Wm Lindsay Family Immigration
Contributor: Hilljr Created: 11 months ago Updated: 11 months ago
Mormon Immigration Index CD-rom
LINDSAY, Christiana <1822> John J. Boyd 1862
Age: 40 Origin: Scotland Occ: Widow
LINDSAY, Robert <1847> John J. Boyd 1862
Age: 15 Origin: Scotland
LINDSAY, William <1850> John J. Boyd 1862
Age: 12 Origin: Scotland
LINDSAY, James <1852> John J. Boyd 1862
Age: 10 Origin: Scotland
LINDSAY, Samuel <1853> John J. Boyd 1862
Age: 9 Origin: Scotland
LINDSAY, Andrew <1855> John J. Boyd 1862
Age: 7 Origin: Scotland
LINDSAY, Jane <1857> John J. Boyd 1862
Age: 5 Origin: Scotland
LINDSAY, Isabella <1859> John J. Boyd 1862
Age: 3 Origin: Scotland
LINDSAY, Janet <1862> John J. Boyd 1862
Age: infant Origin: Scotland
Note: "Infant" (BMR)
(BMR: British Mission Registers, 1849–1885, 1899–1923. Historical Department Archives. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (FHL films 25690–25695). P. 185)
Ship: John J. Boyd
Date of Departure: 23 Apr 1862 Port of Departure: Liverpool, England
LDS Immigrants: 702 Church Leader: James S. Brown
Date of Arrival: 1 Jun 1862 Port of Arrival: New York, New York
Source(s): BMR, Book #1047, pp. 87-125 (FHL #025,691); Customs (FHL #175,575)
JOHN J. BOYD
A Compilation of General Voyage Notes
"DEPARTURE. -- The packet ship John J. Boyd, Captain H. Thomas, sailed on the 23rd instant for New York, with 702 souls of the Saints on board. On Monday afternoon, the 21st instant, Presidents Lyman, Rich, and Cannon visited the vessel, as she lay in the river, organized the company appointing Elder James S. Brown president, and Elders John Lindsay and Joseph C. Rich his counselors, and delivered addresses to the Saints on their duties and the necessity for their living continually so as to enjoy the Holy Spirit, that its influence might sustain them under the changing scenes and varied circumstances incident to the journey they had entered upon. The Spirit of God was poured forth, and a holy influence shed its power upon all on board.
Elder James S. Brown, late president of the Nottingham District, Elder Joseph C. Rich, late president of the Derbyshire Conference, Elder R. A. McBride, late traveling elder in the London Conference, who all arrived from Zion on the 27th July, 1860; Elder Charles Welch, late president of Hull Conference, Elder R. Hodgerts, late president of the South Conference, Elder Henry Duce, late traveling elder in the Derbyshire Conference, who arrived on September 18th, 1860; and Elder Edward Pugh, late traveling elder in the Herefordshire Conference, who arrived July 28th, 1861, who have been on missions to these lands, left with this company on their return to their homes in the valleys of the mountains. These brethren have labored diligently in the ministry since their arrival here from Zion, and carry home with them the blessings of the presidency and the prayers of those who have been benefitted by their labors.
Elder J. S. Brown has suffered more or less from sickness since his arrival; but, by the assistance of the Holy Spirit, he has been able, in his weakness, to do a good work. Elders John Lindsay, late president of the Lincolnshire Conference, Abraham Orme, late president of the Leicester Conference, Aaron Nelson, president of the Derbyshire Conference previous to Elder J. C. Rich's appointment, Edwin Scott, late traveling elder in the Essex Conference, and Daniel Matheson, late traveling elder in the Bedfordshire Conference, of the native ministry, hailed with much joy the arrival of the period when they were privileged to go to Zion with the gathering Saints. May the blessings of heaven be with all on board, and ere long land them safely on the shores of the land of Joseph, and enable them to reach their mountain home with joy and rejoicing."
(Millennial Star 24:18 (May 3, 1862), p.283)
"Wed. 23. [Apr. 1862] -- The ship John J. Boyd sailed from Liverpool, England, with 701 Saints, under the direction of James S. Brown; it arrived at New York June 1st."
(CC - Church Chronology: A Record of Important Events Pertaining to the History of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. 2nd ed. Revised and compiled by Andrew Jenson, 1899. (FHL book 289.309 J453c and fiche 6053255; 1914 ed. on film 599327 item 2 and fiche 6051314 p.67)
Autobiography of James Lindsay
. . . I am certain that the reason we were brought to this wonderful land was on account of our parents being such staunch supporters of Mormonism and made their home a gathering place of the elders and converts to the Church. So as the Bible says, "Cast your bread upon the waters, and after many days it will return to you ten fold." [Ecclesiastes 11:1] It proved so in our case.
