NOAL FERRE BIOGRAPHY
Contributor: dvdmovieking Created: 2 years ago Updated: 2 years ago
The Ferre ancestors came from France to England, to Massachusetts on to Canada, and to Utah. My ancestors from Canada were: Roswell Chapin Ferre, born 5 November 1818 (seventh child) at Bostard twp., Ontario, Canada. He married Rachel Catherin Hollister in Iowa. They later came to Utah in 1852. My father George Albert (the seventh child) was born 21 August 1866 in Provo. He married Susanner Baum the 17th January 1888 in Provo. My brothers and sisters are: Albert, Vole, Sesil, Fred, Ora, Val, Guy, June, and Neil.
I, Noal was born 21 April 1892 at 2400 North 540 East in the Pleasant View area, Provo, Utah. I played on the farm and hiked in the hills. I was baptized (in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) 14 July 1900 by Burdell Davis in the Provo River. I spent many happy hours playing ball games, hunting, and fishing. I went to the Page School at 1600 North.
I loved to go with my father with the fruit to Heber and Park City, and for wood in the canyons. On one trip up North Fork of Provo Canyon we loaded the wagon and started down the canyon. The brakes gave way and the horses couldn’t hold the wagon back. It forced the horses so fast they couldn’t make the turn and they landed in a pile of brush and trees. Father took the axe to cut the trees out of the way, and when he came down with the axe the horse jumped and the axe hit it in the hip making an ugly gash.
My brother Albert liked guns and powder. One time he got some dynamite and he put it under a can to see how high he could blow the can. One time the dynamite fuse didn’t go off as fast as Albert wanted it too, so he bent over to blow on the fuse and it blew up in his face, hurting him quite badly. Albert had a gun and mother didn’t like him having it, and somehow the butt of the gun got broken off. I suspect mother did it around the trunk of a tree when she got angry at Albert.
One time at school Albert and the Glaiser boy (he had a mule) rode the mule up one aisle and down the other. Another time someone was eating an apple and threw the core at the blackboard, the juice ran down the board leaving a mark that stayed there for years.
When I was nineteen (1911) my father (George Albert Ferre) passed away, and I had to take over the care of my mother and brothers and sisters. I worked on the farm and for others doing anything I could find to keep the family going. After awhile Fred and I went up to Gilluly to work on a ranch. Gilluly is in Spanish Fork Canyon above Diamond Fork and a little below Tucker. Here we had many experiences new to two farm boys. One evening when we went for the cows at milking time the cows were gone. I started out to hunt them. I went over one ridge after another following tracks, until finally I caught up with the cows. They were nearly out to the Duchesne river. A rancher hunting his cows had found them with his, and was taking them all back with him.
I’ve ridden horses in my life and only one ever threw me. I rode one once that I wish had thrown me. For when I got off, my nose and ears were bleeding and my poor neck and head hurt.
I borrowed a gun from Rolly Baum (mother’s brother) and he only had three shells. I took the gun, and three shells and Fred and I went deer hunting. We went up east of Price. The gun was a 45-90. We borrowed a cayuse from a rancher to put our gear on. The rancher told us the horse was no good, so we had best watch him. We started up the mountain and Fred said he’d go this way and drive the deer over to me. I went the other way, taking the horse with me. I saw a deer and shot it. The horse took off, kicking and bucking, throwing our bedroll, food and pans all over the place. He ran into a tree and mashed our frying pan as flat as a pancake. I hung up the deer and cleaned it, and went to find Fred. When I found him he said, “Well, we won’t have liver for supper tonight.” I told him, “Oh, yes we will.” And I showed him the deer. He hadn’t heard the gun shot. I took Rolly back his gun and two shells.
I worked in the mine at Park City for a while, and I lived in a cabin while I was there. There were three mines there: the King, Ontario, and Quincey. Gold and silver was the main thing mined. I quit when the mine caved in. Once the mine flooded and I climbed up on some rocks and some man came and helped me down, and out of the mine. I met a lovely young lady in 1917, and on July 23, 1918 I married Caddie Agness Pace at the home of her father, Sidney Alexander Pace, by Bishop D. D. McEwan. We both went back up to Gilluly. We spent many happy hours riding horses in the hills between working hours. Fred and I bought a motorcycle in a tub, from Emory Nason, a neighbor. He had torn it apart and put it all in the tub. Many hours were spent putting it back together again, and getting it to run.
In November, we decided to leave Gilluly and try Idaho. Everyone had the Idaho fever, so we went also. I took the wagon and horses and started off by myself, leaving my wife with her parents to follow later. I made the trip with no trouble and found work on a hay baler at Burley, Idaho, and sent for my wife. Caddie came on the train and we both stayed with the baler. She cooking for the men, and I working.
One night we all decided to go into town for the weekend and as Sesil (who was also working on the baler) had been drinking, I was elected to drive Sesil’s car into town. I had never driven before and what a ride. The lights would not burn, so one of the boys held a flashlight out one side of the windshield while I drove. We caught up with a load of hay going the same way we were, and a car coming toward us. I didn’t know how to stop the car. So I went down into the barrow pit and around the load of hay on the wrong side. I just had enough room to get back on the road between the load of hay and a bridge crossing one of the large canals.
On Christmas Eve we went into town for the holidays and went to the show. Influenza was raging through the country and Caddie caught it. In a few days I also came down with it, along with Byron (Caddie’s brother). We were alone and I had to take care of us all, as there was no help to be hired. We all pulled through with my nursing.
The last of April Caddie came back to Provo Bench, Utah as we were expecting our first child. About the 1st of May I came home on the motorcycle with Fred, and our boy, Clarence Nolan was born 8 May 1919.
Fred and I decided to go back to Burley, Idaho together on the motorcycle. So when Clarence was two weeks old, we left Caddie with her parents. The roads were not so good in those days, mostly dirt and plenty of holes. We had many spills along the way. The motorcycle broke down in Idaho and we were miles from a town. We worked on the motorcycle and at last got it running. It was late at night so we thought we’d ask the people living close by for something to eat, and a bed, but they were afraid that we were bank robbers or something and would not let us in. So we crawled into a straw stack and spent the night without supper. The next morning we went on to Burley, Idaho without any more trouble. Caddie came back to Burley the last of May and we got an apartment in town. I worked at the dairy for a while, but we decided we could do better at home so we bought a colt to hitch with my saddle horse and we started out. The colt had never been hitched up before and for a few miles we had a wild ride, but he soon became tired and settled down to work. We were nine days on the road coming home. Some days we only made ten miles, as the horses were weary. The day that we started this trip, while I was hitching up the horses, one of them stepped on my foot, on my big toe, and when I took my shoe off at night I found the nail in my stocking. I had a bad foot for a while. We rented a farm on Provo Bench (now Orem) and here I bought my first truck, a used Buick. And here our next three daughters were born, Barbara, Lucy, and Ruth. We then went back to Provo for a few months and I got work selling Maytag washers. While doing this I found a 20 acre farm in Vineyard and we moved here in April 1926. Our other children were born here: Dora, Keith Albert, Lawrence Eugene, Hazel, Carol , Valeen, Marie Joan, and Helen. On 6 April 1929, Keith Albert was taken from us by pneumonia.
There is a lot of fruit trees and vegetables on our farm and I take them peddling. One time when I was peddling at Eureka, I left the truck and went into a house, and when I came out the truck was running away. I ran after it, and managed to catch up with it just as it was going in the door at the fire station. Another time I was moving a house down from Eureka and when I got it down as far as the tracks, found I had to raise the poles higher. If I had not stopped as soon as I did, a runaway train that had failed to hold, would have hit the house in the middle, getting truck and all.
Dora: . He was a quiet, sincere man, and seemed to get along well with everyone he met. Mother said: “She used to read to us and dad would look over her shoulder, and he taught himself how to read.” He seemed to be well versed in most subjects. He liked to read the National Geographic Magazines, and liked to talk about articles he found there. He also liked to read the newspaper to keep up on current events.
He was a good farmer, and kept up on all the new ways of planting and spraying. He knew how to prepare the soil to make the seeds grow. His potatoes, (grown in the sandy soil) were the best in Utah. He knew the value of rotating crops. And if any of had a question on farming he was the one we went to. Dad taught us how to get rid of sandburrs. We were to dig a hole and fill it about half full of burrs and cover them up. Dig another hole, etc. And it worked.
