History of Alburn Rene Stander
Contributor: janettelaurie Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
ALBURN RENE STANDER
Brief history written by Geraldine Stander Eccles
In early 1940’s, typed in 1977 (10 x 14)
Retyped by Lynne Ellis 2011 (8.5 x 11)
Alburn Rene Stander, son of Ralph Stander and Margaret Krauss Stander, was born 8 August 1930 at Thomas, Bingham county, Idaho. He was blessed 5 October 1930 by William Van Orden. He passed away 19 Aug 1934 at Thomas, Bingham, Idaho and was buried 21 August 1934 in the Thomas Cemetery (Riverside Thomas Cemetery).
Rene weighed four pounds at birth. He was what they termed a “blue baby”, which meant heart trouble and not many with this affliction lived very long in those days. He was born at home. Mary Anderson was there and took care of him after he was born. (I (Geraldine) was ten years old at the time and this is a vivid memory)
Rene was small boned and delicate, a very serious child of deep thought, but very few words. He enjoyed being at home but like to be out of doors.
He liked to walk over to Aunt Alta Stander’s and visit. It was approximately one-fourth mile from home. He never stayed very long and always walked along the side of the road. One day as he was walking along the edge of the road toward Alta’s, a neighbor, trying to be funny, really scared him badly. After that Rene would never walk on the side of the road again. If he went anywhere, which was rarely, he walked in the borrow-pit.
One day in the summer of 1934 a water glass had accidentally been broken by the side of his crib. A sharp triangular point jutted up about two inches from the bottom of the glass. After his nap Rene got out of bed and knelt down to pick up the pieces of glass. He knelt on this sharp point, cutting a large “V” on his leg. He had to have several stitches in it. It was just getting healed at the time of his death.
Rene took sick on Tuesday morning, 14 August 1934 and passed away the following Sunday morning about 5:00 AM. He had just turned four years old. He died from dysentery or cholera morbus, which probably started from eating too many apples, which he liked very much.
He had been up to Aunt Martha’s and gathered up several bushels of windfall apples from the ground.
He was administered to and promised he would get well. I remember him in all his weakness, as he lay almost motionless on his back, looking somewhere in the great beyond, with his tiny arms straight in the air, and just kept saying, “I can’t get across, I can’t get across.” These words were uttered time and time again with outstretched arms as he looked right pass us.
He really wasn’t meant to remain with us but because of the promise in his first blessing, the faith and desire of the ones he was to leave behind, especially his mother, he lingered on in his afflictions.
Mother finally consented to have him administered to again with the words, “Thy will be done”. Almost immediately his arms relaxed, his eyes closed and he was able then to “get across”
I had just turned fourteen at the time. I had observed closely and meditated over all that had happened. This was a wonderful testimony to me of the “hereafter” and also of the lesson to always pray, “Thy will be done,” which had been so forcefully taught.
Rene died three months to the day after Ramona died and was buried three months to the day after Ramona.
Alburn Rene was the brother of Geraldine, Florence, Ramona, Loraine, and Carvel Stander.
(Written by Geraldine Stander Eccles in the early 1940’s and typed for Book of Remembrance in 1977)
History of Ramona Bee Stander
Contributor: janettelaurie Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
RAMONA BEE STANDER
Brief history written by Geraldine Stander Eccles
Written 1954, typed 1977 (10 x 14)
Retyped by Lynne Ellis 2011 (8.5 x 11)
Ramona Bee Stander, daughter of Ralph Stander and Margaret Krauss, was born 3 December 1924 at Thomas, Bingham Co., Idaho. She was blessed 1 March 1925 by J E Noack. She was baptized 2 December 1933 by Harold Larson and confirmed 3 December 1933 by Erwin Brown Evans. She was endowed by her mother 1 March 1935.
Ramona weighed about nine pounds at birth and was of fairly large build for her age. She had very clear and unfreckled complexion, large expressive brown eyes and light brown hair that she would twist so tightly around her fingers she actually pulled it out. It became very thin and had to be kept quite short.
Ramona was a happy child, singing a good deal of the time. She loved nature and enjoyed being out of doors. I remember, how in the summer, she used to walk up and down the ditch bank through the tall weeds and growth that was almost her own height, singing as she went. That same ditch still passes in front of the home where we were born.
At one time mother was terrified to fine Ramona sitting on top of a bee hive full of bees, kicking her feet against it and singing. The bees were thick, but she was not stung.
Ramona began school at the age of six at the Wilson School house. She like school and had good grades. Her third grade teacher was Elaine Anderson, who several times a week conducted a rhythm band with timbales, etc., which Ramona participated in and enjoyed. I was taken from my school class each time to accompany them on the piano. Ramona also had a good singing voice and occasionally sang at her classroom programs.
On 19 May 1934 a tragedy occurred. It was Saturday afternoon about 2:00 PM. Ramona, Loraine and I were going to a show with our Uncle Jay. We were very happy about it as it wasn’t a very common occurrence in those days. Before leaving for Blackfoot, Uncle Jay drove over to Bert and Susie Parson’s first, about half a mile south and west of our place. On the way back, about 3:00 PM, just after we turned the right angel corner by the Wilson School house the Model A Coupe we were riding in went out of control—we skidded and tipped over. It was in front of the Simper home and directly west of the road was the Stander field where men were working and came running to assist. Ramona had been sitting on my lap and was thrown through the windshield completely clear of the car. The rest of us were pinned under and unable to free ourselves without help.
When Loraine and I saw Ramona lying there some distance from the car we ran home about two blocks as fast as we could run unaware of our hurts. We opened the door and blurted out to mother, “Ramona is dead”. It must have been a great shock to mother. Why those words came out, I will never know, because we hardly gave Ramona a glance when we began running.
Ramona was carried into Simper’s home directly east of us. She had been knocked unconscious by a bump she received on her head while being thrown through the windshield and died shortly after she had been taken into Simpers. The rest of us were very fortunate to have come out alive with only cuts, bruises, bad road burns – I had a broken nose and Uncle Jay a broken collar bone.
Ramona passed away Saturday, 19 May 1934. She was nine years old. Her funeral was held the following Monday, 21 May 1934 at Thomas and she was buried in the Thomas Cemetery (Riverside Thomas Cemetery). Philip Dance was the Bishop at this time.