On April 19, we took the train from Glasgow, and from there we traveled by boat to Liverpool, there we were transferred to the sailing ship, John J. Boyd. We sailed out onto the broad Atlantic Ocean, with no other thought in mind but to get to Zion. The trip was practically without incident. After five weeks and four days one morning we sighted land, and I don't think Columbus and his crew were any more pleased than we were. The ship docked at Castle Garden, and we were herded like sheep to street cars, and were put on the train. Talk about rough riding I don't think a trip down Lake Creek Canyon on a wagon load of wood was any worse.
At this time, 1862 the North and South were at war and terrible battles were being fought. The railroads were not like they are now, we didn't know at the time why they went so fast over such rough roads. The real reason was, fear of being captured by the Southern Army. Arriving at St. Louis we were transferred to a steamboat and traveled up the Missouri to Omaha. We had to wait here for three weeks for the ox teams to take us on the last part of our thousand mile journey across the plains and mountains to our new home. While waiting for the wagon train, there were some terrible thunder storms, and several men were killed. I must mention at this time, that we were met at the boat by Robert McKnight.
He had a basket of scones and butter and buttermilk. It was a blessing from God to us for all we had had for several days was dry bread that dear mother had rationed out to us, and gone without herself. The food brightened us up and also made like long friends of the McKnight family. If this good man had been paid for his medical services that he gave to the pioneers in Heber Valley, his old age could have been more comfortable. His main remedy was herbs. The midwives also gave their time and services with very little compensation.
The Church had a store at Florence and w were able to get what we needed for our journey. We waited seven weeks before the wagons came [p.1] to take us to Salt Lake City. It was a strange sight to us when they did come. We had never seen oxen and men driving them with their long whips and shouting, "Whoa, Ha and Gee" at them. We were assigned to John Turner's wagon in Homer Duncan's train to cross the plains. It was a very trying time for everyone traveling day after day in the heat, dust and winds. We did our cooking in skillets over smokey fires and slept in tents with ten to fifteen men, women and children. Flour and bacon was about all the food we had. Usually the water was bad, and sometimes no wood to burn. It was in this way that we moved along at about fifteen miles a day, often resting on Saturday afternoon to wash and clean ourselves up. All day Sunday was spent resting. Prayers were offered night and morning, and often signing and dancing in the evenings. We were two months moving from Florence to Salt Lake and Heber, arriving on September 21, 1862. . . . . . [p.2]
(BIB: Lindsay, James. Autobiography )
Diary/Autobiography of William Lindsay
older brother of our James Lindsay
. . . When the letter came from Liverpool telling us passages for all our family had been secured on the sailing ship John J. Boyd and telling us to sell everything we would not need on the journey and come to Liverpool in site of three days to get on board the ship which would sail April 22, 1862. This letter caused great rejoicing. Brother Sam ran around the house shouting, “Boys this is the best letter ever came to our home.” This was the first ship that season. . . . We received the letter on Thursday and on Saturday the 19th of April, 1862 we left Kiel . . . on the train to Glasgow where we were met by Brother Robert Sam who took us in charge and helped us get our luggage on board a small steamboat bound for Liverpool. It was late in the afternoon when we started on the trip down the River. . . which was a very fine river. We passed where many large ships are built and went out into the open sea. We were on the open deck of the ship and without any shelter along with other passengers. No chance to sleep but being seasick, we could not sleep anyway. This is our first seasick experience.
Two of the passengers got into a fight right close by & one called the other a son of a b. . That was the first time I ever heard those words. It was quite windy & the sea was rough & nearly all were seasick. But we landed in Liverpool about ten, next morning & got on board the ship John J. Boyd where there were 700 Mormon emigrants getting assigned to their berths & bunks preparatory to starting on the trip across the Atlantic Ocean, 3,000 miles of water. Of course, there was some bustle & confusion in getting all properly placed. Then the ship was divided into 6 wards & a man was appointed to look after each ward. James S. Brown was president of the company & John G. Lindsay and Joseph C. Rich were his counselors. It was really wonderful to see how soon all got settled down & knew their own places & their rights & privileges on the ship. There was a large double stove or galley where all the cooking had to be done for 700 people, so you may see it was hard to get much cooking done.
We sailed from Liverpool on the 22nd of April, 1862 bound for New York & had what was called a fairly good passage over the sea. However, we had one quite hard storm that shook things up some, but no great damage was done. Of course, the ship was being tossed about & was lurching badly. Two women right close to us were very much excited & crying. I could not help smiling although I had to keep a hold of the bunk to keep from being thrown out. I thought it absurd to suppose that a ship with 700 Saints bound for Zion could possibly sink. I even then as a boy of fifteen had faith we would be preserved, which we were & all except one man & child that died & were buried at sea came safely to land at New York on the 4th of June. Captain Thomas seemed to be a very fine gentleman but 2 of the mates were very cruel and tyrannical with the ships crew & stowaways. We saw many fish of different kinds while crossing & nearly all had several sieges of seasickness. Very few escape this sickness. We were landed at Castle Garden, the emigrant home in New York and stayed there 2 days & nights. The sights were beautiful as we came into New York. But the men on guard had hard work to keep sharpers from getting among us emigrants. Leaving New York we were marched through the streets to where the horse cars took us to the Hudson River where we went on a steamboat up to Albany. There we were shut up in a railroad roundhouse until a train came to take us farther on our journey. We went by Niagara Falls & saw that mighty stream foaming white as it tumbled over the precipice. We also passed through Detroit & Chicago & up the Mississippi to Hannibal. [p. 273] Then on the Hannibal & St. Joseph Railroad to St. Joseph, Missouri. The Civil War was in full swing & there were soldiers guarding the bridge as we were close to the Confederate lines.
