Our Gift to You
FONDLY KNOWN AS
The Wyoming Woodticks
WE SEND THIS BRIEF HISTORY TO YOU WITH OUR LOVE AND BEST WISHES FOR A LIFE OF HAPPINESS AND FOND MEMORIES.
Arch and Mont Pulham
Your former Bishops
TABLE OF CONTENTS
FOREWORD -- Archibald Pulham PREFACE -- Archibald Pulham PREAMBLE -- Archibald Pulham -- Ida V. Mills ORIGIN OF THE WOODRUFF STAKE -- from the John M. Baxter History A SUNDAY SCHOOL AMONG THE COWBOYS OF LONE TREE -- from the John M. Baxter History TRAGEDY AT MOUNTAIN VIEW -- from the John M. Baxter History SOME HISTORY TAKEN FROM THE JOURNAL OF CHARLES A TERRY Sr. SHORT SKETCH OF OUR LIVES IN WYOMING -- Hortense Brady Abbott STORY OF JOHN A. AND LUCINDA SANDERSON ANDERSON -- Buena A. Tillotson MEMORIES OF McKINNON -- Val Anderson TWENTY FIVE YEARS IN McKINNON IN JUST A FEW WORDS -- Nita Anderson White A BRIEF HISTORY OF THOMAS R AND LUCY ANDERSON -- Reulon L. Anderson A FEW MEMORIES OF MY LIFE IN McKINNON WYOMING -- Lela Terry Anderson THE BOYNTONS -- Mrs. D. E. Bluemel HISTORY OF JESSE AND MARGARET TERRY MENDENHALL -- Margaret M. Cloward EVENTS IN OUR LIVES A McKINNON -- Veloy Terry Gregory OUR LIVES IN McKINNON -- Henry Heiner MY LIFE IN McKINNON -- Reynold Heiner MEMORIES OF McKINNON -- Jean A. Heiner SOME EXPERIENCE OF LUCILE SMITH LUKE -- Lucile and Melroy Luke MEMORIES OF MY CHILDHOOD DAYS IN WYOMING --Thelma Mendenhall Taylor THE EARLY SETTLEMENT OF MCKINNON, WYOMING -- Mrs. Glen Walker OLD McKINNON -- Doris S. Walker WHAT THE COMING OF THE TERRY TOWNERS MEANT TO THE SMITH GIRLS MY MEMORIES OF McKINNON -- Snow Aldridge Stahlberg LIFE IN McKINNON -- Mont A. Pulham THE ALVIN SMITH FAMILY IN McKINNON -- Doris Smith Walker THE GLEN WALKERS IN MCKINNON -- Doris Smith Walker MEMORIES FROM FRANK D. and ALDEN WHITE -- Frank D. and Alden White MEMORIES OF MC KINNON -- Clive "F" Pulham EXPERIENCES AT MC KINNON -- from the diary of Mavis Pulham
When I was approached by my good brother, Bishop Mont Pulham, to compile this history through numerous letters which he had requested be sent to him for this purpose, and from which it was proposed that this history of McKinnon be written, I found, upon studying these fine letters, that they contained many personal experiences. I realize that these letters came from the younger generation, many members of which grew to maturity in that area and did not have the complete knowledge of the important points of interest in the origin of McKinnon. At least, such were not mentioned in any of the letters. Therefore, I thought it would be of interest to relate some of the salient facts regarding the rise and purpose of this small colony of people who first settled and organized the McKinnon Ward.
I have concluded also that it would be of great interest to the "Wood Ticks" to publish these fine letters following a few pages of history which I shall have copied on genealogical sheets, in the hope that they can be preserved in this form and at some future time afford the opportunity to be added upon when other facts and interests come to light.
It has been some time since I commenced this writing. There have been many delays—through illness, the death of my beloved companion, my being partially blind for a year, and all the attendant conditions which sometimes come to a person in his eightieth year of life. It has been a delightful experience for me, though arduous at times. I have had a prayer in my heart that we should be very grateful for our inheritance blessings, and that we should be mindful of our forebears who contributed so much to this inheritance.
For the interest of some who may read these lines, a word of explanation regarding the organization called "Wood Ticks" may be appropriate. Most people who have ventured to a frontier area generally come in contact with that little animal which has many legs and an ingenious siphon through which it can extract the life’s blood from living things—the wood tick. This little parasite, though sometimes harmless in its purpose, can become very dangerous, causing mountain fever, which may be fatal. This tick was so prevalent in the McKinnon area that its name was adopted.
In preparing this brief history of McKinnon, Wyoming, consideration is given to the origin of the Woodruff Stake of Zion, named after the late president of the Church, Wilford Woodruff. The McKinnon Ward became a vital part in the life history of President John M. Baxter, who was then president of the Woodruff Stake, and of his beloved uncle, President Archibald McKinnon. (McKinnon Ward became as his namesake).
I was the first bishop of McKinnon Ward. Many times we held campfire meetings when stake authorities visited us and we lacked conveniences for a large gathering. These were appointed to be held by a rippling stream of spring water which ran nearby and which made a perfect setting to listen to the counsel of this great man, President Baxter. We had a great interest in his exciting experiences in the building up of this far-flung part of his stake. He, in company with other stake officers, would travel from 90 to 100 miles by team and wagon, sleeping at night by the roadside, preparing meals as they traveled, and intermittently watering and feeding their horses as they traveled up steep hills and into passes where roads were hazardous and unprepared. It involved at times 10 to 12 days and 180 miles of travel to complete the circuit of the outlying wards and branches of his stake. This slow mode of travel gave opportunity for observation, not only of the condition of the people, but of the country in general.
One particular experience that President Baxter related was of great interest to our people. It involved a trip that he and his stake family took into our area on the way to Manila, some 15 miles beyond. President Archibald McKinnon was in company with his stake officers at that time. They had observed, during the day, many squatters settled upon various quarter sections of land. They camped that night on the very spot where we held campfire meetings. This particular spot seemed to be a prearranged place, as the spring of cool fresh water running through a grove of trees made a pleasant campsite. That evening comments were made by the group regarding the squatters. This conversation caused a deep contemplation in the mind of Archibald McKinnon. After the evening prayer he made this prophetic utterance. "Brethren, I want to say to you, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, that these squatters will never prove up on this land. There will yet come a day when a colony of Latter-day Saints will settle upon these lands, and they will prove up on them and make their homes here, becoming an organization of the Church in this very locality." This prophecy was made about the 1910. It was literally fulfilled. Peculiar as it may seem, President McKinnon died on April 22,1915, at the very time settlement began in this area – almost to the very day – by a colony of Latter-day Saints.
The success of our endeavors in this life cannot be claimed by one individual – nor can it be given to any one other. We ride, as it were, upon the shoulders of mighty men who have gone on before. Therefore, when a life combines not only goodness and virtue but also devotion to duty and patriotism in the spirit of sacrifice, and a deep, abiding faith in God, it becomes our duty to unfold such to our posterity.
The purpose of our people migrating into the McKinnon area was to homestead lands, in the hope of future security and happiness for their families. These were a hard-working people—good Latter-day Saints. Many were related through marriage. All the group had previous acquaintance with each other. Some had developed very intimate relationships. Others had had dealings with each other in the livestock business. This particular area afforded good land of 160 acres for each family, with grazing rights on the range for their livestock. In addition to this, desert entries could be taken up which would afford land holdings up to nearly 1000 acres for each family. This expansion of property over their previous holdings in Utah and Sanpete Counties greatly increased their potential for future success in the livestock business.
Their first consideration, however, was for their spiritual and social well-being. Through some missionary work and contacts with the stake authorities, a ward organization was effected in the 1918, involving some 300 souls. The majority of these people have left the area at this writing and scattered themselves throughout the state of Utah. The past associations and the bonds of affection which grew among these people endeared one to another. They meet as a group each year (the Wood Ticks) to keep alive the flame of friendship and vivid experiences of the past.
Lest we forget, the letters so well written by you good people will afford precious memories of good times we had together with our fathers and our mothers, many of whom have passed away.
Those sweet old days come and renew
With friendships that are staunch and true,
Who cherish the thoughts that blossomed and grew
In or souls—planted by you.
--Ida V. Mills
ORIGIN OF THE WOODRUFF STAKE
The Woodruff Stake was organized on June 6, 1898, with John M Baxter as president, who at that time was bishop of the Woodruff Ward. His counselors were Byron Sessions and Charles Kingston. It is of interest to note that just after the organization, Apostle Heber J. Grant, who was in attendance at the organization, wrote to President Baxter and made this comment: "I had a very strong feeling that you, President Baxter, were entitled and should be made president of the Woodruff Stake of Zion, and acting upon that impression, I asked to be present at the organization of your stake."
The day after the stake was organized, which was June 7, John M. Baxter wrote this: "The day after the organization of the stake, June 7, 1898, I, in company with Apostles Henry Smith, Heber J. Grant, and Owen W. Woodruff, went to Ft. Bridger and organized the Owens Ward, with Samuel R. Brough as bishop, Ephraim Marshall as first counselor, and Carl G. Youngberg as second counselor." The reason I put in this piece of history is because these names will become vital later on.
In August of 1899, Apostle Abram O. Woodruff and Joseph W. McMurrin of the seventies made a trip into the Big Horn country—the northeast part of Wyoming—where an organization of the Church was made. After traveling through the country they came through the Woodruff Stake and desired President Sessions to go with them down to Henry’s Fork of the Green River, where some of our people had located.
So continues John M. Baxter in his history: "The brethren thought that a branch of the Church might be organized there. Meeting these brethren at Ft. Bridger, we started for Henry’s Fork. The first day we passed through the badlands of Wyoming, and they were bad lands, indeed. Not a vestige of verdure could be seen, nor a bird, nor any animal life through twenty miles through the hills. It created within me a solemn feeling, as though I were passing through a cemetery—a feeling of depression and loneliness. When we came to Henry’s Fork, we witnessed the other extreme, for there was a beautiful valley, lovely meadows, and pine trees growing profusely all around—also birch and cottonwood, quaking asp and cedar—all these interspersed with pines. Their colors all blended together in the sunlight. Streams of water, clear as crystal, flowing through the meadows made the most beautiful pictures of nature that I had ever seen. We camped in the open field at Lone Tree. This settlement consisted of a small store and schoolhouse. There were other houses around, but they were hidden in the pines among the foliage. We continued our journey for 22 miles down the river.
"To appreciate this history, one must realize that there was not a sign of life for miles around. As far as the eye could see, no human habitation was in sight. As the country was still in a wild state, we would every few miles come to an Indian wigwam or small village, with a lot of children and half-breeds playing around the wickiup—the men lying around idle and the squaws busy with their work. The scenery along this river was most wonderful and romantic. To the north were stretches of long table lands, covered with cedar; to the south were ranges of mountains covered with pine and timber, sloping gently to the valley, with beautiful streams of clear water sparkling and flowing toward the river.
"Leaving the river, we came to a cabin in the distance. When we got near it, a woman came to the door, which was an opening with a blanket nailed in it. She looked weather tanned and ragged, showing evidence of a very hard life. Brother McMurrin said, "Sister, you look to me like a Latter-day Saint woman." She replied, "You bet I do, and you look to me like Latter-day Saint men—and I am sure glad to see you." She invited us into her humble home. It would be difficult to describe the destitute condition of that home. She had two little children—one in her arms and one about two years old clinging to her. Her husband was away at work at one of the ranches. There was not a fence or any improvement on the place—just the cabin with a dirt roof, containing one room—no door, window, or floor. The woman was cheerful and told us they had lived there for two years, hoping to get water on the land. Now they hoped they would be able to get the water out next year. They had hauled all the water they used for culinary purposes four miles (from the river) in barrels. Not a living thing was to be seen on the place except the woman and her two children—no neighbors within three miles in this Indian country. We told the lady that we expected to hold a meeting the next day at a little settlement about three miles away (called Manila). She said she would be there. We then left for Manila.
"It was heavy sand from this place on to Manila. On arriving, we found a little village with houses built close together. The settlers there had driven a tunnel into the mountain about half mile away from the town and secured a little stream of water, which they had piped into the town. They had built a large tank of hewn logs in the middle of the town, and this furnished their water supply. They had a canal leading to their farms. This was a small colony of people who had come from Beaver to northern Utah. They had built a little meetinghouse about 10 feet square with round logs, a dirt roof, and no floor. The people were so poor that we could not think of imposing upon them to feed us, so we camped out in the yard and gave them all of the food we could spare in the way of canned goods.
"When we awoke the next morning, the sun was shining in our faces, and on getting out of bed we found that all of our shoes had been shined. Brother Woodruff had risen early, shined our shoes, had a campfire made, and was cooking our breakfast. This was the first and only time I had an Apostle shine my shoes.
"We held a meeting with the people that day in the little cabin. They were seated on slab seats, and we had the satisfaction at least of having our meetinghouse crowded to capacity. A splendid spirit was manifest. The people were starving for spiritual food. We organized a branch with Willis Twitchell as presiding elder, and leaving Manila about four o’clock in the afternoon, we drove on to Sheep Creek, about four miles, to the intersection of a road that led across the mountains into Vernal. Here we camped for the night. The next morning Elders Woodruff and McMurrin took the road to Vernal. Brother Sessions and I drove back to Henry’s Fork and thence to Ft. Bridger.
"Now that good woman that we met on the prairie in the desert was at the meeting in Manila. She had carried the baby and taken the little girl by the hand and walked through the sand for that three miles.
"It took Brother Sessions and me ten days to make the round trip back to Ft. Bridger. The day that we organized the Manila Branch was August 13, 1899."
THE REORGANIZATION OF THE MANILA BRANCH
"In September of 1904, in company with Andrew Jensen, assistant historian of the Church, with some of our Relief Society sisters and sisters of the Primary association (we were accompanied also by Archibald McKinnon of the stake presidency), we made a trip toward the Manila Branch, 125 miles from the Woodruff Ward on the Henry’s Fork of the Green River. On the way, about 32 miles southeast of Lyman, there is a little village called Lone Tree, where a few families had located; and although we knew it was a pretty wild place, we thought we might organize a Sunday School there. A house had been built, not far from the road, among some of the pine trees. Here we saw children playing around the house. We drove up to the house and I, on entering, found a woman with a very large family of children. They were in very destitute circumstances. The children were very shy, not having been accustomed to seeing strangers. I told the lady that we thought it would be nice to organize a Sunday School there and, said I, "I see you have a lot of children here that need the benefit of a Sunday School. What do you think about it, milady?" She said, in a very drawling tone, "Wal, I dunno, but I don’t think it would work. They tried it once before, and it didn’t go. The cowboys rode into the house and shot up all the windows—scared the kids nearly to death—and broke it up, so I don’t think it’ll work." I said to her, "If we organize a Sunday School, would you send your children?" She said, "I reckon I would, but I don’t think it’ll work." I said to her again, "We are thinking of holding a meeting in the schoolhouse on our return. Do you think the cowboys will interfere with us?"" She answered, "Wal, I donno. They might shoot around, but I don’t think they would shoot you. They shot a man here last week, but he needed killin’."
"In thinking about this, I thought the prospect of our having a Sunday School at Lone Tree was very flattering. We thought we would try, so we posted a notice on the schoolhouse door, appointing a meeting on the following Monday evening at eight o’clock. The sisters pled with us not to attempt this meeting, but Brother Jensen and I thought it would be all right, so we went on to Manila, and there we held a branch conference and installed Peter G. Wall as bishop of the contemplated ward. Brother Jensen obtained his historical data, and after spending a pleasant time with the people of Manila, we drove back to Lone Tree. Arriving there a little before sundown on Monday evening, we heard of a man by the name of Harry Bullock, who had relatives in Provo, Utah, who were members of the Church, and we thought that he would be all right for superintendent of the Sunday School if he was a member of the Church; so we drove to his house. Now Mr. Bullock was not at home, but his wife was there, and they had a large number of hay men. They were just in the middle of haying. The wife hesitated for some time before she let us in but finally did ask us to come in. The boys took care of the team. She was preparing supper for the hay men and said that as soon as they were through with their supper, she would prepare some food for us. We had not been there long before the cowboys came in from the hay field. They were galloping as fast as the horses could run—shouting and yelling at the top of their voices. Our ladies were very nervous and did not want to stay, but there was nothing else to do. While the boys were eating I told them the object of our visit and asked them to come to the meeting. They said, "Shore, we’ll come." One said, "When you organize a Sunday School here and make it go, I will show you a white cow!"
"After finishing their meal they retired to their bunkhouse, and after we had eaten, it was time for us to go to the meeting. We had to walk about half a mile to the schoolhouse. It was very dark, and we had to go through the woods. One of the ladies took Brother Jensen by the arm and the other took me by the arm—one on each side of me. I never had ladies cling so tight to me before or since as those ladies did that night. When we arrived at the schoolhouse, no one was there. We found a coal oil lamp, lit it, and set it upon the cupboard in the center of the hall. Then we sat down and waited. About nine o’clock a woman with a little child came in. At ten o’clock a number of cowboys came. They had their leather chaps, with spurs—their six-shooters hanging at their sides. At eleven o’clock we commenced our meeting, with quite a little congregation. The cowboys were no particular about making any noise. They did not take off their hats but acted as if they had never been in a meeting before.
"Brother Jensen was the first speaker. He had recently returned from the Holy Land and carried with him some souvenirs, among which was a Star of Bethlehem which he had bought at Bethlehem, some stones from Mt. Carmel and the Sea of Galilee, and other little trophies. Showing these and talking of his travels through Palestine was quite interesting to that group of listeners. I then addressed the assembly, speaking of the organization of the Sunday School and of the benefit that it could be to the children of the community. Incidentally, I said that sometimes, under the auspices of the Sunday School, we got up dances. One of the cowboys started yelling, "Whoopee, let’s have a Sunday School!" The others all agreed with similar shouts, so we proceeded to organize.
"We chose Harry Bullock as superintendent. He could raise no objection because of his absence. Two girls who had attended the BYU at Provo, Utah, volunteered to assist. They were voted in, and we finally effected an organization. The voting seemed to be very amusing to the cowboys. One fellow sitting near the center of the room first voted with one hand, then with both hands, and finally with his hands and his feet also. As the voting continued., his enthusiasm seemed to increase. After returning home, I learned that the Sunday School lasted two weeks. The girls went on the roundup with the boys out on the range, and the Sunday School was broken up. Several years later, however, we did organize again and had a good Sunday School at Lone Tree, which is still functioning."
