History of Harriet Gardner Frisby
Contributor: trishkovach Created: 2 years ago Updated: 2 years ago
HARRIET MARIAH GARDNER FRISBY
Harriet Mariah (Maria) Gardner Frisby was born
September 13, 1882 to William Bryant Gardner and Anna
Mariah (Maria) Christina Anderson. She was the second
child and first daughter of eight children of which 5 lived
She was born in a dugout on the Navajo Indian
Reservation in Tuba City, Arizona.
One day in 1889 when we lived in Woodruff, Arizona, Father was going to
Age 19 Holbrook to get a load of freight for the store, he gave my brother Will and I a
ride in the wagon to the post office. There he let us out but Will started to cry, he didn’t want to go back home,
he was kicking and crying when Grandfather came along. He told Will to go home with me, but he said no, he
was going with Pa. Grandfather reached out and got him a switch, told Will to go home with me or he would
switch him. Will put his hands back on his seat, Grandfather hit one of his fingers, that about broke Will’s hear t.
He went home without any more trouble. He told Mother that Grandfather had hit his little finger. Will was
about three years old.
That summer a girl by the name of Della Duffin, her brother, and I went to the Little Colorado to fish. Della was
about 10 years old, her brother about 8, I was between 6 or 7. Our fishing lines were bent pins tied on course
black thread, our poles were willows. We had been fishing for some time without any luck, we were fooling
around, I saw a big frog on the bank. I wanted it to jump in the river. I leaned way out over the bank trying to
scare it with a stick. I was barefooted, my feet were wet, I slipped in the river. Where I fell in was a deep whirlpool.
Della saw me fall in, she sent her brother up the river to get Uncle Fred and Aunt Amelia to come quick;
then she had presence of mind to throw her line and hook our and tell me to grab the line, which I caught; with
that thread she pulled me to the bank then she held on to some wild rose bushes, she pulled me out. My sun
bonnet had come off. I was going back in to get my bonnet. Aunt Amelia and Uncle Fred took me home (they
got my bonnet). All afternoon all I could hear was the roar of water.
The first part of November 1889, we left Woodruff, my father was going to work for two men by the name of
Allen. They wanted father to run a trading post for the Navajo Indians. The first night we camped out it snowed
and the wind blew our tent down. When we kids woke up in the morning, the sun was shining, we had to crawl
from under the tent. That morning we had to cross the Little Colorado River. There were no bridges in those
days. Father had two wagons, one was used as a trailer. He had six horses. They were hitched up in twos, like
in pictures of coaches in the old days. Father had a saddle on one of the horses next to the wagon. As we went
to cross the river we got stuck in quick sand, the horses couldn’t pull the wagon out. Father tried but it looked
as though we were there to stay when the men Father was going to work for came along, with two other men.
They were driving a herd of cattle, they stopped to help. They packed my brothers and I across to the other side.
Mother stayed in the wagon, the men got busy digging, they had to work fast as the sand would slip right back
around the wheels. When they thought they had the wheels loose Mother would tell the horses to go. After a
number of tries they got out.
The next day we came to a steep hill, Father was afraid of it because the snow and storm had made it slick. He
blocked the wheels on the trailer, that was to tie them with chains, then he put the brake on the other wagon. He
had Mother, my two brothers and I get out and walk ahead and wait. We walked ahead quite aways, turned
around in time to see the wagons, horses, and Father in a mess at the bottom of the hill. Four of the six horses
were down, Father’s leg was under the one he was riding.
Mother got his pocket knife out of his pocket, he cut the strap of the stirrup so he got his foot out. He was able
to get up, it was a wonder that his leg wasn’t broken. He got two of the horses up, was trying to get the others
up, the wagon had run over their tails. The men he was going to work for came along and helped to get them
up. Nothing of interest happened the rest of the trip, we were on the way for about three weeks.
The trading post was called Togas-jay, an Indian name. The house was two rooms, the largest room was used
for a store, the house was built at the foot of a big sandstone hill. When the wind would blow, the sand would
drift like the snow does here in winter. My brother Will and I would go climb the sand hill back of our house .