We had very little food to eat on the journey from New York. The ship’s fare was bad enough but it was better than none and we went hungry most of the 10 days coming to Florence, Nebraska. At St. Joseph we were transferred to a steamboat to go up the Missouri River some 250 miles. We were some 3 days on the boat. Just an open boat, no shelter from the heat or cold but we got some of the scraps left from the boat hands’ table. We had to sleep just any place on the deck and sometimes had to move in the night. Old Robert McKnight was at the landing at Florence to meet us. He had a small basket of scones & a bucket of milk & you may be sure we were glad to see him and relieve him of the scones & milk. . . .Our family were quartered in a small log cabin very likely built by some of the pioneers. While at Florence we got our food supplies from the church stores fared very well. The Montgomery came two weeks later & Mother invited them to share our little cabin. We all lived there 5 weeks longer waiting for the teams to come from Utah to haul our luggage across the plains. While here we were visited by the worst storm of thunder, lightning, winds, & rain that I ever saw. Two men were killed & several injured in that storm. While there I helped to herd a bunch of church cattle on the hills. About the 20th of July Captain Homer Duncan’s oxtrain arrived & we were assigned to John Turner’s wagon. This was a strange & a wonderful sight to us who had never seen oxen hitched to wagons. And the teamsters shouting & cracking their big long ships it sure was all very strange to us at first. As quicky as possible we started on the dreary tramp of 1000 miles. Tents were provided one for every wagon & a man appointed to see that the tents were properly staked down each night & placed in the wagon next morning. An average of 12 persons slept in each tent & had all their belongings in one wagon. Prayers were held in the camp night & morning, all were called together for that purpose at the sound of the bugle & the captain gave counsel & issued orders for the day. Flour & bacon was furnished to everybody but of course every family had to do their own cooking, bake, skillets & frying pans & camp kettles were furnished. Most of the time we could get wood to make the fires. But it was really a great trial for many people to cook their food outdoors in the heat, the wind & the smoke. But each helped the others wherever they could & we got along very nicely considering the peculiar conditions they were placed in. I think we left Florence on the 22nd of July on the wearisome journey. . . . [p.275]
. . .I am pleased to say my 13 men women & children all came safely through to Salt Lake City. With it all we had some good times around the campfires when we got so we could talk a little Danish & they could talk a little English. Our oxen stood the journey fairly well some of the oxen got tender footed & had to be shoed. As we came back Green River & the other streams were very low & could be forded easily. We were some 25 days on the way arriving in Salt Lake City near the last of Sept. There we unloaded our emigrants & bid them farewell. Some we left in tears as they were expecting friends to meet them & none had showed at the time we left them but no doubt would later. . . . [p.288]
(BIB: Lindsay, William. Autobiography)
Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel, 1847–1868
Homer Duncan Company (1862)
Departure: 22 July 1862 Arrival in Salt Lake Valley: 21-24 September 1862 Company Information: About 500 individuals were in the company when it began its journey from the outfitting post at Florence, Nebraska (now Omaha).
Christina Howie Lindsay age 39
Andrew, age 9
Isabella, age 2
James, age 13
Jane Blackwood, age 7
Robert, age 17
Samuel, age 11
William, age 15
GENEALOGY OF THE LINDSAY VIOLIN
Contributor: Hilljr Created: 11 months ago Updated: 11 months ago
William Lindsay lived in the small mining town of Kilmarnock, Ayrshire, Scotland. Life was difficult in 1861, and William and his two oldest sons, Robert and Will (Jr) all worked deep in the coal mines. When their work was done they went home to Momma Christiana and their seven other siblings. William's one luxury was an old violin, and even though it was cracked, it still had a nice tone that the entire family enjoyed.
The family had heard the missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons) and had been baptized, much to the dismay of their neighbors. The persecution extended even into the mines, and some urged the foreman to fire William because of his belief in that heretic American religion. But the foreman told them that William was a good man, and worth ten of their kind, and he could work for the company as long as he wished.
William and Christina wanted to take their family to Zion, and had asked for a loan from the Perpetual Emigration Fund. But William would not make the trip. On October 17th, a loosened slab of slate slipped down the wall, landing on William killing him instantly. Both Robert and Will were working in the mine, and when they heard the rumble they grabbed their candles and rushed to their father only to find his dead body. In their grief, they dropped their candles, and had to sit in the dark until the foreman came down to find them.
