic tarp was tied to the tree on one side and rocked down on the other.  Our bags were now warm and cozy.  Normally, we watched the stars, but tonight we would have the most beautiful lightning display.  We had seen the dark clouds coming we knew we were going to have rain and may be a little lightning but.  Never before or since had we ever witnessed a storm like it.  The lightning was striking cloud to cloud, big flashes of light and thunder just a second away.  Well cloud to cloud is normally safe, but we were camping on Rainbow Lake at 11,400 feet and we were in those clouds.   We did not have to look above the tarp but out the side and below it. 

We had both experienced lightning storms in the High County before and knew it was not good to be under a lone tree but neither one of us was about to move.  Where would we go anyway?   Well the storm passed and the sun was out in the morning.

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We were talking about this and the old times.  When he told me he sure would like to go to Rainbow Lake, the one at the head of the Uinta River.  I had never heard of it.  Someone somewhere had told him about five and six pound Book Trout, what the heck, our wives were tired of us being under foot, so off we went.  We arrived at the trail head on the Uinta River about ten o-clocks that morning.  Our pack-racks were loaded at home with just the barest essentials, a sack of pancake flour, sugar, salt, bacon and Maple extract for syrup and sleeping bags.  Neither one weighed 35 pounds.  It was a long way, 20 miles to the first lake and that wasn’t Rainbow.  The trail wasn’t really that steep.  After about 16 miles up Keith lost me and called for me to hurry up.  When I showed up I had a hat full of Wild Strawberries, they were all over and all along the trail but I was afraid they would not be there to pick at the first lake.  Well soon after this there was stream just full of small cut-throats.  I told him it was supper-time, catch us some fish and I’ll get the fire going.  We must have eaten twenty of them, with biscuits topped with strawberries.  What a life.  The next morning we arrived at the Kidney Lakes (I think that was its name) where we caught some more fish for breakfast.  We fished a while because they were really biting.

There was a cabin here.  I think it was built either by the Forest Service or the Ranchers when they packed the camper in here.  It was too far to bring fishermen here and return in one day.  I don’t think it was locked but we were not interested in it.  In a couple of miles we came to another small good fishing lake but from the way the mountains formed we knew that we were about there.

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Rainbow Lake was a beautiful Lake sitting in big rock basin.  The water was clear and deep, no vegetation, nothing.  There was nothing on the banks there to produce feed, so there had to be shrimp and hellgrammites or something like that in the lake.   The only thing growing was a small weather beaten tree and some brush in the fold of a canyon.  This was where we made our camp to sleep in.  We made our cooking camp just above the lake.  The fire-pit was already made and rocks to site and eat from, all the comforts of home but the fire wood was far away and at times windy, but it was our home for the next ten days. 

It took a while to learn how to fish the stupid lake.  It was deep; it was rocky to walk around.  During the day the brooks seems to go to the bottom where only metal lures work, I hate lures.  Big wooly worms on ten foot of two pound test leader worked mornings and evenings.  But even then the woolies only worked if you jiggled them or trolled them so very slow.  It was fun but a pain.  We explored and fished here and there and I liked that.  There was no grass and no Picas or Martins or for that matter, very little wild life.

Rainbow really was slow fishing; I believe the big ones had eaten the smaller one long before we got there.  They were at the end of the cycle; they were eating themselves out of house and home.  Then there were some really cold winters and being 11,400 feet, who knows how cold the temperature dipped to.  If the lake wasn’t so deep the ice cover and the cold would have killed them long ago.  Some of the Brookies we caught had two years of eggs, and one had three sets of eggs still in them; they would probably die next spring if they didn’t get rid of them.  That was why they were so fat.  The big heads told us that they were really old.     And I liked the smaller ones on the lakes below us.  The biggest we caught were about four pounds and I know there were bigger ones that that in there.  The biggest cut-throats were maybe three pounds and they were more fun to catch, they were in better shape and really wild.  

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Ten days later here comes a troop of scouts without leaders, I never did know even if they had a leader.  As soon as they spotted us up they came.  We are lost and we haven’t eaten anything in two days, they cried.  Okay, but I need wood and off they went.  They ate us out of house and home.  The entire pancake four was eaten up.  What syrup was left they drank it.  The big fish we were going to take home for show soon disappeared but we were glad to pawn them off on them, we were wondering what to do with them.  We did not want to eat them or take them home, but they surely loved them.  We had lots of wood leftover so Keith burned his sleeping bag and pack-rack and everything he had.  And down the trail we went.  It was dark or almost dark when we got to the car.  We finally got to Roosevelt where we ate and filled our gas tank for a long old drive home.  We always left home in the dark and came back in the dark, to get the maximum time fishing or hunting.  What a wonderful trip. 