We were barefooted, the sand would get so hot that we would kneel down, put our feet up in the air back of us
to let them cool off. On the other side of the hill were large sandstone cliffs. We would climb up those cliffs like
a couple of goats. We had a donkey that an Indian boy used to ride when he went out with the sheep on the
range. When the boy came back with the sheep my brother Will and I would get on the donkey to take a ride.
Sometimes he would go just fine and we would have a long ride, but other times if he was tired he would rub his
nose in the ash pile and lay down with us on his back. We could whip, beat, and pull out, but he would stay right
there. We would get tired and go leave him, he would rest awhile then get up and wander off.
My brother and I didn’t have much to do as we were the only white children there. Mother taught us the
A.B.C’s and to write and spell common words and to do simple addition and subtraction. We stayed at Togasjay
for about a year and a half then we moved to what was called the Holes.
This place was called the Holes because of the large springs. One spring was dug out and walled up with rocks.
The men Father worked for put a pump in the well so they could water the sheep. These men owned a large
herd of sheep and cattle. We lived about 15 miles from Tuba city. Father, Mother, my two brothers and I would
ride horse-back to visit in Tuba. Mother had a side saddle, it was a saddle with two horns. She sat side ways.
My brother Will would ride behind Mother on her horse. I would ride sideways on my Father’s horse. Father
would put my brother Fred in front of him in his arms and that is the way we would get to town.
In the fall of that year I went to school in Tuba City. My Father would take me into town on Sunday. I stayed
with some friends for two weeks then Father would come and get me on Friday and take me home ‘til Sunday.
Here are a few incidents that happened one day. Two Navajo men came in and wanted Mother to make them
coffee. She told them she was washing and didn’t have time. One of them went toward the stove to put the
coffee pot on, Mother picked up a pan of hot water. She told them she would throw it on them. They left, they
knew she meant it.
The well was used to water the sheep and cattle owned by the Allen brothers, the men Father worked for. There
were long wooden troughs about 10 to 12 feet long. The men would pump these all full then drive the sheep or
cattle up to drink. One day two Navajo men came to the well to water a herd of horses. Mother saw them. She
went down to the well (it was about half a block from the house). She told them that they could not water their
house as it took all of the water for their own sheep and cattle. They were going to water them anyway. Mother
took the handle off the pump and took it to the house. She thought that would stop them. She was mistaken.
They tied a rope to the rod that worked the pump. When she saw what they had done she went down, told then
to go away. She tipped over some of the troughs. One came up to Mother, turned her around, told her to go to
the house; she told him she would go to the house but she would be back. The one Indian went on pumping
water, the other went to drive the horses down to water. Meantime, Mother got a large black whip Father used
for droving and then she called the dog, his name was Bumer (name of dog unreadable on original manuscript) ,
he was black and white. He was a huge thing. He could stand on his hind legs and put his front paws on my
Father’s shoulders and my Father was a large man. Mother started for the well. When the Indians saw her
coming with dog and whip, they went in a hurry as they were afraid of the dog. We kept him tied most of the
time. They never came back to water any more horses.
One time the sheep herders gave my brothers and I a little goat, its mother had twins and she would only feed
one, so the herder gave us the one she didn’t want. We had to feed it with a bottle. When she was about half
grown she surely was a nuisance. Once she got stuck in the mud. We had a duck pond. It had a bank on one
side about 4 feet high. The water had dried down and left about 4 feet of sticky clay mud between the bank and
the water. The goat was always climbing in the mud. She got in almost over her back. Dad had to put a wide
board out on the mud, stand on the board and pull her out, she surely was a sight. We thought she would die,
we had to wash her off. It took a long time and a lot of water for the mud stuck like glue as it was clay. When
we got the mud off she looked like a drowned rat. We rubbed her with rags and wrapped her in gunny sacks
until she was dry. Then she was ready for more mischief.
When she was about half grown, we named her Nanny. Every time a door was left open in the house she would
come in. We had an old fashioned heating stove about 30 inches tall, two feet long and 1½ feet wide, it was on
short legs. One end was a large door, we burned pine wood in the stove. One morning we could smell hair
burning. Nanny had come in the house, she was cold, the large door was open on the stove. There were only
big hot coals, it was a good thing for she had got down on her knees and crawled in the stove. When her knees
began to burn she tried to get out. We heard her and pulled her out. She surely had some cooked knees.