Shortly after they buried their father, the finds from the Perpetual Emigration Fund came through, and Christina and her children prepared to leave their homeland. The knew they would join a handcart company in Missouri and space would be limited, but Christina was adamant about bringing the violin. She declared, "I'll carry it across the plains in my arms if I have to, but its the only remembrance of my husband I have left."
So the violin was wrapped in a sack, crossed the Atlantic ocean, and rode in the handcart to Salt Lake City, and then on to Heber, Wasatch county where the Lindsays settled. By this time Robert had developed an interest in the violin and taught himself to play. He may have taken it with him when he went to court Miss Sarah Ann Murdock in 1868. She was the daughter of Joseph Stacy and Charlotte Eliza Clark Murdock. Joseph was a friend and wrangler for Brigham Young, and in his spare time he wrote poetry. One of his poems was titled, "Come Listen to a Prophet's Voice," and was put to music in the LDS Church Hymn book. Robert may have even given the hymn a turn or two on his fiddle.
Robert and Sarah were married on December 15, 1868, and raised a large family of 16 children in Lake Creek. The children remembered their father sitting at the kitchen table playing the beloved violin.
When he died, the violin went to his tenth child, Esther Melissa. She married Lawrence Albert Anderson in November 1, 1905, and she kept the old violin in its new 1920 case safely tucked away by the pump organ in her home, while she raised eight children of her own.
In 1946 her oldest son, Theo, discovered the dusty old violin, just as his daughter, Jean had begun taking violin lessons. By that time the violin was in bad condition, but he took it into Salt Lake to be repaired. They said that the violin had been smashed in the middle, causing the crack down the side and breaking off the bridge that holds up the strings. It would cost $325 to repair, but well worth the effort. It had retained a nice tone and was playable again.
Jean played the violin all during middle school and high school, Her boyfriend Bob went to the concerts and carried the old violin for her. People would say, "You did well...that was a wonderful concert." He's just say, "Thank you. We try," and would wink at Jean.
Jean and Bob married and had three children, who all grew up enjoying classical music, but their oldest daughter, Karen loved music enough to earn a degree in music education in college, but the violin was not played until a few years ago.
Karen and Bobby's son Kurt, came to the University of Utah with his cello and his guitar, to study music, and found the old violin under the stairs. He took it to a friend for repairs again, brought it to his grandmother, Jean, and told her it was time to practice again.
In 2014, Kurt wrote a trio arrangement of "Come Listen to a Prophet's Voice" and with Kurt playing cello, his mother Karen playing the piano, and his grandmother Jean playing the violin that Robert treasured. This music and the old violin span seven generations of our family. William Lindsay would be pleased with that.
Memories of Father Robert Lindsay by Elizabeth Lindsay
Contributor: Hilljr Created: 11 months ago Updated: 11 months ago
LINDSAY FAMILY STORIES
from memory and diary of Robert Lindsay
In December of 1868, Robert Lindsay and Sarah Ann Murdock, and William Lindsay and Mary Mair were married in Salt Lake City. The two couples lived in a one-room log house owned by Robert for that first winter. The house was located across the street west of the present Heber First Ward, on the site of the William Turner home.
In the springtime the two brothers looked around for a location for a permanent home where they could have a farm and plenty of water. They decided on a site three miles east of Heber where there was a spring and good farming soil. About 1877 they left for the new site. They each had several children when they built their log house and moved their two families to begin life on Lake Creek, just east of what is now known as Lindsay’s Hill or Cedar Hill.
About 1883 the two brothers decided that it would be easier to work their farms if one lived on the upper section so the Robert moved and built a long two-roomed log house and later a large two story log house which stood at Lindsay’s Dell. Robert had this house weather-boarded and painted so it is not easily recognized as a being a log house. It is warm and substantial having heavy wooden pins holding the logs together. In 1957 this house was still standing and owned by the Bond family.
There was digging and building pits for carrots, potatoes, turnips, and rutabagas. There was building fences, mangers, feed boxes, and sheds or barns. There was hauling manure to fertilize the fields and to keep the corrals cleaned out.
There was the constant demand for firewood both summer and winter as there was no electric or gas stoves or irons. The men and boys would bring big loads of aspen trees and scrub oak to be cut up into stove lengths. Father would make at least one trip to Coalville in the fall to get a load of soft coal to use sparingly along with the wood. I remember the scrub oak because we would often put a few sticks, about a foot long, in the oven to get warm. Then we would wrap a cloth around them to cover the roughness and take them to bed to keep our feet warm. The oak would hold the heat all night.
There was constant care of the animals on the farm that brought much work. There was feeding, milking, herding, shoeing, hunting, riding and breaking in young animals. In later years sheep were added and new activities were necessary. Then there was the seasonal work of planting, weeding and harvesting berries. Father took time out to take his children on outings to gather serviceberries and choke cherries. After the Midway Hot Pots became a swimming resort, he would often take his family for an afternoon’s swim. He had a favorite spot in Center Creek Canyon where there were lime deposits which contained fossils of sea life. We would go there often to gather specimens.