The farm was bought in 1926 and after the trees were pruned and the limbs were piled high, mother said if we did a good job we’d have a weiner roast. Well, all the aunts, uncles and cousins were invited. We played games with our cousins, such as: hide-and-seek, kick the can, here comes the old lady with a stick and a staff, hopscotch, and tag. So it turned out to be a tradition and it lasted until the farm was sold. We still get together as a family on the 21st of April (or there about) each year until 1987.
There were a lot of chores to be done on the farm, cows to milk, pigs to be fed, horses to be watered and hay re-stacked where they would have feed. Chickens to be fed, eggs to be gathered. Coal and wood to be got in, with eleven children it took a lot of fuel to keep the stove hot for cooking, and for heating water and washing clothes. Dad would go after coal up to Helper and visit Aunt Ora and Uncle Jim. And see that there was wood cut and hauled from the canyon. We always had something to eat because dad and mother planned well ahead. Hay was hauled and stored in the barn to feed the animals through the winter. With eleven children they had plenty of help.
In the fall the pits were dug out and new, clean straw was put in the bottom and on the sides, and the carrots, potatoes, and parsnips were stored in them. Straw was put over the vegetables, and dirt over that. There were three pits about 5'x8' each and about 2' deep. By spring there wasn’t much left in the pits. There was always apples in the barn, along with the winter pears. Fall meant getting some meat ready. There was bacon, hams, beef and sometimes a mutton. Some of it mother bottled. And some of it tied in flour sacks and hung on the north side of the house. High enough so the dogs couldn’t reach it. Then deer hunting came and there was deer meat on the side of the house.
There was some potatoes stored in the cellar under the house. And dry onions in the barn, lots of onions. And walnuts for cake and cookies. There was also a barrel of apple cider in the barn. Dad irrigated the land, standing and watching the water wend its way down the long rows. We didn’t have one short row. There was ½ acre of peas, 1 acre corn, 1 acre tomatoes, 1 acre strawberries, 4-6 long rows of raspberries, 1/4 acre of onions, 1 of potatoes. In the fall dad plowed the fields, and the freshly turned earth smelled new and clean. In the spring it was plowed again, then disced and harrowed, until it was smooth and ready for planting. At first dad used to sow his own fields by hand (wheat and alfalfa). Then in later years he hired it done. At first he stored his wheat, and took it to the mill to have it ground into flour. Then Antoine Bunker took the wheat and stored it for dad, and dad just went down and got flour when he needed it. He sold most of the wheat to Mr. Bunker. There was twelve loaves of bread made twice a week so it took a lot of flour and yeast. There was a lot of hay to be hauled to the barn, first dad had a team of horses and a wagon, then in later years he converted an old truck, and made a tractor. Then a regular tractor was purchased. When the children were old enough they worked along with dad pitching hay on the wagon. Occasionally a snake would fall out of a fork full of hay. Someone had to pitch on the hay and someone had to tromp so that the hay would stay on the wagon all the way to the barn. If it came off you had to pile it back on, so you tried to do it right the first time. At the barn, dad worked the hay fork and someone had to ride the horse to pull the hay into the hay loft. Then the ones in the hay loft had to stack it evenly in the loft. Dad planted sugar beets (2-3 acres) to sell to Utah-Idaho Sugar Factory in the fall. That meant they had to be planted and thinned, weeded and watered. And then when they were thinned that meant beet greens, and we liked them. Then in fall there were many hard days digging and topping, and throwing them on the wagon so dad could take them to the railroad car to be shipped to the West Jordan Sugar Factory. We tried to have another load topped and ready before dad got back.
Sometimes porcupine or skunks would come through the wheat or field to find something to eat. The wheat, when it was ripe, stood 2 ½ - 3 feet tall. That meant a lot of straw for the stalls, and storage, and filling the pillow ticking mattress for the children’s beds. The old straw was taken out and emptied in the corral, then new straw pushed into the ticking until it almost burst. Then it was re-sewed and put back on the beds. Straw was used for the pigs when they had piglets, or a place for the new calf to lay, straw for the chicken nests, and a place for the cats to curl up in the warm sun. Straw was placed in the barn to keep the fruit from freezing. At first the wheat was cut and tied in sheaves and hauled into the thresher by the barn. The wheat was put in sacks and the straw put into the barn next to the hay. In the summer as soon as the vegetables, and fruits were ripe it was time to go peddling. And everyone worked to get a load ready so dad could go. Everything had to look right. Dad would go peddling and we’d start preparing the next load so dad could make enough money to pay for the farm, schooling, shoes, clothing, etc. Dad had customers that he served for years and they waited for him, for they knew that they’d get their money’s worth. They always got half more than the bushel would hold. Sometimes they paid with large rounds of cheese, which came in handy with everyone to feed. With everyone’s help and going without the luxuries of life the farm did get paid for.
One time we went up to Granite Flats and dad and some of the others went hiking and it was getting time to go home. The others came back, but no dad. No one had seen him in the last couple of hours, and we started to worry. Everyone started looking and calling to him. This was in June 1977 and he was 85 years old, and hadn’t been feeling good. We found him, he had gone farther than any one of us, and had found a beautiful waterfall, which we had all turned back too quickly to see. Dad had a wooden grub box that he carried with him wherever he went, peddling, fishing, hunting, or to family parties in the canyon. There was a frying pan, coffee pot, silverware, towel, washcloth, soap, salt, pepper, sugar, shortening, flour (for pancakes) etc. That box seemed to be magic when you were hungry. There was always something in it to eat.
One time Aunt Emma and Uncle Albert went with them in the pickup and Aunt Emma sat in a chair (in the bed of the truck) all the way up the canyon. We were all told to sit down so we wouldn’t fall out. To us she really looked funny sitting up on the chair, but she enjoyed just being there.
Many years were spent on the farm and after 40 years the farm was sold to Trade-Tech (now known as Utah Community College). Mom and dad moved to Orem at 142 East 800 South.
31 January 1983 he passed away after a long time of suffering. He fought a good fight, and saw many changes in his 91 years. From the horse and wagon days to trains, airplanes, astronauts on the moon, space shuttles, model T Fords to cars that run on electricity and have no wheels. Into an all around computer age. From radio to television, from silent movies to color. Air travel around the world in hardly no time at all. From 9 days, horse and wagon from Burley, Idaho to a time when it now takes 3-4 hours to drive by car.
Caddie Agness Pace Ferre
Contributor: dvdmovieking Created: 2 years ago Updated: 2 years ago
My line of ancestors on both sides came from England. My great grandfather, James Pace, was a bodyguard for the Prophet Joseph Smith. He was later a general in the famous Mormon Battalion. Grandfather William Byram Pace went to a drummer school at age nine and at age 14½ he went with the Mormon Battalion (as a drummer boy) to Santa Fe, Mexico. James Pace’s family were wealthy people when they left Nauvoo, Illinois. When they reached Utah, Brigham Young sent them to Peteetneet Creek where they settled. This settlement was later named Payson after James Pace and his son, William Byram, by President Brigham Young in March 1851. They were later sent to St. George to settle there, then on to Thatcher, Arizona, where James died a poor man, only owning a small farm.
William Byram came on to Provo to make his home. He served in the military until after the Indian Wars were over. Then he became interested in mining. He also served as legislator and as a senator in Utah.
My mother’s (Lucy Agness White) people also came from England to Utah as pioneers. Her father, Thomas Henry White, a blacksmith, made many trips across the plains shoeing oxen to help others make the trip to Utah.
My father, Sidney Alexander Pace, was a fruit farmer and hauled his produce to Park City, Kamas, and towns in between. He was a happy person and children loved him. Many a time he has placed children on his foot or knee for a ride, laughing as much as the children. Dad died 1 February 1943.
My mother was a happy, serious person, hardworking and always seeing that things got done. We all learned to work early in life. Giving an honest day’s work for our pay. She passed away 8 June 1953.