(“Written by Geraldine Stander Eccles in the 1940’s and typed for “Book of Remembrance” in 1977)
History of Ralph Stander
Contributor: janettelaurie Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
Geraldine Twins born 11 July 1920. Florence died shortly after birth.
Loraine, born 19 October 1921
Ramona Bee, born 3 December 1924 – died 19 May 1934
Alburn Rene, born 8 August 1930 – died Aug 1934
Carvel Roe born 3 May 1933
October 16, 1976
My History and Life Sketch from what I can Remember
I was born 25 March 1896 in the fertile farming community of Thomas, Bingham County, Idaho, located seven miles west of Blackfoot. My brothers and sisters were: George Henry, Ferry Samuel, (the third child was stillborn), then me (Ralph), Lawrence, Howard Alvin, Jess Mathew, Phoebe Maud, Marvin and Alinda, an adopted girl.
I am proud of my heritage. They were of hard-working Pioneer stock with a determination to do the right thing.
Grandfather Henry Christian Stander, my father’s father, came to America in 1856 from Curau, Schleswig-Holstein County, Prussia. He came west to Salt Lake with some immigrants where he became a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He settled in Brigham City, Utah, in its early history and lived there most of his life. He married in polygamy and had three families. He married his first wife, Maria Sophia Hansen in the Old Endowment House. She was my grandmother. Most of her early life was spent in Copenhagen where she joined the church. She crossed the ocean with a company of saints and with a cow and an ox hitched to a wagon, journeyed to Utah. Because of polygamy she and my grandfather separated and her life was filled with hardships in raising her small family.
Grandfather Samuel Ferry Adams, my mother’s father, came to America from Northamptonshire, England, in 1853, joined the Church and crossed the plains with an ox team. In 1855 he married Sarah Elender Wiggins, my grandmother. She was born in Nauvoo where her family had a beautiful home which may still be standing. She crossed the plains with her parents. They settled in Ogden where my grandparents met and were married. The church was expanding and my grandparents were called to help settle Cache Valley and later helped to colonize the Riverside, Idaho, area where dad, John Henry Stander, and my mother Catherine Rebecca Adams met.
Dad was one of the first settlers in the Thomas area. He was a prominent citizen of the community and mentioned prominently in early church activities. A couple of years after the Adams family came to this area, dad had already established himself as a promising farmer. He was the best fiddler in the Ward and was much in demand at the weekly dances. My mother was seventeen when they were married.
Dad and mother and our family used to visit a lot with Grandpa Adams. We used to hitch up the old team on to the white top buggy and go up the river road along the channel to what would now be the south-east part of Riverside. Fresh’s and L D Wilson lived in this area. The whole area more or less was practically all related. We are also related to the Murdock’s through the Wiggins. I believe further back we go right in to the Murdock family.
In my early youth when Lewis and Vetres Barnes (mother’s half-sister) had just started going together, Lewis had a foxy team and used to go to Riverside to church. One Sunday when coming home from church just a little ways west of Peterson’s store he had a run-away. I think it was Edwin Felsted in a single buggy going down the road ahead of him. When Lewis’s team got up to the buggy one horse went on one side of it and other horse went on the other side, straddling the buggy. It sure gave that buggy a push and broke some of the harnesses, but they finally got the horses stopped. I was right there and saw the whole thing.
My parents taught their family the right things to do. It is a blessing to be brought up where parents are good upright people and I am proud of them. I like to think that I inherited Pioneer courage and stamina from them.
When dad first came to the Thomas area he acquired a timer claim of 160 acres of land that he homesteaded and built a log cabin on. With his team, wagon and plow, the only equipment he had, he worked hard clearing the land that was mostly good healthy sage brush at that time. He also planted a lot of trees on his land. Dad lived in this vicinity all of his life, so I grew up on a farm. Farming in those days meant hard work with chores and many responsibilities, and I worked hard.
The Snake River Bridge at Blackfoot was there when dad came, but he would ford the river rather than pay the toll. I think he said it cost $1.50 to cross. That was a lot of money in those days. The bridge was one lane so the first outfit to get to the bridge would go through. I helped floor one bridge. It had a plank floor and was about worn out. The present bridge is the third one.
After dad got married he built a frame house where the family lived until 1911. One of the rooms in it was lined with dobies. It had an unfinished upstairs that was reached by an inside ladder and it had a lean-to on the back. In 1911 we started building a rock house that we finished in 1912. This old Stander home is still stands.
In 1896, the year I was born, dad was called on a two year mission to South Carolina and the southern States. Our family was poor and my mother struggled to keep things going for us. Lot Adams, mother’s Uncle helped us out and Aunt Martha, mother’s sister, stayed with us and helped much of the time, but before dad finished his mission, mother had him called back home because she felt the family needed him.
On his way home, while traveling on the desert near Colorado, the passenger train dad was riding in and a cattle train hit head-on. It was midnight. The cars were derailed and the train was burning. Dad was pinned down to the seat and couldn’t move. He thought for sure his time had come, then there was a small explosion that freed him. He knew he had to get out or burn to death. With a broken leg and severe burns he crawled to the window and fell the long way down to the ground where he lay helpless. He could hear cattle and people screaming. Many were trapped and burning. Many were dead. Others were badly injured. It was three or four hours before help came. When they took a hold of dad’s hands to pull him away, the skin pulled off like a glove from his burns. His leg was broken in the shin and he had to have a metal plate attached to it. He wore that plate the rest of his life. He was laid up in the hospital the exact length of time that it would have taken him to finish his mission.
The railroad didn’t want to do anything about expenses, but Uncle Matt Browning helped in the legal procedures so dad could collect money for the hospital and medical bills. Uncle Matt owned a big hardware store in Ogden for a long time. It was Matt’s brother John Browning that invented the Browning Automatic gun.
I was baptized 5 June 1904 by G E Williams and confirmed the same day by J R Williams. I was married to Margaret Krauss 30 July 1919 in Idaho Falls, Idaho. I was ordained an Elder 15 November 1919. We took our Endowment out and were sealed in the Logan Temple 19 November 1919.