Another day she came in the house so Mother was going to teach her to stay outside. Mother shut the door, got
the broom to give her a beating. Nanny wasn’t going to have that, she jumped up in a big rocking chair which
was at the foot of Mother’s bed. She went from the chair to the bed, back to the chair which tipped over and
was broken. Then she jumped up on the dresser which had a large mirror. Nanny saw herself. She was in for a
fight right now. Mother got her off the dresser before there was any damage. Then Miss Nanny jumped upon a
large trunk that was in front of the window. Mother decided she would open the door and let the goat out
before she did any more damage. Mother never hit her once with the broom.
One of our pets was a game rooster, and was he mean. If you turned your back , he was on your back picking
and flapping you with his wings. He delighted to get after my brother Fred, who was about 2½ years old. One
day Fred was running down the path to the well, Mr. Rooster landed on his back, knocked him down. A Mr.
Allen, whom Dad worked for saw Fred fall. Mr. Allen went in the house, got his rifle. I ran, picked Fred up,
started for the house, Bang!!! The rooster was no more. Mr. Allen had shot his head off. Mr. Allen told
Mother that was the last time Mr. Rooster would knock that boy down.
On May 14, 1892, my brother Ellis Freeman was born. My Mother almost died. If it had not been for my Father
and a “Grear” doctor book that my Grandmother had given to Mother when we left Woodruff. We had a girl
working for us, her name was Lissie Tanner and a Mrs. Lee from Tuba City, but they seemed helpless. My
Father went to reading the doctor book and went to work. My Mother soon was all right. We stayed at the
holes for about another year then we moved to a place called Red Lake.
When it rained the water of the lake was a red as could be. We were the only white people there, it was a
homestead and trading post for the Indians. It was owned by Lon Fouts. My Father worked for him. We
children didn’t have anything to do but roam the hills, play with the Indian children and watch them weave thei r
blankets. We stayed at Red lake less than a year then we went back to Tuba City.
I was then almost ten years old, I was baptized in what was Tanner’s Pond. We left Tuba City for Utah about
the last of December, 1894. We traveled in a covered wagon and four horses. Two horses in front of the other
two. We went over some of the worst roads that ever was. They were just trails. When we got to the Big
Colorado River and looked down to the river below which looked like a wide ribbon we started down the steep
road which wound along the edge of the canyon to Lee’s Ferry below. Mother, my brothers, and I got out of the
wagon and walked to the ferry. Father walked along side of the wagon and drove the horses for fear the wagon
may tip over.
The river at the ferry was very wide, two young Indians and the ferry man helped Father get the wagon and
horses on the ferry. We were afraid one of the horses was going to jump. Father said if he jumped he would
have to swim to the other shore but he didn’t jump. In the excitement of getting on the ferry we forgot the keep
track of the cat and dog, a black cat, a large dark brown curly haired and long eared dog. After we got on the
other side of the river, we missed the cat and dog, we had left them behind. We kids made such a fuss that
Father and the two Indians took a canoe, went back and got the cat and dog. We ate dinner before we started
on. A short time after we left the river, we missed the cat. We had left it again. The next morning the mail
carrier came along. He had a gunny sack on the back of his saddle, there was our cat.
When we got to a place called Houserock, some men were shooting rifles which scared our dog and she ran
away. We never saw her again. We arrived in the northern part of Utah one week before Christmas in
Georgetown, Garfield County, Utah.
Harriet Mariah Gardner married John Eddie Frisby December 18 1901 who
was born Sept 4, 1879 in Payson, Utah to Ephriam Frisby and Sarah Ann
Lowe Frisby. They had eight children. Ethel May, Walter John, Gerald
Eddie, Edna Iona, Carl Dean, Leonard M., Wendell E., and Grace.
He died July 14, 1940 at the age of 61 of a ruptured gastric ulcer,
They lived in Eureka just a ‘sidewalk’ away from Ephraim and Sarah Ann
until 1907 when they moved into the old Wimmer home in Payson.
They lived on a 2 acre lot at
484 West 300 South in Payson,
Utah in the first adobe house to be
built in Payson. In the winter
Age 22 i t was always nice and warm, and
in the summer it was cool.