One of the activities of farm life was to clear the sage brush off the fields. The brush had to be attacked with a grubbing hoe and chopped out, root and all. The brush would be thrown aside to be put into piles. Generally the younger children would throw the brush into great high heaps for the evening contests. Each group tried to get the biggest pile so that its flames would shoot highest into the evening sky. The neighbor’s children would join in the torch races trying to keep different groups from their fire by carrying a blazing sage brush branch. Once in a while someone would catch on fire, then all would stop their game to smother the blaze or dip the unfortunate soul in the irrigation ditch. Sometimes children would roast potatoes in the fire to be eaten after the contest fun was over.
Thrashing time brought work and excitement. The two Lindsay women worked and planned together. There would be many conversations planning food. We children would take an oblong clothes basket and go to Aunt Mary’s to borrow dishes if our turn came first to feed the ever hungry thrashers. They seemed to be like the present day garbage disposals...no end to their capacity to take in food. It also seemed that equiptment break-downs always came at the home where the food was best.
The women cooked pies and cakes, and steamed puddings for days before the big event. Then when the big thrasher really arrived, vegetables and meats and homemade bread and jam, and pickles were added to the menu. There was work for everyone and thrills for the children to watch the whole operation of the bundles of wheat or oats that they had shocked, being eaten up by the big machine then to be poured out into the sacks to be carried on the back of workers and poured into the clean, sweet smelling bins to be taken to the mill as needed. It was fun to watch the horses go round and round to make the big machine go.
It was interesting too, to watch the dusty men with chaff in their hair and on their clothing as they washed their hands and faces in the tubs of water prepared for that purpose. The men looked much different when they were sitting round and long table eating and joking about the day’s happenings.
We children watched the biscuit plate and the pie supply and wondered breathlessly if there would be anything choice left for us. These workers would eat three meals a day for several days and that meant a big food supply.
LAKE CREEK SCHOOLS
In 1884 Robert Lindsay and others built a school house on Lake Creek. Eliza, Rob and Joseph of Robert Lindsay’s family and Mamie, Will H. and Jim Lyon of Will Lindsay’s family and other neighborhood children attended school there. Henry Chatwin was the teacher. Later on the younger Linsay children...Jane Ann, Eunice, and Elizabeth walked 2.5 miles to Center Creek to a rural school. Mary Brim, Millie Cluff Harvey and Violet Ryan were teachers there at different times.
Still Later all the Lindsay children attended school at Heber. This made a 3 miles walk every morning and afternoon. There was a log school building finally built back of Miller’s home against the hill. Brigham Clegg used to ride a horse from Heber to teach there, but none of the Lindsay children attended school there.
Robert and William were both fine penmen and kept up regular correspondence with relatives and the missionaries. Robert helped his children with their homework, especially with their arithmetic. He always had a book in the kitchen so that he could pick it up and read when he had a moment while waiting for a meal, or just resting. He practice writing every day on any scrap of paper. He planned to read the Bible once each year. He had a clear speaking voice and that along with his humility and sincerity made him a good church leader and speaker. The same was true of William Lindsay who was also a general favorite with the children. Both men looked after the poor and they made many friends in Wasatch County.
SATURDAY NIGHT BATH
Even taking a bath required much more energy than turning on a tap for hot or cold water. For instance, at the Lindsay farm you would build a hot fire in the stove, then drag the wash tub and boiler into the house from the wood shed. Next you would carry many buckets of water from the spring or from the windlass well. This would be heated in the boiler or in large kettles. Two chairs would be set in front of the tub, positioned near the stove, and a blanket would be thrown over the chairs to screen in the bathroom. When the water was considered to be the right temperature, the bath could begin. Actions had to be guarded because of the hot stove near by. Many a child carried the brand of his Saturday Night Bath for a full week at least. After everyone had a bath the water had to be emptied and the boiler and tub had to be returned the their proper places. Small wonder that we children listened to stories of bathrooms with taps of hot and cold water and or indoor toilets as something only in a fairytale.
INDIANS ON LAKE CREEK
In the early days the Indians came down Lake Creek from the reservation. They often made camp on the spring creek that the Lindsays settled on. They also camped at a spring west of the old Pilt Murdock place right where Aunt Sally Jones had her home.
Andrew Lindsay used to tell us of an Indian scare that he and another boy had. They had to take the cows into the meadows east of Heber to feed each day. When the Indians were camped on the lower spring, the boys were afraid and kept under cover. One day they were in some bushes watching the Indians when they saw that the group had one of their own tied to a tree with his body bare to the waist. The boys watched in terror as they saw one of the Indians aim an arrow at the captive’s heart. The poor fellow’s head slumped forward, and the boys knew that he was dead. The frightened boys slipped away as soon as they could and went to Heber without their cows. The older men went after the cows later.
Rasmus Neilson Miller and family lived a little more than a mile above our home. Mrs. Miller was caught in a brush fire and burned to death one day when the rest of the family was away. Brother Miller did the best he could to care for his children and keep them together. This was no easy task.