The first think I can remember was the folks trying to get me to talk. My brother George tried to get me to say “horse”, but I just wouldn’t talk. I could talk plain if I wanted to, but I jut didn’t want to, but I practiced when I was alone and all at once, about the age of three, I started talking and I could talk to anyone pretty good, but I never have been much of a talker. That’s one thing I have been backward in.
George was five years older that I was. He worked out and earned money to get a bicycle. He worked for around a dollar a day. Sometimes you had to work two or three days for a dollar. The silver dollars in those days looked awful big to me. George sent either to Montgomery Ward or Sears Roebuck for his first bicycle. I can’t remember just how old I was when I started riding it, but I remember I couldn’t reach the pedals. I’d get up on the cellar and coast down. I’d push one pedal down a little then catch the next one when it came around. That was about as much as I could ride it.
It was a lot different in those days than it is now. There wasn’t a lot of glamour or excitement when I was growing up. What there was we made for ourselves. It was horse and buggy days when I was young – no automobiles. We never thought of radios or cars. I never saw a car until I was in my teens. The first one that came along was T R Jones’s. It was a little red car. I don’t know what make it was, but you could get ahold of one end and lift it out of the mud if you got stuck.
When motorcycles started I finally got one. There were no oiled roads in those days and because the roads were poor we’d take a lot of spills. At that time they used to race the motorcycles in the fair grounds in town and on the race track.
All the schooling I got was at the Wilson schoolhouse, the same location you kids started school at. The first schoolhouse that was there was a one-room log house. Dad said he chopped the logs for that log building when they built it. They had from one to eight grades in that one room.. Full grown men went. It was the first schoolhouse in that territory. They came from al over, but there weren’t many people in those days and all who wanted to go to school didn’t have to go. There weren’t any laws on schooling at that time. I started school in this log building and went to school about two years in it before they built a bigger one.
I remember one day Sterle Alred got up in the attic and stayed there all day. He didn’t want to go to school or to have anybody know he was there. That is how he played hooky.
The next schoolhouse I went to was the new brick schoolhouse built on the same locations. It had two rooms, from the first grade to the fourth grade in one room and the fourth through the eighth in the other room.
After the new schoolhouse was built they moved the old lot building on to the Vic Cushman place just north of Lawrence Stander’s place for a Mrs Taylor to live in. She was a widow and had three girls so they just gave her the building and about twenty acres.
I remember when they moved that log cabin schoolhouse. A bunch turned out. There wasn’t a bridge across the Cole Corner. There was just a crossing there. They loaded the building on wagons and pulled it with horses. They had quite a time getting across that ditch because they had to go way down and up over the banks, but they finally got it moved and got her settled.
George was quite a studious guy. He graduated from grade school and went on to high school and then on to college. It seemed like they encouraged him to go more than they did me for some reason or other. I was timid anyhow. I didn’t like school. I hated to get up and perform before anybody. I always figured I never could do the right thing or that I might make mistakes. That is one reason I never went to school or to church more than I did. Sometimes a person holds himself back from success by a feeling of inferiority and this is probably what happened to me to a certain degree in my schooling. I’m sorry now I didn’t do more of that. I could have gone to school if I would have made up my mind that I wanted to. I always wanted to get out and work to earn a little money. Also the feeling of closeness to the Lord is not easy to maintain. I never really managed it in my early life.
The thing I remember most about my mother was that she always seemed to be happy and easy going. I liked spuds and gravy and new bread to eat. I know mother would bake big batches of bread and the school kids would come in and eat it.
When I was about fifteen or sixteen, I remember Oly Fackrell came in one night. Mother had just taken a big batch of bread out of the oven and Oly got a hold of one end of the loaf and tore the whole crust right off the top and started eating it. She got a big bang out of that. One time she had squash pie there. Ferry was sitting there and something came up. Anyway, mother told him she’d give him a piece of pie. She took half that pie and slung it right in his face. She got a big bang out of that.
We’d always go to mother if things didn’t go right or if we wanted or needed anything. She’d always help us out if she could. She was more lenient with us than dad was. Dad was awful good to us. If I needed clothes or anything like that he’d always give me money to get hem with, but I always worked a lot, too. Dad was always a good hard worker. He never did any playing or fishing or any going on trips. He wasn’t what you would call a real pal to his kids but he was a good father and a good man. His main object, however, was to make money.
Mother passed away 15 December 1928, from a coughing spell from asthma. She went quick. She was joking just a little while before she went. I don’t think she suffered much – not that I know of.
One day along toward spring another guy and I decided to take off. We caught a train to Nampa then walked out to the Owyhee desert and got a job on a big sheep ranch. I came back later that spring but the crops were in so I just worked around at what I could do that summer. I was about seventeen then.
I was always pretty handy with horses. I had more patience with them than George did. He would get real mad at them and you know when you start beating a horse you can’t get anything out of them.
They always liked me to mow hay and rake it because I was awful careful about raking it and did a better job than the others – but I liked the old rake. When we got the new rake it was a little bigger – too big, and it tore into the other swaths and tore them up. The old rake just fit the swaths of the mower.
I used to cultivate beets for the **** and for anybody else that had beets around on different farms, to get a little ahead. I was real careful.
I have always taken pride in my farm work. I enjoyed seeing long straight rows of spuds and beets that were free of weeds and well taken care of. I liked to see fields of tall clean grain and healthy green hay fields. I gained a lot of satisfaction from this.
I worked my ground well and fertilized it well before planting, and I side-dressed my spuds during their growth. I kept my ditches and head-gates in good shape, also my farm machinery and buildings were in good condition.
After I got a little older and had some experience behind me dad gave me a piece of ground to raise beets or grain on or whatever I wanted to raise, as he did my brothers who also farmed. The size of the beet patches were about three or four acres each. The grain patches were around seven or eight acres. They weren’t very big in comparison with farming today, but then a few dollars in those days was a lot of money. We seemed to get by on this. You could buy a Model “T” Ford car for $415.
I farmed two or three years before I went into the service. I raised patches of grain and beets – beets mostly. That is what I made most of my money on. I did all my own thinning, hoeing and irrigating. We had to top by hand and load by hand and throw them into the wagon. We usually had wagons with four head of horses that we hauled with.