Harriet Mariah Beebe Gardner spent some time with them before
moving back to Woodruff, Arizona. She sent cute little dresses to the
Harriet liked to sit out on the covered porch in her rocking chair in the
good weather months. The porch extended all the way across the front
of the home. The front door was very near the center of the home in
the middle of the porch. Children and grandchildren liked to climb in
the big old Black Tartarian Cherry tree just to the south of the house.
There was a fish pond in the southeast corner in front of the house
that Carl built for her when he was teenager. They had gold fish,
sunfish, little bass and frogs in it. It was a fun thing for the
children and grandchildren
She was sweet and gentle and a good mother. She was a little
over five feet tall and plump. She was always busy, always doing
something. She made bread at least once a week on a wood
burning stove. Sometimes there was some coal, but it was too
expensive to have all the time. She made six or eight loaves and
then a batch of biscuits along with them.
It was a great treat to the children to have hot bread and all the butter they wanted. She also made wonderful
Fried potatoes, bread and milk were the mainstay for meals along with
bottled fresh fruit. The family was pretty well self sufficient. They raised
most everything they ate. They hunted deer in the fall and raised pigs and
beef. The meat was cured by a man in Payson so it would keep longer. It
cost about a penny a pound.
Holiday meals usually included lots of pies, cakes, desserts, mashed
potatoes, gravy, Squash and sometimes yams, but that was very seldom
because they all had to be shipped in. The meal didn’t include turkey
because in those days there weren’t freezers to keep them in. The turkeys
were not big and plump, but were thin and scrawny like a white leghorn
chicken. The butcher would kill and pluck them and tie a string around
their legs and hang them on hooks in the butcher shop for people to buy.
The butcher would take the insides out at the time of purchase.
Almost daily, breakfast or dinner would include sliced ham or bacon which would be cooked on the lid of the
stove instead of in a frying pan to warm it up. It was like a big griddle about a foot and a half wide and the width
of the stove. It was also used to cook deer steaks, hotcakes and make toast on.
Harriet made her own cottage cheese by skimming the cream off the top milk, putting it in pans and setting it on
the back of the stove where it would just barely keep warm until it curdled. After it curdled, it was put through a
sugar sack or a cheese cloth to drain the whey off it. Then the cottage cheese was made and a little cream added
back in at the end. It was eaten with some sage or salt and pepper. The whey was feed to the pigs, so that
nothing was wasted.
Harriet worked in the garden right along with her children doing the weeding and tending the plants. The
children took their turn with the responsibility of the irrigation. They learned to help out and to take pleasure in
it and to love and respect their parents.
They had a watering turn once every seven days and when the irrigation water had been on and then turned off,
they would hear plop, plop, plop and the kids would run down the furrows and pick up cutthroat trout all the
way up to twelve inches long. The fish would come out of the canyon and come down in the irrigation water.
Then after the water was turned out of the ditch, the native cutthroat trout could be found in every puddle.
Sometimes there would be as many as a dozen which helped supplement
There were candy pulls, hikes in the canyon, swimming in Spring Lake ,
sleigh rides on the gravel bed hill by their home, and visits from their aunts
and uncles and cousins.
Merlene remembers that Grandma didn't go to church much because of
health problems with her uterus. Grandma didn't go to the Doctor for
medical problems. Because of these problems she would sit on a chair to
pick berries. She didn't go outside much or do yard work because it was
Remembrances of Grandma
by Phyllis Frisby Rueckert
Grandma lived in Payson, Utah which took about 1½ hours to get there. We only went about once a year,
usually on Memorial Day in May or some other time in summer. We traveled on Highway 89, there were no
freeways. The road wound through many small towns. One was called Ironton. Another Dad called Frog Town
because of a pond. I think it may have been Salem. Grandma always welcomed us and was pleasant and smiling .