Keith was born in Lark, Utah and started school there.  Keith’s mother, Olive Webb was one of the many Petersons living there.   In about the 2^nd grade the family moved to Salt Lake City where he began going to school in West High School.  Norman Steele tells how he was so smart they advanced him one grade.   That’s how he got up in our grade, he was the youngest boy in our graduating class and I was the oldest.  Sometime during those early years Keith’s parents divorced and Olive married Everett Allinson and had two more children, Bill and Dan.  Both Keith and LaVae kept their Webb name.  Keith had lots of friends his own age and even cousins to play with.  Well, life in Lark was no different from mine; there were lots of things to see and do.  We were always hunting rabbits and shooting rats at the Lark Dump.

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Kids were still having fun and getting in trouble.  Everett, Keith’s dad loved to go over to Nicolette’s to talk and eat his home-made goat cheese and have a glass of home-brewed wine with it.  I liked the cheese quite well but Keith got to like the wine too much.  One day he got so drunk he couldn’t stand up and was he sick.  So, he ended that problem, he quit drinking.  Keith was never adopted but Ev but grew to love Ev quite a bit.  I remember going hunting with the two of them, Ev was quite a wrangler.  I guess that was where Danny got his love of horses.  Ev got on his horse and off they went straight up this steep mountain in Butterfield.  I expected them to come tumbling down but they didn’t.    

Keith talked about where his dad took him up in Idaho, never about him or how much he liked him.  Keith and his dad, John Webb must have kept in touch, his father was an underground miner for the US Mine in lark and left there to work in Idaho.   Apparently Keith was with his Dad for a time and wanted to go back.  So, off we go.   I think we went in Norm’s Dad’s Buick, but Keith was definitely in charge.  It had to be in the late 1940’s when the roads and cars were terrible and unreliable.  We had travelled it seemed like forever and we finally stopped in probably Arco, Idaho and it was dark.  I was riding in the back-seat with Norm’s bottle of wine and when I got out of the car the bottle followed me and there it lay in the gutter red wine everywhere.  It also broke his heart; he being under-age had a hell of a time buying it.  We came to Mackay before noon and it was deserted.  The man running the service station there said, “The Forest Ranger emptied the town and all travellers to fight that fire over there.”  So we left town in a hurry.  The ride was boring nothing but low hills and sagebrush.  There were many signs of Big Lost River and Little Lost Rivers but I never seen any kind of water, sitting or running.  It was the called the Donkey Hills and I believed them.  I asked Keith if we were lost and I could see that I should have been quite.   Anyway we fished every body of water in the Lost 

River Range and the Lemhi Range.  In time we found the Pahsimeron River Valley.  Keith showed us the road where his dad used to live, but we didn’t go to see it.  We did catch and eat quite a few Dolly Varden trout in a few creeks that entered it.  They almost looked like Brook Trout; they had spots on them too but the big ones looked more ell like, long and skinny.  But we were after the “Big Ones” so we followed the river close to where it dumped into the Salmon River.  Flies were definitely not working so I put some salmon eggs on (I think they were illegal).  They must have been because something hit my eggs and off he went me running to keep up.  I lost him hook line and all.  It seems like we got to Challis I can’t remember Salmon City.  We followed the Salmon River its head-waters at Red Fish Lakes and Stanley.  This was where we found the remains of hundreds of dead Salmon that had died after depositing their eggs. Everything was beautiful all the way to Ketchum and then home.   

“Graduation Night”, was not a time for girls, dinners or drinking for us.  We piled in my car and off we went.  Dave, Keith and I had travelled here and there and now it was night and very dark.  We came to this river and had no idea where we were.  The tent was up in a few minutes, a fire going and we were cooking something or other.  We stayed up quite late talking and keeping the fire fed.  Then we had a stupid visitor, what it was we never knew.  It ran up the tent on one side and down it on the other side, all night long. We still had no idea where we were, not even what State we were in, Utah or Wyoming and didn’t even care.  There was fish to catch and rabbits to shoot, and we were having a good time.  One of us brought I a huge bird of some kind, it took a while until we identified it as a male Sage Hen.  “I can cook him”, so, Keith put him in this big pot of his and cooked him for seven hours.  After my potatoes that were glued together with Lard and a bird too tough to eat, we were in trouble.  We were also in the wrong State for our license; we were breaking the law with the bird. 