I was born 20 June 1898, the fifth child of ten. I was born on the Provo Bench (now Orem), while my father was hauling hay. My mother sent word that she needed the doctor. He left the horses standing in the field while he took the buggy to Provo for the doctor. Mother had been picking peas for dinner and she always said that she never got to eat the peas.
I have five sisters: Willa Emily Williams Cox, Florence Isabell Pace Shepherd Atwood Pierce, Mary Estella Pace Duffin, Erma Epsy Pace Petersen, and Cleo Donna Pace Beer Jones Bair, and four brothers: Thomas Byron Pace, George Roland Pace, Sidney Alexander Pace Jr., and Carl Alma Pace. With such a large family there was always something doing, and we always were doing things at the church.
I went to Spencer Grade School for nine years, one in kindergarten, six in the grades and two in high school.
Mr. Partridge also taught a few of us how to play mandolins and guitars and we spent many happy hours together. My sister Erma and I played mandolins. I was about fifteen years old at the time Mr. Partridge took us to the B.Y.U. Auditorium for a concert. After it was over we all piled into the car (all seven of us) and we headed home. We got to the bottom of the dugway and the car quit. It was raining and uncomfortable. We all got out and proceeded to push the car up the dugway with Mr. Partridge at the wheel so he could steer it. We pushed it clear to Mr. Partridge’s house, where the car started. We all thought it was a put-up job.
In grade school (at the Spencer School House) we girls would play house out behind the school. One day I fell and cut my forehead just above my right eye. The teacher took me over to the canal and washed it out while the other children watched.
When Carl was small we needed something to keep watch over him, so dad got a large St. Bernard dog, named “Old Dan”. He was good to watch over Carl, but when he got loose he headed down to Carters, which was clear down on the south end of Orem.
At sixteen (1916), I was chosen as secretary of the Sharon Ward Primary and later I became a teacher in the Primary. I loved working with the four and five year olds. They seemed to like me as one of them said that she liked me because I was just her size. Also at this time I was appointed class teacher and librarian in the Y.W.M.I.A. I held these positions until I married in 1918.
In January of 1918 I was asked to take a missionary course at the B.Y.U. There were three girls and twenty-six boys in the class. It lasted three months and I enjoyed that very much. It taught me, among other things, that I really had lots to learn yet. I had always taken part in church duties and studied the church books, and thought I knew all about it, but found that I didn’t know anything.
We had gone to the Geneva Recreation Resort one time to a dance, and after the dance we couldn’t find my boyfriend. When they found him he was asleep out in the bushes. They used to have dances at the Timpanogas Ward and it was at one of these dances that I met Noal for the second time. We started going together the 1st of March 1918.
My call for a mission had not come and in July, after a five month courtship I married Noal Ferre. We were married 23 July 1918 at my folks home, by Daniel D. McEwan who was bishop of the Sharon Ward. It was in my parents home that Clarence was born.
After we were married we went to Gilluly (Spanish Fork Canyon) for a while to live. Here we had many good times together, riding into the mountains and visiting others who were living up the canyon.
Dances were held in the old school house at Tucker (about four miles down the canyon). Here we had good times. The dances started around seven and we danced until eleven, then refresh-ments were served. This was usually sandwiches, cake and coffee. Then more dancing until the musicians or dancers gave out.
Some Mexican railroad workers played for the dancing and there were other Mexicans (men) there also. We girls did not like to dance with them as they were not clean, nor did we like the way they talked either. But sometimes they would not take “no” for an answer, and just take the girls out on the dance floor anyway.
The fellows (there were always more men to the dances than women) decided one night they would not let any of the Mexicans get to any of the girls. When any one of us happened to be sitting down and a dance started (even if we were tired), if a Mexican started our way, one of the fellows would come and take the girl onto the floor. The Loveless girl was resting a few minutes and as usual, one of these guys went over and took her on the floor. The Mexican got another Mexican and they started dancing together and were bumping into other couples. When they got to where Noal and Verma Loveless were dancing they bumped into them, then called Noal a name no self-respecting fellow would take, so Noal took Verma to a seat close by. Then turned and hit the Mexican. There was quite a fight.
Noal knocked the Mexican out the nearest door. He sent another one in to tell Noal to come out as he wanted to tell him he didn’t mean it. But I was afraid to let him go for the Mexicans were not to be trusted. John Johnson, a sheepherder, had his gun with him and he said he would go with Noal if I would let him go out. The Mexican said he was sorry, but I still worried. Mr. Johnson and his son went along to see us home. Fred had gone before we did and the Mexicans stopped him thinking it was us. By the time we got there they had gone home. I spent many anxious days after that worrying about it.
The government did not allow them to have guns, and as Fred and Noal had quite a few guns in the house we had to watch the house all the time. I learned to shoot a gun and when I was alone at home I always carried a thirty-two six shooter in my apron pocket. We were miles from any other white people, except for the station agent.
Many and varied were our experiences while at Gilluly besides the one about the dance. We used to go horseback riding quite a bit. One day they took us to a sheep camp where Fred and Noal knew the herder. We were asked to stay to dinner. I had never eaten at a sheep camp and it was a new experience for me.
Noal and Fred often rode in the hills to see where the cattle were ranging and how the feed was. One day as we were getting ready to go, Noal and I were on the porch talking. Noal had his forty-four and Fred had gone for his. As Noal was putting his on, he missed the end of the belt as he was putting it around him, the gun slipped out and hit the floor on the butt end, causing it to go off. The bullet went up by my face and the powder burned my cheek. Fred came running and they both thought I had been shot. Noal was more careful after that.
Ours was the only house along the highway for miles, except for a small store and when it rained, the cars couldn’t get up over the summit. They would have to be pulled or stay until it dried up a bit. Many people stayed with us for the night or longer. We made beds and served meals to someone nearly every day. One time a man traveling with his family of nine and his mother-in-law (his wife had died and they sent the body on the train) were stranded just above our place and we took them in. Seemed I had beds everywhere, and it seemed like they would never quit eating. Lots of times the train would jump the track just up the hill from the house, then we’d have people from the train to take care of. We were meeting new people all the time. We had a section boss and his wife stay with us for a while also.
In November we decided to leave there and try some other place, so we came back to Provo and Noal decided to go to Burley, Idaho to work. I stayed with my folks until he got work and a place for me. He got work on a hay bailer and they needed a cook, so I went to work there also.
As usual, we had more experiences. We moved from farm to farm bailing hay. At one place (a farm owned by an Indian family) the little boys would come to watch me with my cooking. One day I was baking bread and had the misfortune to burn it. I opened the door of the cook shack and the smoke came pouring out. The little boys stood there for a minute, then took off. They went to where the men were bailing hay and told them I was at the house smoking. I came in for a lot of teasing when dinner time came. While we were still working on the bailer we decided to go to town for Christmas. We piled in the wagon and headed for town and a good time.
Christmas Eve we went to the threatre and sat on the back row. There was a heavy-set fellow standing behind me coughing every minute (this was during the flu epidemic of 1918). I told Noal that I’d have the flu in a day or two, and the next morning after we went back to the bailer I couldn’t get out of bed. Noal had to dress me and they took me nine miles into town in Sesil’s old car with no top. My temperature was 104 degrees. When the doctor told Noal there was nothing he could do for me and there was no use trying to save me, Noal told him to give me something anyway. He gave him some red mustard ointment to rub me with, and some cough syrup to take (this turned out to be straight whiskey). Well, I took one spoonful of it and that was enough for me. We did use the ointment though. Noal got the flu, as well as my brother, Byron, but they didn’t have it so bad. I was down for two weeks and when the guys came in from the bailer, they were surprised for they thought I had died. So many did during that epidemic.
We worked on the bailer until the last of April when I came home on the train to stay with my folks for I was expecting my baby anytime. Noal came the first of May. Clarence was born 8 May 1919 at my parents home. Noal stayed with me for a couple of weeks, then went back to Idaho to see if he could find work. He got a job in town and we stayed with his cousin and family for a few weeks until we found a place of our own. We stayed in Burley until fall and decided to come back to Utah to try again to get started. His mother needed our help too.
We rented a farm on Provo Bench (now Orem) by my parents and moved in. Here Barbara was born on 26 December, and (as we had had a deep snow the night before) the doctor got stuck in a snow drift and wouldn’t leave his car. My mother was with me and she had to take care of me. The doctor didn’t get there until everything was over.