I don’t remember sitting and visiting or doing anything with her. There were two Aunts and Uncles who lived in
Payson also. Aunt Grace and Uncle Leland lived on one side of Grandma and Uncle Gerald and Aunt Camilla
lived on the other side. So when we went to visit there were cousins to play with. Most of them were older than
me. Grandma lived in an old adobe brick home that had a covered front porch. As you walked into her house
you entered the living room. To the right was her bedroom. I was afraid of her bedroom because there was a
stuffed dear head on the wall. But it couldn’t be avoided because you had to go through the bedroom to get to
the bathroom. A kitchen and extra bedroom had been added on to the original
house in back of the living room. There were two steep steps down to the
kitchen. There was no central heating in the house. The old coal stove heated
the kitchen and a fireplace was in the living room. It had been converted to a
The bathroom was really cold so you didn’t stay there very long. In the summer
she used a small 2 burner electric stove unit to cook on so that the coal stove
wouldn’t heat the house up so much. There was a goldfish pond in the southwest
corner of the front yard, an apple tree on the side of the property, and more fruit
trees in back. Plenty of trees to climb in. There was an attic that her sons slept
in. It could only be reached by climbing a ladder from the outside.
Grandma was only about 5 feet tall and round. Her hair touched
the floor when she bent her head to brush it. She would twist it
and then wrap it around on the top of
her head. She always wore an apron.
She made quilts for all the
grandchildren when they got married
with the scraps that were leftover
from her aprons and dresses. She
died before I got married. But when
her things were being divided up I
was given enough scrapes of material
for a quilt top which I made after I
was engaged to be married. Every Grandma combing her hair
Christmas she made red and green popcorn balls, caramel
Quilt made by Grandma Frisby/Quilt made by Phyllis Frisby Rueckertp opcorn, and homemade candy. She prepared a big brown paper
grocery bag of these goodies for each of her children’s families.
Someone from Salt Lake usually visited her and then delivered the bags to us.
I remember there was one time that she came and stayed with us for a few days in the house we lived in on
Woodrow Street in Murray, Utah. I also remember, very vaguely, sleeping overnight at her house once. She
had a couch that folded down like a futon.
She always remembered me on my birthday and sent a card and a dollar every year. Sometimes I would buy a
figurine or cup and saucer set with the money just so I would have something to remember her kind gesture.
Harriet Mariah Gardner Frisby died July 21, 1967 in
Payson, Utah and is buried in the Payson Cemetery.
(400 North 800 East, Payson, Utah)
She was eighty-six old when she died, the same age as
her mother was when she died.
A TRIBUTE to HARRIET GARDNER FRISBY
by a daughter Grace Frisby Montague, given July 25, 1967
God thought to give the sweetest thing,
In His almighty power,
To earth; and deeply pondering
What it should be one hour --
In fondest joy and love of heart
Outweighing every other,
He moved the gates of Heaven apart
And gave to earth, a “Mother”.
Story compiled and submitted to the family by Phyllis Rueckert
Autobiographical Remembrances of Harriet Mariah Gardner Frisby
Remembrances of Carl Dean Frisby, son
Remembrances of Phyllis Ann Frisby Rueckert, grandaughter
Tribute of Grace Frisby Montague, daughter
Tribute to Hattie Frisby by Lois Anderson who was a neighbor and lived in the same ward
Autobiography of Ethel May Frisby Decker, daughter
Remembrances of Merlene Montague Lewis, grandaughter
History of John Eddie Frisby
Contributor: trishkovach Created: 2 years ago Updated: 2 years ago
John Eddie (Edward) Frisby was born September 4, 1879 in Payson, Utah to
Ephraim Frisby and Sarah Ann Lowe Frisby. There were 12 children in the
family, 8 girls and 4 boys.
In 1896, when he was 17 years old, the family moved to Eureka.
John Eddie worked in the mines at Eureka, Utah when he was younger. His leg
was crushed in an accident at the Boullion-Beck Mine. He worked at the Smoot
Lumber Yard, then the Chase Lumber yard.
While working at the Smoot Lumber yard he was pushing a piece of lumber
through a saw and he cut off some of his fingers. He also thought he had caught
his glove in a planer, but found he was missing the tips of his fingers. The tips
of his fingernails grew down over the ends of his fingers like a nub. It was nail,
Age 22 but it wasn’t like a nail that would get any dirt under it.
He was a very small man, slender built and about 5’2” or three and about 120 pounds. He had black hair with
some natural curl. He would take the scissors and whack the curls off. He’d say “mother, cut these drake tails
off”. He always wore a hat at the table, and when asked why, he said “I’m not going to furnish them flies with
a skating rink.”
He married Harriet Mariah (Maria) Gardner on December 18, 1901 in the
Salt Lake Temple. They had 8 children, 3 girls and 5 boys.