I relate this bit of history because it was just ten years before the first membership of our group went into Manila, Utah. This only shows the destitution of human, good behavior among the people of this area and the wild state it was in just ten years before we entered the McKinnon area.
Writes President John M. Baxter, "In the spring of 1905, President Archibald McKinnon, Thomas Tingey, George A. Neville, and I made a tour of the state. We spent two weeks making this visit. While on this tour after leaving Milburn, we went to Mountain View, where we found the people in a state of excitement. A woman and a little boy undertook to cross Smith’s Fort River. The melting snows had swollen the stream, and the current was very swift. The party drove a team into the river, and the current took the team and wagon down the stream. In some unaccountable way, the little boy got out, but the woman and the horses were drowned. The boy had just reached the store at Mountain View when we arrived there, and we joined in the search for the woman. We found the horses and wagon some distance below where they went into the stream, but the woman was not with the outfit. The horses were both dead when we found them. We kept up a search for the woman all day—without success. The next day her body was found—some two miles below. This was the same woman who came to the meeting at Lone Tree last year with her little boy on the night we had organized the Sunday School among the cowboys."
I thought this would be of interest as we remember Mountain View—a mail station during the years of our sojourn in McKinnon. It was one of the central exchange stations on the old-type telephone, the handle of which we turned and rang for various stations outside of Mountain View.
Many similar experiences were had by President John M. Baxter in organizing the outlying areas of his stake. He had many wonderful experiences. Archibald McKinnon, his uncle, accompanied him throughout all of those early experiences.
We come now to April 22, 1915—and the death of Archibald McKinnon. Writes President Baxter, "Archibald McKinnon, my uncle, and first counselor in the stake presidency, died at Randolph April 22, 1915. His funeral was held in connection with a stake conference which was held on April 24 and 25 at Randolph. President McKinnon was like a father to me when I was a child, and I grew up under his care and instruction. In my young manhood he was my bishop and directed my spiritual activities. When I became a man, my uncle and I became companions and were very much attached to each other. When I was chosen bishop of Woodruff Ward, we became more closely associated than ever. We traveled together to conferences in the Bear Lake Stake and discussed the problems of our respective wards. With our unity and affection, the people of Randolph and Woodruff became very closely united. When I was called to be president of Woodruff Stake, he was still bishop of Randolph Ward and fully sustained me as his president.
"Nothing of any importance was done in the Woodruff Ward on which I was not counseled. When President Byron Sessions was released as my counselor, my uncle was chosen to succeed him and continued in that position until he died.
"President McKinnon was faithful unto the last moment of his life. He never shirked any duty that was required of him at any time. He was wise in counsel, kind to everyone, honest in his dealings with his fellowman, strict in obedience to the commandments of God, and devoted his life freely to the service of the Lord. The speakers at his funeral were Apostle Heber J. Grant, Joseph W. McMurrin, George A. Peart, and Bishop . Many beautiful floral offerings and manifestations of esteem were attendant."
Our people in McKinnon knew Samuel R. Brough. Many of us had a lot to do in business dealings, religiously, and especially in a social way with Bishop Samuel R. Brough. I want to inject a little piece of history here regarding this wonderful character which I think will be of interest when some of our people read the history of McKinnon. I quote further from the history of John M. Baxter.
Bishop Samuel R. Brough was released as bishop of the Lyman Ward on March 10, 1916, and H. Melvin Rollins was sustained as his successor. Bishop Brough had acted as bishop of the Lyman Ward since its organization and had been a wonderful bishop. He was instrumental in founding the town of Lyman, which was located on his homestead, and he gave it over to the people for a townsite and sold the lots at a reasonable price. He was a leader in all of the public enterprises in the early settlement of Bridger Valley, and through his advice (and often with his means) many were assisted in getting homes in that valley. At one time he had lumber and other material on the ground to build a house, but he let it go for the building of the meetinghouse. He was a very hardworking man and successful in his financial affairs. As an example of his obedience to the priesthood, I will relate one little incident:
"In company with President Tingey, I was on my way to Manila when we called at Lyman and found Bishop Brough in the midst of his harvest. He was standing on a wheat stack stacking grain from four to five wagons, with the perspiration streaming down his face. I looked up at him and said, "Bishop, we are going to Manila, and we would like you to accompany us." He said, "Well, you see how I am situated, but if you say ‘go’ I will go." When I said , "Go," he climbed down from the stack, put another man in his place, and accompanied us to Manila, which trip took us three days. This incident expresses the sterling qualities of Bishop Brough.
"Carl G. Youngberg, one of Bishop Brough’s counselors, also made the trip with us. This young man, being very active, was a splendid sport and took a vigorous part in every enterprise and activity in the Lyman Ward."
Many of our people in McKinnon will be acquainted with Carl G. Youngberg.
Another notation in the history which is of interest to us is regarding Heber Bennion, who at the present time owns property in McKinnon. President Baxter states this in his history also:
"October 13, 1916. Heber Bennion, Jr. was made presiding elder of the Manila Branch." Many of us knew Heber Bennion, Jr.
Continuing the history which President Baxter has written, I quote another passage:
"We had called our settlement "Mountain Home" for many years. The name "Mountain Home" was changed to "McKinnon" on September 8, 1922, in honor of President Archibald McKinnon." Then President Baxter relates in his history that on one of his trips to Manila, Brother McKinnon accompanied him and they camped on the spot that I had previously mentioned—where the McKinnon Ward is now located. "He reiterated by saying to me, "John, you will see that day when there will be a settlement of Latter-day Saints on this spot, as I have predicted in the past." A few years later this prediction was literally fulfilled. He little thought then, however, that the settlement would be named after him."
One of the last pieces of history that President Baxter wrote (and he died shortly after this) is mentioned after returning from Salt Lake City, where he was visiting. He says, "About July, 1929, we received an invitation from the McKinnon Ward to pay them a visit. George A. Neville took his large school bus. We intended to take quite a company of former stake officers, but as some were unable to go, our company consisted of George A. Neville, Brother and Sister Seth Thomas, Hyrum J. Norris, Jr. and his wife, Arilla Wilson, Sister Baxter and myself, and Brother Norris’s little boy. We left early in the morning and had a very pleasant trip to McKinnon—about a hundred miles from Evanston on the Henry’s Fork of the Green River. On our arrival we were met by a delegation, who escorted us to the homes of our friends. We were kindly received and entertained that night. The following day being Sunday, we attended Sunday School and meeting. All of the time of the two meetings was turned over to us, and afterwards we were taken to the home of Charles S. Anderson, a prosperous sheep man, where a splendid dinner had been provided in our honor. A large number of invited guests were present, and we spent a very social and pleasant time. A bonfire social had been prepared for the evening. The boys had gone into the woods during the week, hauling out a large pile of wood—enough to supply two families with sufficient fuel for a whole winter. A program had been arranged, and the people in all the surrounding country were notified—and there was a wonderful gathering for that community. Although the weather was stormy, people came many miles to meet us and participate in the festivities. Prominent among the long distance visitors was Peter G. Wall, bishop of the Manila Ward. He was in the mountains when he received work of the contemplated visit. He rode on horseback twenty-five miles and eighteen miles in an automobile to be present; also Daniel Nelson, a former bishop of Manila but now a resident of Vernal, Utah, was present. He said he would go a hundred miles any time to meet us. The bonfire was lit, and oh—such a fire! It illuminated the country for a long distance around. Over 150 people were present surrounding that bonfire. All the speakers were profuse in their expression of friendship and esteem for the visitors. The evening was spent in listening to speeches, songs, and stories. Our talented singer, Sister Wilson, did her share of the entertaining, with a number of songs which were vigorously applauded.
"The next day we had our pictures taken with a number of different groups—then started on our return journey, arriving at our homes again without any mishaps and with our hearts full of joy for the kind reception given to us by the people of McKinnon. We had become very much attached to the McKinnon people from the very first. This little colony was founded by some very choice people from Provo and other Utah towns. Some of the families were large and nearly all of them related through marriage, making the colony like one large family. There were the Pulhams, the Terrys, the Andersons, the Heiners, and others. They were a very talented and fine lot of people and certainly knew how to entertain. During our associations with them while they were a part of the Woodruff Stake, our stake officers who had one visited them always had a desire to do so again.
"On one of our first visits to this wonderful colony, about 1918, we gathered at the home of Brother Pulham, Sr. Near his home we raised the American flag on a flagpole that had been erected by the Pulham family. In this company were the following , who had acted as stake officers in the Woodruff Stake: President George A. Neville, second counselor in the stake presidency; Hyrum J. Norris, Jr. and his wife, presidents of the YMMIA and YLMIA; Zina Taggart, president of the Relief Society; Harriet Staheli, counselor to Sister Taggart; Otis Atkinson of the stake Sunday School board; and some others. The honor of hoisting the flag was assigned to me, and then we all joined in singing our national anthem and some of the songs of Zion. We then dedicated the district of country to the Lord for homes and abiding places of Latter-day Saints. The spirit that prevailed during this ceremony can hardly be expressed. Many of the people shed tears, and I, perhaps, felt the solemnity of the occasion more than anyone present, for I knew just what this people would have to pass through. Some of these settlers had left comfortable homes, with all the conveniences of city life and social organization, and had come out into this desert country to establish themselves in new homes and new surroundings. Today they were full of joyful anticipation of securing farms and homes, but I am sure they did not realize the gigantic task that was yet before them. I, however, could see it, and my heart went out in sympathy for them.
"They had a canal over six miles long to construct over very rough land and steep hillsides before they could secure any water for irrigation purposes. Then they had their lands to break up and clear of brush, fences to build around the farms, and houses and outbuildings to erect—all this to do before they could realize anything to support their families. Long before all this could be accomplished their surplus funds would be exhausted, and they would have to leave their homes and find employment for their support. They would have many obstacles to contend with. There would be breaks in their canals, and the water would rush down and cause great damage to the hillsides. Many delays would be experienced, from one cause or another. Then discouragement would come. Young people would get homesick and long for the associations of their former city friends and social activities, and a spirit of discontent would enter into their homes. I could see all this on that day—just as plainly as after it had happened—for I had passed through it all. And all these things did happen, but the brave parents of these families, who are now reaching their declining years, stood firmly by their boys and girls to encourage them in every move, although they themselves had never been accustomed to the trials of pioneer life. They shared all the hardships of their children and tenaciously stuck to their tasks until they had accomplished their purpose. After many years of toil, hardship, and disappointments, they are now enjoying the fruits of their labors. They have established themselves in good homes, have productive farms, a dairy, a creamery, a country store, and a modern school building with ample capacity for their school, social, spiritual gatherings. They are now prosperous and happy.
"Brother and Sister Pulham, who were of English birth but staunch, loyal American citizens, after hoisting the flag of their country over their domain and dedicating it to the dwelling place of their posterity (on the day referred to) remained firm and steadfast with them until they saw their children thoroughly established and comfortable. Then they broke down in their health and went to the sea coast to live with their son Archibald, who now resides in California. After returning, Sister Pulham died in March, 1932, and Brother Pulham followed her about one month later, both being laid away in their mountain home."
This is the last piece of writing that I am quoting from the history of this wonderful, venerable stake president, John M. Baxter. I will now take up the incident of the arrival of Charles A. Terry, Sr. in that area to establish homes.
Edited by Arch Pulham, first Bishop of McKinnon
My son got in touch with a man, A. S. Brown, of Salt Lake City who was in the real estate business. He had a wild cat scheme in Lucern Valley, near Manila, Utah. We decided to move east to Manila, this was in 1915. There was a new settlement where land was cheap. We took stock in the company and it fell to pieces. It seemed no matter what I did we lost. I made lots of money but lost lots of money. It took a great effort to provide for my family and to keep up with my losses. While we were in Manila, a Brother by the name of Peter G Wall, came to see me after we had lost in this wild cat scam. Brother Terry, he said to me, I believe I can show you where you can take up land, bring the water on it with little expense, and make some good homes. I will go with you tomorrow and show you the place if you would like to go. I said all right, so my two sons Charlie and Ira and my son-in-law Jesse Mendenhall got our horses ready and brother Wall came along, We rode about twelve miles west of Manila, just beyond Cedar Point. We rode over the land and studied the proposition carefully. We concluded it was good. The next day Brother Wall asked us if we were going to consider the proposition, I said, yes but we will have to wait until we can get some money before we can do anything. How much money will it take said Brother Wall, I figured it up and told him it would take ninety dollars, Brother Wall said, I can let you have the money and then you can pay me back when you harvest your hay. This we did. We secured the land and started the colony now called McKinnon. Mr. Wall was paid back in full when I harvested by crop of hay. We started to work and build our homes, My son Charley and I was running a saw mill and we had lumber so built our houses and we moved in. We hired a man by the name of Fish to survey the canal, Charley, Brother Luke and I assisted him in the survey. It was about eight miles long. We had the task also to provide for our families and build the reservoir, dig the canal, grub the sage brush off the land, do our fencing of the land. We started this in 1916, others joined our colony as time went on so we put our shoulder to the wheel and went to work
THIS WAS THE BEGINNING OF THE COLONY KNOWN AS McKINNON WYOMING.
Charles Alphonzo Terry, (Daddy Terry) as we affectionately called him, was the son of Otis Lysander Terry and Sarrah Vail. He was born May 3, 1858 in Union Fort, Utah a few weeks before the arrival of Johnson’s Army. His father drove an ox team to Utah in 1850. He was captain of ten wagons.
When Charles was a young lad his parents moved to western Fairview, Utah. He spend thirty years of his life in that area. Saw much trouble with the Indians and received much training in pioneer life as he grew to manhood. He went through the channels of the priesthood and took an active part in church affairs, He married the sweetheart of his youth Margaret Ann Anderson. His first pioneer trip was to Canada in covered wagons, He was instrumental in creating the town of Cardston Alberta Canada, which he named. High winds and violent storms caused much loss of crops and the comforts of living. He was chosen by the colony to go to California and arrange for the purchase of a fruit farm of several hundred acres of land with fertile garden spots at a cost of $56,600. This he did but his part in the project was short lived because of apostasy and evil among some of the members. Some people cannot stand prosperity, the Treasurer, once a good Latter-Day-Saint swindled the colony out of $7,600 the first year.
Daddy Terry left the colony and returned to Utah in disappointment. A more detailed history of this noble stalwart of Mormonism, Charles A. Terry, can be found in "The Life and Letters of Charles A. Terry" Edited by my son and his wife, Charles F. Pulham and Montez.
Sim and I were both born and raised in Fairview, Utah. When he grew up he went to herd sheep for the Bennion Livestock Company. Later he managed the herds for them. On one of his trips home we met at a dance, and that was it for both of us, as we married a year later. In 1916 he decided to quit Bennions and find work where he could be home with his family. We had two children then—Ferl and Rex.
Bennions asked Sim if he would like to run a ranch for them in Wyoming, so in October he came to Fairview for us and we went to Lonetree, Wyoming, to what seemed to me to be the last outpost of civilization. We were happy to be together, but we did miss family and neighbors.
To our surprise and delight one day Hy Anderson stopped at our place on his way to Carter to get a load of freight. We had not known that he lived close around there, and he was just as surprised to see us. It was then that we learned that a group of people had homesteaded land about 20 miles east of us. We soon went to visit our friends. Among them were Terrys and Andersons, whom we had known in Fairview. Wyoming seemed a much nicer place to live after that. As often as possible we went to visit them and to attend church, which was held in Charlie Terry’s house. Those were red-letter days for us.
Vonda was born while we lived in Lonetree, and dear Aunt Maggie Terry came and took care of us. If ever there was a sweet person, she was one.
Bennions wanted Sim to buy the Lonetree Ranch, but we felt that it would be better for all of us to be where we could go to church and where the children could be in a bigger school. A Mr. Fisher wanted to sell his homestead rights to a place in Coon Holler. (Why it was called that I have no idea.) Sim bought the rights, and in February 1919, we moved to Mrs. Luke’s one-room cabin to live while our house was being built.
Sim was just recovering from the flu when we moved, and due to exposure he contracted pneumonia. We had no close neighbors, and I had no way to go for help, so I know the Lord was watching over us, as a Mr. Perkins from Burnt Fork (whom we hardly knew) came by to see how we were. Soon Dr. Tinker was sent for, and our dear friends came to help. With the blessings of the priesthood and the good care of dear Aunt Lucy Anderson, Sim recovered.
On April Fool’s Day we moved into our home—only two rooms—but it was our own, and we were very happy to be there. Welby was born in May, and thus began our pioneer life. The following years were mostly happy ones—lots of hard work and many disappointments—also many rewards in seeing our lands develop into productive acres. There was so very little money so we had to grow most of our food. I will never taste peas as sweet and good as the ones we grew there. We shared each others’ joys and sorrows.
We all remember the good times we had in the little red schoolhouse, but soon our families grew until we had to build a new schoolhouse. Both of these served as church also. Wouldn’t we have enjoyed a church such as they have at McKinnon now! Many were the good times we had at the Pine Grove. I remember the first gathering we had there. My mother and Charlie Terry decided it was time we had a celebration, and I doubt if we ever had a more enjoyable one. I can remember the large pans of popcorn balls she made for the children.
By 1932 there were eleven of us in our two rooms. How we managed I have often wondered.
Sim had worked in the timber and had logs and lumber to build us a new home. On my birthday in June, I celebrated by laying the first rocks for the basement of our new home. When it came time to have the threshers, I just couldn’t cook for them in that little house. Sim said if we moved then it would snow on us, but move we did—and of course it snowed! We were in the basement until the upper story was built. There was just the sub-floor above, with cracks between each board, so we were leaked on, but as least we had room to move around in without bumping into each other. Our last child Peggy, was born while we lived in the basement; then that winter we burned clay and plastered the upstairs—and moved in. At last we had room enough to have some of the parties at our home. My father had done all the carpenter work on our home and built lovely windows where I could have all the house plants I had always wanted. It seemed as though we were over most of our hardships, when Sim contracted tick fever and passed away.
Chasta, Florence, Mrs. Smith, and Lovina—all of whom I worked with in the Mutual and Relief Society and loved very much—are all gone now. Very few of the older ones are left, and those are scattered. Let us keep on with the Wood Tick reunions and renew our friendships. The memories of our lives together are very dear to me.