In those days it was all horse drawn implements. It was all horse drawn for a long time after I was married. The first tractor I had was in 1929. As I mentioned, I raised beets and grain. George raised potatoes. Dad’s farm was irrigated at that time, but it wasn’t all broke out. There was sage brush and some high places that we couldn’t get water on to but we worked with it and finally got it all under cultivation and under irrigation and things went pretty good.
Ferry was kind of a mischievous and reckless guy. He was always getting into trouble doing things he shouldn’t have done. He and I were more the same age and I’d try to get him not to do things like that. Well, he had kind of a bearing on me, too. It did things I wouldn’t have done if it wouldn’t have been for him. Course, I won’t blame everything on to him because I had my own free will and could do what I wanted, and all in all he was a good guy and raised a good family.
I remember one day we went over to a neighbor’s place that was mowing hay. His mower was setting out in the field. On the way home we came across the mower, and I don’t know what all Ferry did to it, but the man couldn’t get it going and had to go to town to get parts. He was really mad. He came to dad about it, but they finally got it straightened out.
We were down on the river one time and Ferry set a fire. He was always setting a lot of fires where he shouldn’t have done. The fire got started in the timber and burned up a lot of fence, so we had to go down and build another fence for Dave Broadhead. It was on the Hans Christensen farm down by the river, before Hans owned it.
Ferry like to smoke. I always tried to get him not to. I knew the folks would smell his breath when he came in. He never could handle horses and I don’t think he ever did any work with machinery. He had a piece of ground to farm beets on, but I don’t think he ever did any cultivating. It did it all for him.
I remember during the Christmas vacation in the year 1911 when I was fifteen. All the ground north of dad’s place was still in sagebrush and there were a lot of rabbits out there. Dad had a double barrel twelve gauge shotgun. I decided I’d like to go shooting rabbits, so Ferry and Lawrence came along. We didn’t do very good. I don’t think we got a rabbit. I kept the gun in my possession all the time until we started back. On the way home Ferry wanted to take the gun so I let him take it. He pulled the hammer back. I don’t know whether he pulled the trigger or just what he did. I know the gun would go off real easy. You didn't have to pull the trigger very hard to get it to go off. Why Ferry pulled the hammer back is more than I can figure out. The gun went off. It caught Lawrence in the leg and shot part of his leg off.
We were still over north of dad's place. The ground was covered with snow and we were afoot. The only thing we could do was for Ferry to carry him home. We got home as fast as we could but he had lost an awful lot of blood. We called the doctor and took him to town to the hospital. They had to take his leg off. He had lost so much blood he just couldn't make it. They didn't have blood transfusions in those days or they probably could have saved his life.
We had just gotten the rock house built and were finishing up on the inside when Lawrence got shot. The carpenter was there when we took him into the house. Lawrence died 28 December 1911, while George was still on his mission in New Zealand. That was a sad experience.
Ferry lived at home with the folks until he got married, but he didn't get married until 1928.
George came home from his mission the following May in 1912, five months after the accident. The house was all built when he came home. He painted what wasn't rock, the gables and trimming. This is the old rock house that still stands. It was a very nice house and still is, but it isn't like they build them today.
Before we built the new house we had a pretty nice frame house with a back lean-to on it. We tore all the front part down because dad wanted the new one built where the old one was. We lived in the back part and the lean-to while we built the new one. The old house was built with dobies on the inside with frame work on the outside of it. We tore all the frame house out and built the rock house there.
Dad just had a basement under the kitchen part of it. He put a rock floor in it. He was a guy that built everything out of lava rock. He had a lava rock walk from the porch to the front gate.
He had that rock granary with great big rocks in it. I helped him build that. We had a derrick to help lift those big rock up. We laid them one on top of another. When they were all laid up dad run cement between the rock. It was a good old granary and as far as I know, it is still there. I was about fifteen when we finished the rock house,
We used the shed just north of the horse barn for an ice house. We used to put up ice every winter. When I had that saw mill I made a little ice house just west of our granary on our place and used the sawdust to pack the ice in. Then we got refrigerators so we quit the ice business.
One day Howard was out in the field plowing with a team of horses and a one-furrow two-way riding plow and I was close by in the field. Dad's bull got in one of the furrows in front of Howard's team right in Howard's way. That bull wasn't going to move, so Howard got off and was going to make him move. He got a long cottonwood club. The bull had his head down and Howard would hit him over the head with that club. Every time he'd hit him he'd break so much off the end of his club. He just kept hitting him and the club got so short finally he didn't have anything left. Then the bull took him down. I was scared, but I ran over there and got the bull away from him and told him to get up if he could and get away frons there, but he couldn't get up for a while. 1 guess he really got mauled, but the bull didn't have any horns and he kind of quieted down. I don't think the bull was too mad. If Howard hadn't tried to beat the bull over the head that way I don't think the bull would have bothered him, hut he was determined to get that bull out of there. The bull finally left.
Once Jess had a bull that got in the ditch between their place and our place. We had a fence there with an electric wire on top. The bull was in the ditch just a bellowing until he hit that electric wire on top, and, boy, that stopped him. He took off down the field and 1 never heard another bellow out of him. I don’t think I ever laughed so hard as I did at that.
One day when Howard and Jess were working on the ditch with dad they got in a quarrel. It wasn't over anything much, but Howard got pretty mad. He had a quick temper and sometimes his tongue got pretty sharp.
Jess was about sixteen when he went on a bumming spree. He took off with a couple of other guys and went to California. He worked for some people there for a while and then they went on to New Mexico. That was when they used to ride freight trains. He still goes down to visit those people he worked for in California.
When they got to New Mexico they spent the night in jail there in Albuquerque. They were hungry and didn’t have a place to stay. The cop came around and asked if they had a place to go. They told him no, so the cop told them to follow him. He took them to jail. They got a free meal and stayed there that night where it was warm. There was a whole bunch of others there in a great big room for the same reason. There wasn’t any work at that time. You couldn’t even buy a job.
Jess never wrote to the folks for a long time. They were awful worried as to where he was for quite a while, but he finally wrote and told them. He was gone over winter, probably four or five months.
Jess stayed with the folks a long time before he got married in March of 1926. He sure was good to me. He enlisted and joined the Navy for four years. That was during peace time though. He did pretty good.