We rented an orchard close by, and Noal had his hands full with the place where the house was, the orchard, and his mother’s place. He would go peddling and I would do the watering and pick the fruit so that I could help him keep up. I have taken Clarence and Barbara in the little stroller at any hour of the night (when Noal was not home) to the orchard which was a mile and a half away to do the watering. I would put a quilt on the ground for them to sleep on.
One morning (the next summer) Noal was out loading hay while I prepared breakfast. I tried to get the fire started faster with coal oil. The can exploded in my hands and the fire started to burn the floor. I had just done my ironing late the night before and had left the clothes on the machine beside the stove and they started to burn. I ran out and called “fire”! Noal came running, but I just kept calling “fire”! Then I thought of my babies in the bedroom and I ran around the house and didn’t even try to open the window. I just took my hands and broke the glass. Noal was in the bedroom by that time and handed them out to me. The neighbors came from all around, but Noal had the fire almost out by the time they got there. When the can exploded, it tore my hand up quite badly. I wasn’t able to do much until it got better.
My mother persuaded me to go with Noal with a load of raspberries to the coal camps. She took Clarence and Barbara for me while we were gone. I was glad for the time away from chores, and cares and enjoyed the trip very much. It had rained while we were there. On the way home the truck went off the edge of a bridge and we had to carry rocks in raspberry cases to jack the wheels up enough to get out. It was nearly dark when we finally finished and Noal tried the lights but they wouldn’t work. We were on the road at Colton. There were no houses for miles, so we sat in the car by the side of the road all night, and I was really afraid. We were so far from anyone and Noal had all the money from selling the raspberries and we were there all alone. There had been so many hold-ups at that time, so I sat all night just waiting and imagining so many things. The coyotes howled all night and that didn’t make things any easier. To say the least, I was glad when morning came and we could travel on home.
On November 14 my father wanted me to help him sort a load of apples to go peddling. As Noal was working on the canal and I didn’t feel like being alone, (I was expecting a baby any day) I went to help him. Mother was Relief Society President and had gone to the meeting. When she came home for dinner she saw that I didn’t look very good, but I told her I was all right. She went back to the meeting, but said that if I needed her I was to send word with my brother Sidney. She just got the meeting started when Sidney appeared at the door. She and Mrs. Crandall came, called the doctor, then took me to my house. I just got in my bedroom and the baby came. This was Lucy and she only weighed 7 lbs. (blanket and all). Everything was over before the doctor arrived.
In July before Ruth was born, I had eight teeth pulled. We went home and my gums started bleeding and wouldn’t stop. Noal called the dentist and he told him to use a cold cloth dipped in boric acid water. When we went to bed Noal fixed the cloth for me. He was soon asleep, but all night my gums bled and nothing I did would make them stop. As soon as it was daylight I decided to go pick raspberries. But I barely reached the bottom of the bed when I passed out, and was lying there when Noal woke up. He put me back in bed and went for my mother.
She called the dentist and he said to use dry boric acid on my gums. She came and did what the dentist told her to do and the bleeding stopped. I was so weak that if I tried to move I fainted again. But, as usual, (you can’t kill an old horse like me) I got over that, but had to rest the remainder of that summer.
We moved to the Ford farm and here Ruth was born. We also got our first car and I learned to drive. Noal and Lew Beers went to town and got the Ford car and Lew drove it home. Noal handed me the keys and told me to take the car and the kids and go see my mother. I had never driven before and was afraid to try. Noal and Lew wouldn’t go with me, so off I went. I guess God was with me for I made it all right. I was not afraid after that. Day time was all right, but I refused to drive after dark.
One night we decided to go to Provo to a show and Noal made me drive. Well, things went fine until we got down to August Neilson’s and an old black horse decided to cross the highway just as I got there. I didn’t know what to do and Noal said; “Step on low, step on low”. Well, I did that just as the horse was even with the right fender, and I took him for a ride. I pulled on the brake and the Ford stopped. The horse was none the worse for his ride, but one light on the car, the radiator, and spark plugs didn’t get by so good. We had two spark plugs left, but the radiator was flattened out over the motor. The horse got up and walked away, not even thanking me for the ride. Noal turned the Ford around and drove it home. It got a little hot, but we made it.
That fall we moved to Provo and Noal went to work selling Maytag washers. It was while he was doing this that he found the farm in Vineyard. Needless to say, we borrowed the money for it and moved there. That was the 6th of April of 1926. Dora was born 27 June of that year. Here I learned to do many things. There is only one thing that I know of that I haven’t done and that is to run the mower. I worked on the thresher when Noal was away as they had to have help and couldn’t find a man, so I helped. There was always plenty to keep me out of mischief.
On February 15, 1928, Keith Albert was born. When he was six weeks old he came down with pneumonia from which he recuperated. Then in April 1929 he again came down with it. The morning of the 6th, the doctor came and told us he was a lot better and we needn’t worry anymore. But that night he wasn’t very well, and at 10 p.m. he passed away. Just before he was taken I left my mother with him while I went outside for a minute. I had to be right by his side every minute or he’d cry, and I just had to take a minute off. While I was standing in front of the house, leaning my head against the tree, I felt someone brush past me. It felt like they had touched my cheek with a piece of cloth. I was very startled and ran back into the house to see my baby. He was going into a convulsion which he never came out of.
Dora, Keith, Lawrence, Hazel, Carol, Valeen, Marie and Helen were born on the farm in Vineyard, Utah.
It wasn’t an easy job to pay for the farm and help take care of Noal’s mother (Susanner Baum Ferre) and four of his brothers, but ways were opened for the needed money and clothing and food for everyone of us. Many nights were spent sewing for we couldn’t afford ready made clothing.
Noal thought I was spending too much time away from home so I quit and have tried to make my family happy and do everything to make life easier for them. When I have spare time I make wood fiber flowers, both for gifts and to sell. I love to give them to people. If I can bring just a ray of happiness into other lives with my flowers, I feel that I am repaying God for his goodness in giving me that talent. I also like to stencil paint, sew, etc.
Noal and I have spent many happy hours traveling around the country. I like to go with him hunting and fishing, as well as traveling. He likes to fish and hunt, but I like to just go and see the wildlife and the country. One seems so near to God out in the mountains.
We have taken many trips to California. The first time was with Erma and Joseph Peterson in their car. Then we learned to take our own car so we could get around more. The next time we went up through Idaho and on up to Pendleton, Oregon and down the Columbia River to Portland, then on down to coast to San Diego stopping along the way to visit family and see the country as we went along. It seemed good to go when we wanted and stop when we wanted to.
We have taken many trips since then. One year we went down through Arizona, down to the Mexican border, through into Nogales, Mexico and back. Over San Diego and on up to Ventura, then to see Sesil and Vole Ferre, and on home.
THINGS THAT WERE MISSED AND NOW WILL BE ADDED:
Not being able to attend school all the time my lovely teacher Rilla Hiatt brought my lessons to me and helped keep me up with the class.
At this time the L.D.S. Church had a religion class, also Primary and I was blessed with a lovely teacher Susan Baum. She taught me in both classes. I was a very bashful girl and she would always forget to bring something to class that she needed, so she would send Lucy Carson and myself back to her home for the needed materials. She lived about 1 ½ blocks from the church and we loved to go get them for her. She was so loving, kind, and helpful and helped me build my life up to be unselfish and to think of others first. I had her for a teacher for many years until I was too old for the class and we moved to Sharon Ward.
But, many years later she came back into my life again. This time to bring me more help and happiness. We were married, Noal and I on 23 July 1918 at my folks home, and went down to see Noal’s grandmother the next day. Here to my surprise and delight was my loving teacher and friend, Susan Baum Rezzotte. And what a reunion. We loved each other and she wouldn’t believe we were married, but said if I came with Noal the next morning on his way back to Gilluly she would believe it. Well, next morning there I was sitting on the seat of the wagon beside Noal. She was so happy. He was her favorite grandson and I became very close to her.
She taught me many things. The greatest to share and if I learned anything, not to be afraid of showing others how to do them. She told me if I would always remember this I would be able to do many things, and if I did not I would forget how to do them. And it was oh, so true in my life. I have been able to make and sell many things to help provide for our family’s needs.