Hortense Brady Abbot
809 Harrison Avenue
Salt Lake City, Utah 84105
John was born in Fairview, Sanpete County, Utah, July 16, 1865. His mother was Carolina Johnson. In Sweden the name was Jonsson. John’s father, Archibald Adamson Anderson, was born in Scotland. Lucinda was the daughter of Rebecca Ann Sanders and Henry Weeks Sanderson. She was the youngest of nine girls and four of the five brothers. John had eight half sisters before a half brother, Thomas Reese, was born. John worked on the farm daily with his father and had great respect and love for him. There were ten years between his full brother, James W. and himself. His full sisters were Mary and Janet.
Lucinda was born in Fairview August 19, 1872. After their marriage the young couple lived in a small house in the middle of the block of her parents’ lot until they built their own neat red brick home on the northwest corner adjoining Lucinda’s parents’ lot. After about fifteen years John and Lucinda built a lovely home, consisting of nine rooms (walk-in clothes closets in five bedrooms). The house was of white brick. It is at this time (1970) one of the best-built houses in Fairview, Because the young people in Fairview liked to hear our player piano, it was often the gathering place on Sunday evenings after church for all ages—and home for some of the relatives.
Lucinda’s health was not good in her younger years when her children were small. She had great responsibilities when John was away with the sheep. Much depended on Clifton as he grew old enough to help. Their first child, a beautiful little girl named Ora Lucinda, died very suddenly with pneumonia; then came Clifton and Buena May. We went to the sheep camp with father to spend a few days in October. The men were working with the sheep some distance away from the wagon and tent. The children were playing close by. Mother noticed something was wrong. Soon Clifton and Calvin began having convulsions. Mother would question them between convulsions. They said they had found a bottle which they thought contained sugar, and they ate some of it. The bottle had fallen out of one of the herder’s pockets. Mother screamed for help, but the men were too far away. Some time later a man on horseback heard mother’s screams and responded, but it was too late. Calvin was dead. Clifton gradually got better. Buena must have been napping. She, at two and half years of age remembers playing around the sheep wagon with her brothers, John Clifton and William Calvin, six and four years of age. In due time Eva Allowee was born; later David Lyle; then shortly before we moved from our red brick home (preparatory to tearing it down) Owen Leslie arrived—a cute little black-headed boy. We called him our Indian. I think Ethan was born before we moved into a rented house. Lucinda’s mother was near death, but before she died she had mother promise that we would move into her house until ours was completed.
Father, mother, and baby Ethan and Eva went to Salt Lake to attend Conference. The day they arrived home, Buena came down with the measles. Ethan, on his one-year birthday, became very sick with the measles. A new doctor had come to town. When Ethan died, the doctor was told that Lyle had recovered from diphtheria only a short time before. The doctor immediately went after antitoxin for diphtheria and gave every one in the house shots. Owen, now the baby (28 months) got several times the required dosage. Mother and Eva got more than they should have had. All were bedfast and very ill—eyes swollen shut—bodies black and blue. Not knowing the new doctor at the time, we soon learned that he used dope. When he found what he had done he quickly left Fairview, no one knowing his whereabouts until years later. During Ethan’s illness we had Aunt Delia Bonnie, a well-known family nurse, with us.
Edwin Max was born January 26, 1909, and for six years we had our sweet smiling brother with us. He died March 17, 1915. Next our little sister, Jessie Matilda, was born March 17, 1911. She and Robert Allen were a joy to our family. Especially mother and father enjoyed them through the years. It was while father was in Lucern Valley the first time that he met a lost cousin named Robert Allen. Our Robert Allen was born July 14, 1915. Father returned and told mother that he would like to name the boy Robert Allen. Mother already had the name Robert in mind. Before Bob, Von Archibald came to us—on February 22, 1913. While still a very young baby he caught whooping cough, and many times we thought that he was gone. He would choke, turn blue, and before we could bring him to we would have time to run to the field for father. Father would douse him under the cold water tap and then under the warm, toss him in the air, roll him on the lawn; by that time the doctor would arrive.
Mother with the chore boy, would drive the home stock about two blocks to the creek for water. As Clifton grew big enough, much was expected of him. Later, father hired regular sheepherders who went to the west desert in the winter. Clifton, Hyrum, Albert Peterson (perhaps Otto Peterson) and others, besides father’s regular sheepherders, spent short periods with the sheep.
Father was a man who put trust in people. Sometimes they would take advantage of him. Such was the case when father was shown beautiful pictures of Lucern Valley. The growth on the land looked so inviting that father and Clifton took a trip to Wyoming. Father thought that he was leaving his sheep in charge of two reliable herders—one who had worked for years for father. However, on his return home he discovered that between six and eight hundred sheep were missing. The camp was situated between Fairview and the mining towns around Price, Utah. It would have been an easy matter to sell the sheep and drive them to the railroad for shipment to eastern cities, or butcher them and sell to the markets. This was a discouraging experience. Father decided to discontinue the business in which he had spent most of his life. He sold the sheep that were left and bought cattle.
Father bought the Birch Springs ranch from Joe Duncan in what is now called McKinnon, Wyoming. The cattle were shipped to the ranch. The first winter proved to be a hard one for the stock. Deep snow, cold winds, wet weather, and the lack of feed (which was very costly) proved disastrous to the animals.
Our Fairview home was sold to the station agent, Harry Rasmusson. Later Mr. Rasmusson moved away from Fairview and sold to Cleon Anderson, a nephew of mother’s. The dry farm was sold to Albert Madison. Our farm land was sold, and in early spring of 1921 the family moved from Fairview to McKinnon, leaving many relatives and life-long friends. John and Lucinda did much, as did their parents and grandparents before them, in building up the Fairview community. Father served in many different capacities, business and otherwise, such as city councilman. He was extremely generous with donations and helped whenever and wherever help was needed. John was chosen to be a counselor in the McKinnon Ward bishopric, where he served faithfully with three different bishops for many years. He completed a stake mission in Lyman and Mountain View, Wyoming. He served on the school board and was a member of the irrigation and reservoir company, using men and teams to build and keep reservoirs and irrigation ditches in repair. He was instrumental in the erection of the McKinnon Ward chapel, and be was one member who stayed on the job until he saw its completion and dedication.
Father, mother, and all their children appreciate the friendship, love, and help given to our family. Our McKinnon friends and those nearby have been many staunch and true leaders and friends. There have been times when true friendship has been needed in the John A. Anderson family, and neighbors and friends have always responded. One such time was when after years of toil, their house burned to the ground. This was a time when we really appreciated true and loyal friends. There are also many other instances.
Mrs. Buena A. Tillotson
2292 Roosevelt Avenue
Salt Lake City, Utah 84108
I shall never forget my first view of the country where I was to spend 25 years of my life. A bride of a few months, I was to go to Wyoming, where my husband had filed on 160 acres of farm land. He met me at Carter in a covered wagon, and although it was not far, we took our time and camped one night on our way to the Promised Land, as he had described it.
Never having lived anywhere but in a town, I’ll admit I was a little disappointed, as the country was mostly covered with sagebrush. I looked very hard to see the green grass that Hy had told me was very abundant. I’m sure he knew a great deal more about good sheep country than I did.
The first few months we lived in a tent and a shack. Although we had no luxuries, they were happy months. Later we moved into Cliff Anderson’s log house for the winter, and there—on a cold night in November, 1916, my first child, Jean, was born. Dr Tinker had to ride horseback 15 miles in bitter cold weather to take care of me. Mrs. Alvin Smith’s son, Daniel, was born the next morning. Later we built a log house of our own, which burned down while we were away.
Most of the Terry family were there, and I shall never forget Aunt Maggie Terry. She was a wonderful woman and was like an angel of mercy to me. She was the mother of a large family, but she could always find time to help others. She could make a rabbit taste like ambrosia. Another one of my neighbors that I would like to pay tribute to is Mrs. Alvin Smith. She was indeed a friend in need.
At that time they held Sunday services at the home of Charley Terry, and all the friends and neighbors gathered there on Sunday to worship. Arch Pulham was the bishop. Although there were not many of us, we had some very inspirational meetings.
School was held in a small red schoolhouse located about where the new chapel now stands. In 1918, when Alvin was very small, I taught the four lower grades with Brother Vance from Provo, who taught the upper grades. I shall never forget the first airplane we saw as it flew over the schoolhouse and how excited we all were. The first dance I ever attended was at Burnt Fork—in an upstairs room over the post office. There were several cowboys who danced in their chaps and spurs. To me it was like a picture show. Later the new schoolhouse was built, where four teachers were employed, and a ninth grade was added. Some of the teachers I remember were Brother Vance, Roena Anderson, Glen Walker, Lucille Luke, Bessie Heiner, Bartley Heiner, Mae Terry, Veloy Terry, Ernest Clayton, Jeff Harper, LeGrande Jarman, Opal Walker, and Louie Blackner.
Now go back with me down Memory Lane:
Do you remember
The good times we had on Sundays when we met at different homes for dinner after church?
The picnic outings when we picked black currants down by the creek?
The happy times at the parties and dances at the schoolhouse?
The dramatic plays we staged and the rehearsals at the schoolhouse that were such fun?
When the army worms took our crops and gardens?
The Relief Society outings up the switchbacks, when we took food enough to last a couple of days and all slept in a family bed made on pine boughs on the ground?
The barbecues and field outings?
The May Day celebrations down at the Pine Groves?
The sleigh ride down to Heiner’s ranch for an oyster supper—when it was 20 degrees below zero?
When Mac McGinnis thought he had swallowed his false teeth?
When Mr. Clayton had his head shaved and taught school with his hat on?
When Bettie took Beverly out in the sheep wagon and gave her a haircut with the sheep shears?
When we all piled in Bishop Fon Terry’s truck to ride to church?
And now for loving tributes to the people we all have known and do no want to forget:
Alvin Smith and his wife
Brother Pulham and his wife
Daddy Terry and Aunt Maggie
Uncle Tommy and Aunt Lucy
John A. and Aunt Cindy
William Triplett and Aunt Tranny
The Terry Family
The Pulham Family
The Heiner Family
The Briggs Family
The Nelson Family
The Anderson Family
The Cox Family
The Slagowski Family
The Stewart Family
The Brady Family
The White Family
The Luke Family
May we ever remember McKinnon and the wonderful people who have lived there.
It is difficult to condense twenty five years of life into a few words, I was about twelve years old when McKinnon came into being and about thirty eight when I left there. It was in McKinnon that I grew to womanhood, married and had eight of our nine children. My childhood was happy, my parents the best, good and sometimes bad brothers, horses to ride, singing to enjoy, had piano lessons, dances to go to, girl friends and a lot of good church activities, which we held in my parents home many times and at the school house, at first we walked to school, then road horses, then later in horse drawn wagons.
Then I found a good husband there, one who kept me on the strait and narrow way for all these forty three years. He had to work for the railroad in Green River part of the time during our first years of married life. But eventually we made our homestead into a productive farm where we raised potatoes, Hay and grain, some good horses, sheep, etc. He served as counselor to Mont A. Pulham for several years, and then as Bishop for five years or so, He also served as chairman of the county school board for about nine years, so he was very busy, In the meantime we had a family we wanted to educate without sending them away from home, So in 1944 we sold everything to Cliff Anderson and moved our family to Roosevelt Utah.
However we claim that some of our dearest friends that we knew so well, that helped us in sickness and in health whom we loved and had such good times with, especially in the old Pine Grove there in McKinnon, we enjoyed our lives there but will have to say tho it was hard to pull up stakes and leave McKinnon, we have had no desire to return, we learned how to work, how to cooperate and hope we have contributed something of value to that community.
Now regarding my Father and Mother, known as Uncle Tommy and Aunt Lucy, they were among the first people to locate in McKinnon Wyoming, they worked had and built a good home there, we had raspberries, gooseberries, currents, plenty of milk and butter, cottage cheese, cheddar cheese, a beef and a veal occasionally, sugar cured pork and mommas good cooking, we lived well tho we were a little hungry in the first years, I do not like gravy, we had to practically live on it during the first years that were lean and full of hard work. My parents did a good job, Papa was one of the main stays in the irrigation company, He was ward clerk for many years, Mother worked in the relief society with compassionate serve to all, made many quilts so much needed, she was always on hand in emergency, when there was a new baby or sickness. Their memory is very dear to me their daughter.
Nita Anderson White
In 1915 we moved to Manila, Utah on a land project where the Terry family had settled, I left my family on Provo Bench, after working for about six weeks I returned to Provo Bench for my family, we loaded our wagon with our belongings, put the family on top of the load with two or three horses and a cow following we headed back for Manila, Utah. I finally lost what I had put into this project. On Nov. 1st 1917 my oldest son LaVar left for camp Lewis Washington for the service of world war one. He returned in June 1919. I took up a homestead in McKinnon Wyo. early in 1916, where I built a home, The place was known as Terry Town at that time. Here I settled down for thirty years of pioneer work. I put in much of my time on the canal and building a reservoir, which was named the Interstate Reservoir and Irrigation Co.
I was a member of the board of directors for quite some time, was secretary for ten years and President for many years. There was ten or twelve families in this original group with an increase of families as time progressed. A Sunday School was organized and we had our meetings in our homes with many parties and dances in the school house. In the fall of 1926 my son Reulon departed for a mission, He was gone for two years in the Southern States Mission. He returned in 1928. Arch and Melba, my married son and his wife, moved out to McKinnon to help me on the ranch for a year or two. This was good for me as my wife Lucy had passed away in 1930. By this time all the children were married except Jack and Golden who were away to work and school but they both married soon after. In 1934 I married again to Mary Weeks Christensen, she was called Aunt Mary. Mary and I did the farming for about eight years and then sold out to my son Reulon. He had built a home just north of us but we held the chicken coops and garden then finally sold all this to him when we moved to Springville Utah in 1947. We bought a lot there, moved a house on it , did some remodeling and lived quite comfortably.
A note about myself..(Reulon).. I was a member of the Interstate Irrigation and Reservoir Co., and was also a member of the school board, a counselor in the bishopric, ward clerk, a high councilor in the stake, and spent some time on a Stake Mission. I was ordained a Bishop Sept. 26, 1948. This was done by Marion G. Romney then assistant to the twelve. The ground was broken for a new Ward Chapel, and construction was begun while I was bishop, but construction was not yet complete when I moved to Green River in 1950.
Reulon L. Anderson
In the summer of 1915, my mother with six of us children, spent the summer in Fairview Utah, we stayed with our Grand Parents, Lorenzo Peterson that fall, my uncle Lew, as we called him, took us to Wyoming in a covered wagon, We loaded or things in the wagon and left just enough room for us to ride on top of the load. We started out in September and it took us ten days to make the trip. Things went all right until we got to Lone Tree Wyoming, then it started to rain, a little past Lone Tree we came to Smokers dugway, the hill was so steep, slick and muddy that the horses could not pull the heavy load up the hill. We had to camp that night at the foot of the hill in the gulch, my brother Cleo and uncle Lew made their bed under the wagon on some bed springs and it rained so hard that the water came up into their bed, so in the morning at day break they were up and on their horses going after help. They located the Hereford ranch where some of the boys there got horses and came to assist us in our trouble. They managed to get us over the hill and we got to their ranch where we stayed the night. We started on our journey the next morning and arrived at Birch Springs that evening, this was our first two days in Wyoming.
We lived in a log cabin for a little while and then went to Manila Utah to stay for the winter, the next spring, 1916, we moved out on our homestead where we lived that summer in a couple of tent houses. Jex was born in September of that year, that fall a big snow storm came followed by a heavy freezing, it was very difficult to keep warm, baby Jex sleeping with his mother because of the cold developed icicles and frost on heads and bedclothing, this did not hurt the baby as he was such a healthy child.
In the fall we moved to Lyman Wyo. and stayed the winter. In the spring of 1917 we moved back to the homestead. Grandfather Peterson came out that summer to assist us in building our house which still remains now in the possession of Bill and Emma Cox. Most of my life in McKinnon was spent in tending babies, mostly for my mother and the families, some of my jobs included tending the families of Val and Rowena Anderson while they taught school. I also stayed with Sim and Hortense Brady on the Bennion Ranch at Lone Tree. One of Hortense’s babies was born when I was there, Grandmother Terry came for a few days to attend Hortense and the baby, sometime after this I went to Green River to assist Brother and Sister Pete Wall as their daughter Dora Benson died leaving five children to take care of, some time later they went to Buck Board with the children, I stayed with them all that summer.
I think the years I spent in Wyoming were the happiest times of my life, all the families were poor but rich in the things that matter most, rich in faith, courage and love for one another, there was endearing friendships with much concern for one another, we were like one big family, I enjoyed the Sunday school we had in our home, then as more people came we held our meetings in the school house which was real joy to me. I shall always remember with great happiness, the Mayday celebrations held at Pine Grove. Every one, all around the country would come and join in the fun. We had unforgettable good times in our dances, I well remember one time when Hal and I rode horse back with another couple to Lone Tree to a dance we did not arrive home until sunrise the next morning, that was quite an experience for me. We traveled every where in our whitetop buggy, this was a long time before we owned a car. I well remember one time a group of we young people went to a dance to Manila in a bob sleigh, it was very cold in the winter, but we had a good time together, another thing I remember so well, is berry picking, a group of we families would go into the hills with our lunch and all the children, there were a number of wild berries, Service berries chock cherries, goose berries and black currents. This was the only kind of fruit we had for a long time and I’ll never forget the wonderful pies mother made from a combination of this fruit.
I would like to mention here a family, not exactly from McKinnon, but very near and dear to our family, the Nebekers, Ammon and Ran – Ruth and Lee. We got acquainted with them when we first arrived in McKinnon. We passed their Ranch on our way to the Saw Mill quite often and would stop there to visit, one thing happened I’ll never forget was when Mother was there helping Ran during haying season when a lot of men were there employed, Mother took the Flu’ so I was there to help, Ran had a quilt she was making, so I helped her with that, Ammon assisted also, He was about as good quilting as a woman, some evenings Ammon and I played jacks, he nearly always beat me at that, we had fun, Veloy and I visited them often for we loved to go there as they seemed like part of our family, Ran said she told us she claimed us as her daughters, we were so thrilled when we went to see her, our visits were very enjoyable. One other thing so exciting was the first radio I ever heard, this was one that Wendell Triplett built himself, we listened to it through ear phones, what a thrill, well these are a few of the wonderful experiences I had, some wonderful some sad while living in McKinnon.