“Wayne Wonderland” Keith, Norm and I worked for Kennecott Copper Corp. and we used any excuse to go fishing, my boss threatened to fire me a few times.  I loved being on strike.  It was hard to get vacations at the same time.  Norm had all kinds of ideas on where to go he already been down to Southern Utah a few times before he took Keith and me there.  The plan was to go straight down to Fruita to get some frozen meat, so it wouldn’t spoil while camping at Donkey Lake.  Fruita was in “Wayne Wonderland” and it was truly a wonderland, I’ll never forget waking up in the morning and seeing for the first time. 

A few days later we pulled into Levi Bullard’s yard on his Fish Creek Ranch, beautiful place just back of the Cock’s Comb ridge.  The Cock’s Comb stuck straight up in the center of the valley.  Levi gave us all a horse, loaded up his pack animals and off we went.  This time we went to Donkey and other times we went to Blind Lake, Pear and Fish Creek Lake.  There was a good lake near Donkey called Shadow.  Time and time again we called Levi up, sometimes taking David Thorne, Nuffy Korologos and others.

The fish then were huge by today’s standards; they hadn’t been fished all during the war-years.  Lower Bounds Reservoir had an 18 pound fish caught out of it.  I caught several in the six pound range.  The outlet had a large pool where they could swim back into the lake.  We had many arguments on whose turn it to fish it.  One day it was definitely my turn and guess who was in my hole, “Keith”, I could have killed him.  “Help, Help he cried, I got a big one”.  You stole my fish, “Good Bye”.  Well I did help him, anyway and it was a good one.  One afternoon Norm went way down the stream and down Oak Creek.  Did you hear that, “I asked Keith?  Sounds like a duck to me.  Norm’s help did sound like a quack to me to.  A little later here comes Norm on the run and white as a ghost.  A mountain lion had been playing cat and mouse with Norm and just about had him.  The next morning we went down there with our rifles, of course there was no cougar when you want one.  He showed us where he climbed up out of the gorge.  No, it’s too steep impossible, but he made it.

The fish in Johnson’s Reservoir and for about fifty yards below it was just like that.  Some were so big they broke your line swimming up-stream back into the lake.  For years it was like that until they raised the dam it up the last time and put a screen in it.   

Keith Webb   Levi with 2 pack horses  Gene H  Nuffy K 

Fishing was hard, there was no such thing as a spinning reel and the bait-casting reels you could buy then was just a bunch of junk.  Fly pole and reels were ok.  In those days they poles were made of steel or bamboo.  The rafts we made could have killed us.  As soon as spinning reels and fiberglass poles were invented, we had them.  The invention of just bubbles that could be filled with air, water or sinkers made fishing easier. 

Keith was fun and always so full of enthusiasm, once on a subject he kept a going or should I say talking.  He sometimes got so carried away, he forgot we were there.  So, Dave and I made an agreement, just to see how long he could talk without us saying a word.  We went to SLC to see a movie.  He hadn’t caught on by the time we had gotten into the theater.  So, now after about two hours and a half, he was still going strong.  And we made it all the way to my house, three hours before he stopped to listen to my answer on the plans for tomorrow.  When I wouldn’t say anything and didn’t answer he finally caught on to our trick and he was not happy about it. 

Everyone back then had a nick-name.  I called him “Skeeter, mine was most often Halvey and Thorne’s was always Snuffy and he hated it, Kenny’s was Cougar or Swede.  We took all our classes in school together.  One day Keith brought a tea-pot to school and “The Boss” (a no non since teacher) caught him, first we saw the tea-pot sailing across the Shop, then Keith.

 

One day, on the way to Saratoga, we found all these cute lively friendly Bluffdale girls out by the side of the road, of course we stopped.  Vivian and Keith hit it right off, love at first sight.  Viv lined me up with all most every girl in Bluffdale and Riverton but I was not ready to settle down.  They were married by the time the Korean War came.  Keith was sent to a Rail Transport Unit up in Ogden and then was sent back to Virginia for the remainder of his time.  They must have boarded with or made friends with a lady who made all these wonderful Italian dinners.  Keith told me a lot about his meals be never mentioned her name.  A couple of years later we all came home and he was living in a small house in Midvale, I think they had the two girls there, Pam and Janet.  The other children were born in Bluffdale.