After we left Gilluly we came back to Provo and Grandma fixed her front room up for us to live in while we were building two rooms on his mother’s house. More happy memories just being with her. She had a bad cold in the early spring of 1919 and I was able to take care of her. Then in the spring of 1920 she had the Italian flu. I had had the same thing in 1919 and the doctor said I would not live through the night and for eleven days I was really bad. But I did make it. I told them as I had been so sick with it I knew I could take care of Grandma. I did and she got better, but in May she had another sick spell and I took care of her again (by this time we were living at Noal’s mothers) but I went each day to take care of Grandma. I left her around 8 p.m. promising her I would be with her by eight the next morning. But just as I was leaving to go to her we got word she had passed away. So I lost my long time friend, helpful hand and teacher.
When the big depression hit the nation, people were crying for help everywhere. The people asked for government help, etc. The relief people came out to the farms and demanded we give food and money to help that year. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but on the 4th of July we were coming home and the truck was hit and overturned. And my ankle was caught in the hook that ties down the canvas. The fellow was so drunk he was of no help and Noal got a fence post and tried lifting the truck so I could get my foot loose. It was cut from the big toe joint to the heel, leaving only the large artery not cut. When it slipped over the hook it saved my life. The man that caused the accident took me to the doctor and my foot was sewed back up. I was on crutches all the rest of the summer, and we could get no help, but our own small family. The people that we were asked to help wouldn’t come out to help pick the fruit. It had to be picked and taken to them.
When the relief people came again I told them that if they would get people to come out and help we would pay them double wages. The next day we had two men come and they stayed two hours and had to be taken back to Provo.
There we were, I on crutches, Noal trying to peddle our produce while the kids and I picked it and got it ready for Noal to take. I also had a lot of friends who came to our place for fruit, or that I took to Provo and delivered, helping to make it on our own without government help.
I sold butter, eggs, milk, fruit and vegetables to Safeway’s in Provo for many years. The girls and I went on days we could get away from the farm and picked berries and fruit for other people to get money for clothes and school supplies.
I promised them that if they stayed in school and graduated I would get them a watch for graduation. Clarence and Barbara didn’t graduate. When it came time for Lucy to graduate I didn’t know how I would have money to buy her a watch. I went to see the owner at Hienselmen’s Jewelry Store to see if he would give me time on one for her. He told me to make some flower corsages and bring them in and he would sell them for me and that would pay for the watch. I did this for Hazel also. That started me making flowers to sell.
We were able, even with the depression on, with God’s help to take care of our own, and help others we knew that were in need of help.
We have 20 acres on our farm and many hours were spent on it. And the house had to be kept up. The small ones did what they could (bless them) and worked right alongside me, hoeing, picking fruit, pulling weeds, watering, and hauling hay, etc.
The children liked to kid around and for me to tell them stories and sing to them. Eventually they began to sing along and tell stories too. Lots of them funny ones, so there was a lot of laughter going on while we worked. It made us very close to each other.
It took many years of hard work to pay for our farm. We lived there 40 years and I never would consent putting a mortgage on it again. We learned to live as we went along laying enough aside to take care of us through bad times, and on going out to work ourselves. There always seemed to be something I could find to fix to eat on the farm. We raised our own wheat so we had bread; we raised our own pork and beef for meat; and chickens for eggs and for eating. Seemed like I was always baking twelve loaves of bread, at least twice a week.
Noal had a grub box that he carried with him at all times and it always had something in it to eat. It seemed like a magic box. If you were hungry you could always find something in it for you.
Noal & Caddie Agness Pace Ferre - Memories
Contributor: dvdmovieking Created: 2 years ago Updated: 2 years ago
Personal views from their family members
This history tells of some of the same things that are included in Dad’s and Mother’s histories. As it has been told according to other’s personal views it is being added here - - as it is written. Enjoy It - - Laugh when you wish - - - or change it if you don’t like it - - - It is yours to do with as you wish.
GOOD TIMES & HAPPY TIMES MAKE HAPPY MEMORIES
Caddie Agness Pace Ferre
The first thing that comes to mind was making mud pies and cakes on a log by the hitching rail in the orchard. Whatever happened to them? Every time we went back to make more, yesterday’s were gone (probably crumbled to dust).
Next was our A-line dresses that Mother made on her treadle sewing machine. How happy we were when aunt Helen went to work at the Utah Woolen Mills lingerie department and started bringing Mother the leftover knit scraps of material. What beautiful colors for slips and underwear. She made the boys shirts and all our coats. In the winter we all wore long brown stockings with a garter belt. Mother darned the holes in the stockings, what a job!
How we welcomed the thrashing machine for it meant high straw tick mattresses on our beds each fall.
Our home with a kitchen, front room/bedroom and two small bedrooms was always full with our large family. We moved in with no electricity and no water. We had to carry water in buckets for drinking, washing and cleaning. There was a cook stove to heat the water on, and a pot belly stove in the front room to keep the rest of the house warm. The stove pipe ran into the chimney by Barbara and Lucy’s room which helped to keep the place warm. The ashes had to be taken out each day and piled along the driveway, also wood and coal had to be brought in.
The work did not seem like work to us. We seemed to enjoy everything.
Everyone was happy in 1931 when the electricity was brought in. It meant a new washing machine to replace the scrubbing board, a Fridge to replace the ice box. A radio to help relieve the lessons and extra time during the winter months. We listened to the Lone Ranger, Inner Sanctum, Amos and Andy, Cowboy music, The Shadow Knows, Fibber McGee and Molly. Mother listened to Oral Roberts (evangelist) and Barbara had her Soap Operas.
The clothes were hung on the clothesline to dry, winter and summer. The sun was the best clothes whitener you ever saw. After Barbara caught her arm in the wringer, and it rolled clear up to her shoulder before Mother got the wringer stopped, she was always after us to be careful.
Mother was the best cook. She had worked at Knight’s and Allen’s while she was going to college. There she improved her cooking skills: fancy pies, cakes, cookies, ice cream and cream puffs. Some of us learned to bake, but we loved to make ice cream the best. Poor Clarence, Lawrence and Dad having to put up with our mistakes. Especially the burnt gravy.
There were usually some pancakes left over from breakfast, but Mother got after us if we ate them when we came home from school. When we were sitting around the table we never asked for something to be passed, we would just catch the eye of the person sitting by the food we wanted, nod our head and the food would be passed. Mother always said “I never heard anyone ask for this.”
Mother was always looking for someone to fix her hair in the Southern Belle style. No matter how we tried we could not fix it the way she wanted.
Dutch Boy hair styles were the thing in those days. Until we learned to put up and take care of our own hair we could not have it long.
Clarence, Barbara, Lucy and Ruth were born on Provo Bench (now Orem). Clarence had black, curly hair. Mother spent hours curling it. After beautiful, blond Barbara was born Mother spent hours on it too, so Dad cut Clarence’s hair. He did not want a sissy, but Mother kept one of Clarence’s curls and one of Barbara’s tied with a ribbon. She would tell all the visitors about Clarence and Barbara’s hair. She said it came from the Pace side of the family, but it was her mother’s (White family) that had the blonds and the curly hair.
By the time Lucy was born Mother had been having problems and Lucy was a tiny bit of a thing. She only weighed five pounds, blanket and all. ( In Mom's history she writes the Lucy weighed 7 lb.) Mother said that she could fold Lucy’s dress and slip into a small square and still put them through her wedding ring. Lucy had to be carried around on a pillow so she wouldn’t fall out of Mother’s arms.
Lucy remembers that one time she was riding in Dad’s car and sitting on John Shepherd’s lap when he accidently touched the door handle, the door flew open and out she went.