Ethel May, 3 Nov 1902
Walter John, 10 Jul 1905
Gerald Eddie, 20 Aug 1907
Edna Iona, 19 Jun 1910
Carl Dean, 25 Dec 1915
Leonard M., 8 Jun 1918
Wendell E., 4 May 1920
Grace, 16 Aug 1922.
1967 Gerald, Leonard, Carl, Wendell
They lived in Eureka just a ‘sidewalk’ away from Ephraim and Sarah Ann until 1907 when they moved into the
old Wimmer home in Payson.
He went with several other men in the back of a truck to work at Boulder Dam. His daughter, Grace,
remembers “I thought, ‘how sad it was, that they had to ride in the back of a truck clear down to almost Las
He worked there just a few days when he had a heart attack and had to be brought home. He was not able to
work after that. He had always been a very active person, and after he had his heart attack it was really
devastating to him to not be able to do what he felt he needed to do and to provide for his family. It was then
that the boys went to work to help supplement the income that would be needed for the family to live on.
His father, Ephraim, was the overseer for the C.C.C. when the rock retaining walls up in the “narrows” of
Payson Canyon were built to keep the creek from washing out the road. Carl and Leonard were able to work for
their dad’s allotment.
He had another heart attack while working on the roof of their house.
He hunted and fished along with his boys to help
supply food for the family. They also raised cows,
pigs and chickens. They had fruit trees, a large
vegetable garden, and berry patches.
He was one that could change the English language
into a lot of cuss words, probably from his years of
experience at the mines. He could be impatient and
was quick to speak his mind. He had a hard time
“telling” people his true feelings. He could show
his appreciation easier than express it. He was a
hard worker and loved his family very much. He
didn’t have much schooling but was fast at
arithmetic. Leonard, Gerald, John Eddie
He helped build the Payson Tabernacle and as a carpenter built the podium in the Tabernacle.
When his son Walter was killed in an auto accident, he had a batch of “home brew” on the back of their kitchen
range in a five gallon crock, and he was a dipping into that because he was so sad that Walter had died. Carl
and Ethel decided to empty the crock in the ditch. Walter lived just twenty hours after he was injured in the
accident. He wasn’t married in the Temple, so on 27 September 1934, Earl Decker did his work for him in the
St. George Temple.
One time when he had been “dipping” into his home brew, Harriet got so mad at him that she banned him from
the house and he had to sleep in the chicken coop for quite a long while.
He didn’t drink very often, but he did like to chew his tobacco
and then he would spit it in the coal bucket. The kids would
get mad every time they reached down to get a piece of coal to
put in the stove and they would get a batch of tobacco in their
hand. That also upset Harriet a lot. At night time he would
take it out of his mouth and put it up on top of the stove so that
he would have it all ready for the next morning. That tobacco
was probably the death of him. It may have been what caused
Ulcers that he
During the summer, the boys would move his bed outside to the
screened porch at the back of the house so he could be out in the
air that he loved. When he was able to, he would walk to the
front porch and sit in the rocking chair. The morning that he
took sick, he had gone out to take care of, or milk the old
Guernsey cow, and he crawled all the way back to the house
clear across the yard on his hands and knees because the gastric
ulcer had broken and spread all through his system. Back in
those days they couldn’t do anything when that happened.
He was taken to the Payson Hospital on a Sunday morning. He didn’t live many days, and he was in misery all
the time. He died July the 14th, 1940 at the age of 61. He is buried in the Payson, City Cemetery.
Original headstone for John E. Frisby
J. Eddie Frisby Dies After Long Illness
John Eddie Frisby, 61, died Sunday night after a long illness. He was taken to the Payson City hospital,
Mr. Frisby was born in Payson, September 4, 1879, a son of Ephraim and Sarah Ann Lowe Frisby. He
married Harriett Gardner in the Salt Lake Temple on December 18, 1901. He is survived by his widow; four
sons, Gerald E., Carl Dean, Leonard., and Wendell E., of Payson; three daughters, Mrs. E. M. Decker of Spring
Lake; Mrs. Elma J. Pierce of Lark; Mrs. Leland Montague of Payson; 14 grandchildren; four sisters, Mrs. Sarah
J. Hill of Bountiful, Mrs. Lillie Peterson of American Fork; Mrs. Katie Tower of Eureka; Mrs. Myrtle Lovell of
Oak City, Utah.