Keith used his service time to become an Electrician while I went back to the machine shop.  He never stopped learning even after he became a Journeyman Electrician.  In time he became one of the best electrician up there, he repaired shovels, trains, sub-stations.  Keith was there when the Precipitation Plant was being up-graded and made modern.  When they left Keith and Moore were left to run it.  Lacombe and Baxter were fighting a battle for the top job and when Baxter lost Keith was now worried about his future.  Keith really suffered depression at this time of constant worry.  When it was time to go home, he would park his car up above Lark and sit there for hours.  This was driving Viv crazy and she was angry with him too.  Strange as it may seem, Keith found a new interest, he found “Black Powder Pete”.  So, now we were shooting Black Powder Rifles out at Tick Ville.  Pete, an old-timer had many new games to play and it was fun.  These games helped Keith to forget his problems.  He just tried too hard at times.  he loved anything electrical, Stan Crump, Vivian’s brother bid and installed wiring in many homes.

It was after mid-night and here we were parked on a dead end road down at “Stinking Springs”.  Everett, Keith and I came in my old black Ford.  It slept two easily and told Ev it may be crowded but we’ll make it.  “NO”, he said, don’t worry about me.  I told him it looks like rain.  We should have.  We found Ev, just sitting outside with his sleeping-bag hanging in a tree.  I found a soft spot in the road and was sleeping away soundly when all of a sudden my bag was full of water.  Well we all parted company and went fishing.  My creel was full fish including many Browns.  Keith said, “Let’s get out of this crummy place.”  So, I showed him a look in my basket.  “How did you do that”?  “Well, if you tipped your fly with a Rock-Roller, maybe even you can catch one, they were under every rock.”  And off he went, not even a thank you, he never came back until his creel was full.

 

I watched this young kid across the river.  He may not any more fish than I did, but his were a lot bigger.  Soon I was across on his side sitting on a rock waiting for him.  He was a friendly kid, so we started talking.  First about the river.  Every spring the cut-throats in the Blackfoot Reservoir migrate up the Diamond River to lay their eggs and most of them return back to the lake.  But some of them have trouble getting back through the “Fish Traps” we are catching the slow ones.  Now, I was asking him about the fly he was using.  Would you sell it for a couple a bucks.  Yes, I would. It’s a local fly and I tie my own.  It was goofy looking fly on a large hook, a body with bright yellow and brown floss.  Well, when I got up to Keith, I flipped my fly in his hole and caught a big one.  The second cast into his hole caught another.  When I unhooked the fish, he demanded, “Where had I found a fly like that”?  He grabbed me by the arm and marched me back to the car to tie him one.  I still remember him cussed me up and down for being sneaky, he never even said, Thank you. 

We were in trouble, It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.  We looked at the Indians and they looked at us.  They were angry and everyone had rifle.  Keith and I sheepishly just looked at each other with our mouths open.  Was it us who messed up or was it the Indians?  Ballamis screamed, “God Halvey” get this Damn car moving, they’re going to kill us. So, I did.  We were a long ways away and they were still sitting on their horses looking at us.  All I got out of Keith was, they should have helped us.  I told Ballamis they can’t scalp you don’t have enough hair. 

This happened on the Farm Creek Road on our way to the “Upper Still Waters” of Rock Creek.  We used to go clear out to Duchesne and up, lately were cutting through the “Ute Indian Reservation” near Hanna.  It was a lot shorter but no one ever repaired the road.    So, after driving half the night we had just about crossed the Reservation on the Farm Creek road.  We were on a narrow, relatively straight road high above the valley.  The hill-side was very steep and scary but no problem until we saw two or three Indian Cowboys leading a herd of cattle with more cowboys prodding them at the rear.  Now, what to do?  So, I found a place for them to pass and waited.  Well, the Indians in front pulled off to the side, some of the cows kept going but most of them stopped too.  The Indians in the rear quit driving and moved their horses over to the other Indians to talk.  Well we waited a while for the stupid cows to move but they just stood there.  I was the driver and tried to push my way through the last remaining cows and they just would not move.  There was no help from the Indians.  All of a sudden the herd spooked and we were  in the middle of a wild stampede  one.  You could see the “Fire of Fear” in their eyes and off they went down a mountain so steep that I would be afraid to just walk down.   Could we may have been blamed for the Indians closing the road to all none-Indians.  There was big stand-off when deer season came and the road was posted as “NO Trespassing”, and means No Whites allowed.  Farm Creek road is no longer listed on today’s maps. 