He was working down in Garfield ant the time he took a notion to join the Navy and he had an Indian Motorcycle down there. He told me if I went down and got it I could have it. I had to ride it over to Salt Lake to get a license for it. I rode it to Salt Lake without any license at all. After I got all fixed up I told one of the cops I had ridden it without a license and I thought I was still going to get a ticket, but I didn’t and I rode it home. This was after I was married. Jay was staying with us then. He used to live with us quite a bit of the time.
Finally the first World War came along when I was just old for the first registration. That was April 7, 1917. I was in Blackfoot when I heard ward declared. There weren’t any oiled roads then. There were big snow banks on the sides of the road and mud holes – was neither wagon road nor sleigh road and it was pretty hard to get around. Anyways, they got word that there was a German flag flying out in Tabor. That was kind of a German settlement anyway. They called for some volunteers to run out there on the railroad to see. A bunch of them went out there but when they got there, there wasn't any German flag flying so it didn't amount to anything, but it was pretty exciting for a while.
I worked around that summer and did a little farming then I bought a Model ”T” Ford. That fall 1 figured I had to go into the service anyhow, so I sold the car and on 9 November I got on the train and went out to
They were calling for people to help build ships for fighting and in the war. I thought maybe I'd get a job in the ship yards out there. After I got there I happened to run across a Marine Recruiting station and a bunch of men were joining up so 1 thought, "Well, here goes. I guess I’ll go in with them." There was a whole railroad carload volunteered. They shipped is to Mare Island in California just out from San Francisco. That is where we went through boot camp. It was 14 November 1917 when I was sworn in. I was twenty –one. I served until 10 February 1919 when I was discharged.
I saved up enough money during the service to buy a Model “T” Ford. I was getting $1.00 a day. I don’t know whether I saved that much or not, but I had enough to get one when I got home. I sold the one I had before I left for the service. I never spent hardly anything in the service. I sent most of it home and dad put it in the bank. I tell you money was pretty scarce and people or other soldiers would come and want to borrow money. I loaned money to some of them. Some of it I’d never get back. I f they got a chance they would steal it, too. I used to carry it in my shirt pocket. It had a flap over it with a button on it. They couldn’t steal it out of there very easy unless you knew about it.
I stayed in boot camp on Mare Island most of that winter. Then towards spring they called for volunteers to go to the east coast and probably across to France for combat duty. Everybody wanted to go. I was one of the last ones to sign up and finally got in on, just barely. Three of our companies were finally sent to France, but I stayed in the states. There was a whole train load of us left Mare Island and went to Galveston, Texas. We stayed there about a month and drilled. The mosquitoes were bad there. They were big. It was in February. Our clothes would get wet from the moisture in the air from the breeze blowing in from the ocean. We had to clean our guns every day or they would get rusty. Our knives would get rusty carrying them in our pocket. Every morning before breakfast we would run down to the ocean and take a dip. The water was warm. We lived in tents there. We had a big company cook tent. We would all go in there and get what they called our mess. We’d dish up what we wanted. If there was much of a wind, there would be sand in it and you could feel it as you ate it.
We finally got shipped over to Quantico, Virginia. They treated the Marines pretty good there. After a while we were sent to New London, Connecticut. About all 1 did there was guard duty, drill and K.P. We had a state pier to guard. A lot of war material was shipped from there. Big ships would come along side the pier and there'd be a whole train load of war material come in the middle of the pier. The floor of the pier was built oven with the floors of the box cars so all they’d have to do was just wheel it out and load the ships,
I spent many a night walking hack and forth on the pier. I got so I could just about get my sleep while I was doing that in the night. They also had an experimental station there, too, and the iron works. We guarded all three of them almost all of that one summer until the war was ended and the Armistice was signed 11 November. We sure had a big celebration then. I was on duty when it was signed. All at once I heard whistles blowing, bells ringing and everybody a yelling and hollering. 1 thought probably something like that was up. When I got off duty I found out all about it. 1 stayed in the service until the next February; then I came home.
The summer of 1919, just after 1 got married, we were hauling the second crop of hay with wagons and the old derrick and dad got knocked off the hay stack. The Jackson fork hit him in the corner of the eye and knocked him off the side of the eighteen or nineteen foot haystack onto the hard ground. He broke his left
leg between the knee and the hip. The doctor came out and set his leg but he didn't get it set straight. Dad laid in bed with a stretcher on his leg for about three months and never got up. It gave him a lot of trouble in later years.
1 got back from the service in February 1919 and that July was when we got married. Margaret was staying with her sister Mary Sohm. Monte was just a little kid then. Mary was going to have a baby and was having a hard time. They had Doc Beck come out and he thought the only thing he could do was to take the baby. After he took the baby, Mary bled to death. He always said that he'd butchered her—just killed her. He knew she was dying so he just covered her over with blankets and took off for town and let her go. Course, he didn't save the baby either. Fred wasn't going to pay him for that, but he had to because Doc took it to court and Fred had to pay. The whole community was upset about the way she had been treated. That was a bad deal.
We used to put up ice on the old home place and Mary would come down with a single horse and buggy about once a week to get ice to make ice cream with, that was before Margaret and I were married. Mary was sure a pretty woman.
One time Fred and I were swimming in the Snake River. It was pretty wide and there was a large gravel bar out in it. Just below this gravel bar was a deep hole. The water was running pretty swift. Fred was wading out on the gravel bar. The water was just a little above his knees, but he kept working down so far he couldn't get back and the current swept him into the hole at the end of the bar.
I was out on the bank and happened to look over there and saw his hands flopping up above the water. I knew he couldn't swim so I jumped in and figured I'd get him out if I could. I was scared. I was afraid he'd grab me so I wouldn't be able to swim, so I took hold of him by the hair of his head and swam with the other hand. 1 thought he'd be unconscious anyhow, so I kept him under the water until we got to the bank so there'd be no chance of him grabbing me. I pulled him out and he wasn't unconscious, but he had a lot of water in his lungs. I turned him face down and got what water 1 could out of him, but it took quite a while for him to get over that episode.
Margaret was staying at Sohm's when her sister died. She was going with Phil Hawks, but we got together and I won out. She felt so bad about her sister going so quickly that we decided to get married in Idaho Falls.
Albert Clark, Aunt Phoebe's boy got married about the same time. We used to chase around quite a bit together, but he got killed a while after he was married. He was sure a nice kid. He was Harold's brother.