Mary Jane Brampton Boynton and Joseph Hyrum Boynton, Jr. were both born and raised in Bountiful, Utah. They were married September 14, 1905, in the Salt Lake temple. They went to Linwood, Utah, to live. While there, three children were born to them: Clarence Leo, Alonzo (Orlando) Joseph, and Wilda Jane.
They moved to Manila, Utah, and Edwin B. was born there on March 14, 1914. They moved to McKinnon in 1915.
The Mackays were sheep men. They owned ranches on the Henry’s Fork River. The Boyntons moved on the ranch in McKinnon to operate the ranch for the Mackays. This was an ideal place to raise a family—lots of hard work—good spring water (even if it was a long way to carry it to the house) – a river to swim in—and horses to ride to school and to do most of our work. There was enough irrigation water, and the hay was plentiful.
We always had a good garden. We had to work hard in it, but we had plenty of vegetables, and mother bottled or salted enough to last us all winter. We had a good place to store the other vegetables, too. Oh, the sauerkraut mother used to make! We used to put up a fuss about the smell, but it was so good! The wood stoves baked the best bread and cakes we’ve ever tasted.
The folks worked very hard, but it was a happy life. We didn’t have school buses at first, and we had quite a way to ride the horses to school. I was sick a lot the first two years of school. Later on they got buses, but we had to walk to the top of the dugway (we called it). The hill was so steep and slick. It was fun helping one another.
The folks worked in the Church. We couldn’t make it all the time, but we enjoyed it. We had quite a time getting together on baptism day. Finally Clarence, Orlando, and Wilda were all baptized in the river on the same day—July 25, 1950.
Four children were born while they lived there: Nettie May, Afton, Dale B., and Wanda Merie.
Mother made the long trip to Bountiful, Utah, when Clarence, Orlando, and Nettie were born. For the rest of us the sweet sisters out there helped her. For most of them she didn’t have a doctor.
Then the Mackays had to sell their ranch, and we moved up on the bench, where Daddy had taken up a homestead and built a home for us.
To us older children this was such a change. The wind blew all the time. There were so many rocks to haul off every spring we thought they were hatching. We didn’t have good water for the house. Daddy dug several wells, but the water was hard. We didn’t have irrigation water, and every spring Daddy had to take all the money we had to buy feed for the horses and go up and work on the Bluebell Canal. Daddy worked hard and so did the horses—still no water. We would try and get some spring planting done, but it was a job. We did raise good potatoes, if you could tell them from the rocks. We worked hard to raise a garden but the gophers and rabbits would get most of it first.
I really don’t know how my folks stood those years. It seemed like all hard work—up early and to bed late.
We had such good friends, and we really had fun together—dances, candy pulls, slumber parties, and just getting together for dinner and visiting.
Wanda took sick with a kinked bowel. She died September 15, 1926. She was eight months old.
Delbert Lewis was born November 15, 1927. I was married in July 1929. We didn’t have much time together while he was growing up.
Nettie and Afton were killed on the highway over by Bridger, Wyoming, May 27, 1938. Afton had graduated from the Green River High School the night before, and Nettie was to be married June 6. Her wedding invitations had been mailed. Such things surely age people, but friends and relatives were so good to help out in every way. They had the funeral in Lyman, Wyoming, and one in McKinnon. The girls were killed by George Powers of Lyman, Wyoming.
Orlando, Dale, and Delbert served in the service of their country during World War II.
The folks sold out and left McKinnon in 1944 and moved back to Bountiful. They later bought a home in Kaysville, Utah. Daddy was working at the Clearfield Naval Base. They were doing well and seemed happy.
Mother had a stroke July 23, 1946. She never fully recovered and spent the rest of her life in a wheel chair.
Daddy died September 20, 1955; Mother died January 10, 1962.
Their posterity includes nine children, twenty grandchildren, twenty-one great-grandchildren; as of this present writing, this totals fifty people in all.
Their children didn’t become rich materially, but they all knew hard work, so they are comfortable and happy.
My father, C. A. Terry of Provo Bench, Utah; my brother, Charley; and my husband, Jesse Mendenhall, bought stock in a land development company for what was then called Lucern Valley, near Manila, Utah. We moved out there with our families in the spring of 1915. We had five children at this time and lived in a tent west of Manila for a while. Later the land company had a sawmill, so we got enough lumber to build a one-room leanto at the side of a one-room log house that Daddy lived in near Birch Springs. We lived here until winter began, and then it wasn’t warm enough for the cold winter. There happened to be a log stable on the place which hadn’t been used for some time, so we fixed it up and moved in. It had a dirt roof and floor and a large pole in the center to help support the roof. The cracks between the logs were sealed with chunks of wood and mud plaster. We built bunk beds out of poles and slabs and had straw ticks to sleep on. We had straw on the floor to make it warmer. While we lived here a son Wendell Terry, was born (March 25, 1916). Jesse had to go to Manila to phone for Dr. Tinker, who lived about 25 miles away. The doctor had to travel by horseback, but he got there in time. During one of the spring blizzards that are quite common in that country, a large wooden chink blew out from between the logs of the house, and the snow drifted in over the bed where I was sleeping with my small baby.
The older children went to school at Larsens’. He was a well-to-do farmer and rancher who lived on the hill above our place. School was held in one of his farm buildings.
In the summer we took our families and lived at the sawmill, where I cooked for the men. Jesse, Daddy, and Charley all worked at the mill..
Pete Wall and the Nebeker brothers were very good to us, helping us whenever they could. The forest ranger, Sidney A. Hanks, was also a very good friend.
That summer, Daddy, Charley, and Jesse decided to take up homesteads at what is now known as McKinnon, Wyoming. Others of the family who also homesteaded were Uncle Tommy and Uncle Johnny Anderson and their families. Charley’s land had a nice spring on it, so he and Daddy built their homes near it. Our homestead was farther to the north. We built a two-room log house, but we had no water, so we hauled water in barrels from Charley’s spring. We had no water to irrigate with, so we could not have a garden like the others did.
We had to make a trip to Green River in a wagon to buy our groceries and supplies. We used to send with the mail man to Manila or Linwood for our groceries when we ran out. Money was scarce, so we lived on the bare essentials—lard gravy, flour mush, bread, karo syrup, etc. We hardly ever had fresh meat—sometimes rabbit or sage hens. I will tell a little story about this. There was an old sawmill site at the foot of the mountain a couple of miles from Daddy’s home. Some of the herds of sheep were near this place. When they moved their herds, there was an old sheep left there for some reason. It stayed there all summer and no one claimed it. Jesse figured that the wolves or coyotes would just get it, and we needed meat, so he killed it and brought it home in the wagon, skinned it and gave Daddy and Charley some of it. The very next day an Indian, Eddie Mass, came to Daddy’s place and asked him if he had seen anyone get that sheep, for it was gone. Daddy said he hadn’t seen anyone get it. Then he told Jesse he had better get rid of the hide. Eddie Mass had a reputation for drinking and for being mean. He used to ride along a ridge of a hill near our house, and when we would see him we would all run in the house and stay until he was out of sight. Soon after this happened, Jesse went to herd sheep for the Nebekers for a couple of months. I was so afraid to stay alone that he quit herding sheep and moved to Green River to work on the railroad. This was at the time of World War I. We had to "Hooverize." We had to buy substitutes for every pound of flour we bought—like cornmeal, constarch, rice, and beans.
At this time my mother took seriously ill and had to be near a doctor, so my parents moved to Green River and lived with us for a month or so. We were crowded, with six children and expecting another, so they rented a house and Eva and Bryan, my sister and her husband, came to take care of her. Her health didn’t improve, so they took her to Provo, Utah, to Alphonzo’s home, where she passed away. Lee, my son, was born three days before my mother passed away. We lived in Green River until school was out, then moved back to the homestead. Jesse got a job putting up hay for Oneys’ in Lone Tree, and we stayed up there for a while. That fall we sold our homestead to Reulon Anderson and moved to Ogden, Utah, to get work. We were there during the flu epidemic and when the armistice was signed.
We moved to Payson, Utah, early in the spring of 1919 and built a two-room frame house at West Mountain. We raised hay and sugar beets. Rex was born in February, 1920, and Jessie Fawn in January, 1922. Jesse, my husband, died one month after Jessie Fawn was born. We sold the farm and bought a home in Payson. I was left with nine children to raise, so I worked at the A. L. Curtis Hospital for four years. I married Orson P. Cloward in 1927 and moved to San Diego, California. He died in 1937. I stayed in San Diego until 1960, then moved back to Payson, where I now live.
Margaret Terry Mendenhall Cloward
(Sister to Essie Pulham)
By Veloy Terry Gregory
We moved up on the homestead at McKinnon in the spring of 1916, We lived in tent houses that spring and summer, Jex was born in one of the tent houses the 23 of Sept. 1916. It was a cold early fall, My mother kept him in bed with her and his hair would be frozen in the morning by the breath of his mother. He was a strong healthy baby and it didn’t hurt him any. We moved to Lyman later that fall where my father had a job in a blacksmith shop. We youngsters attended school there at Lyman. We moved back on the homestead in the spring of 1917. My Grandfather Petersen from Fairview Utah, a carpenter, came out to assist in building our home that summer, we used the lumber from my fathers sawmill. Soon after our house was finished we held Sunday school there, also at Uncle Tommy’s house. My father was the first Superintendent of the Sunday School and held that position until he was killed by a falling tree when he was working in the timber, Jan. 21st 1925. My father and mother headed the first committee to put on their first celebration at Pine Grove, this was a may day celebration which continued each year thereafter, the men cleared a place and made a road where we had access to this playground. My mother taught us how to braid the may pole, she died old strips of sheets red, white and blue, sewed them together into long strips so we could braid the may pole. Melva Stoker was on of the first may queens. Mother was on hand each year to supervise the braiding of the Maypole. At this celebration they had a program, ate lunch, had foot races, tug of war and baseball games. As time went on people came from Lyman, Green River, Rock Springs from far and near to join in the fun. We also had Stake visitors from Randolf and Evanston for our Ward Conferences, we made extensive preparation for this great event, cooking cleaning and preparing for the housing ten or fifteen Stake Officers, we thrilled in their speaking and counsel. In these events we had a bonfire meeting each Saturday night either at our grove or at Uncle John Andersons place. We held our meetings in the school house. The first year or so we walked to school, there was Merrill, Melva and Hilda Stoker, Nita and Jack Anderson, Dean May and I all walked together. Later we were provided with school wagons, this did help very much for the students and there was employment for the driver also. We had good times together, lots of dances, Rowena Anderson played the piano, Fred Stall played the violin. Later on Bartlet Heiner played the saxophone, Dean the drums, about the first thanksgiving that we were there, all the families came to our place for dinner, each family would furnish part of the meal.
My mother was president of the M.I.A. for some time, she loved to put on plays, dramas, she put these on about once a year. We would take these shows to Manila, and Lonetree. She was always progressive and would do many things to make McKinnon a better community.
The last project she did was to build a fence around the cemetery. Up ‘til then each plot had an individual fence. Jex and Mom built most of the fence, the plot owners furnished the material. I went to the eighth grade of school at McKinnon then I was out two years, then they got the ninth grade, this made it so May and I went thru high school together.
We went to Lyman for our Sophomore year and to Payson, Utah for our Junior year. Then back to Lyman for our Sr. year. We took normal training that year and taught at McKinnon on a class certificate. We went to summer school at the University of Utah. And to the B.Y.U. for two quarters. Then I taught at Lone Tree Wyo. and at McKinnon from 1925 to 1931. The year I got married, May taught one year at the Linwood school. I don’t know how many years she taught at McKinnon.
When we moved to McKinnon it was called Coon Hollow, then Terry Town, then Mountain Home, then to settle on a name which was official the Ward authorities named it McKinnon. Where I have many fond memories.
After selling our holdings in Morgan, Utah, we, the Heiners, with five children, ages one to eleven, arrived in Burnt Fork in our 1913 Reo on July 8, 1918. On arrival, we had the impression that we were the only Mormons in that country.
A few days later I went to the post office, partly to get my mail and partly to get acquainted. Three or four men were sitting around on nail kegs. The postmaster said, "Well, they tell me you’re a Mormon." When I informed him that I was, he said there was a Mormon living on the creek below who made moonshine. The cowboys were riding down there looking for stray cattle when they ran on to him, sitting in the shade of a tall cottonwood tree, stirring a barrel of moonshine with his right hand and holding a Bible in his left hand. He was reading the passage in the Bible which says, "Never let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.
After several months had passed we attended a school program in the Burnt Fork hall. While they were singing the state song, "Wyoming," Reed Hanks, who sat immediately in front of us, turned around and said, "Wyoming be damned! Utah, We Love Thee!" which gave us the impression we were not the only Mormons in the building.
As time went on we had some good times dancing in that old hall, notwithstanding the fact that as we drove home we would often see drunks hidden behind clumps of wheat grass. We danced in the upper story of the building and the floor sprang up and down so much that the doors below kept time to the music. Just before one of our elections, Governor Ross attended one of our dances. He wrote about in the Cheyenne paper. He told about the doors dancing in time to the music, but he said he enjoyed himself more there than in any other part of the state.
After being there a few weeks we were happy to learn that Charley Terry was holding Sunday School in his home, which he continued to do until he was accidentally killed by a falling tree while getting out timber for his sawmill. This was one of the first and saddest deaths in our little community.
As time went on we had enough fine LDS people in our little settlement, which we called McKinnon, to organize a ward. It became such a fine ward that our stake president, H. Melvin Rollins, stated in a high council meeting that there was more officer material in the small McKinnon Ward than in any other ward in the Lyman Stake. We served under five bishops while there: Arch Pulham, Alfonso Terry, Mont Pulham, Alden White, and Glen Walker. As the McKinnon people sold out and moved into larger wards in Utah, a large percentage of them became leading and presiding officers in the wards and stakes where they settled.
For the first few years after our arrival in Burnt Fork, there was a terrible feud on between cattle and sheep men. This resulted in the death of one sheep man, who was shot while cooking supper in his camp. But things quieted down, and the cattle men became some of my best friends, especially during the time of our illness.
In 1927 someone polluted the pure water in Birch Creek, which ran through our ranch, with typhoid fever germs, resulting in several deaths, including our 14-year-old daughter, Bessie, and our daughter, Pyna (who died a few years later from the aftereffects).
Joe Boynton, Frank White, Harold Brady, and I worked off and on for twenty years, building a canal out of Henry’s Fork which proved to be a very costly endeavor.
Here is an experience which I think is worth mentioning. One cold December day my wife and I and an elderly rancher, Mr. Fosdic, started for Rock Springs to get our two oldest children, Bartley and Bessie, who were attending school there. When we had gone about 25 miles we ran into a snow drift. Attempting to back out of it, I broke an axle. Cars were so scarce then we didn’t think any other car would be on the road, so we decided that I had better try to walk to the nearest ranch, which was 10 miles away. There were eight inches of crusted snow on the ground, which I broke through at every step. My wife and Mr. Fosdic stayed in the car. We had no windows—just side curtains—and no heater, but he kept my wife’s feet from freezing with a lantern and by holding them in his lap under a bear skin overcoat. I arrived at the ranch at 11:00 p.m. The next morning I phoned to Green River for help. The garage people had to get the axle out of Denver. I arrived back at the car at 2 p.m. that day. About that time they arrived with the new axle. It was not long until we were happily on our way.
Our Burnt Fork neighbors were not religiously inclined. I still remember going into one home and seeing the wife playing solitaire and smoking a pipe. That was the first time I had ever seen a woman smoke. It was quite a shock to me.
Our children rode horseback to the Burnt Fork School (a distance of about three miles). They went to school with some pretty rough characters. One day one of the boys had his feet out in the aisle and was chewing gum. The teacher said, "Asa, take the gum out of your mouth and put your feet in."
Later they went to the McKinnon School and a school bus route was established. When they were of high school age they went to Lyman or Rock Springs and boarded out, as there were only two years of high school taught in the McKinnon School.
While we lived in Wyoming we had a lot of company in our ranch home. Many relatives and friends came to visit us each summer. Some of the boys stayed on to help in the hay fields. A school teacher or two boarded with us nearly every year. Some of these were the Adriel Normans, the LeGrand Jarmans, Opal Walker, Louis Blackner, Flora Murray, David Lamph, and Leona Booth.
After our McKinnon community was established, we had some good dances in the McKinnon school house. Many of these were church sponsored. Some were following basketball games when our team played Burnt Fork or Manila. Our four oldest children played different instruments, and for a number of years they played for all the dances. Later the Terry family formed an orchestra to play for the dances.
Our children all grew up in McKinnon. Three of them married McKinnon natives. Pyna married Harold Briggs, Allowee married Jack Briggs, and Reynold married Jean Anderson.
In 1943-44 my wife and I served a six-month mission to southern California. This proved to be a high spot in our lives. While in the mission field we had many interesting and faith-promoting experiences.
After living in Wyoming for 30 years, I decided to sell the ranch because of my poor health and move back to our home town of Morgan. Bartley had left to become a seminary teacher a number of years before. Elwood had also left to become a beautician. Reynold and I left in November of 1946.
My folks moved our family from Morgan, Utah, to the Hereford Ranch in Birch Creek in the Henry’s Fork valley of Sweetwater County, Wyoming, during the summer of 1918. I had just turned seven, and at that age everything is an adventure. The high hills, the Lincoln Highway #30 (not interstate #80) crossed between Evanston, Wyoming, and the Bridger Valley seemed very awesome to us in our old Reo Speedwagon. In fact, my father would back the car up the steepest hills because the gravity feed from the gas tank under the front seat, to the carburetor under the hood, flowed much more freely in that position, and old Betsy would purr along in reverse to the top of the hill, where we would change directions and proceed happily forward down the next incline. Even to this day, with modern fuel pumps and all, more cars run smoother downhill than up.
I attended school in Burnt Fork for several years under a very fine teacher, Lucille Luke (Lucille Hanks then). I realize now how much more was expected of a school teacher in those days, with one student or several in each of the grades one to eight. Each class had its recitation period on the front bench while all the other pupils were supposed to be studying, oblivious to the presence of others. Discipline was more of a problem under those conditions, but I well remember how Mrs. Hanks was able to keep us all pretty well covered with an eagle eye.