Keith staying over-night in Clinton

We were fishing the Weber River working our way up to Wanship today.  Keith as usual up ahead fishing the better holes but I was doing quite well.  We were fishing with nymph flies and this stretch had lots of Browns and White fish.  I became aware of a black and white friend walking with me.  I crossed the river but he didn’t seem to go away, he needed a friend.  Maybe Keith needed a friend too, so I walked up to Keith and left him there.  When Keith came back to the car, he said, “Did you see that Damn Skunk, I had a hell of a time getting away from him?”  Nope!

I GREW UP IN HIGHLAND BOY by ERMA

GROWING UP IN HIGHLAND BOY

—ERMA YENGICH  DATED OCTOBER 12, 2011

Erma in Prom dress

I GREW UP IN HIGHLAND BOY, WITH MY 2 SISTERS, MEMORIES OF THE FUN WE HAD, PLAYING ON WHAT WAS CALLED, UTAH METAL FLAT, IS SO VIVD.

WE PLAYED HIDE AN SEEK, KICK THE CAN, HOPSCOTCH, RUN SHEEPIE RUN

AND CLIMBED THE MOUNTAINS IN BACK OF OUR HOUSE, JUST ENJOYING THE SCENERY. 

MY MOM WOULD PACK US A LUNCH, IN THE SUMMER AND WE WOULD CLIMB TO SUNSHINE PEAK, MANY TIMES WE WOULD GO DOWN THE MOUNTAIN TO MIDDLE CANYON, ON INTO TOOELE.

WE SPENT A LOT OF TIME AT THE HIGHLAND BOY COMMUNITY HOUSE, IN

THE LIBRARY WE WOULD DO OUR SCHOOL HOME WORK, WE WOULD ROLLER SKATE, IN THE BIG GYMNASIUM, THEY TAUGHT US HOW TO SEW AND COOK.

THE LADIES AT THE COMMUNITY HOUSE WERE SO HELPFUL, IN THE WINTER THEY WOULD HAVE SLEIGH RIDING PARTIES, THEN WE WOULD GO BACK TO THE COMMUNITY HOUSE FOR HOT CHOCOLATE AND CHILI, BOY, WAS THAT GOOD ON A COLD NIGHT.

MANY SUMMERS WE WOULD GO THROUGH THE UTAH METAL TUNNEL TO MIDDLE CANYON FOR A PICNIC, PLAY BALL OVER THERE, EAT OUR LUNCH AND COME BACK THROUGH THE TUNNEL, TO OUR HOMES.  WE USED CARBIDE LAMPS, FLASH LIGHTS TO BE ABLE TO SEE, WE USED, WHATEVER WAS AVAILABLE.

Carmela,  Erma,  Gigita 1939

NOW WHEN I THINK OF IT, I JUST SHUDDER TO THINK HOW DANGEROUS IT WAS.

WE ALSO WENT TO BUTTERFIELD CANYON AND STAYED OVER NIGHT, WITH THE LADIES OF THE COMMUNITY HOUSE, THEY TAUGHT US ABOUT NATURE, COOKING, LIVING IN THE WILDERNESS, ETC.

WE LEARNED TO HAVE FUN PLAYING GAMES AND SHARING SPOOKY STORIES.

I CAN’T SAY ENOUGH, HOW WONDERFUL MISS DUHIGG, MISS BROWN AND MISS MAY WAS TO EVERYONE.

MY DAD WORKED UNDERGROUND IN THE MINE, WHEN HE AND MY MOM ARRIVED, IN HIGHLAND BOY, IN THE EARLY 1920’S.  THEY CAME FROM

Gigita, Erma, Carmelita  1929

NORTHERN ITALY, AND WERE SO GRATEFUL FOR LIVING

IN AMERICA

MY DAD BUILT THE HOUSE WE GREW UP IN, SEVERAL YEARS AFTER HIS ARRIVAL, HE WORKED UNERGROUND, IN THE UTAH METAL MINE, HIGHLAND BOY MINE AND APEX MINE.

AS THE UNDERGROUND MINES BEGAN TO CLOSE, AROUND THE EARLY 30’S, MEN WERE LAID OFF AND MY DAD WAS OUT OF WORK, UNTIL 1938. I REMEMBER THE DEPRESSION, VERY WELL, SO MANY FAMIILIES NEEDING HELP.  MY DAD GOT A JOB AS A WATCH MAN ON UTAH COPPER, LATER ON.