Brother Miller was a quiet, kind man whom everyone respected. Father said Brother Miller had worked too hard when a child in the old country and had developed a spine curvature, but in spite of that he worked very hard. He walked to Heber often. The day before Christmas, father came in from the yard and called mother and the family together and said, “I can see Brother Miller walking to town through the snow. He is probably going to buy something to make Christmas for his little family. I’m sure that after the expenses he has had to meet that he won’t have much money left. Now, why don’t you all go through your belongings and select something you like real well to give to this family and we will have it all ready for him when he comes back from town? Mother will direct you and help you get a gift for each member of the family.”
We all agreed. We didn’t have toys and books and jewelry such as we have today, but we all found something to contribute. I don’t remember what each one gave, but Rob divided up his choice colored pencils and sent half of them. Mother found underwear for each one. There were a few toys and books. I put my only store-bought doll in the pack. It had a choice china head with shiny black hair. I loved it and no other doll that I ever owned afterwards quite took its place. It went to Minnie. I also sent a pin with a picture on it to Lana. Another doll was found for that younger girl.
When the bundle was all tied it contained something for each child plus assorted cookies and candy. It was a really big, interesting bundle. Father took it down to the road when he saw Brother Miller coming. We all watched from the window and could see that he was very pleased. When he put the big pack on his back and started up the hill he really looked like Santa Claus. Father said Brother Miller had only been able to buy a little bag of nuts for his children so he was very happy with the contributions from our family.
Years later Minnie told me how much she loved that doll. She said she still had its china head and that she would give it to me, but somehow she forgot.
UNCLE WILLIAM LINDSAY
My earliest memories are about Uncle William and his family. He taught me which hand to extend in shaking hands. Even now when I need to know my right hand I have to look at it and go through the mental experience of stopping in my dish washing to face Uncle William to shake hands with him. He was about the only person ever to give me a nick-name. He called me “Wizzie.” We all loved him. He was short, of medium complexion and wore a dark beard. He was kind, gentle, and thoughtful.
Aunt Mary’s house was full of interesting things. She had fancy valances of netted lace around her window drapes. She had a proper parlor, that was sacred for special events like weddings, funerals, and visiting dignitaries. She had a number of choice china figurines there that I still remember.
One time some church people from Heber came to their house to hold a cottage meeting. They brought planks in and put quilts on them and made seats all around the dining room. Willie McMillin was there. I don’t remember anything that was said or done, but the spirit present was uplifting and did something lovely for me. They sang Do What is Right, and whenever I hear that song I seem to be back in that home of childhood memories and again I have the comfort of the spirit.
Uncle William’s son Dan, was about the age of Jane Ann. He was a good looking blond lad. They were great pals. One day while Dan was attending school in Heber, a bigger boy knocked him down and kicked him in the stomach. Dan was never well after that. He just grew weaker and weaker and died within a short time. This cast gloom over our family group. Jane Ann was ill the rheumatism or something of the sort at the time of Dan’s death. I remember father taking her in the sleigh to the top of the footpath from the main road to Uncle William’s house. Then father carried her down to the house to see Dan. This was quite a distance. Dan was in his coffin in the parlor. I saw the china figurines that day too.
Sometimes when we were playing at Aunt Mary’s at meal time she would get a pan of cold milk-cream from the scullery and give us a loaf of lovely homemade bread and we would all sit around a long clean board bench on the red flag stone walk which was beautifully designed with clay from the clay-hole hill. We would crumb the bread in the milk and have a feast fit for boys and girls with good appetites.
Five years later when I was returning from the funeral of my brother Rob at Midvale, with W.J. Bind and Hazel, we saw tongues of flame licking up the sides of this old house that had been vacant for some time. Right before our eyes, this House of Sacred Memories became a heap of red hot charcoal. Something within me died as I saw the rafters and walls fall down.
compiled by Elizabeth Lindsay
My Story by Elizabeth Foster Lindsay
Contributor: Hilljr Created: 11 months ago Updated: 11 months ago
ELIZABETH FOSTER LINDSAY 1881-1958
I, Elizabeth Foster Lindsay, was born in Heber City, on February 19, 1881 at Lindsay’s Dell, Lake Creek, Wasatch County, Utah. I was born at home in a two room pioneer house. One room was of logs and the other was lumber set upright. My grandmother, Christina Howie Lindsay Muir was the midwife.
My father was Robert Lindsay, oldest son of William Lindsay and Christina Howie. Robert was born at Gatehead, Ayrshire Scotland on April 19, 1845. His father was born in Wanlockhead, Dumfries, Scotland, May 15, 1820. His mother, Christina Howie was born in Craighall, Ayrshire, Scotland, July 3, 1823. Robert was a sickly child and was once run over by a heavy coal wagon which almost cost him his life and gave him much suffering. His chest was injured. On October 17, 1861, his father William, oldest son of Robert McQueen Lindsay was killed in a coal mine where he and three of his young boys were working. A huge piece of coal fell on him and he was crushed to death. The family had been planning to come to Zion and thought this accident would stop their trip. In 1862 the family came across the plains with Homer Duncan’s company and were assigned to a wagon driven by John Turner of Heber, so they came right to Heber where they remained and built their homes. Years later Robert was killed by a falling hay derrick on July 19, 1911, on his farm in Lake Creek.