When we went on dates we'd usually go to the show in Blackfoot. That was about all there was to do. I had a car then. I also drove dad's car a little. He had an Oldsmobile. It was one of those cloth-top ones like they used to have. The top could be laid back so it was open. It had isinglass for windows. That was about all they had in those days.
We had to go back in the field to where Sohm’s used to live. After we turned off the main gravel road the road was real narrow and followed the slew down around to Fred's place. Usually there were a lot of mudholes in the road. Margaret was driving my car one time and she slid off the bank. It was when Millers had bees up there. Earl Miller happened to have a truck there, so I hooked that on to the car and pulled it out. Fred had bees ,too. We used to get our honey there.
Margaret drove a Model "T", but when we got the Model "A" with the gear shift she didn't drive for quite a while after that. She couldn't shift gears good.
Margaret stayed in Logan with her folks for a while after we were married, and after I was ordained an Elder 15 November 1919, I made a trip to Logan and we were sealed in the Logan Temple 19 November 1919.
I made that trip to Logan in the old Model "T" Ford. We just got our beets out and all the crops in. I left Howard to do the chores. I had been doing them. The roads were so bad I didn't know whether I was going to make it or not. All down through Utah they had been bawling beets. The mud was so deep from the old wagon ruts I thought I was going to have to wait until the ground froze that night to get through, but I kept trying and finally got there along in the night. I had left early in the morning, One big day getting to Logan, about 120 miles from home.
I got a room there in a hotel and called Margaret up. She came over to the hotel, then, later we went through the temple. We had been married since July 3.
On our way back home I can remember we hit a rabbit. We came home and stayed with my folks for a while, then Margaret went back to Logan and stayed with her folks. She came back in the spring and we got the house so we could move into it. We started building our house right after we got married. It was a big job digging the basement. We had to dig it with horses and fresnoes (as scraper that looked like a scoop) and picks; that was hard. The ground was about like cement. We didn't get all the dirt out of the basement then. I took a lot of dirt out after we moved into the house. Course, we dug down for the foundation so we got that in all right, he eventually cemented the basement and finished it and made a nice bedroom down there.
We moved into the house the next spring—just a bare house. That's about all it was. We had a bed, a stove, table and chairs, and that's about all. When we built the house we wired for electricity because we knew it was coming. It wasn't wired very good, mostly just for ceiling lights. We didn’t figure we'd need much more than that in those days. Every time I'd add on anything that took power, I'd have to put heavier wires on, and when we got the electric stove and other things I got some heavy wires and run them from the meter right to whatever I was using.
I put a pump in an open well that we had at the end of the sidewalk in back of the house and used that for a while before I got a pressure system. After that I put a big water tank up on a framework in the large hallway. We had fairly good pressure but that was a headache because sometimes the float would stick and it flooded a few times and we had water in the house, but we got by fairly good with it. After I modernized the water system with a pressure system we didn't have any trouble.
Our house was considered one of the better ones in the area. It's a good old house even now. They don't build them like that any more.
It seems like things were kind of hard in those days. We didn’t have much to do with for a long time, then finally I got to going pretty good. We never had lights in the house for three or four years after we were married. We had to draw water out of the well with buckets. We had a cow or two and had milk and cream and butter and grain and spuds and a garden. Those were good old days anyhow. We had plenty to get along with. We lived cheap in those days, mostly what we took off the farm and garden. Now we have everything—everything they have in the store, it seems like.
Memories of Samuel Ferry Adams
Contributor: janettelaurie Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
SAMUEL FERRY ADAMS
Father of Katharine Rebecca Adams,
Mother of Ralph Stander,
Father of Geraldine Stander Eccles, Florence Stander, Loraine Stander Ellis, Ramona Stander, Alburn Rene Stander, Carvel Stander
Samuel Ferry Adams came to America from Northamptonshire, England in 1853, joined the church and crossed the plains with an ox team.
The following article written by Grace Ison, grand daughter of Samuel Ferry Adams, received by Geraldine Eccles about 1955.
Odds and Ends of Things I’ve heard from
The folks, Uncle Tom, Grandpa Adams, and Others…
Grandpa Samuel Ferry Adams was born in Rounds, North Hampton, England, 16 May 1834, to Samuel Adams and Phoebe Fairy Adams. He was named “Fairy” for his mother’s family but people persisted in writing it “Ferry” so it is found spelled both ways.
His early life was not an easy one, being that of the typical boy in the low income brackets in England. His father was a shoemaker and naturally he must be a shoemaker too. He was an apprentice shoemaker at twelve and before long his father was collecting his meager weekly wages. At that time, this also was typical in England where neither children nor women had any rights, except those graciously given them by the husbands and fathers.
His apprenticeship completed, he continued working as an expert, turning his wages dutifully over to his father and hoping they’d be used to help make life a little more tolerable for his mother and his numerous sisters. As often as not, the father drank up the weekly wages of his own and young Ferry’s.
Children are tough and surprisingly resilient and so he grew up in spite of his father’s tyranny, the poverty and general hard conditions.
He recalled with amusement in later years, how at the end of a particularly long and tiresome sermon one Sunday, he had blurted out “A-MEN” to his own and the congregation’s horror. It was a black crime in a day when children sat rigid and stony-faced through interminable dry sermons, else were punished – first by threshing by the preacher and the inevitable beating from his father when they got home!
This and other grievances of long standing created a desire in him to come to America when he should become grown. His desire hardened into resolve when his beloved sister, Sarah, one year younger than himself, married a young man against their father’s wishes. At the father’s command her name was erased from all family records and even the mother was not ever again to utter her name! Ferry was away from home at the time but by inquiring around, he was told it was rumored that she had gone to America. He resolved to follow her and find her when he should become eighteen and could lawfully leave. Later he tried, but was never able to find her.
In 1853, he realized the dream of coming to this country. A short time before that he had made the acquaintance of some Mormon missionaries, and was sure that what they taught was true. He was baptized in March 1851. His family was very bitter. At the time of his embracing the LDS faith, he was the only member of his family to do so. He crossed the plains with the Joseph A Young company, convinced as he always remained, this was Zion. After a short time, he settled in Ogden, Utah and expected never to leave there again (1853)
In 1855, he married Sarah Elender Wiggins, the very beautiful daughter of Ebenezer Fairchild Wiggins and Elender Moor Wiggins.