ONE CHRISTMAS, MY SISTERS AND I GOT A SLED, WE HAD TO SHARE, OF COURSE, WE  DROVE INTO MANY SNOWBANKS AND GOT CUTS AND BRUISES, BUT BOY, DID WE HAVE SO MUCH FUN. 

I WAS SO HAPPY WHEN I FINALLY STARTED SCHOOL, PLAYING WITH MY FRIENDS, AND READING, I LIKED TO READ, STILL DO.

WE HAD 2 GRADES PER CLASS ROOM, SO YOU CAN IMAGINE HOW SMALL

 THE AMOUNT OF CHILDREN IN EACH CLASS, COMPARED TO TO-DAY.

I REMEMBER GOING ON A FIELD DAY TRIP, TO THE FLOUR MILL IN WEST JORDAN, WHICH IS NOW GARDNER’S VILLAGE AND ALSO GOING TO THE SUGAR FACTORY, IN WEST JORDAN, IT TOOK FOREVER, ON THE SCHOOL BUS, TO GET TO WEST JORDAN, COMPARED TO NOW, MY FAVORITE TEACHER WAS MISS SAMPSON, IN THE FIFTH AND SIXTH GRADE.

Mom, Gigita

AS I ENTERED JR, HIGH SCHOOL, AT THE OLD BINGHAM HIGH SCHOOL,IN COPPERTON, WE HAD TO WALK SOMETIMES, IN THE WINTER, TO THE ELEMENTRY SCHOOL, TO CATCH THE BUS, BECAUSE OF THE HEAVY SNOW THAT FELL, SOMETIMES THE BUS DRIVER COULDN’T MAKE IT ANY FARTHER THAN APEX YARDS, SO WE WALKED HOME, ABOUT A MILE.

SOMEHOW THOSE MEMORIES, I THINK ABOUT, ARE THE FUN WE HAD WALKING HOME, SOMEONE WOULD START A SNOWBALL FIGHT, AND EVERYONE GOT INVOLVED.

IN 1932 THERE WAS A FIRE IN HIGHLAND BOY, AND MANY HOMES WERE DESTROYED, EVEN OUR GRADE SCHOOL, GROCERY STORE, PRINCESS THEATRE, CONFECTIONARY/DRUG STORE.

YES, CHESTLER’S OWNEDTHATTHEATRE TOO THE UPPER PART OF HIGHLAND BOY WHERE WE LIVED, DIDN’T CATCH ON FIRE, BUT DOWN IN THE AREA WHERE THE SCHOOL WAS, THAT WHOLE AREA BURNED, SO MANY PEOPLE WERE LEFT HOMELESS.  AGAIN, THIS IS WHERE THE HIGHLAND BOY COMMUNITY HOUSE, WITH THE HELP OF THE RED CROSS, HELPED PEOPLE MOVE INTO EMPTY HOUSES AND PROVIDED, THE NECESSARY SUPPLIES TO START OVER.  I REMEMBER LIKE IT WAS YESTERDAY, I WAS 7 YEARS OLD, HAD JUST GOTTEN HOME FROM SCHOOL, AND MY MOM HAD SENT ME TO THE STORE.  I GOT ALMOST TO THE STORE AND THE WHISTLE FROM THE HIGHLAND BOY MINE STARTED BLOWING (THIS IS HOW, WE WERE NOTIFIED, WHEN THERE WAS A FIRE, OR SOME OTHER DIASTER) THE WHISTLE, KEPT GOING OFF AND YOU COULD SEE ALL THE SMOKE.

THE HOMES AND BUSINESSES, THAT BURNED, WERE NOT RE-BUILT, BUT THE ELEMENTRY SCHOOL WAS.  THEY REMODELED THE TEACHERS DORMINTORY, INTO CLASSROOMS, UNTIL THE SCHOOL WAS REBUILT.  SCHOOL WENT ON AS USUAL. IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY, THE FIRE OCCURRED ON SEPTEMBER 8, 1932, MY MOTHER-IN-LAW’S BIRTHDAY, SHE OFTEN TALKED ABOUT IT.

WE HAD OTHER TRAGEDIES, MANY SNOWSLIDES, THAT TOOK LIVES.  LIVING NEAR THE UTAH METAL TUNNEL, I REMEMBER SEEING MEN BEING CARRIED OUT OF THE TUNNEL AFTER A TUNNEL CAVE IN.