One summer when we were coming home from the Parade on the Fourth of July, as we were going down the hill heading west, Dad saw Mr. Seybold coming down the other hill going south. He had a feeling that Mr. Seybold would not stop for the stop sign. He slowed down as much as he could, hoping that Mr. Seybold would go through the crossroads before he got to it. When he saw that was not going to work, he turned the truck in hopes to save us. The bumpers touched, flipping our truck over on its side. In the process Mother’s leg slipped out, catching her right ankle under the hook that held the spare tire in place. As the sides of the truck was enclosed in wire the rest of us were not thrown out. Dad, Steve Bunnel and Brad Shumway lifted the truck upright off Mother’s leg. Clarence took us home while Dad took Mother to the doctor. When Dr. Grue got ready to sew up the cut, she asked him if he was going to deaden it as she was still in a lot of pain. He said, “Mrs. Ferre, how many children have you had? This will not hurt any worse than giving birth,” and he proceeded to sew up the cut. She was given crutches to use. She tried to use them, but it was hard to get around outside on crutches so she gave them up and walked the best she could. She had trouble with that leg the rest of her life.
Whenever we were on the farm after a rainstorm we would talk about the pot of gold that was supposed to be at the end of the rainbow. In later years we realized that our family heritage was of more value to us than anything else. A Happy, Wholesome Family Life is what makes the world go round and sets the stage for all our actions during the rest of our lives.
Some of Dad’s special quotes were: “An early bird catches the worms.” “Squeaky wheels get the most grease.” “One weed that goes to seed, gives you a thousand weeds to hoe next year.”
Dad was a quiet man, a hard worker, a great farmer, loved to walk, a reader of garden magazines, Geographic Magazines and maps. He could tell you anything you wanted to know about the western half of the United States. He loved to travel and camp out. He always took his Grub box with a frying pan, salt and pepper, grease, fork and spoon, and coffee pot. He would stop at the store for any extra meat to go with the potatoes and onions or whatever he had brought from home, then find a shady spot outside of town to cook his meals. He used his trusty, sharp pocket knife for cutting anything from food to meat or leather. Home grown food tasted the best. He liked to go fishing, hunting, or selling fruit and vegetables, but he liked to see new country the best. Sometimes the vehicles would break down, but he usually was able to make any repairs that were needed. He never caused an accident and only got one ticket.
The only time he ever got lost was after the freeway was built in California. He was on the way to visit his brothers (Fred, Sesil, Val and Guy). He laughed at how long it took him to get off the freeway and headed back in the direction of Uncle Val’s house.
Who were we named for - who picked out the names? Someone said that Grandmother Pace named us, but it doesn’t look like it to me. Grandpa Pace had a lot of cousins named Barbara, Lawrence, Rutha, Hazel and Caroline (Carol).
Clarence was named after Clarence Darrow (a famous lawyer) by mother.
Barbara, after Barbara
Lucy, after Mother’s best friend, Lucy Carson.
Ruth, by Grandmother Pace, after Ruth in the Bible.
Dora, after Madora Baum, Grandmother Ferre’s sister.
Keith Albert, after George Albert Ferre, our grandfather.
Lawrence Eugene (Yippee, another boy).
Hazel, Dad chose the name for Hazel.
Carol, was named after Mother’s Aunt Cad, whose name was Caroline.
Valeen, was a Valentine named after Uncle Val.
Ruth was holding her one night while Mother was fixing supper. Mother put the dishpan on the coal bucket and Ruth dropped Valeen right into the dishpan. I don’t know who was the most scared, Mother, Ruth or Valeen. But Valeen never even cried.
Marie Joan, Clarence chose the name Joan and Mother added the Marie.
Helen, was named after Aunt Helen Dwoark Ferre.
Helen was another blond with bright, smiling eyes and a quiet smile just like Dad’s. She loved the swing that Dad made for her out of an old tire.
Uncle Albert, and Dad, with Clarence’s help built the cupboards along the south side of the kitchen so Mother would have more space for her dishes and the groceries. The pantry was then made into another bedroom. We had a cellar under the house to keep the vegetables good all winter. There was a potato bin and shelves for the bottled fruit and vegetables and meat. Dad and Clarence dug a pipe line from the spring in the orchard to the house and into the cellar, then they piped the water into the house. “Yippee,” no more packing the water from the ditch. This was about 1938. It wasn’t so bad except on wash days when we had to fill the tub on the stove to heat before we went to school.
Dad planted a large garden. The best part was the sugar beets that were taken to the Sugar Mill in West Jordan by train, to help raise money to pay off the mortgage and for all of us to eat beet greens...delicious... Every fall Uncle Joe, Uncle Albert, the older kids and who ever else could be found would top beets. The younger girls and Lawrence would throw the beets on the wagon (later the truck), sometimes we threw them too far, then we heard about it. We had a healthy respect for the beet knives, no one really got hurt, but every year we had blisters until our hands got toughened up.
The first few years when the peas were ready, we got to spend some time at Aunt Erma Peterson’s while Mother and Aunt Erma canned them. We always got to stay for lunch and Uncle Joe would take their boys, Joe, Lynn and Rex into the bathroom to wash their hands before eating. It was our first experience with an indoor bathroom.
When Mother got her own canner, Dad put the old Monark Stove out by the orchard where Mother put the wash tub on top of it and we filled it full of water. The canned peas were set to boil for two hours, then the cans were put into the ditch to cool.
Springtime meant gathering the limbs Dad had cut off the trees in the orchard, a ride on the drag and a Weiner Roast to celebrate Dad’s birthday on the 21st of April. Snow or shine we had the party. All the families came, uncles, aunts, and cousins, for 57 years.
Weeds to hoe. We soon learned to do a good job the first time so we wouldn’t have to do it over.
The first of June started the strawberry picking. We went to Cordner’s for several years to earn money to buy clothes. We would pick our own berries after we finished theirs. It meant getting up early and in the patch at daylight. Sometimes Mr. Cordner would come and pick us up when Mrs. Shumway went, because she couldn’t walk that far. June the 20th was usually Strawberry Days at Pleasant Grove where we went to enjoy the rides, and come home to make strawberry ice cream to celebrate Mother’s birthday.
During the raspberry picking time in July, the small children were only allowed on the outside rows. We all used a small bucket tied with a cloth string around our waists. Raspberries were so easily crushed. This was the time that Mother could sing her favorite songs while we worked. Several summers Aunt Esmee Pace and her daughter, Esmee would come and help us pick berries. It was also the time Mother got angry because Aunt Esmee had a habit of parading around in her temple garments and slip while she washed her face.
Sometime along about here Mother learned how to make root beer. She would make a large batch, using extract, sugar, yeast cakes and water, mix it well, then bottle it. It would be put in the cellar for a certain amount of days, then, when it was aged, we would put the bottles in the ditch to get cold. It was delicious.
On the 4th of July we would go to Provo to watch the Parade, then home to finish picking raspberries if we didn’t get it done the day before. Then we made Maple Nut ice cream.
It was a time of ‘Up before the chickens’ and ‘To bed with the chickens.’ But it was usually to bed after the chickens, with cows to milk, coal and kindling to get in, chickens to feed, pigs to feed, supper to eat and dishes to be done.
Usually it only took one time for Dad to douse us with cold water for us to learn to get up when he called.
We all wore bib overalls during the summer, paired with long sleeved shirts to pick berries. Dad wore overalls while he was working on the farm also.
Whenever we picked berries, fruit or tomatoes we had to be sure to fill the containers as full as they would go. “Be honest in our labors and not cheat others.”
August and September was hurry, hurry to get the tomatoes and corn in, the tomatoes to the cannery or bottled for winter. Plus everything else that needed to be bottled. It meant more hay hauling. What fun, usually the girls were not able to pitch the hay high enough to reach only half way up on the wagon, so we had to stack it around on the wagon, stacking it good enough so it wouldn’t fall off, and then stack it in the barn. Clarence got his turn first at all this as he was the oldest. Someone had to ride or lead the horse to pull the big hay fork full of hay up into the barn where Dad would dump it. We would then hurry with the stacking or we were buried under the next fork full of hay. It was not unusual for a snake to get thrown onto the hay wagon with the forks full of hay. None of the girls liked this and often had to fight with ourselves to keep from jumping off the load.
We hardly knew there was a depression in the 1930's and 40's as we always had enough to eat and clothes to wear. Mother and Dad did say that they were having a hard time making the mortgage payments. Uncle Joe was kind to them and let them only pay the interest, then it was a struggle to catch up on the rest later. Dad usually bought us one pair of shoes a year, then he would half-sole them when they started to wear out. We went barefooted during the summer, except for Mother who had tender feet. One time she took her shoes off to clean the mud off. Clarence grabbed them and ran off. She yelled all the way home.