Sarah Elender Wiggins was born in Nauvoo, Illinois and was a year younger than her young husband. She had crossed the plains with her parents in 1852, one year before him. Unlike his, her youth was spent with people sympathetic to her faith. She had been born and raised a Mormon.
It is said that the Moors, especially, were well to do and very prominent in Church circles in Nauvoo and that until lately their fine big house was still standing in this city. “Harry and I visited and toured Nauvoo twice but at that time I only knew her name as Wiggins, so wouldn’t have noticed the Moor house in particular, even if it had been there. I knew Uncle Matt’s father was Johnathan Browning so looked up that one. It had been beautiful. So many big houses still stand.
My Grandfather always said that the Wiggins girls were beauties and much sought after by the Ogden boys but that Grandmother was the prettiest! Their’s was a real love marriage. He never stopped speaking of her through the long years and even on his death bed.
She was gay and plumpish at the time of her death in that lucky time when it was desirable to be “fat, fair and forty.” Grandpa often told me about my “real” grandmother. He boasted that her figure was so lovely she had never needed a corset.
They made a good home in Ogden and the older children were born there. But the church was expanding its limits and Bishop Merrill was asked to take a selected group and settle Cache Valley. Grandpa and his family were “selected.”
Neither Grandpa or Grandmother hesitated although by this time, they had a comfortable living, a nice home, (they were never to have quite as good a one again) and had seven children, two of whom had died and were buried in Ogden. (David, struck by lightning when he was thirteen and little Sammy who had died before he was a year old).
Grandmother was a twin sister to “Uncle Bill”, (Wm Ebenezer Wiggins) (It was at his and his wife’s –Aunt Annie’s that Aunt Mae (Mary Ann) lived most of her single life. She returned to them entirely, when the family came up here.)
But settle down in Richmond, they did. Four more children were born to them here—two girls and lastly the twin boys.
Like all Mormon settlements, the “home” was two acres and a house and barn in Richmond. The farm was about two miles out. It must have been hard to start over, digging land out of the raw, for the parents, but from all the signs the children were happy. For the younger ones, at least, Richmond was always home.
Mama had no special recollections of her mother, except once or twice of her laughter. The older children talked as did relatives of how she and grandpa were “like two kids”.
Once she was sewing and grandpa kept teasing her and she pricked him with the needle. To her horror, it broke in his hand. They couldn’t get it out. Through years, long after she was dead, he could feel it here and there in his body, working nearer to his heart, but never coming close enough to the surface to be taken out.
One night it was very near his heart, he felt, and he was tired, blue worried, but resigned. He’d been working hard in the fields on the place at Riverside. He didn’t say anything to Grandma Hannah about his fears. He heard a knock at the door and opened it to two strangers. They were tired and hungry and he was never one to turn any one away. He set them at the kitchen table and set out three bowls, a pitcher of milk and some bread. After blessing the food, he ate a bread and milk supper with the men. He found himself telling them about the needle. They said finally that they must be on their way. At the door, they thanked him and gave him a blessing. He was told the needle would not bother him any more
Next morning he told Grandma about the strangers. She said he’d been dreaming. He’d not been out of bed, she was sure. He agreed with her, but when they went into the kitchen, three used bowls and the remains of a bread and milk supper were on the table.!
In a week or so, a small swelling appeared and the needle was easily removed from it.
--Returning to Richmond and Grandpa and his first wife.
One day Grandpa prepared to go to the “timbers” as he had to do for poles. Grandmother, who had had no objection to the project the night before, begged him not to go. He laughed at her when she said she had a feeling something was wrong. She’d had an unpleasant dream and was afraid he might have an accident. He teased her into smiles and promised to be extra careful. By the time breakfast was over and he was ready to go she was her gay self again. As the wagon came past the house she ran out and vaulted up to sit on the reach sticking out at the back end. She rode to the gate, kissed him goodbye, closed the gate behind him, waved gaily and ran back to the house. It was the last time he was to see her alive. He returned late that night to be met by the news that she had had a miscarriage and had literally bled to death in spite of efforts of neighbor women to save her. His heart was broken, with a house full of children. He was a tender father and to the day he died, every one of his children loved him dearly.
Mama said he was a very handsome young widower. The older daughters said several women cast “sheep’s eyes” at him.
Johanna Marie Eskelson had joined the Mormon Church in Denmark. She was barely sixteen and could not speak a word of English. She had to work side by side at farm labor with strong men and do as much work as they in Denmark. She was happy to come to this country. But she was (as were several other young Danish girls who came at the same time) a victim of polygamy at its most vicious. She was married to an older man by a Bishop and didn’t understand what was going on she told her step daughters, until someone who could speak Danish informed her she was married to Brother Alsop! Nana said she used to cry because Grandma cried as she told of the hard, hard life she had had in her teens. She was an unpaid (slave) servant to the first wife who pulled her hair and even beat her with a wash board for being “stupid”. She would appeal when she dared to her “husband” to be told coldly to behave herself, and mind the first wife who was her boss. After she had born him four children, the old devil died. One little boy had died before. Now she had herself and three children to support. Everything the old so and so had left went to the first wife, who turned Grandma and her children out with nothing. But Grandma was glad to get away. She was free and could now speak the language. Her family was able to join her soon after this. One of Mamas dearest memories was of little old “Granma Eskelson” to whom she went for comfort and special treats in Richmond.
Mama said Grandma, as she remembered her, was tall and slender, fair skinned with blue eyes and an enormous long braid of coal black hair when she came to live with them. She was only twenty-six and handsome. Grandpa was forty-four, and between them they had eleven children! She worshipped him and watched over and patted him as long as he lived. She worked side by side with him. They milked the cows and harvested their fruits together.
Both of them retained their testimonies in spite of everything. They held about every church position available. Grandma nursed the sick and carried baskets to the needy. She ushered in the babies and laid out the dead of the community for burial. She loved us all and kissed us with impartiality—her step grand children and her grand children.
Grandpa was a very special person. He also loved children! Nana says once she heard him tell “an authority”, who, as usual, was staying with them conference time. “You are very welcome. Our house isn’t so grand but it is full of lovely furniture”, after which he proudly introduced his “furniture” one by one!