LIVING IN HIGHLAND BOY AT THE 7000 FT. LEVEL, WE GOT A LOT OF SNOW, AND OF COURSE, THE SNOWPLOWS, CAME UP EVENTALLY, TO OPEN THE ROADS.

I MET MY HUSBAND, WHEN THEIR HOME BURNED DOWN IN THE 1932 FIRE AND THEY MOVED UP THE CANYON WERE WE LIVED. 

WHEN THERE WERE SIGNS OF WORLD WAR II, IN 1940, MANY YOUNG MEN ENLISTED IN THE SERVICE.  THE DAY THAT PEARL HARBOR WAS BOMBED, LIFE REALLY CHANGED IN

Erma   Nick

 SO MANY WAYS, I STILL REMEMBER THE FEELING OF NOT UNDERSTANDING WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO US.  ALL THE NEWS WE RECEIVED WAS ON THE RADIO, OR NEWSPAPERS, BUT EVERYONE DIDN’T HAVE EITHER. I REMEMBER THE RATION BOOKS, IMITATION MARGARINE, RATION OF COFFEE, SUGAR, TIRES, GASOLINE, EVEN SHOES,

TOWELS, BLANKETS, WE MADE DUE, WITH WHAT WE HAD.

THEY COLLECTED POTS, PANS, ANYTHING RUBBER, FOR THE WAR EFFORT.

MY PARENTS HAD TO REGISTER, BECAUSE THEY WERE ALIENS, AND HAD TO REPORT TO CITY HALL, OFTEN.  THE SCHOOLS THEN STARTED TO HOLD CITIZENSHIP CLASSES FOR THOSE THAT QUALIFIED, TO BECOME NATURALIZED CITIZENS.

MY HUSBAND AND I MARRIED IN 1943, IN SAN FRANCISCO, HE ENLISTED IN THE U.S. COAST GUARD---OCTOBER 1, 1942---HE WAS STATIONED IN SAN FRANCISCO---I LIVED THERE AND WORKED, FOR THE ARMY ENGINEERS, AS A TYPIST, UNTIL THEY SENT HIM TO RADIO SCHOOL, IN ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY.  HE WAS SENT ALL OVER, HE SERVED FOR 39 MONTHS.

Miss Duhigg and staff

I RETURNED HOME, WHEN HE WAS SENT TO RADIO SCHOOL AND WENT TO WORK ON UTAH COPPER, THEY THEN, WERE HIRING WOMEN, I WORKED AS A FLAG PERSON, THEN LATER ON A LOT OF US WOMEN, WERE SENT TO COPPERFIELD TO STACK TIE PLATES, AND CLEAN UP WORK.

WHEN THE WAR ENDED, AND MY HUSBAND CAME HOME, WE HAD A LOT OF ADJUSTING TO DO, MY PARENTS HAD BOTH DIED, SO WE MOVED INTO THEIR HOUSE.  NICK WAS REINSTATED ON UTAH COPPER, BUT NOT LONG AFTER, THEY HAD A STRIKE, SO HE WAS UNEMPLOYED AND THAT WAS THE BEGINNING OF TRYING TO UNIONIZE THE EMPLOYEES.

WE HAD TO PUT OUR NAME IN WITH BINGHAM MERC AND BINGHAM RADIO SHOP, TO BE ON THE WAITING LIST, FOR A WASHER AND REFRIGERATOR, SO IT TOOK ALMOST 15 MONTHS TO GET THEM, WHICH WAS A BLESSING, NOT TO USE THE WASH-BOARD ANYMORE.  WE ALSO PUT OUR NAME IN FOR A CAR, SO IN 1949 WE GOT A NEW CAR.

YOU COULDN’T BUY ANY APPLIANCES, AUTOMOBILES, ETC, BECAUSE ALL FACTORIES WERE MAKING TANKS, GUNS, ETC FOR THE WAR, BUT WE MADE DO WITH WHAT WE HAD.

Miss Duhigg

WE RAISED OUR FOUR CHILDREN IN HIGHLAND BOY, AND TOOK PART IN THE SCHOOL PTA, AS WELL AS HELPING OUT AT THE SCHOOL, WHEN NEEDED.   MY CHILDREN WENT TO THE HIGHLAND BOY COMMUNITY HOUSE, TO ALL THE ACTIVITIES THAT I HAD AS A CHILD GROWING UP, THE ONLY THING DIFFERENT, WAS THEY HAD A PRE-

SCHOOL, WHICH OUR CHILDREN WERE ALLOWED TO ATTEND AT AGE 3, UNTIL THEY TURNED 5, THEN THEY WENT TO THE HIGHLAND BOY ELEMENTREY SCHOOL, TO KINDERGARTEN.