We road horses to school, and they had to stand all day in a small shed until we were ready to ride them home again at night. I was fortunate in very inclement weather to be able to ride behind the saddle of Bartley’s or Bessie’s horse and they were the ones who were more apt to freeze their cheeks and fingers, facing the frigid blasts which we sometimes had.
I was baptized in the old swimming hole just above the place where Birch Creek dumped into Henry’s Fork on our ranch. I can remember attending religious services in the old red school house where the new McKinnon LDS chapel now stands.
I also attended more grade school in the above-mentioned red school house under teachers Roena Anderson, Arthur Vance, Russell Lowell Morrell, and Robert Hamblin. It was a cloak room or entrance hall of this building that by brother, Elwood, set on fire by poking lighted matches through a knot hole in the siding. The ammunition was furnished and struck by Eldred Stewart, who always seemed to have an endless supply of matches with him at all times, even though he didn’t smoke. There must have been a nice hot pile of match stick kindling inside that partition before it burst into flame. It was also that very day that Elwood got his bottom tanned by Mr. Morrell, while Mrs. Clarence Hickey (a teacher) grabbed the axe and chopped a hole well above the flame so it could be put out with a little water. Mr. Morrell just stood and rubbed his hands together, chanting, "Oh, what will we do? Oh, what will we do?" I suppose his hands were still stinging from spanking my brother.
I later attended more school in the then new four-room building across the road from Mr. and Mrs. Alvin Smith’s post office, gas station, and store. I spent my first two years of high school in this building, too, under the tutelage of Ernest Clayton. Immediately following that I went to the Lyman High School for two winters and graduated. I had the privilege of living in the homes of H. Melvin Rollins (president of Lyman Stake) and Joseph W. Slade during these two school years.
During my school years I had become very fond of a girl in my grade, Jessie Anderson. When she met and married a handsomer man in Lyman while we were away at school, and I waited for and fell in love with a younger woman, it led our neighbor, Mrs. Boynton, bless her soul, to say, "When Reynold couldn’t get Jessie, he waited for her cousin, Jean, but he surely robbed the cradle, didn’t he?"
We learned to dance during our school years, and I remember the fun we had at that sort of recreation. We danced after every occasion—ball games, school plays, MIA parties—almost and social activity. I believe Edith Deck was credited with teaching more boys and girls how to dance than anyone in our crowd. Remember how the girls used to dance together when the boys were too backward about choosing a partner? I am glad that I danced with nearly every lady in the building, including my mother.
On Christmas morning in 1932 Mr. John Briggs called to ask me to drive his car to Rock Springs. It seems that Mr. McGinnis, our neighbor, had swallowed his false teeth (upper plate). My brother, Elwood, went along, and the three of us arrived post haste at Dr. Lauzer’s office, to find him outside waiting in the parking area. In all earnestness he asked, "Mac, you look like you are really suffering—as a man would if he swallowed his dentures and they were gnawing away at him from the inside." Of course Mr. McGinnis agreed with the doctor’s diagnosis and added that he had the sore throat and esophagus to prove it. He said he was exhausted and would be only too glad to climb into a hospital bed. Dr. Lauzer could not keep a sober face any longer, so he informed Mac that his wife had called and said his teeth were home in the ash box of the kitchen stove, where he had scraped them with the cedar kindling that morning while starting the fire. There was nothing to do but to return to the ranch for a late Christmas dinner. Before we crossed the railroad tracks to turn south in Green River, Mr. McGinnis said, "Boys, why don’t you drive me right on to the mental hospital in Evanston?" So you see, he had quite a sense of humor, but I often wondered how he ate his Christmas dinner that day.
I was chosen to be in the bishopbric three months after I was married—September, 1935—at the age of 24. For the next eleven years I was counselor to Bishops Mont Pulham, Alden D. White, and Glen T. Walker.
To give you an idea of the age of prosperity in which we lived, I might say that I worked for $30 a month for my father on the ranch. Of course, we had access to many staple food items which were products of the ranch. Earlier in the spring of 1935 I found recorded in my diary where Harold Brady paid me $10 for five days of work for him on the Blue Bell Canal, where he owned some water shares.
During the late summer of 1928 a typhoid fever epidemic struck our community and took the lives of several people, including Av Hanks and my own sister Bessie. Many others were bedfast for weeks. Our home looked like a hospital, with father, Elwood, Pyna, Bessie, and myself in beds. Pyna lost her life twelve years later from the effects of the same dread disease.
In a community such as we had in McKinnon, we learned to share our neighbors’ troubles and sorrows. In reminiscing on this score, I find there were very few families that were not touched by some measure of unhappiness—and in some cases tragedies which took the lives of one or more loved ones.
I began singing as a hobby in 1930 and thereafter I was able in my small way to offer consolation to the bereaved families on these sad occasions.
I had many enjoyable experiences while growing up and after I was married. I have never been sorry that I was raised on a ranch but have been sorry for the many times since leaving that my children were deprived of those same experiences.
My parents sold their holdings in Wyoming in 1946, and we all left the ranch in October of that year. At this writing my parents are both still living in the house in Morgan that they purchased upon retiring. They are fortunate in being able to take care of themselves, although mother is in her 87th year and father is in his 88th. For this we as a family are most grateful.
M. R. Heiner
131 West 500 North
Provo, Utah 84601
Jean A. Heiner
(Hyrum Anderson’s Daughter)
It is strange how just being a child colors places and events and makes them seem exciting and adventurous. Looking back on our life in McKinnon, I realize that my parents experienced many hardships and had serious problems—including financial worries—but as a child, most of these were not matters of great concern to me.
I was born in McKinnon, where my father had a homestead. Many times I have heard the story of how Dr. Tinker rode up from Manila (about 20 miles) on horseback to attend my mother and Mrs. Smith. (Her son, Daniel, was born that same bitter cold night in November.) When I was very small my parents found it necessary to move to Clear Creek, Utah, where my father could work in the coal mines to finance his ranching operations. My mother taught school there.
Returning to McKinnon was a great adventure in my life. This was in June, 1924. I was eight; my brother, Alvin, was six; and Bettie was one year old. We traveled to Green River on the train. We were met there by Fonso Terry, who had a trucking business and small store near our ranch. Alvin and I thought it was great fun to ride in the back of the truck. I can still remember the smell of the sagebrush and the wind blowing through my hair.
After staying overnight with Uncle Tommy and Aunt Lucy Anderson, we moved into a sheep camp and a small shack, where we lived during the summer while our house was being built. Our previous four-room log home had burned to the ground while we were living in Clear Creek.
Every day brought new and wonderful experiences. We loved riding the horses, hunting Indian arrow heads on the rocky hillside, and chasing the nimble chipmunks which flitted in and out of the granary all day. One of my most vivid recollections of that summer is of my baptism in a pond on Uncle John A. Anderson’s place and being confirmed there on the bank by Uncle Tommy Anderson.
So many wonderful memories come crowding back to me when I think about McKinnon. One of the highlights was when Frances Terry and I were chosen to be attendants to Zelda Triplett, who was queen of our May Day (always held in June). We sat on little chairs in the back of a truck and rode in the parade over a very rough road from the schoolhouse to the Pine Groves. When the gears were shifted, there was a sudden jerk, and we had to hang on to the side to keep from being thrown out backwards.
How well I remember the thrill of May Day! The program in the schoolhouse; we girls dressed in elegant crepe paper costumes braiding the Maypole; spreading a quilt on the ground over a thick carpet of pine needles to eat our lunches at the Pine Groves; buying cones of delicious homemade ice cream for a nickel; the men tossing a woman up on a quilt; sack races, children’s races, etc. Then, many years later I remember we taught our little son, Gary, to sing "Little Sir Echo" for the May Day Program. He sang loud and long around home, but when we stood him up in front of the audience, he refused to sing a note!
The ward Christmas parties for the children were a special event, with all of us singing Christmas carols and playing games and Santa Claus handing out candy and nuts and small gifts under a big beautiful tree decorated with strings of tinsel and popcorn and paper chains we had made. Sometimes there were oranges—a very special treat. One year Sister Smith made it a very joyous occasion for the girls by crocheting bootees for each of our dolls.
School programs were memorable, too. I can still hear the clear, sweet voice of Mary Deck singing "Church in the Wildwood" and feel the butterflies in my stomach when Frances Terry and I, draped in sheets, wearing tinsel crowns, sang "Away in a Manger" for a Christmas program. Years later, Gary, at the age of three, sang "Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, How You Can Love" and brought down the house. John Briggs really enjoyed that.
I never attended school in the little red schoolhouse, buy my mother taught school there when I was too young to go. The new schoolhouse must have been finished the year we returned from Clear Creek. My grandchildren find it hard to believe that we rode to school in a covered wagon. Often we took rocks that we had heated in the oven to keep our feet warm. After we arrived at school we clustered around the stove until the building warmed up. Our mothers took turns furnishing soup or cocoa in five-gallon milk cans which the teacher would warm on the stove to go with our cold lunches. The upper grades held classes in the big room which was also used as an auditorium, gymnasium, and a chapel on Sunday. It was divided by a canvas curtain for classes. The boys who sat near the curtain would pull back the edges and throw wads of paper and small lumps of coal through when the teacher left the room. My mother taught sixth, seventh, and eighth grades for several years.
My grandchildren can’t imagine a world without electricity. We studied by the dim light of a kerosene wick lamp. Later we had gasoline pressure lights which were much brighter. Our mother scrubbed our clothes clean on a washboard until we got a hand-turned washer, which we reluctantly turned for mother on wash day. We also churned butter and helped mother plant and weed the garden—and herded the cows out of the alfalfa.
When Dad was clearing our land, he would build a sagebrush bonfire in the evening. He would let us roast potatoes in the hot coals. They would form a black crust on the outside, but when we broke them open, the inside was very delicious when eaten with a sprinkle of salt.
We had a lot of snow in those days. We enjoyed sleigh riding down the hill on our ranch. Sometimes Dad would put the lariat on our sled and pull us behind his saddle horse. We would go around and around our alfalfa field until we laughed so hard we would fall off in the snow. We had an occasional bobsled party, too, with everyone wrapped in quilts, sitting on the straw in the bottom of the bobsled, singing all the songs we could remember as we zipped over the snow.
I remember the fun of riding horses around the ranch. Dad would have us ride bareback, Indian style, because he felt that it was safer. If we fell off we could fall all the way and not get caught in the stirrup. In the spring we would ride along with Dad to bring the sheep herd into the bed-ground in the evening. The little lambs would form in long lines and gambol and play together, playing follow-the-leader just like children.
They were still holding church meetings in the little red schoolhouse the first summer we returned to McKinnon. I get a special feeling when in my memory I hear the congregation singing "For the Strength of the Hills". Later, in the new schoolhouse, I remember singing "Memories of Galilee", with Bishop Fonso Terry leading. How I loved that song! I also loved Bishop Terry. He was my Sunday School teacher for a while, and he made the lessons live for us. We didn’t have a car then, so for years we walked over to the main road and he gave us a ride to Sunday School in his truck. After Sunday School (when I was a child) we nearly always went home to a dinner with some other family, or they would come to our house. After dinner the grownups visited and we children played together until it was time to go back to sacrament meeting. We often played paper dolls with figures we cut out of a Sears and Roebuck catalog.
Our home was very crude. The inside walls were made of rough lumber. The dream of our lives was to have them plastered, but we never accomplished this. Still, we had some happy times there. When I was in my teens our crowd often gathered at our home for entertainment. We would stand around the old piano and sing the popular songs: "Just a Little Street," "Happy Days are Here Again," and many others. We played games by the hour. How can we forget "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John?" Some of the crowd were Ronald, Clive, and Mavis Pulham; Jex, Norma, and Frances Terry; Jack, Golden, and Bob Anderson; Eldred Stewart; Woodrow, Lowell, and Leatha White; Reynold, Elwood, and Pyna Heiner.
I have never enjoyed dancing so much as I did in McKinnon. I think what made our dances special was that the whole family would go together, and we would dance with our parents as well as the kids our age. Babies were put to bed on the benches around the hall. Little children danced and played among the dancers until they became drowsy. Then they, too, would be laid on the benches and covered with someone’s coat. Remember the great sound of the Terry orchestra playing "Beer Barrel Polka," "Elmer’s Tune," and "Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree with Anyone Else but Me?" We dreaded to hear the strains of "Goodnight, Sweetheart," which meant that the dance was over.
After Reynold and I were married in June, 1935, we lived in a one-room log cabin next to his folks’ house. When Gary (our oldest child) was six months old, November of 1936, we moved into our new little house on the old Nelson place, about five miles down the river from the Heiner ranch. Some of our happiest days were spent there. At first I was very lonely, but I learned to love the sound of the river (Henry’s Fork) running by the house. Our next two children, Paul and Karalee, were born while we lived there.
We had a thriving ward then and we enjoyed working in it. Reynold was put in the bishopbric a few months after we were married. He served as a counselor to Mont A. Pulham, Glen T. Walker, and Alden D. White. I served in various capacities, starting as secretary in the Sunday School, teaching in various organizations, and as Primary president. Mother Heiner, Florence Pulham, and Doris Walker were some of the Relief Society presidents I remember. Most of us who were active members had jobs in all of the auxiliaries because the ward was so small.
The women of the community had a Homemakers’ Club which was sponsored by the Extension Department of the University of Wyoming. We held our meetings in the various homes. The home extension agent from the university sometimes met with us. We learned many things which were useful to us as homemakers, as well as having some good social times visiting together.
Reynold started to do some solos in public about the time we were married. We spent many enjoyable evenings practicing music together. When we had company for dinner, or in the evening, we usually ended our visit by singing all together. Reynold often sang solos in church, at funerals, programs, and at an occasional stake conference. We also sang some duets.
Our children enjoyed the ranch. It was like a funeral when we left. We all suffered from homesickness that first year after we moved away. I am glad we had the experience of living on the ranch in McKinnon. Some of our most dear and lasting friendships were made there. Although we didn’t have much in worldly goods, we were greatly blessed, and we learned to appreciate our blessings. Life has been easier for us here, especially in the last few years, but when it gets too rushed and complicated, as it so often does here in the city, we long for the simple life we knew in McKinnon.
Jean A. Heiner
By Lucile and Melroy Luke
I taught school in 1914-1915 in what was then called Coon Hollow located where the Tex Dorman house now stands, Tex and Eva lived there on this ranch for a number of years. It was a one room log cabin schoolhouse.. the few children were the Eli Slagowski’s and the Swink family. I boarded at the McKay ranch at this time, operated at this time by a couple named Richardsons.
In 1916-1917 I taught in another one room school house on the creek (Henry’s Fork) where the old Flumans store was located. Jimmie Slagowski was one of my larger pupils. He now resides in Green River, Wyo. He recalls the willows that grew along the creek bed, which I made good use of when he was naughty.
In about 1918, time of the first world war, I taught all the grades from the first to the eighth grade, in a one room log cabin just east of the Burntfork Store, this was burned down later. Then the school was located in the store as it had other rooms up stairs. Many of the McKinnonites remember dances that we held in this hall. Mr. Stoll played on his fiddle, and at times we had other local talent. The old floor seemed to sway at times with a large crowd. Some years later this old hall burned down also. This old building was a land mark for a long time.
In 1919 a new school was built nearby on a knoll. This was quite an improvement over past school houses. It was a large frame building with a curtain partition. Dave Logan and Vory Pearson were on the school board at this time. This building was heated by a good wood stove which was comfortable in the winter months. As the teacher was the janitor I was there early in the mornings to prepare for the days schooling. I lived with the Tom Welch family during the war period. I can recall many humorous instances during my scribbling these lines, once in english class I was explaining the Gender, this was to my upper class, Bartly Heiner was called upon to give an example of the feminine Gender, as he gazed out of the window and looked down the road he said, I see a feminine Gender going down the road.
Another school house I failed to mention was a frame building to the left of the road, where the new school house now stands, near the store at coon hollow. Rowena Anderson and my sister taught there. Then a new school house was built when Glen Walker was Principle and I taught there for eleven years, this was quite modern building two large class rooms a lunch room and other conveniences. Norma Gamble and Merl Elmer are the teachers there now.
Comments by Melroy-- The McKinnonites were prompted to locate in that area in the first place was a project known as the "Brown Real Estate drawing" located in Manila Utah. People were to pay a certain amount of money for the individual drawing for certain plots of land on which they were to settle. It seems this did not do so well. There was considerable disappointment in this scam. Melroy’s father drew a plot named little south valley, later owned by Heber Bennion. Then in 1915 he filed on a homestead east of the Birch Creek place. The family lived there until 1962. The majority of these people who were under this project went to homestead at Cedar Point and Coon Hollow to locate homes in the year 1916. They formed a settlement and decided on naming the place Terry Town or Mountain Home, but it finally became known as McKinnon, in honor of one of the Stake officials.
Mr. Cheney, father of Chasta Terry, ran a saw mill to the head of Carter dugway. Charlie Terry operated here later on.
I might mention what the mail route was like in 1914 as Melroy delivered the mail with a team and buggy, from Burnt Fork to Lynwood daily, the starting point was at the old Burnt Fork hall, where Mrs. George Stoll was the first Post Mistress, On the way Melroy stopped at the Fluman store then on to Manila and to Lynwood, there were drop sacks on the way, and groceries to deliver from the Lynwood store, for the people along the route, he also picked cans of cream and delivered them to the creamery. The Creamery was located at Birch Springs. Memories of childhood days in old Wyoming and the experiences we had and especially the old friends we made are never to be forgotten.
by Thelma Mendenhall Taylor
Eldest daugher of Jesse Mendenhall
Some of the most precious experiences of my childhood was in the few years my family spent in Wyoming, the joys we had which far exceed the hardships we endured. The friendship and our association with our wonderful relatives. I would like to relate some of the things I remember best.