Oh yes: When Grandpa left England his brother Lott was only two years old, seventeen years his junior. Grandpa helped him to come out when he grew up. There they both worked and saved to get their mother and father out, sent the money home and Great Grandfather went on a bender and drank it up! Great Grandmother died there at fifty, but the old boy reformed, joined the church and never touched a drop or smoke after. He spent his last years with his sons and is buried beside them here.
He claimed to have “second sight” and predicted the death of Nettie and Nellie but not by name. He was kind and saintly to his grand children. But he remained stubborn to his dying day. When Sadie Adams was born, she was named Sarah Phoebe. For a pet name she was called Sadie from the first but he called her Phoebe!
Only he, Grandpa, Uncle Lott, and Aunt Eliza Thomas joined the church, but I believe all of them eventually came to the US. Grandpa and Uncle Lott went to the World’s Fair at Buffalo and visited their sisters in Iowa. Two sisters came out here but arrived the afternoon of Uncle Lott’s funeral. Grandpa took part in Echo Canyon campaign and helped resist Johnston’s Army.
Mama said we get any tendencies to middle aged fat, baldness in the men, heart trouble, and short lives from her mother’s side. She said of her own family that Uncle Rod, Aunt Kate and Aunt Mae Wiggins’ in looks. The rest of them were Adams’ except Uncle Herb, who looked like neither side being blue eyed and blond. Grandma Hammond called him “my little Dane”. The Adams’ gave us our tendency to premature gray hair and longevity (if we have it).
The Wiggins (or Moors) were reserved and very lady like. (Refined) Grandpa said always, that they were “proud”. I guess Mama took her step mother’s view because she called it “stuck up”. She loved Uncle Bill and Aunt Annie, his wife, but most of her mother’s sisters four nieces, she couldn’t stand! I don’t think she was ever a favorite either. All of the daughters of Ferry Adams were “ladies”. It was born and bred in them. They were wonderful hostesses, cooks, housekeepers, wives and mothers. They all looked and acted like they had been reared in luxury. They all were good conversationalists and “at home” with great or small. I guess they were a little “proud” too!
Mama always remembered how as a five year old, she welcomed her stepmother, who, because Mama was the youngest girl in either family took her for her “baby”. She said she was glad to escape her older sister’s discipline. Aunt Sarah, who took over the management of Grandpa’s house was tiny, efficient, and inflexible, not time no inclination toward patience. The other sisters slapped her when she “got into their lovely things”. But she was her father’s darling. He said she looked just like her mother. She looked and knew it just like him. Grandma Hannah petted her more than her own older children. Mama said that when Aunt Phoebe and other older sisters went to work she and Aunt Kate could have hours of fun using the hoops from their dresses to bounce on! They became expert and could propel themselves almost to the ceiling. Such forbidden enjoyment was entirely taboo but somehow, Grandmother conveniently never “caught” them AT IT UNTIL they’d had some fun! Then she’d take the hoops away before they were damaged and send the girls out to the oat bin to stuff the enormous dolls she’d taught them to make or else play in the straw stack, etc, etc.
(Typed for book of Remembrance by Geraldine Stander Eccles Edwards 1977)
Notes from letter received from Grace Ison.
Grandpa married Hannah Eskelson Allsop about a year after his first wife died. They were married at Richmond. Their children were:
Lottie Amettie, born Nov 15, 1879, died Jan 3, 1894
John Quincyborn May 4, 1882, married Jane Cloughdied Dec 2, 1908
Nellie Mayborn July 6, 1885died Jan 7 1894
Ferry Leroyborn Feb 8, 1889married Cora ParsonsNov17, 1908
Vetres Jborn Feb 15, 1894married Lewis Barnes
They came to Riverside 1885-1886. It is said roy was the first white child born this side of the river.
Most likely you’ve heard Aunt Kate speak of the diphtheria epidemic that killed the two little sisters three days apart.
Memories of Margaret Kraus Stander by her daughter Loraine Stander Ellis
Contributor: janettelaurie Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
My mother, Margaret Krause, was born in 1899 in Providence, Utah. Her father came from Germany and her mother from Switzerland. Her parents had ten children of their own and raised three more who had been orphaned. Her parents, brothers and sisters were fine hard working people and had many talents in various fields.
When Mother was in her teens she came to Blackfoot to be with an older sister and her family. It was here she met my Father, Ralph Stander. They were married and lived in the Thomas community (Thomas, Idaho). They had six children, 4 girls and 2 boys. One girl, Florence, died shortly after birth, and another daughter, Ramona, age 9, was killed in a car accident and a boy, Alburn Rene, passed away at the age of four. They have one son, Carvel, in Seattle and one daughter, Loraine, in Blackfoot. One other sister, Geraldine, lived in Utah, 16 Grandchildren and 8 great grandchildren.
Mother was a hard-working, happy and loving person and gave generously of her time and talents. Anytime anyone needed help she was here. She always had may many friends. She was kind, and considerate to everyone. She was a Sunday School Teacher, MIA teacher, Ward Chorister, Relief Society Teacher, and Stake worker. She sang a lot on programs. She was a hair dresser and barber for the neighbors who couldn’t afford to go to town. She always had a beautiful yard, vegetable garden and flowers.
She had a stroke last October that paralyzed her left side. This has been a struggle and sometimes discouraging but through determination she has become well enough to return home this week.
Another page of memories by Loraine Ellis about her mother Margaret Krause
I loved my mother and was close to her.
•I loved the way she and dad read to us each evening and as we would learn to read we would take a turn reading aloud with the others.
•We did have an outside outhouse til I was older.
•We wore long legged underwear. We wore black stockings
•I was skinny
•We had an old round bathtub.
•Many chores such as:
•carrying wood to fill the wood box
•gathering kindling to start the fire
•taking out ashes
•taking cows to pasture in the morning and getting them at night
•pumping water for horses, cows, pigs, and chickens
•running a hand grain grinder for chicken and pig feed
•As the men would load the hay wagon (pulled with horses) we would have to ride on top and tromp it down so they could get more on. I hated this and the heat made me sick and I ended up with horrible headaches and throwing up.
•We also thinned beets, hoed beets and pick up potatoes.
•We had a large garden and worked hard in it.