THE MEMORIES OF GROWING UP IN HIGHLAND BOY AND RAISING OUR FAMILY THERE, ARE SO MANY, WE SURVIVIED THE 1932 FIRE, THE WAR, SNOWLIDES, MANY MINOR TRAGEDIES, BUT TO ME THAT WAS A MINING TOWN

MADE IN HEAVEN, BECAUSE THE FRIENDS WE MADE, LIVED ON AFTER WE

MOVED AWAY.

Community Center

IN 1955, WE WERE TOLD WE HAD A YEAR TO MOVE, BECAUSE THE MINE WOULD BE EXPANDING AND THEY WOULD BE TEARING DOWN ALL THE HOMES IN HIGHLAND BOY, SO AFTER LOOKING AT SO MANY HOMES, WE SETTLED IN SANDY.

WE MOVED TO SANDY, IN 1956, THE 7^TH FAMILY TO MOVE INTO A NEW SUBDIVISION, MANY RELATIVES MOVED HERE, AS WELL AS SOME

OF OUR FRIENDS, FROM HIGHLAND BOY.    

I WENT TO WORK, SOON AFTER MOVING INTO OUR NEW HOME, I WAS TRAINED ON A KEY-PUNCH MACHINE, ADVANCED TO COMPUTERS, I WORKED FOR 20 YEARS, UNTIL I RETIRED IN 1978.

WHEN MY HUSBAND RETIRED FROM KENNECOTT, AFTER 42 YEARS, WE GOT A MOTORHOME AND TRAVELLED ALL OVER THE UNITED STATES, CANADA AND MEXICO.

Highland Boy

I REALLY ENJOYED GOING TO WASHINGTON D.C. AND VISITNG SO MANY PLACES OF HISTORICAL INTEREST ABOUT OUR COUNTRY.

I FEEL VERY FORTUNATE TO HAVE LIVED A LONG LIFE, BEING IN GOOD HEALTH AND LIVING TO SEE MY CHILDREN MARRY, TO SEE THE BIRTH OF MY GRANDCHILDREN AND NOW MY GREAT GRANDCHILDREN.

IN REMINISCING, I THINK OF THE THINGS THAT HAVE OCCURRED IN MY TIME:

Erma   Nick

DEPRESSION—WORLD WAR II—KOREAN WAR—HUMAN SPACE TRAVEL—CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS—JFK ASSASSINATION—RACIAL SEGREGATION OUTLAWED WITH CIVIL RIGHTS ACT—SPACE WALK—VIETNAM WAR—WALKING ON THE MOON—RESIGNATION OF PRESIDENT NIXON—FIRST WOMAN ELECTED TO THE SUPREME COURT—PERSIAN GULF WAR—TERRORIST ATTACK ON NEW YORK, PENTAGON, PENNSYLAVINA—

WAR WITH AFGHANISTAN AND IRAQ—THE ELECTION OF FIRST BLACK U.S. PRESIDENT.

THINGS THAT WERE INVENTED--TALKING PICTURES—IRON LUNG—SLICE BREAD—CAR RADIO—AIR BAGS—AUTOMATIC TRANSMISSIONS—PLASTIC EVERYTHING--ELECTRIC RAZOR—POLRAID CAMERA—PARKING METERS—FM RADIO—STEREO RECORDS—BALL POINT PENS—PENICILLIN—KIDNEY DIALYSIS—ATOMIC BOMB—TUPPERWARE—FROZEN FOODS—CAKE MIX—CREDIT CARDS—POLIO VACCINE—VIDEO RECORDER—TV—COLORED TV--MICROCHIP—HULA HOOP—TAPE CASSETTE—VCR—DVD—CD’S--COMPUTERS—INTERNET—ARTIFICAL HEART—VIDEO GAMES—DIGITAL CAMERA—CELL PHONES—WOMEN ON POLICE FORCE—WOMEN FIREFIGHTERS—WOMEN AS MAIL CARRIERS—WOMEN AS SCHOOL PRINCIPALS, AND ON AND ON.

I KNOW THERE IS HUNDREDS OF OTHER THINGS, BUT THESE ARE THE ONES, THAT COME TO MIND NOW.

AS BOB HOPE WOULD SAY, THANKS FOR THE WONDERFUL MEMORIES.