We enjoyed apple picking the best. No one liked the peach fuzz. The days were cooler and we were in the shade. We had to work fast as there was only time after school and on Saturdays. Dad stored a lot of apples, pears and prunes in the barn to save for selling during the winter. We used ladders when we couldn’t reach the fruit by climbing the trees (real monkeys). Sometimes we didn’t get the ladder set up right and as we would get on the top of the ladder, over it would go. The only one who really got hurt by this was Clarence. One time he broke an arm and another time he got a broken leg. After the apples were picked it was time to pick up all the ones that had fallen. Dad would take them to the cider mill for apple juice, cider and vinegar.
October was the time to top the beets just after the first frost. Lots of times it meant working in the snow. We did enjoy having Uncle Joe, Uncle Albert, Uncle June, Uncle Neil come help us top them. Sometimes Dad had men from the un-employment agency come to help, but they usually only came for something to eat.
When there was not too many of us, we would go to Grandmother Pace’s for Thanksgiving dinner. When there got to be too many of us we stayed home and had our own feast. One year Dad brought turkeys to raise for Thanksgiving. That was different, those turkeys Did Not Want To Be Bothered.
The violets and myrtle in the Pace’s orchard was fun to play in.
We played games like, Run, Sheep Run, Anti-I-Over (throwing a ball over the house to see if someone could catch it, then if it was caught we would race around the house. If we caught anyone they had to be on our side). Hide and seek, Kick the Can, Here Comes a Jolly Butcher Boy (each side would act out a nursery rhyme, then the other side would have to guess what it was). Baseball in the orchard or in Clegg’s pasture, Hopscotch, Jump the Rope, Marbles and Jacks. In the winter we played Checkers and Chinese Checkers. Lots of times Dad would play Checkers with us, when he let us win, which was not very often, I can still see the smile in his eyes as we thought we had finally beat him.
Each winter or fall Dad would make trips to Castle Gate or Helper after coal. We each got a turn of going with him. What fun to go with Dad all alone and to stop at Aunt Ora’s and Uncle Jim Parry’s for dinner. It was so strange to see her fix a small pan of potatoes, only four pieces of meat and open one can of vegetables.
One time when we were at Grandmother Ferre’s home, Clarence was trying to dig the marbles out of her cemented fish pond. She told him to stop or she would give him a spanking. He told her that she couldn’t catch him and took off on a run. He didn’t even get half a block before she had him. Did he get a spanking? Of course. Just a little to let him and every one else know that she meant what she said.
Sometimes at Easter we would take our eggs and go to the bottom of her orchard to roll the eggs down the hill. As it was early in the spring we would often see porcupines and skunks as they liked to eat the bark off the pear trees.
She could sew and paint and raised beautiful flowers. One time she painted a peacock free handed on a piece of cloth. She made beautiful flowers out of wire and beads. As the ditch banks were always washing away she sent away for some grass that was supposed to prevent this. They sent her orchard grass that spread fast and she spent years trying to get rid of the stuff as it was forcing out her garden.
When she was sick, one of us got to take a turn to go stay with her and play nurse. She never went to bed, she would give us a special job to do, but always stuck around to supervise.
Ruth was taught to make pies and pie crust, but someone forgot to tell her the crust needed little kneading. Uncle June said the crust was as tough as shoe leather, and it was.
Dora was given the task of scaling the fish. What a job. No matter how she tried to hang on to that fish it would slip out of her hands, and ‘plop’ back in the bucket. She was soaked before she was through.
Right after we moved onto the farm we were going to Provo. I think to the Parade on the 4th of July. We had gone along the south fence on our first road out of the farm to 800 West, then over to 1200 south, then east. We got to about 200 West, we were excited with Barbara, Lucy, Ruth and Dora playing in the back of the old Ford. Lucy fell against the door, it came open and Lucy fell out. We were going at least 25 miles an hour. When we started to cry Dad and Mother wanted to know what the trouble was back there. We said Lucy fell out and you were leaving her. They stopped and Lucy came running up to us. She was skinned up and her dress didn’t look too good, but she didn’t have any broken bones, just bruises, so we went on to the Parade. (From Clarence).
When we were ready to have our baby teeth out, if we were up to Grandfather Pace’s, he would trick us into letting him ‘see’, by the time we shut our mouths he had the tooth in his hand. We never knew how he did it. (From Lucy).
We all liked to visit Grandfather Pace because he would give us a ride on his knee or swing us back and forth on his upraised foot. What fun, how did he ever manage to keep from being tired out before we left to go home?
Grandmother Ferre’s outhouse needs to be remembered. It was a scary place. In the first place, all toilets are scary to a child as they are afraid of falling in. Grandmother Ferre’s was especially scary because it was built over a small ditch with water running through it all the time. Newspaper and catalogs were used for toilet paper. The waste material went on down into the orchard or pasture. There was no harm in this except the idea of it. Human waste is used in a lot of countries for fertilizer. (From Helen).
Helen and Marie remember going over to Grandmother Ferre’s with Dad and Hazel when they went there to spray the fruit trees. They got to play on the front lawn and when Grandmother called them to dinner, the pie crust was soggy (not cooked clear through). (From Marie)
When there was a show that we wanted to see, “if we were good that week,” Dad would give us a dime and a few pennies for candy. It meant walking two miles, but we didn’t care. We loved the cowboy shows and Flash Gordon, Tex Ritter, Gene Autry, Hop Along Cassidy, Roy Rogers and John Wayne.
Mother took eggs and butter to Provo to sell for extra money. Then after she started making wood fibre flowers she took them to Woolworth’s to be sold. The wood fibre was made off the bark from the trees in Formosa. They were beautiful.
As usual in the springtime we had to watch the cows and keep them out of the fresh alfalfa. When they ate too much they became bloated and would die if not taken care of. If Dad was not home, Mother had to take care of them. One time Barbara was elected to stick a knife between the ribs into the stomach and Ruth was elected to stir a stick stuck into the stomach to let the gas escape while Mother and Barbara walked the cow up and down through the orchard with Ruth stirring and stirring. Oh! There was never a bath enjoyed more.
It was usual for a mouse to have her babies in the grain barrel in the chicken coop. We soon learned to take them out of the barrel with a can and not our hands. After a few bites, that is.
Only once did Dad have one of the girls ride the single tree holding onto the horses tails for balance. It was the practice in those days if the plow did not go deep enough to have someone ride the single tree. He only did it when the plow was broken. Mother did not approve of this and he soon got the plow fixed.
One time Dad fell and broke some ribs. He did not go to the doctor, just wrapped up his ribs and let Clarence do as much as he could to help out. Dad would take the harness out to the orchard and between him and Clarence somehow hook the harness onto a limb, then Clarence would back the horse up under the harness. It took a while and a few crooked rows before Clarence learned how to plow and harrow by himself. He plowed the whole upper field all by himself the last three or four years before Dad bought the tractor.
Clarence drove the horses for Dad to spray the orchard. They went all over Orem spraying for other people. Sometimes Uncle Albert would help. Then Lucy started to go with him and when Lawrence was old enough to drive she would even help with the spraying. When Lawrence went into the Army then it was Hazel’s turn.
As there was always dirty diapers to be washed out every night and especially before day, it was a trip to the ditch that ran along the corral and down into Clegg’s cow pasture, where the diapers were washed out in the cold water, and which was even colder in winter.
One time Clarence was jumping on and off the wagon when we were bringing in the peaches, he slipped under the wagon and broke his leg.
When Keith died, Mother was having problems with her nerves and Dr. Grue told her the best thing was hard work, even if it meant digging holes and covering them in. He never gave her any medicine to take.
Dad had corns and callouses’s on the bottom of his feet. He never complained and we never knew about them until we were older and had the same problem. He suffered also from skin cancer. When it got really bad he would go to the doctor and have it burnt off, using a magnifying glass and the rays of the sun. When he was older he had part of his right ear cut off and a skin graft done.
One time a couple came to the farm to buy peaches and they wanted to take Lucy and Ruth home with them. Lucy and Ruth ran south through the peach orchard with Lucy in the lead, she hit the fence, bounced back, hitting Ruth so she didn’t hit the fence, but cut a ‘V’ wound on her chin, leaving her with a scar. (From Lucy).