The family picnics in the pine grove. We all picked service berries and chock cherries, from this we made jelly and jam. There were bright days of herding our cows in the foothills and around the groves. One day we decided we would like to find a magpie. We would split its tongue and teach it to talk. We spotted what we thought was a nest in a quaken aspen tree. My sister Gladys climbed the tree. She found to her surprise the nest turned out to be a big porcupine. Our shoes wore out and our feet were sore from going bare footed so long. So we made thongs, out of the bark of quakenasp bark, we did not have a name for them then. We tied them to our feet with a string. I remember Grandma Terry would make the finest meals out of anything on the shortest notice. Grandpa Terry was always bringing someone home to dinner on a minutes notice. He knew that Grandma would always prepare something out of mere nothing. Our food at that time consisted flour gravy and mush, thickened milk with bread and karo syrup. Once in a while we had a special treat such as wild rabbit, or sage hen. We also had vinegar pie or six quart pudding. But we had vicious appetites and everything tasted so good. To this day I cannot bear the taste or smell of karo syrup.
The greatest pleasure I recall was the days we spent at the Saw Mill. My father worked at the mill and my Mother cooked for the crew. We children would take long walks thru the forest and enjoy the flowers, the chipmunks and the squirrels, finding plenty of pine gum, swinging on our huge swing on the side of the hill. I would practice swinging so I could turn and become very acrobatic. We had two ropes on this swing so two of us could swing at one time. We also would jump from a high position onto the pile of sawdust which was a real thrill. In the evenings we would build a large bon fire where we would sit around and sing songs, told stories and pulled stunts.
On other evenings we would gather in the bunk house and play games and tell stories, sometimes we would have a quaker meeting. We would also make shadows reflected from the lamp on a sheet, everyone would practice and we entered enthusiastically in all we did which made everything so much fun. I remember we would go to Uncle Charlies place and play with the other children. Especially if we could stay all night. Uncle Charley would sit at the organ and sing some of the old folk songs. One song he sang I well remember was about an oyster in the stew, the chorus went something like this, " Oh please sir do not eat me I’m the only one they’ve got, this makes fifteen times they have sent me out alone".
We held Sunday school at Uncle Charlies home, it was always inspiring to be there, We also went to school at Larsens.
Our first winter near Birch Springs we lived in a log stable, our first Xmas it snowed so bad that Santa Claus had a hard time finding us, the single net stalking that hung in the center of the room on a log pole which helped to support the roof, in it there was a toy for every one in the family. I remember that spring my little brother was born in that stable. I remember other things that happened out there that has enriched my life. I sometimes think my own children has missed so much living here in the city.
Mrs. Glen Walker
When my folks emigrated through this country in 1896 they camped at a place one mile south of where the McKinnon Store is now—on August 15, 1896. There wasn’t a house in this place at that time. A year later a man by the name of William Beach, from Colorado, took up a homestead on this same campground. It became know as the Beach place and is now owned by Crystal Youngberg, the son-in-law of John A. Anderson, who owned the original Beach place for so many years. Two Negroes stayed with this Mr. Beach during the second winter, and this hollow has gone by the name of Coon Hollow ever since.
Two years later, in 1899, a Mr. Showers homesteaded my folks homeplace, and two years later a Mr. Swink took up what is the place just north of the Smith place. Thus this part of the community first took its stand.
Between the time my folks came through here to the Lucern Valley country and 1914, a group of the men of that company formed a group with my father at the head and started working out a canal system for the benefit of this district. Meetings were held and a company formed. The canal was surveyed and people were induced to settle on the flats where the Andersons and Terrys later lived. But as water was scarce and the canal seemed so far in the future, the settlement fell through, although the canal has existed ever since.
In the year 1914 the two Aldridge brothers filed on their homesteads to the west of my folks place, and I believe this same year Joe Boynton and his family moved onto the McKay ranch down on Henry’s Fork Creek. The next year my folks bought the Showers place, and we moved into it. It was in this same year that a group of people came from Utah to settle what was known as the Brown's Project, which is now the Birch Springs Ranch. Owing to some misunderstanding, the company split up and part came to this district.
Terrys, Stokers, Andersons, and Mendenhalls settled on the part that had been taken up by that former group (which later became known as Terry Town), while Lukes took up the homestead they now own. This same year, too, Cliff and Hyrum Anderson came in and homesteaded, while a Mr. Duncan bought the Beach place.
During this time schooling had been a problem. At the time my folks came there was a little one-room schoolhouse down on the Swink place, where they held school. As near as I know, the teachers in this school were Miss Smith, Lucille Hanks, Jenny Brewer, and a man by the name of Fish. In the year 1916 my father took the contract to build a two-room schoolhouse on his place. This became known as the old red schoolhouse of my earlier school days and served the purpose up until the year 1925, when a new four-teacher schoolhouse was built.
The same year the red schoolhouse was built, my father’s brother, R. G. Smith, bought the Swink place, but due to his health he could not live here, and father took the place over. In 1918 another group of people homesteaded. These were Bryan Cox, Archie Pulham, Alfonso Terry, Mont Pulham, and Simeon Brady. Henry Heiner also bought the old Bullock place, which later became more a part of McKinnon than Burnt Fork, to which it belonged.
In the summer of this year a cloudburst hit this country which did considerable damage, although it only lasted a few hours.
The next year, 1919, John A. Anderson bought the Duncan place, although he didn’t move there himself for a few years. Tripletts, Harold Brady, and Ben Stewart all took up their homesteads the same year.
Although Sunday School had been held here at the home of Charley Terry prior to 1919, it was then that they had their first official meeting and were organized into a branch, with Archie Pulham as Presiding Elder; Henry Heiner and Alfonzo Terry were his counselors and Cliff Anderson was clerk. The Sunday School was organized with Charley Terry as superintendent; Laura J. Pulham was Relief Society president. The membership at that time was 93. The first ward conference was held the next year and the ward organized. The MIA and Primary organizations were started. The name of Mountain Home was decided upon, but in the year 1923 was changed to McKinnon.
At the ward conference in 1920 the townsite was chosen and a post was set where the meetinghouse was to be. The townsite was then purchased. This was later abandoned. Others have homesteaded and settled here since then, but this is as accurate a record as I can get of the earliest settlement of McKinnon.
(This history was written in approximately 1938 or 1939. There have been many changes in the little community of McKinnon. The biggest is that nearly all the old stock have left the community and new people have moved in. Of the original ones I have mentioned above only Cliff and John A. Anderson and Harold Brady remain—and Melroy Luke. The greatest achievement of late years is the lovely chapel which has been built and dedicated (July 2—I believe—1957). This chapel has been the dream of the people of McKinnon since it was first settled. Many, many good times can be remembered when the people lived as one big family (you might say). Who could forget the good old May Days in Pine Grove and the dances held in the old red schoolhouse, especially the political rallies—and the parties at the homes and schoolhouses. Even sickness and death brought us closer together, Yes, indeed, those were the good old days.)
Take me back to old McKinnon, where there’s plenty room and air;
Where there’s cottonwood an’ pine trees, bitter root, an’ prickly pear;
Where there ain’t no pomp nor glitter; where a shilling’s called a "bit";
Where at night the magpies twitter; where the Injun fights were fit.
Take me back where sage is plenty, where there’s water snakes and ticks;
Where the cobble rocks were countless, and we stacked them up in ricks;
Where the old sawmills stand withered, and the old pine stumps are white;
Where the clay hills in the Badlands clung to everything in sight.
Take me where there ain’t no subways, nor no forty-story shacks;
Where they shy at those big buses, dudes, plug hats an’ three-rail tracks;
Where the old sun-tanned farmer dreamed of wealth and plowed his dirt;
Where the sleepy night-herd puncher sang to steers and plied his quirt.
Take me where there’s diamond hitches, ropes an’ brands an’ cartridge belts;
Where the boys wore chaps for britches, flannel shirts, an’ Stetson felts;
Land of pigweed and alfalfa, where the tumble weed has rolled;
Take me back to dear McKinnon—let me die there when I’m old.
Doris S. Walker
McKinnon Wood Tick Reunion
August 9, 1969
Perhaps you people of the Terry Town group have not realized what a blessing and boon your coming meant to the Alvin Smith family, especially Lucille, Lovina, and Eva. We were starved for people of our own age to associate with. We needed people of our own age to help us know the better things of pioneer life. Although you people were poor in material things, you were rich in talent, love of music and drama, religious activities, and just plain worthwhile living. To us country kids this was the beginning of a better life. Because we had moved on to an already worked homestead, we, perhaps, had more material things, such as good gardens, livestock, and chickens that gave us meat and milk for more variety. This made our meals more varied and our home a little more warm and comfortable in its simplicity. Perhaps we didn’t realize the hardships you folks went through for us as we went to your places. Your smiles, songs, and dances made us feel you were so blessed.
Maybe if we go back to our first years in Coon Hollow we can explain our feelings more clearly to you. Our parents bought our homestead from Showers, in the year 1915. They moved us up to it, and Mother and Father went to work on the Peoples Canal—Father as foreman and Mother as cook. Wesley and we girls lived on the ranch and went to school in the little log cabin a half mile below our place. Uncle R. G.’s family came in 1916 and were going to live on the Swink place below ours. Uncle R. G.’s heart couldn’t stand the high altitude. He had a hemorrhage of the nose and had to leave. Aunt Luella stayed for the summer; then left. While she was there she had a little Sunday School for her family and ours, which was the only religious contact we had had since leaving the Manila Ward. She left with us her supply of two-quart bottles filled with peaches. How wonderful this fresh fruit tasted to us!
This was a lonely time for us, especially for us older girls. We had no one our age to associate with. There was no recreation except when Mother and Father would take us in the white topped buggy or wagon to Manila for the July 24th annual celebration. Mother usually made us new dresses for the big occasion. It was a real highlight in our lives. They would also take us to the July 4 celebrations at Lone Tree or Burnt Fork, with those stirring ball games between Manila and Burnt Fork and Lone Tree combined. During the rest of the year we occasionally were taken to dances at Lone Tree (upstairs in an old building at Burnt Fork), or to Manila. These were sometimes pretty wild affairs—with cowboys dancing in boots, drinking and making monkeys of themselves, and often ending up in fights and even gun play.
The intermissions were always at midnight, with everyone bringing sandwiches, cakes, and coffee. Then the dances would continue until the wee hours of the morning. Young children were put to bed on benches around the edge of the hall, while the elders danced the fox trot, waltz, quadrille, Virginia reel, etc. Snow drifted in through the cracks, and we had to dance vigorously to keep warm.
Even though we had our home established first, it was so simple, and our activities were limited. Yet we were happy. Our two-room log cabin with the pole in the center of the front room-kitchen portion, put there to hold the dirt roof; the pans to catch the rain that leaked through the dirt until more clay could be put on after storms; the old combination shop and bunkhouse where we children had our beds; the filling of the bed ticks each fall with new straw; the service berry, gooseberry and currant picking excursions; the breaking of beer bottle tops with burned strings and cold water to make containers for the jam and jelly Mother made; the ordering of our surplus food supply from United Groceries in Salt Lake to come by parcel post; Brother Vance living with us and teaching school and the thought of how he enjoyed the service berries with cream and sugar because he missed the fruit he knew on Provo Bench; the venison, the source of most of our meat; the old sauerkraut barrel and the annual tromping day of the cabbage and salt with a big pole-like paddle, in which all the family participated; the few neighbors (Boyntons, Aldridges, and Showers)—those were a few of the things that made up our lives before the great event of the coming of the Terry Towners. What would have been the lives of the Smith girls if you hadn’t come to McKinnon? How we loved the Charley Terry Seniors, the Charley Terry Juniors, the Alfonso Terrys, the Tommy Andersons, the Arch and Mont Pulhams and their father and mother, the Stokers, Mendenhalls, the John A. Andersons, Hy Andersons, Cliff Andersons, the Coxes, Heiners, Tripletts, Bradys, Lukes—and all the rest.
Let’s reminisce about some of the things we participated in. Walking three miles from our house to Charley Terrys to attend the first Sunday School in their tent house didn’t seem far at all. Usually on Sunday afternoons we would all get together at one place or another. We sat around and often laughed our heads off at the antics of Cleo Terry and Arch Anderson—and especially the entertainment around the old pole in our kitchen by Cleo; and Arch dancing around with a beet pickle on a fork crying, "This beets all!"; Cleo sitting on the keys of our organ and saying. "That’s bum music!" That organ was a source of pride to us. I guess we thought it gave us status. We enjoyed singing to its accompaniment.
Oh, the song fests we did have—singing our hearts out; the games of Run-Sheep-Run, Kick-the-Can, and No Bears Out Tonight; dancing at Uncle Tommy’s big front room to the music of the old horn-type phonograph (with discs). Especially did we enjoy "My Pretty Snow Deer" and "Tiptoe Through the Tulips."
And do you remember the fun we had on Terry’s sidehill swing? It was just one rope with a stick to sit on and guide. We spent hours and hours flying through the air and even getting professional enough to turn somersaults. Remember the drama events with Chasta mostly at the helm? Those three-act plays and Arch Pulham’s outstanding acting ability? The great event of the stake officers coming from Evanston? The joy of the big night meetings in Pine Grove, where we ate and danced and played games? "I’m Captain Briggs of the Horse Marines" still rings in our ears.
Speaking of Pine Grove—oh, those May Day celebrations! The braiding of the Maypole in June was such an outstanding event. Those ball games played between the married men and single boys, married women and single girls, sack races, rope pulling contests, etc. What a glorious, carefree day that always was for us, but for Chasta, Charley and the others it was a lot of work. How dear old Pine Grove is to us!
We can’t forget the basketball games in the old red schoolhouse, especially with Fon Terry who loved to play. And speaking of the old red schoolhouse, Roena with her glasses which were such a novelty to us, was an ideal teacher (Eva really thought), playing the piano, coming to school in her one-horse buggy, or riding on that big black horse, where she looked so small. She really taught us better English. When we said the "ain’t" our names were placed on the blackboard. When anyone who had his name there heard someone else say "ain’t" he or she could erase his name and put the other up. This way "ain’t" became extinct from our vocabularies. Our homemade Valentines were to us the most beautiful on earth.
Do you remember the wonderful escapades we all had going in the big wagon, sometimes with four horses hitched to it, to Manila to dances? In the winter we were all cuddled up and packed in like sardines, under quilts, to keep warm—singing our lungs out all the way down, dancing most of the night, and coming back home exhausted but so happy! Perhaps the sun would be up before we were all delivered to our homes. Remember Austin Stevens’ coming on Sunday on that big beautiful dapple gray horse? He and Martin Swab worked for Tom Welch. How that horse did prance, and it could turn on a dime. Do you think that was his bashful way of wooing Lovina?
What a wonderful day it was in our lives when on August 29, 1920, Eva’s sixteenth birthday, our father finally gave his consent for us three girls to be baptized. Lucille was 21 and Lovina 18. It took place in John A. Anderson’s reservoir. Arch Pulham was bishop.
Do you remember when Buna and Eva Anderson would come out in the summer, and we girls were very much impressed with the modern styles they would bring. The Terry girls were always dressed nicely, but these Anderson girls would bring a breath of the outside to us. And do you remember the hair styles they and Van’s sister, Ben, would introduce? One time Ben brought the style of the two braids in the back, one high on the head, and the other down at the neck line. Oh, how Eva loved it, and Mother somehow got two big red bows so she could wear one at the base of each braid. How perky this was! She also remembers the night when she and Ben were riding horseback and ran into a wire fence, cutting their legs—much to Val’s concern.
Another beautiful event in Eva’s young life was when Nita had a birthday party for five or six girls and Aunt Lucy served the hot chocolate in beautiful long-stemmed goblets, the first Eva had ever seen. And they ate in the dining room instead of the usual kitchen. It was strictly elegance.
Lucille went to Salt Lake to work one summer, and when she returned she spearheaded a big party with card games, about the first of its kind there. We cleared the bunkhouse, and everyone sat at small tables and played. Prizes were given. Austin was too bashful to join in the games, but he furnished the peanuts we were all eating and dropped some of the shells into the tall, tapered lamp chimney. They did a beautiful job of blacking the chimney (to Doris’s consternation, as she had the unwelcome job of cleaning the chimneys). George Stevens, Austin’s brother, went to sleep, and Lovina poured castor oil into his ear. It was a big joke for all but George, who resented it.
Our mother was a boon through these years. She helped in times of illness and death. We often saw her climb on her saddle horse to go help in the different homes. When the Pulhams’ twin died—when babies were born—she was there. Roena recalls when they were all down with chickenpox, and mother would come on horseback each day to bring their mail up to John Anderson’s place, checking on how they were doing and relaying messages back and forth between them and Dr. Tinker, even though she didn’t care to go in. Val always claims she could never have survived if it hadn’t been for Mother’s help and advice.
Eva feels that the year Nita, Veloy, Mae, Merrill, and she went to Lyman to school and batched brought them close together. What a happy year. The families sent food to help them out. Can you remember the sandwiches of homemade bread and thick slices of Chasta’s homemade bread and thick slices of Chasta’s homemade cheese we took with us skating?
What wonderful, wonderful memories! Oh, how much you dear people contributed to our lives. Thanks! Thanks so very much.
Memoirs of Lucille Smith Swett
Eva Smith Dorman
Doris Smith Walker
Snow Aldridge Stahlberg
It’s been such a long time since my childhood in McKinnon that sometimes my life there seems like someone else’s life in another world.
Like most of my friends, I was born on a homestead, in a log cabin, in the days long before hard surfaced roads, electricity (at least in McKinnon) and radio or TV. There were few fences when I was a small child, and sagebrush spread over most of the valley. The Indians still held a minor claim to the land. I well remember watching them ride single file on horseback, led by a princess, as they traveled from one reservation to another.
Those were hard years for our parents as they tried to scrounge a living from the often unproductive land, but there were lots of fun times for us kids, especially when we were old enough to go to school.
I always looked forward to Thanksgiving, with the school festivities and the community dinner on Thanksgiving Day—long, long tables laden with such foods as I’ve never seen before—or since. Then there was Christmas, with the Church Christmas tree hanging heavy with gifts for all. I’ll never forget May Day (in June) and the picnic at Pine Grove, where we dressed in our "paper best" and braided a gay and colorful Maypole.
People don’t seem to do the simple things anymore. I guess there are just too many commercial places of entertainment for the "now" people.
Some of the nicest memories I treasure are of the long summer days when I could ride my horse over the mountains and through the valleys with a sort of wild freedom.