Mr. Frisby went to Eureka in 1898 where he worked as a miner until 1907 when he returned to Payson. He
was employed by the Central Lumber Co. for 16 years. For the past three years he has worked on the Church
Welfare Farm when able. He held the office of High Priest in the 2nd ward.
Funeral services were conducted Wednesday in the Second Ward Chapel with Bishop John F. Oleson in
charge. Speakers were Bishop Oleson and Samuel E. Taylor. The opening and closing songs were rendered by
the Relief Society Chorus. A vocal duet was given by Ferron Hiatt and Rulon Hill, accompanied by Clara
Cutler; vocal solo, “Stranger of Galilee”, accompanied by Crista Olsen; and a vocal duet by Wilda Bissell and
Illa Law, accompanied by Mrs. Cutler. Interment was in Payson City cemetery by the Deseret Mortuary.
Remembrances of Carl Dean Frisby, son
Remembrances of Merlene Montague Lewis, granddaughter
Obituary of Ephraim Frisby posted in the Eureka Reporter 18 Sept 1908 found at *************************
Autobiography of Ethel May Frisby Decker, daughter
This history was compiled by gleaning information from various sources and may have some inconsistencies in events and/or dates.
Memory can be an unreliable source of information, especially when it extends over several generations, but sometimes it is the only
source of information and it is better to have a history than none at all for it may serve some useful purpose through the years.
I will be forever grateful to others for the research they have done and to those who were so willing to share their family 'treasures' to
make this 'added upon' history possible.
Compiled and distributed to the family by Phyllis Rueckert
Contributor: trishkovach Created: 2 years ago Updated: 2 years ago
Gerald Eddie Frisby
(Son of John Eddie Frisby and Harriet Mariah Gardner Frisby)
“It's old Scarfoot, all right.”
Dewey Sargent straightened up after bending over the big cat track in the
snow. He yanked at the leashes on his two dogs and I tried to control my
We had tied the horses to saplings after locating the track of the mountain
lion we were after, having decided to trail the cat on snowshoes. We were in for some rough going if we knew my lion
and and a horse would be in the way. We were a mile and a half or two miles up Nebo Creek when we hit his tracks. He
had a crack in his left paw that showed plainly in the new fall of snow. We had had a bout with him before, four or five
times, but had lost him. He was a crafty old devil, and a big one, if anyone could go by his tracks. He had built himself a
reputation in that area as a sheep killer, and the sheep men had been after the Fish and Game Commission to get rid of
him, which they had tried to do, but failed.
I wanted this cat in the worst way. I was trapping for the government at the time, and had more than one reason for
getting a bead on his head.
“Well, Dewey, we'll get him this time or else.”
“Should we turn these dogs loose?”
“No. Let's hang on to them. You know what happened them other times. And he got away from the Fish and Game
boys because he could hear their dogs a mile away.”
Like I said, he was a crafty devil, and he had a way of losing the dogs if you put them on him too soon. If we could keep
them quiet and hold them back until we got to the right place, then put the dogs on him, they would tree him, or put him
up into the ledges, then we would have him. A man hasn't much of a chance if the dogs are a mile or so ahead of the
hunter. I've had them jump out of the tree and leave the dogs barking up the tree until I got there and the lion long gone.
I didn't want that to happen to us on this day, with this particular lion.
The cat had mosied around and then headed down the canyon. He had not followed the trail we had come up, so that was
why we hadn't seen his tracks on the way up. Leaving Nebo Creek, he had crossed the Highway 89, and had climbed a
ridge on the east side.
By this time the dogs were getting pretty worked up, and were difficult to hold back. We were wearing eighteen inch
boots, and we kicked off the snowshoes and worked those dogs over with them to let them know who was boss. It helped
some, but when a trained hound gets a hot scent he just ain't reasonable. Trying to hold them back, and pick your way
through low bushes and sage and rocks, with the snow beginning to soften underneath the new snow, and letting your
snowshoes down a few inches was getting tiresome, although the dogs did pull us along when they weren't becoming
tangled and causing a ruckus. We had five of the best lion hounds in the state of Utah, and we hated to be mean to them.