My mother, Sarah Ann Murdock, was born March 2, 1853 at Church Pastures in what is now Davis County, Utah, close to the place where the Cudahay Packing Plant is located. She was the daughter of Joseph Stacy Murdock and Eliza Clark. Joseph was born in Hamilton, Madison County, New York on June 26, 1822. Eliza Clark was born at Herefordshire, England on May 17, 1830. She was married to Joseph in polygamy on June 2, 1852 in Utah.
The LDS Church owned cattle that were taken in for tithing. Joseph knew how to take care of cattle and sheep, so Brigham Young sent he and his two wives, Elizabeth Hunter and Eliza Clark to Church Pastures to look after the livestock of the church. They made butter and cheese and did all other necessary work at that place for some time. The cheese, butter, and meat products were used to help the needy of the church.
I was blessed in the Heber East Ward, and later baptized by Henry McMullin in Spring Creek, which is located near the Provo River between Heber and Midway. Baptism day was a big day in our lives. For months father had been checking me on the precepts of the LDS Church...dates and facts. I was happy to think of becoming a Church member. All families would take their children to the spacious pastures surrounding Spring Creek. Mothers would hand up blankets and quilts around willow bushes to serve as dressing rooms for the children who were to be baptized. As their turns came, they would be immersed in the clear, cool water as Christ was...by someone having the same authority as John the Baptist had. Then they would go behind the blankets with their mothers to be dried and dressed and would be confirmed members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. John J. Cummings confirmed me as a member of the Church.
As stated before, father and Uncle Will had taken up a claim together. They built their houses rather close together on the lower part of the section. Later on they decided it would be better to have one house on the upper part of the land to the east. The decision had to made as to which brother would make the move. Father was the older and ordinarily would have had first choice, they they decided to draw cuts. They did this and father got the cut to make the move. That change was made some time after my birth. When father made the move, he built a two room log house facing the west. It stood just in from of the west porch of the large weather boarded log house now standing at Lindsay’s Dell. The place is now called Bond Ranch.
The large log house which father had built just back of this two room log house was not entirely finished when Eliza and Jode were married, but they held their wedding reception in it. The couple stood on the doorstep facing the north. They were married by Thomas S. Watson. Two hundred guests stood or sat on the hill in front of the house. Eliza was dressed in a corded tan silk dress with orange blossoms. She was a beautiful bride. Long tables were made and put in what is now the dining room. Tables extended north and south...I think there were three of them. Most of the food for the wedding had been cooked in the old house by Maggie Stevenson. It seemed that we tip-toed around for a week for fear a baking cake would fall.
There were some things in my early childhood I do not remember, but mother said I had gone with the family to Heber and back , traveling by ox team. I do not remember any oxen on the farm. I remember our horses, Norman, Charley, and Dick, our skinny buggy horse who almost died in the harness. Dolly was my shiny buggy horse and Mazie, my riding pony. George had a wild riding horse named Lightning.
Uncle Will’s family and ours lived about half a mile apart after father built his new house at Lindsay’s Dell. There was a little hill between the two homes. If one family or the other needed help, a child would run to the top of the hill and give a whoop as a signal and in no time there was an answer. When mother and Aunt Mary visited, each with their knitting, the hostess would escort the other lady to the top of the hill. If they happened the reach the top in the middle of a choice story, they would turn and walk back down, and then to the top again hoping that the story and the hilltop would come at the same time. If it didn’t they would walk back down and try it again. As I grew older I’ve had many a laugh about their walks back and forth to the top of little hill, trying to finish their stories at the right place.
In our home we always had meals on time and served in an orderly way...no kitchen snacks allowed. Afterward we would dash to a movie or something of the sort. We always had the blessing on the food, and morning and evening family prayers around the table before we started our meal. Our chairs would be turned around and we would kneel in a circle around the table. Father would pray or would call on anyone of us as he felt impressed. Sometimes I felt that he called on me when I had been extra naughty. That would really make me feel humble. Family prayer had an influence on me that still remains. When you have little differences in a family and then bow in humble prayer with the group all bitterness is driven away and a strengthening influence comes into your life that sustains you and holds you long after the prayer circle is finished. Its influence is long lasting.
With our unusually large family my father was a hard worker and a good provider. My mother was a good manager, a good cook, and a good housekeeper. She could sew for the boys better than for girls. Though we had little ready money, we had produce and ate and lived well. We had delicious milk, butter, cream, bread and vegetables that made abundance at our table. Father said that mother made the best butter in the whole valley, so he would never sell her homemade butter for any less than 25 cents per pound. People clamored for her butter and I still have her butter bowl, print, and paddle. Father made a rock milk cellar by the spring to care for the milk and cream. How we loved to take a loaf of homemade bread and go to the cellar. We’d get a pan of rich, cold milk with cream and eat bread and milk...great big bowls of it!