I have been back to McKinnon a few times since I left 40 years ago this summer, and I never fail to marvel at how little the land, fences, and buildings change. There are only a few familiar faces among those who inhabit the houses I used to know so well. Every hill, every creek, every house—even every turn of the road—reminds me of another time when we were all too young, too full of life and joy, too innocent to worry about the world’s problems that our young and their young must face.
I would never want to change my life as it is for the life it might have been if I had stayed in McKinnon, but it is good to turn back the memory clock now and then and remember how it was when we were "tiny ticks."
3212 Veda Street
Redding, California 96001
By Mont A. Pulham
In my early married life I served as a painter and paperhanger for Maiben Paint and Glass Company of Provo, Utah. I became restless in this trade and decided to follow my younger brother, Arch, and his family to Burnt Fork, Wyoming, to take up a homestead.
With wagon heavily loaded with supplies, my youngest brother, his wife, and I started on the five-days’ trip. It was a tiring, hard trip. It rained most of the way. It was a sad trip also because on this journey I lost my suitcase containing a new suit, shoes, and various wearing apparel to clothe me for a year. Only those who lived in that country in 1918 will know what the roads are like through the Wyoming badlands in stormy weather.
We lived in tents while we built our homes with logs taken from the steep slopes of Philpeako Mountain. When our house was completed, we sent for the rest of the family: my mother, father, wife and three children.
Life was not easy. We lived through many experiences similar to those of the early pioneers. It was especially hard on the women. Neighbors were far away, and there were no modern conveniences. Culinary water was obtained by digging in the hill. Water for the garden was carried by pail. We tried raising a garden some distance above the hills, where there was a small spring. We could fence the cattle and sheep out, but the small pests—squirrels and chipmunks—could not be kept out, and soon the garden was a bare spot—each tender green sprout clipped off before it had a chance to mature.
Land had to be fenced, but most of all a canal was needed. Each spring and fall be spent weeks camping out, sleeping on the ground, working with our teams and tongue scrapers. Then came the problem of building a dam at Lost Creek. First we tried to build a road through Burnt Fork Creek and up the mountain, but this proved too steep and rugged. We decided to make a new route up Birch Creek. Years, weeks, and days were spent with teams, Mormon scrapers, wheel scraper, and fresnos—and using any other method we could find to move the dirt for our dam. Every Saturday night would pull camp and return home for Sunday.
We succeeded in building a canal that would carry a small stream of water and were much encouraged. But our canal problems were not over, for in many places the fine sandy soil would not hold water, and it would seep through and come out below the hill. Quite often this happened during the night, and time would have to be taken from farming, building fences, and building homes to again camp out while we repaired the canal.
Our canal company had a flood water filing on the Burnt Fork Creek. We would use the early spring runoff. Many of the oldtimers resented this, claiming they needed all the water for their ranches. At times they would go to the head of the canal and turn out the water. We hired a canal rider to keep the water coming.
Sunday was always a day of worship in McKinnon. We had organized a small branch with Arch, my brother, as the presiding elder. Services were held in the one room of the little red schoolhouse. Later we organized a ward, with Arch as bishop; Henry Heiner and Alphonzo Terry were counselors and Cliff Anderson was ward clerk. We soon learned that some of the oldtimers were members of the Church who had become inactive, so this called for some missionary work to bring them into our little fold.
To finance our little organization, we held entertainments in the schoolhouse. We sponsored dances, home dramatics, and plays, using our own home-grown talent. We had a fine male quartet. There were some problems maintaining discipline at some of our dances. Some of the oldtimers felt that a dance wasn’t a good time without the bottle and a rough house. There was a little prejudice on their part for our having used some of the flood water and for taking up some of the land they used for spring and fall grazing. It made it a little difficult for them to see it our way. This brought on some disagreements and a few fights.
Early in our homesteading we were visited by the stake presidency from the old Woodruff Stake. We presented our problems to them for counsel. I will always remember their answer. We were not to fight or to make trouble. We were to make friends if at all possible. This turn-the-other-cheek approach was difficult for us to follow, but President NeVille predicted that if we would do this, the time would come when most of the oldtimers would move out and members of the Church would take their places. I have lived to see this prediction fulfilled.
While we were still a part of the old Woodruff Stake, it was the custom to hold a community gathering around a big campfire after the day’s conference. We would hold a community sing, bear our testimonies, relive old memories, and listen to the counsel of the visiting brethren from the stake.
I distinctly remember one in particular, held at John A. Anderson’s home. The patriarch spoke to us and made a prediction that if we would remain united as we were then, and if we would continue to serve the Lord, we would prosper in our new land. This prediction was held sacred by most of us, and we looked forward to that time of prosperity. This promise was based on our remaining united, and we did, with one exception—the choosing of a townsite. This split us down the middle. To settle the question, we decided to have the stake president choose the place for the townsite. Their decision was for us to purchase 40 acres of land on the bench east of the present site, where a large spring could be the source for culinary water. This problem had to be solved, as a new schoolhouse was to be built. The western half of the community did not like the site chosen on the bench, so the school board decided to call a district vote to settle the issue. The vote would decide whether to build on the new site or leave it where it was. The west side won; the proposed new site on the bench was rejected. Perhaps this issue contributed to the split in our community. Life was not easy. We were poor, and like the pioneers, we had to work out our problems.
When we were a part of the Woodruff Stake, which was 100 miles from our little community, the stake visitors visited us once a year. Then the stake was divided, and we traveled to Lyman, 40 miles away. This helped us form closer relationships with our stake officers.
Many of the families left our community for opportunity elsewhere, and the prosperity we read into the patriarch’s prediction never seemed to come to pass. Like the pioneers of old, we had our joys and sorrows, small successes and disappointments, but we prospered in faith. Our hardships and differences are held sacred to us, as are the good times we had together at the dances, home entertainments, plays, and fireside meetings. All have had their binding effect upon us.
As we travel back to the old McKinnon homestead, we wonder why it has not prospered and why it looks much the same as it did 50 years ago. The water supply was not what we expected, and the land still seems a barren waste.
All of these memories are relived at the Wood Tick reunions. They are part of us and will always be remembered with a softening glow. The fun and satisfying memories somehow become more important than the hardships and disappointments.
Alvin Edward Smith and Sarah Ann Nelson Smith were part of the settling of McKinnon, although they didn’t come with the main body of settlers. They proceeded them by a few years. In 1897 Alvin and Sarah Ann migrated with a group of pioneers from Beaver, Utah, and settled in the Manila-Linwood area. Her father was one of the leaders of the group. These two young people were the first white couple married in Manila (December 28, 1897). The wedding celebration lasted three days and nights. Their first five children were born in this area: Lucille Lovina, Eva, Wesley, and Doris. In he early spring of 1915 Alvin traded some city lots in Manila and a team to a Mr. Showers for his ranch in McKinnon. This ranch was located in what was nicknamed "Coon Hollow." Some said the name came from the fact that two Negroes had camped there at one time. There was a ranch about a mile above us on which Joseph Duncan lived. The Swinks lived about a mile below us. The children went to school in a one-room schoolhouse half a mile north of our place. It was a small, dilapidated place, and the tiny little teacher, Miss Jenny Brewer, was in a quandary constantly to know how to handle the big overgrown boys that really had a jolly time thinking up new mischiefs each day to try her. One ritual each child had to contend with was a teaspoon of honey and sulfur each morning—to purify his blood.
Alvin and Sarah took the job that summer as foreman and cook for Keith Smith in constructing a canal in South Valley. The children took care of the ranch. Then Alvin went to work for Joseph Duncan. During the summer of 1916 a new two-room schoolhouse was constructed on our property to the east of our home. Alvin had the contract to haul the lumber. As one load of green lumber was coming by the place, Wesley ran out and tried to climb on it. He slipped and fell under the wheel, breaking his leg. The old country doctor, Dr. Tinker from Manila, was brought and the leg as set.
The schoolhouse was completed for school that fall. The two rooms were separated by folding doors so they could be folded back for dancing and church meetings. This was a great stride in our lives. That November 11 the youngest son, Daniel, was born, and Dr. Tinker had quite a time between our place and Hy Anderson’s where their oldest daughter, Jean, was making her appearance.
In the year 1917 Alvins’s brother, R. G., and his family moved out from Provo and bought the Swink place just below us. He was only there three weeks when he had a hemorrhage from the nose and had to be rushed out. The altitude was too high. His wife and children stayed for the summer; then, as he wasn’t able to come back, they went to Salt Lake to live. Alvin took over their place, too.
During the summer of 1919 or 1920 the Interstate Canal Company went up to Island Lake to construct a reservoir out of the lake for irrigation water for the settlers. Alvin took the contract for hauling the cement for it. He and Sarah Ann hauled cement as far as the Widop cabins in wagons; then for fourteen miles it had to be packed on horseback over a pretty rough trail. He arranged a string of five pack animals and loaded a 100-pound sack of cement on each side. Sarah would take the lead and Alvin brought up the rear, keeping the horses on the move and on their feet as the loads got heavy. After this job was completed, they stayed on to work on the dam. Sarah caught fish for the camp and sent fish to the children at the ranch. These were salted down and kept in a big crock jar in the ice in the ice house. Alvin took lumbago in his back, and Sarah didn’t know how she could get him home. He finally crawled up a fallen tree until he slowly got on the horse. It was terrible for him at first, but the farther he rode, the better his back got. By the time they got him home it was all right.
When the reservoir and canal were completed so that water could be brought onto the place, Alvin, Sarah, and the kids cleared acres and acres of sagebrush and planted them in alfalfa. The garden to the north of our house was a real lifesaver for us. Another crop that was harvested each winter was the ice. All the men turned out when the ice became 12 to 18 inches deep on the ponds around the neighborhood. Each farmhouse had a log building filled with sawdust. This was taken out and the squares of ice put in, layer upon layer, with the sawdust packed around and in between. In the summer the farmers would have the ice for cooling milk, butter, etc., and for that good old homemade ice cream.
June 16, 1921, was a big day in our family life, as Lucille and Lovina had a double wedding. Lucille married Elmer Swett of Green Dale, and Lovina married Austin Stevens, who lived on a ranch about eight miles above our place. They went to Manila to get married, and then we had a big wedding supper for them.
Sarah took quite a part in doctoring in the neighborhood. Many called on her for advice and help. She delivered four babies by herself and helped Dr Tinker with many more. Her services were always given freely.
During the fall of 1923 she decided she must get her children to where the two older ones, Eva and Wesley, could go to high school, so she moved into Green River and put them in school. She took in boarders to help financially. Later, after the crops were in, Alvin came in and went to work on the railroad. He leased the ranch, and we lived there three years before moving back to McKinnon. Eva met and married Silas Dorman. Wesley didn’t go back but stayed on to work in Green River, and in 1930 he married Clarinda Gaturrez. Doris later went to Lyman to high school, and in 1931 married Glen Walker. Daniel married Anna Collett on December 22, 1941, while on furlough from the army. He spent three years in the service, part of which was overseas in World War II.
Although Alvin never joined the Church, he always was willing to help in any community project. He loved the out-of-doors and was an ardent huntsman. He killed his own deer when he was 80 years old. He loved fishing and could catch fish along with the best of them.
Sarah was a devout Latter-day Saint and worked constantly to bring her children up in the Church. She held many positions in the auxiliaries. She taught the first religion classes in the school at McKinnon. She was in the presidencies and taught in Primary, Mutual, and Relief Society. She was secretary of the Relief Society in different places for over 18 years and was a visiting teacher for over 50 years.
Sarah became postmistress of McKinnon in 1930 and held this position for eight years. They moved a home in from Cumberland, Wyoming, and put it out by the road across from the four-room schoolhouse that was built while we lived in Green River. To the post office they added a service station and small store. They kept this for eight years until they sold it to their youngest daughter, Doris, and her husband. They moved back into the old home. They had a car accident which broke Alvin’s back, and it never was strong after that.
In February, 1943, they moved to Vernal, Utah, and bought a small ranch there. They raised rabbits for a while and then turned to raising chickens. Alvin lived to be 81 years old and died in the Vernal Hospital of stomach troubles and a heart attack on September 9, 1958. Sarah lived for a year alone and then gave up her home and went to live with her daughter, Lucille. After five years Lucille’s health got bad, and Sarah went to live with Doris and Glen, who had moved to Vernal. She lived with them for two years. The last three months of her life she spent in a rest home in Vernal. She passed away from a stroke ion May 15, 1967, at the age of 89.
These were two wonderful people who were pioneers of good standing—always good neighbors, friends, and parents—eager to help a small community grow and advance. The Alvin Smiths did contribute their share to the little community of McKinnon.
Doris Smith Walker
Although the Glen Walker Family Chapter wasn’t made until later years in McKinnon, it was a part of the history of the community. Doris had been a part of it from the first, as can be read in the Alvin Smith story, but other than playing for a few dances and an occasional weekend, Glen’s part in the drama of McKinnon began the 1st of January, 1931, when he was hired to finish the school year teaching in the sixth, seventh, and eighth grades when one of the teachers failed to return after the holidays. Incidentally, Glen and Doris had become engaged at Christmas time, and that seemed a very practical coincidence for him to come to teach at McKinnon and board and room with the Smiths. He has claimed through the years that he had to try out Doris’s cooking before he would marry her. She must have proved herself, as they were married on May 27, 1931, in the Salt Lake Temple. After a short honeymoon to Idaho they went to Laramie, where Glen attended summer school and then went back to teach in McKinnon again. This was the pattern for the next few years. It seemed it took all winter to pay off the loan for the last summer school. Outside of teaching one year in Burnt Fork and one year in Farson, Wyoming, the next 15 years were spent by Glen in the McKinnon School. He had a wide range of experiences in teaching from all grades one year to various grades, ending up at the high school and being Principal of the school. Under his supervision school lunches were commenced in the school.
In Lyman, Wyoming, in August, 1932, Norlan was born to them. Glenna came in September, 1935, in Ogden (Dee Hospital). In October, 1943, Owen put in his appearance, also at the Dee Hospital in Ogden. In the spring of 1938, Glen and Doris bought the business and ranch from her father, Alvin Smith, and for the next ten years theirs was a mighty busy life. Glen became Mutual superintendent and then became second counselor in the bishopric (for five years); then bishop for the next five years. He was Scoutmaster for many years. While he was bishop he instigated and promoted getting the new cemetery started, having the ground cleared and fenced and staked in plots. He also promoted the building fund for the chapel. Creating the project of getting the old CCC buildings torn down and moved up from Sheepcreek was his, and he made a contribution of deeding the ground for the chapel to be built on (although it wasn’t constructed until after they moved away).
He was president of the canal company for a number of years. He had 264 acres of farm land and cleared a part of that from sagebrush. At one time he had a wonderful alfalfa crop that yielded one hundred tons of baled hay for the stockyards in Green River, besides enough to feed his own stock. He was grain king that year—threshed 4000 bushels of barley. He also ran an ambulance service to the hospital 65 miles away on a number of occasions. He especially remembers the time he ran a race with the stork—when Zelda Brady had her twins. He played drums in an orchestra which furnished the music for all the dances in the country. This was a big part of the entertainment then, it was about a weekly job. Basketball was also a great sport, and Glen coached the school team, as well as MIA and the town teams. He refereed many games.
On top of this, they had a small store and service station, and Doris was postmistress. As the business was in the one part of the home there were no set hours, and from early morning until midnight they would be pumping gas and giving out mail. Theirs being the central phone, most of the long distance calls went to them to be delivered to outlying families. Glen hauled commodities for the store from Rock Springs, which meant that he spent Saturdays going to town over all kinds of roads—some of them mighty poor.
When Owen was 2 ½ yeas old, he was run over by a heavy station wagon used for a school bus. His lungs were crushed, and they filled with blood. He was rushed to the hospital 65 miles away. It was a fight for his life for about four days. He was in an oxygen tent, but through the blessings of the Lord, he survived.
The summer of 1947 was a rough one Norlan had tularemia, from a horsefly bite, and was surely miserable with it. Doris was in poor health all summer and had to go to Manila to the health nurse for shots each week. The next February 13 Glen had to rush her to Rock Springs, through a horrible Wyoming blizzard. There their fourth child was born but did not live. Hers was the third body buried in the new cemetery.
The next September they sold their place and business to a Reulon Ashby of Vernal. They took his home in Vernal on it and moved there just before school started. One of the last things Glen did as bishop of McKinnon Ward was to call himself on a short-term mission for the Church, representing the McKinnon Ward. He left for his mission on December 6 and went to Alabama for six months. It was a long six months for the family. Doris, the children, and Glen’s sister Sylvia drove through to get him in July.
They spent the next 22 years in Vernal, where Glen worked in the post office. He started as a city foot-carrier and advanced to assistant postmaster. He was counselor in two bishoprics and regional coordinator for welfare over five stakes for eight years; then he became a stake high counselor until they moved from the stake.
Doris held positions in McKinnon in many capacities. Her specialty was being Beekeeper for five years and stake Beekeeper for one year, which she enjoyed very much. After moving to Vernal she worked as counselor and then president of Relief Society. She and Glen were called on stake missions but her mission was cut short by the coming of their last child, David—born March 20, 1954. Later she worked in the Relief Society presidency for 3 ½ years and then in the stake Primary presidency for seven years. She enjoyed this very much.
In the fall of 1969 they moved to Farmington, Utah. Glen retired from the post office. They bought a small fruit farm and are enjoying doing work in the Salt Lake temple.
The years in McKinnon were busy, happy years, and they look back on them with fond memories.
Doris Smith Walker
In the year 1914 Charles A Terry Jr. came in contact with a Mr. Brown of Salt Lake City, who was trying to promote a land project in Dagget Co. The result was that Charles and his father C. A. Terry Sr. with Thomas R. Anderson went to Manila, Utah, but as the idea did not prove successful, they with the help of Peter G. Wall came to McKinnon to build a canal, to bring water on to homestead lands.