But this lion, or his capture, was important to me and we did not intend to have the chase spoiled by turning them loose to
A man had to have a lot of stamina to keep up this pace up hill and down, but we were accustomed to it. That lion led us
up one hill and down another, and there were several times that I felt that that lion wasn't over a hundred yards ahead of
us, from the footprints in the snow and by the action of those dogs. They kept whining and tugging at the leashes, ever
aware of those heavy boots we wore. They didn't want a repeat of those boots in their slats.
We trailed that cat up and down ridges, often breaking through deep drifts, especially in the draws between ridges where
he had crossed. Along in the afternoon we were breaking through quite often. I could see that my partner was getting
pretty tired. I knew my own arms ached, and my snowshoes weighed twenty pounds apiece. I guess we were both
getting kind of discouraged, as a man will when his strength is about gone. Standing on a ridge where the snow had
blown off, I said to Dewey, “ Another hour should do it.”
“If I can hold out that long,” he replied. “If we could just turn these dogs loose---,”
“Look there. I'll be hanged if the tricky brute aint headin' back down toward the highway again,” I pointed at the tracks
on the next ridge, looking like a horse had gone down there in the soft snow.
“All this climbin' for nothing. Oh well, at least it's all downhill. Let's go get 'im.”
but going down hill was no picknick, with the snow softening and our snowshoes breaking through the old crust. That
tired a man no end.
We followed those tracks almost to the highway again. I had a sneaking hunch that cat was watching us more than we
were watching his tracks. About eight miles from Nebo Creek he headed over to what they called the old Birdseye Rock
Quarry. We were heading into pretty rough country now, a lot of rocks and ledges, cedars and oak brush, and the going
was anything but easy. And here we were breaking through right regular, which was mighty tiring. The cat had been
breaking through now, too, and it looked like a saddle horse had been going along here.
By this time the dogs were getting pretty worked up, and were ready to take on anything. We slogged on for another mile
or two, getting into ledgy country and the going was rough. We climbed a long, sloping ridge which luckily was barren
on the backbone, and on the opposite ridge there was a big ledge at the top.
“Well, Dewey, It's now or never. That cat is between us and the ledge. It's time to tree him. Let's turn 'em loose.”
With the leashes unfastened from their collars the dogs began bawling, and when I raised my six-gun and fired, they knew
it was their signal to take off, and take off they did. They had that cat treed in a big pine in nothing flat. We hurried as
fast as our tired limbs would let us, for we knew the habits of that cat all too well. But we arrived in time.
When we got in sight of the tree, Dewey looked up into that tree and said, “Man that looks like one of R. L. Michel's
Jersey heifers.” And he was not fooling. He was the biggest cat I ever laid eyes on, and I had killed a lot of cats in my
day. I said, “I think he is the biggest cat in the state.”
Dewey unslung his twenty-two rifle. “You take a bead on his eye and I'll get him just under the shoulder as he turns
over.” At the crack of the twenty-two, the big cat turned over, still clutching at the big limb he was on. As he swung
down, I fired and the heavy slug caught him just under the shoulder, and he went limp and came tumbling down, bringing
a few small branches with him.
The dogs closed in, bellering like angry bulls. You'd have thought there were twenty-five dogs there instead of five, from
the racket they made. It was about a hundred and fifty yards to the bottom of the draw, but them dogs drug that cat down
to the bottom and drug it back and forth over a snow drift. It would be two or three rods across it, and they'd get covered
“He must not be dead, from the way those dogs are carrying on. We'd better go down and see before he tears our dogs to
pieces. We hurried down. The cat was dead alright. But the commotion was caused when my dogs would close in and
chew on the cat, and then Dewey's dogs would pile onto mine and chew the tarnation out of them. Then, when they got
away, and the other three closed in, they'd jump onto Dewey's dogs and chew the devil out of them.
When we got the dogs tied up, we commenced skinning the lion. Later, he measured ten feet six inches long. When I
took him to the courthouse in Provo, one of the men said, “Here comes them big liars. That cat ain't so big.” I threw the
hide on the floor, unrolling it like a strip of carpet. They couldn't believe their eyes. They measured it then, ten feet six
inches. I regard that as the biggest accomplishment I ever undertook.