Carol was about four or five when she had her tonsils out. She suffered from sore throats for years. The doctor told Mother to give her Jello water. This was our introduction to Jello. Mother bought it from the Watkins Production Salesman, who happened to be Uncle Tom Pace at the time. She also bought pudding mixes, vanilla, spices, antiseptic and salves. Sometimes she bought them from the Raleigh salesman when she liked their produce better.
As the mailbox was on the east end of the farm and that was the route the mailman took, it took a required trip to the mailbox every evening after dark. When Dad put the barb wire fence between the pasture and the hay field, if we forgot to watch what we were doing and got scared, we would grab the mail, fly over the irrigation ditch and head for home, forgetting the fence. Every time, we would hit the fence, end up flat on our backs, crawl through or under the fence and run faster all the way home.
As there was only the Bunnell’s and Vickland’s for neighbors we did not have any close friends until after we got in school. Clarence and Barbara went to Bunnell’s to play until Clarence came home with a few choice words. A stop was put to their going there to play. As the Vickland’s were dairy farmers, Ina and Ray usually didn’t have time to play. Mother‘s ideas of getting rid of swear words was cleaning your mouth out by washing it out with soap. Ugh! What a taste, it only took one time of that for us to forget the swear word.
Dad never scolded us. He usually told Mother and she did the scolding. One time Ruth and Dora were out on the porch singing a dirty song when Dad caught them and booted them off the porch.
There was a lot of sand burrs in the peach orchard. Every year we would have to gather them up, dig a hole and bury them. Lucy and Dora said we had to bury them because that was the only way they would die (from lack of water and sunlight).
One fall Dora and Ruth decided they were old enough to help load the sacks of grain on the truck. They each took one end and tried to lift that heavy sack three feet onto the truck bed. No way could they get that sack over the bed. Dad came along, grabbed it by the middle and threw it on the truck. We went off to find something else that was more our size.
When Aunt Vole’s daughters got tired of their clothes, Aunt Vole would bring them to us to finish wearing out. As we were not used to store made clothes, the ones they brought were beautiful (of course we were older then too). As Barbara was the oldest and nearer to their size she got first pick, then Lucy if Barbara didn’t take them all. Lucy remembers one time she got a dress and hat. Once Ruth got a dress with a flair skirt.
One morning Dad offered us a ride to school as he was going to Grandmother Ferre’s place. It would save us a two mile hike. As he stopped for the red light by the school Dora raised up to look some boys over just as Dad started up. We were sitting on the back of the truck with our feet hanging over, ‘out’ went Dora, smack on her bottom, right in the middle of the street. Did she get hurt? Only her pride, up she jumped and came running across the street after us.
When Lucy started Mutual, Mother became a teacher of the 14 year old girls. She was upset because the bishop supported the scouts and not the girl’s program. If they wanted anything they had to earn their own money. Of course the boys had to earn their own money also, but it seemed that the boys were always doing more exciting things. She did accept the Scout Motto “Do A Good Turn Daily.” She never let us forget that, even when we got older. It was “Do A Good Turn Daily” even if you had to hunt up something to do.
Mother thought we were all supposed to be smart like she was. At one M.I.A. program Ruth was assigned the task of taking apart an iron cord, repairing it, and putting it back together (with no practice). She got it apart but could not get the clip back on to hold it together. Happy day when bolts and burrs came along. One lesson learned, never go to a meeting without being prepared.
When schools started having sports events. The girls were allowed to have Posture Parades. The teachers would line up the girls to see which had the best posture and could march the best in step with the other girls. It was an exciting event with ball games, running events for the boys and the posture parade for the girls. We never could afford the kind of gym suits that were required, but was happy when our posture was as good as the rest.
Uncle Carl brought home some bark tapestry and a grass skirt from his mission in Samoa. Dora could make that grass skirt swish and sway. She had a knack for doing it just right.
The best way to wash your hands after you had been picking tomatoes is to wash your hands with a ripe tomato before trying to use the soap. It works like magic.
Mother had this thing about soldier boys. Her grandfather Pace had been in the Mormon Battalion and his great-grandfather had been killed in the Battle of Bunker Hill in 1812 in New Orleans. Mother decided that Lawrence was going in the service. Clarence missed out on World War II. When Lawrence was just 16 she took him to Provo and signed him into the Army. It didn’t help with so many sons-in-law around that had been in the service. She always said that boys were harder to raise than girls. How come? When she only had three boys and nine girls.
Lawrence came home a lot taller than he was when he left home. The first thing he did was to buy a huge white horse and a Harley Davidson motorcycle. He had to give all of us a ride on each of them.
Clarence met Norma in 1938 on a blind date with Melvin Park and Alma Ferre. Norma was Melvin’s date, but she was Clarence’s girl before the night was over.
Melvin Park had a crush on Barbara. They went to school together. It only took one time to take Barbara home to meet his parents where she also met his older brother LeGrand. One of Mother’s aunts had married into the Park family and she was upset with the idea of Barbara going with LeGrand. After they were married she spent years asking LeGrand to come to the Ferre Parties before she finally won him over. Maybe it was because Mother helped Barbara take care of little Barbara when she came down with polio.
When Lucy graduated from Lincoln High School she went to Idaho to work as a telegraph operator. When she came home she went to work at Woolworth’s. It was the thing to do in those days - to write to service men, one of her Pen Pals was Donald Willcox. We had a big laugh at times because he was always trying to tell Mother how to cook. No one could cook better than our mother. She never let us see what she thought of him and his advice.
On December 4, 1940, Helen Faucett had a birthday party for Ruth to celebrate her 16th birthday. Clem H. (Bud) Mace came after her in Faucett’s big truck. He pestered her all night trying to get the rose she had in her hair.
One fall after the harvest was over Dad and Mom took Hazel, Carol, Val, Marie and Helen for a visit to Zion’s National Park. We stayed overnight, I think in Marysville. Dad rented a small cabin. Dad, Mom, Val, Marie and Helen slept in the cabin. I think it was Carol who slept in the car with me (Hazel).
Mom often talked about Dad having a motorcycle when they were dating. He would not let her ride on it, but he took Aunt Erma for a ride on it. (Hazel)
Dad and Mother sold the farm in 1965. In 1966 they moved to Orem to live in the city and take life easy. The state built Utah Technical College on the property that was once the property of the Vickland’s, Bunnell’s (Merrill’s) and Ferre’s. NO MORE GOOD TIMES ON THE FARM!
No more Ruth driving the car through the newly mown hay, getting the hay wrapped around the drive shaft for Dad to cut the hay off with a knife. That was one dumb trick, and only one time to learn that lesson.
Dad said in later years that the only thing he had done wrong was to teach us to be so independent. No matter what went wrong, or needed fixing we would try to fix it ourselves. Only as a last resort would we ask anyone else to help us.
Dad’s skin cancer was inherited from his Dad. Grandpa Ferre had most of his face covered with sores before he died. People believed he had leprosy and would have nothing to do with him. His mother took him into her home where they cleaned out the woodshed on one side of the house, making it into a room for him. There he lived with his face bandaged for four or five years. Of course the spray and the sun didn’t help Dad as he would often put salve on his face and hands while he was resting. Whether to stop the itching or prolonging the trip to the doctor I don’t know, but I never heard him complain. “He was one brave man.”
From Helen Ferre Perry:
The first thing that she can remember was Dad coming home from work at the Geneva Steel Plant.
She only wore overalls when she was small. When the farm was paid for the girls got to wear slacks.
One time when she was helping throw beets on the big truck she threw it too far and it hit Dad. Soon after that she heard about Dad and his skin cancer and she thought that she had caused it.
She remembers Grandma Ferre’s outhouse, the almond tree, because it smelled so good, Grandma Ferre wearing overalls, her long white hair, her beaded flowers, her apple pies as it was the only thing she can remember of Grandma giving her.
Helen can remember Grandma Pace and how small she was.
Dad and Mother took Helen, Marie, Carol and Valeen on trips to see the Grand Canyon, Zion’s National Park, to Yellowstone, to visit Aunt Ora.