The Alphonzo Terry family consisting of his wife, Kate Burch, and their two daughters, Francis and Norma, left Provo Bench on May the 8th 1918 for Wyoming, their destination known as Burnt Fork. Then by team and wagon with a few cows they arrived a week later. Their first home was a one room log cabin built on the homestead of Charles A. Terry, this cabin was built by James E. Elder. As all the land was entirely under sage brush the men of the settlement had to go elsewhere for employment, which was chiefly haying jobs. Their trials were many but all the people were in the same category, were as one large family and so through cooperation and encouragement for one another they had many good times together. Their main objective at first was to get church organizations going and what recreation they could get thru dancing and parties, etc. Their setbacks were many but as the growing children matured they would not trade their childhood experiences for any other. Alphonzo was made Bishop in 1927. But as his health failed he was released and with his family of seven children moved back to Utah in 1933. Franklin D. White came to McKinnon in 1925. Their purpose in going there was to establish residence on a homestead if possible, that they might improve their living. They found a thriving community of Latter-day Saints trying to keep the commandments of the Lord and raise their children in righteousness. They also found a good number of old settlers of the country who did not care anything about religion, they took delight in harassing those who did, this kept the Saints on their toes to combat the evil among them, these conditions made them more united and dependent on one another. By doing so they created an atmosphere of love. After living there for a while Mr. White moved the rest of his family there. They arrived in August just in time to assist in building the new school house. Things went along as most new communities do, hard times and easy times. The roads to the town of Green River were very poor, especially in the winter months, one time in the late twenties the road were blocked with snow so bad that we had to make the trip to Green River, Wyo. by truck for ninety miles on the ice of the greenriver tho this was very hazardous very few trips were made, and necessary supplies were brought in. Shortly after Mr. White came to this colony, he asked one of the settlers just what they did for recreation in the summer, and the answer was, "Oh, we play ball on that day". So things went along from year to year, we had marriages and happy times, we had deaths, sickness and sorrow, it was a place that one could go into the timber and pray to his Heavenly Father (if he had the faith). I can now see the good of our lives out there, from those families who made all those sacrifices has come many good Latter-day Saints taking a leading part in the church in many parts of the country.
On June the first 1938, the dam washed out at Beaver Meadows, This a severe blow to the people, Many were so discouraged they were ready to give up and leave, Brother John A. Widstow came out to Stake Conference, He was consulted regarding this and he said he would send someone out to advise us as to rebuilding he dam. George D. Clyde and Orval Stott came out. After careful consideration they advised to rebuild the dam. This gave the people courage to go ahead and borrow the money to start work. There was a small amount of water left in the reservoir, so teams and men went up to repair the canal which had broken, enough water was furnished to water the gardens, however the canal would not hold sufficient water to do a vast amount of irrigation so the men came home Friday evening, the Bishopric met and decided to call a special fast meeting the following Sunday, ward teachers were instructed to call on all members for this meeting this was one time there was 100% teaching done and nearly 100% attendance at fast meeting. The Saints prayed for rain which did not come immediately but before the summer was over the natives of the country were heard to say, "I wish the damn mormons would stop praying for rain," so they could harvest their hay crops. A year or two following the reservoir failure, were very hard years for the people, the depression was on and the loss of crops made it very hard, about this time the homesteads were being sold to make larger units, one neighbor would buy the other out and another would buy both places, schools became a problem and church activity lessened. This was a good time to move to where our children could have more educational advantages.
Very Truly Yours, Alden White
By Clive "F" Pulham
It all started at the age of three, when my father and mother loaded Ronald, Mavis and I with all their possessions in a wagon and headed for Mc Kinnon, Wyoming, where we homesteaded 360 acres. We lived in a tent that summer until we could get the log cabin completed. We went into the mountains to get logs to build our cabin and while there experienced some interesting things. Ronald and I went into another canyon to fish in a small stream. I became tired of fishing and decided to go back to camp alone. As I entered the meadow where we were camped, I turned the opposite direction than I should have. By the time I realized I was going the wrong way I was almost out of sight of our camp. As I turned around I could barely see the camp. Had I gone another ten steps I would have been lost for good because those mountains are vast.
One night as we were camping there, a family of Indians came. They wanted something to eat. I could tell that my mother was very frightened. We became friends with their children and would chase grasshoppers with them.
One day after my father had finished cutting logs; he put me on one of the workhorses and sent me down the canyon to Charlie Terry's old saw mill. They had a cow and I was to bring back some milk. They had a boy about my age and I wanted to play with him so I stayed too long. When I started back it was almost dark. As I went through the pines it was so dark that I could not see where I was going. So I just let the old horse find his way. As I reached the top of the canyon, I could hear some thing coming down the trail. Then I heard someone call my name and I knew it was my father who had come to find me.
Life in Mc Kinnon was very hard. We had to work hard on the ranch planting crop, which would generally burn up every year because there wasn't enough water. We got up early to milk and feed cows, chickens and pigs. When the drought came, the big spring dried up and we had to haul water from T. R. Andersons', which was about two miles away. My mother had to make all of our clothes. Our food was what we raised on the ranch (most of it without water).
We had to ride three and a half miles to a little old red schoolhouse where the teacher would teach several age groups in the same room. One morning the wind was very cold. It had snowed at least a foot of snow the night before. Ronald, Mavis and I were all on one horse riding to school. The night before the wind had blown down Terrys' phone line. It crossed our trail and was under the snow so we could not see it. As our horse got his front feet over it the wire came up under his belly. He came right over backwards on top of us kids. The horn of the saddle hit Ronald in the nose nearly breaking it. The back of the saddle caught me about the middle of my stomach and nearly broke my back. I couldn't walk. Mavis was not hurt. We laid there in the wind and snow until my dad came over with the milk cows to water them at Terrys' spring. I had to have my back put back in place, it had been dislocated. We were 53 miles from the closest town where there was a doctor.
It was a three-day journey by team and wagon to go into Green River, but we had to go many times for supplies. We would often take eggs, meat and potatoes and trade them for sugar and flour. One time as we were going into town we made camp by the wells. The water in the wells was so low that we couldn't reach it. So my father told me to take a bucket in my hand and he would lower me down by my pant legs. This was the way we were able to get water out so we could water the horses. I was used for a well rope.
One day as I was riding through the mountains trying to locate some of our range cattle; as I passed an old cabin where a still had been used to make whiskey, I was shot at. The bullet hit right by the side of my horse. He just about turned inside out and so did I. Some old guy had moved into this old cabin and was trying to keep everyone away from his stakeout. I didn't hang around very long you may be sure of that.
As Ronald and I got older we had to sleep in the granary. The mice would run across our bed covers. We would try to keep our heads covered so they wouldn't run across our faces.
Rabbits were also very thick. In the wintertime they would get into the haystacks and eat two or three feet into them. We needed the hay very badly to feed the cattle so we would build fences around the stack with small openings for the rabbits to get in. At night we would go down and seal off the openings and kill the rabbits with clubs.
One day while I was on Cedar Point, I could see dad raking hay in the field below. I saw the horse run and dad was thrown from the rake. I hurried down the mountain to see how badly he was hurt. He had his elbow thrown out of place but managed to get it in when I got there. For several days he was unable to work in the hay.
When I was eight years old, I was baptized in a stock watering pond that belonged to John A. Anderson. When I was twelve, I became the Deacon quorum president, then a home teacher. I would go with T. R. Anderson home-teaching. It would take all day to visit our families because we had to go by horse. We would take our lunch with us. I served in different positions including in the Sunday School Superintendency. We would leave early Sunday morning to travel three and one-half miles to the old school house where we would hold church meetings all day--Priesthood, Sunday School, Sacrament meeting, Relief Society, and Primary all in one day. Mother would pack a lunch to take with us. We would get back just in time to milk the cows and do other chores.
As time went on the great depression came. Times got so hard people were having a hard time to get money for anything. We were able to work out our taxes by furnishing a team of horses and a man to drive them on the state and county roads. I drove four head of horses--grading the road. Finally dad left the ranch and started painting houses in Rock Springs. That left mother and we older children to run the ranch. He would come home on weekends to help us and to go to church with us.
As I was riding through the cedars on Cedar Point my horse started to buck. My spur caught in the cinch and I couldn't get it out. My horse nearly threw me, and if I had fallen off, I would have been dragged to death. Surely, the Lord had a hand in protecting me on many occasions.
One time I was driving our work horses up to the big spring to water them. This was in the winter just before dark. The wind was blowing and as usual the workhorses turned to run back to the ranch. I knew that if I didn't act fast they would get away from me. I turned my saddle horse to head them back and as he turned he fell; he landed on me breaking my leg just below the knee, also breaking several bones in my foot. I lay there in terrible pain. I tried to move but I couldn't. I thought that I would surely die as I lay there in the cold. But, again the good Lord was watching out for me. Our neighbor, Austin Stevens, who lived almost a mile away happened to see my horse fall. He could barely see us but felt something was wrong. He saddled his horse and came to my rescue. He then rode back to our ranch and got my father. After contacting another neighbor for help they finally were able to get me back to the ranch. I lay all night in lots of pain. The next morning my parents got a neighbor who had a car to take me into Rock Springs, sixty miles away, to the hospital. My foot and leg was so swollen there was not much that they could do for it but what a relief to get some medication to deaden the pain. Several days later I was able to go home but the doctor said he could do nothing for my foot. He said I would never walk on it again because it was so badly broken. Well, I knew by now that the good Lord was protecting me and had something for me to do and with his help I would walk again. After a year with his help and the help of a specialist, I did walk.
Time went on. I turned eighteen and so I had to take my turn going up into the mountains to work on a dam at Beaver Meadows. The ranchers were building a reservoir to store water for irrigation. I loaded the wagons with hay and grain, and enough food to last for two weeks. I started out for the first time alone. I had just got started up into Birch Creek canyon where the going gets rough, steep and narrow roads. All of a sudden the kingpin slipped out of the tongue of the wagon and I was headed backwards down the canyon. I jumped from the wagon, grabbed the wagon tongue, throwing it into the bank. Had it gone over the edge I would never have been able to get it out. Well, it was after dark when I reached Beaver Meadows. I had to pitch my tent, water and feed the horses and unload the wagon. Boy was I tired. Six O'clock came early but I had my horses to harness, feed and water them and fix my breakfast so I could be to work by 8 O'clock. After working each day, I would cut logs to take home to build barns and corrals. The last year of my work at the reservoir, I was made foreman, so I had to see that the work was done right.
It seemed as if I was always breaking one bone or another. On the way to school, Golden Anderson and I were racing each other on our horses. I didn't have a saddle on my horse. I fell off. Golden helped me back on and we went on to school. The teacher upon examining my arm found it to be broken. She went over to the Smith's; they were running the post office. Mr. Smith harnessed up his team and took me back home. My folks saddled up a horse--rode over to the neighbors (Terry's) where there was a phone to call another neighbor (Henry Heiner) who had a car. Mr. Heiner came to our home picking up mother and myself and took us to Green River, Wyo. to the doctor. The doctor set my arm, put it in a sling and we drove back to Mc Kinnon the next day.
Three or four years later, I roped a calf while standing on a corral fence. I had the lariat tied to the top of the post and was holding the end when the post broke, jerking me off the fence breaking the same arm. Mother ran to the field to get dad. He harnessed up the team while mother made me a bed in the back of the wagon. We headed for Manila, 12 miles away. We got there just after dark. Dr. Tinker hadn't come in from irrigating, so we walked out in the field to find him. Getting back to his house, he set my arm. He had to set it three times before he could get it to stay in place. This was done without any anesthesia. He bound my arm up tightly because he had no casts to place it in. We arrived home about 4 O'clock a.m.
It was fun to chase wild horses--when caught we would run them in the corral. Those that we found to be good slicks, we would place our brand on them. There was one wild pony that continued to stay around the corral even though we did not want him. No matter what we did to get rid of him, he was determined to stay. So Ronald and I tied a five-gallon can to his tail, gave him a swat and sent him on his way. As he ran the can would hit his hoof--that was the last time we saw him.
One day as I was riding near Cedar Point, I came upon a den of coyotes. They ran for their den as fast as they could go. One of the small coyotes ran for a badger hole. He stuck his head in, thinking he was hidden. I pulled him out and took him home. I didn't have anywhere to keep him, so I tied his leg to a piece of binding twine and lowered him into an old well. Part of it had caved off, but it was still 10 feet straight down. I still don't know how he got out, but he was gone the next morning.
These are some of the experiences that gave me strength and courage. At times I felt things were very difficult. These experiences were good because they helped me to appreciate the better things of life. I would like to close by quoting from the Doctrine and Covenants, Sec. 136 Verse 31, "My people must be tried in all things, that they may be prepared to receive the glory that I have for them, even the glory of Zion; and he that will not bear chastisement is not worthy of my kingdom."
(Taken from the Diary of Mavis Pulham)
(These experiences are taken from the diary of Mavis Pulham exactly as she wrote them. As you read this you will come to lines with ……… which indicate things in her life which were not related to her experiences in Mc Kinnon.)
When I reached the age of fifteen months we moved to the place called Mountain Home (Mc Kinnon), and lived with my Father's Father and Mother in a two room log cabin.
Father worked hard to get the canal made so we could get water. We would go over to Mrs. Chasta Terry's place and she would give us vegetables that she had raised under their spring.
When I reached the age of three years, Mother, Ronald, Clive, Laurine, and myself went back to our old home town to see my Aunt Flora before she went on her mission to New Zealand. We stayed with my grandmother, remaining there until fall. Father came down and worked. Later we came back and moved on our own homestead in a log cabin of two rooms.
The following summer we went up in the mountains above Nebekers to cut logs to build the home in which we now live. While we were there a family of Indians came and camped next to us. They were very friendly and we kids made friends with their children. We were there about ten days and then returned to our home.
In the year 1920, Ronald started school. He rode a little pony back and forth to school every day.
Time went on and in the year 1921, we moved up in our new home. And in the year 1922, Fern was born. In the year 1923, I started school. When I started we had to ride on a horse. Three of us (Ronald, Clive, and I) rode the same horse. My first teacher was Mrs. Hickey. In the second grade and in the third grade, I had Miss May Terry. I surely liked her. In the fourth, I had Miss Bessie Heiner for a teacher. She was the best teacher I ever had. Then in the fifth grade I had Miss Veloy Terry; I also had her in the sixth grade. Then in the seventh grade I had Miss Luella Blackner, a teacher who would read us novels.
While I was in the seventh grade I went with Daniel Smith. We surely had some very good times. Clive also went with Miss Norma Terry, a very good friend of mine. We four would always chase around together. In the eighth grade, I had Miss Bicart, a crabby old teacher, who never could get along with anyone. She only taught until Christmas time, then she went home and got married, "thank heavens". Then Mr. Glen Walker taught us the rest of the year. I got through the state examinations OK, and I was surely glad that I did.
Then I started my High School work. I began in the year 1931. I had Mr. J. D. Harper for a teacher. We put a very interesting play on. I took the part of a movie actress. We sure had a lot of fun.
That spring in March, a bunch of us kids decided to go to Lyman to a free dance. So Ronald, Clive, Laurine and myself, invited Jack Anderson, and his brother Golden to go with us. We left about three O'clock in the afternoon. The sun was shining and it looked like spring. We started, the roads were rough and we had to drive very slow. When we got over on the badlands we hit a bump and broke the water hose and we lost all the water. But we fixed that and traveled on. Just before we got to Lyman, it started to rain, and before the dance started it was snowing. So after the dance we decided to stay all night. So we went to our friend's house and stayed the night. It snowed all night. In the morning the snow was quite deep but we started home. It was snowing all the time, and the closer toward home we would go the deeper the snow got but we moved on slow but sure. Going up the badlands, we slipped off in a hole and lost one of our chains. This made it bad but we finally got out. When we got to the top, the snow was so deep we had to push it up in front of the lights. When we came to a flat, Jack and Clive would get out and run on each side of the road so Ronald could tell where the road was. We finally reached Lonetree. We bought some gas and bought a box of crackers. We spent our last penny and started out again. We had a very hard time getting home but finally did. Father met us over at Terry's with a team of horses and helped us the rest of the way. The car stopped in the yard and not even a drop of gas was in the tank. We were surely thankful that we had a home to come to.
Time rolled on………. The next school year came. I had the same teacher. It was practically the same thing over again. In the summer of 1933, I worked for Mrs. Anna Terry. Cooked for four men and was it a job, well I guess. But I was glad to get the money to buy clothes to go to school with………..(A period of time passed at this point in Mavis's life when she went to live with an aunt in Idaho.)
On December 9, 1933, I started back to McKinnon. I left Idaho Falls about 8 O'clock. I reached Pocatello at 9:45. There I had to change trains for the first time; I had never done it before. I got along fine. Then I rode the rest of the way to Green River. It was the longest and most tiresome ride I ever had. I was glad when I saw the city of Green River. Father met me and we started for home. We arrived home about 10 O'clock. I was glad the ride was over. Ronald was still going to school in Provo. Time passed on rapidly. On December 25, Don Marvin was born. A wonderful Christmas present. We had a very lovely Christmas, but Ronald did not come home. The next summer the year 1934, Norma and Francis Terry came out. They stayed for about a month. Then went home and I went with them. While I was there, we went to Mutual Dell--for fun--I had never had much more. We had parties and hikes. Then Bill Cox came down and Beth Terry and myself went home with him. When we arrived, Clive was home from the C.C.C camps. It was just about time for school to start. This year we are going to have a different teacher. So in September 1934, I began school. My teacher was Mr. O. M. Clark. He is quite different from Mr. J. D. Harper in many ways…………
At Christmas time we put on a play, but it was not very interesting. Right after Christmas, we played hooky from High School which made the teacher cross. But we were not expelled. Later we sent for a play called, "He's my Pal". There were six boys and six girls. At first when it was cast, I was left out. But later Nettie Boynton went to California, so I took her part of Mrs. Macay. We put the play on April the 5th. Then on April 6, we took it to Manila, where we didn't have much of a crowd. Right after the play Wayne Deck and Mr. Clark got in a fight over a little duffy hat. The first fight we had ever had in high school………..
We had very interesting graduation exercises. After the exercises, we had the "Freshman Hop". It was a big success………..
June 21, 1935--McKinnon is as dead as ever. So we did not have much to do during the summer months--only help on the farm.
Just before haying time, Father was raking and he had a run away with a horse. He was hurt--his arm was thrown out of place. So my sister and I had to help with the hay. But along with the routine of farm labor, we had a few good times. We went to dances at Manila a lot. My boyfriend and I had a lot of fun. We are corresponding now. (Ray Blackham).
The summer has drawn nearly to the end, and on August 23, 1935, Laurine and myself went up to Lost Creek where they are building a reservoir and cooked for Clive and his boy friend, Bob Anderson. We were there for a week. When we came down Saturday night, there was a letter waiting for us telling us we could come in to Green River and go to school.