If we needed shoes or anything else, father would sack up some wheat, take it to Mark Jeffs and exchange it for what we desired. Father would have allowed us to run in debt for things, but mother would say no! In case of sickness, if we have to run in debt, we’d do so, but at no other time. “We’ll manage somehow,” was the saying around our house. Father fell in line with this policy and at the time of his death he owed for a mowing machine, but he had enough money in his pocket to pay that bill. He also had wheat enough in the bins for two years. He was not in debt and we were glad of that.
When the weather was favorable we all went to Sunday School. Much of the time we walked the three miles to Heber. On Thursdays we attended Fast Meeting. After the Wasatch Stake House was built I went to Primary, which was held during the week in the back room. My first teacher was Sister Lee..a little round faced woman with snow white hair and a sweet tender manner. She taught us many songs. My favorite was I’m Not Too Young for God to See. My next teacher was Fidelia Jacobs who was tall, rather stout, and a lady of great ability.
The first Sunday School I can remember was held in the Church on the west side of Main Street near Jeff’s store. They taught us the ABC’s from large cards. Of course they told us Bible stories. Patriarch John Duke gave me my Patriarchal blessing when I was just a young girl. I always treasured it and tried to live up to its suggestions.
As I grew up I was rather scrawny, but my health was good. I had a bad case of measles and suffered some with my eyes afterwards, but all in all I’ve had wonderful health. I haven’t been much of a heavyweight when it comes to hard labor, but I can keep going as long as most others. I did too much dreaming as I sat on the doorstep of our first home at Lindsay’s Dell. As I waited for the folks to come home from Heber, I’d watch the sunset and the lingering light along the trees and shrubs on the Daniel’s Mountains. They looked like soldiers on their march. I wondered where they were going. The bellowing of cows, the swoop of the night hawk, the last call of the Mourning Dove, the hoot of the owl, all cast a spell over me that I still remember.
On the farm, all of us took part in the regular farm work. We milked cows, fed pigs and chickens, helped in the hay fields, shocked grain, gleaned wheat, planted and picked up potatoes, picked wild berries for jelly, picked currants and gooseberries from our own garden, pulled weeds, sprouted potatoes in the spring, built fences, and herded cows. In our leisure hours father would take us to the Midway Hot Pots for a swim, or up to Center Creek Canyon for fossils in the clay ledges. We loved the picnics when we were gathering choke cherries. Another activity which brought a bit of pleasure was pulling ;up sage brush as we cleared new land. Father and the boys would pull the brush and the younger children would gather into huge piles. When night came the families would join in burning the piles. There was much competition to see who would have the highest blaze. Often we would roast potatoes in the embers later.
In those days there was no such thing as an allowance. We all did our part and were glad to do it. We had our needs supplied as far as our parents were able to meet them.
After the cows were milked in the morning, someone had to drive them up toward the spring where they would feed on the surrounding hills for the day. I was always glad to be allowed to go along with Jane Ann or Eunice. We didn’t need to hurry back so we would play house under the sheltering hawthorns along the spring creek. This was a rich time for dreaming and fantasy. I loved it. When the haws were ripe we would have wedding feasts under the old trees. We had leaf tables, stick guests, flower decorations and luscious haws cut in various ways for different kinds of food. These would disappear into our hungry mouths if the the stick guests failed to appreciate them. We built farms and houses and fairy castles. What good times we had! I wonder now if mother worried about us.
When mother would come with us to weed the garden or sprout potatoes, it was not work...it was fun. She had nimble fingers and was full of stories and songs. She would tell us of her childhood days and we never tired of hearing her tell of grandma and grandpa Murdock and their Indian experiences. She even remembered seeing a bear on their trip to Carson City, Nevada when she was just a little girl. None of us slipped away from the job is mother was with us. We enjoyed her too much.
Before Easter time we picked up the habit of hiding Easter eggs. Each one of us would hurry at night to find some eggs to put away in a secret place to be brought in on Easter morning. If one of us found the hiding place of another, he hight take all those eggs and add to his own collection. Mother sometimes had trouble getting enough eggs for cooking purposes during this hiding period. Rob and Jane Ann were generally the leaders in this contest. They would have dozens of eggs and no one could ever find their cache.
Mother always tried to teach us not to be afraid. Her example helped us most. She would say, “If you hear and strange sound...find out what made it. Ten to one it will be nothing to be alarmed about.” One evening when we were living in the big new house and had the kitchen in the front room, mother was ill. I was mixing bread on the table by the big window. Everything was very quiet. The blind was not drawn. Suddenly a very loud rap came on the window that was just in front of me. I was terrified. I ran into mother and almost jumped in her bed. She told me to go right outside and find out what had hit the window. I went to the door and poked my nose out and then went back to mother and said I couldn’t see anything. She said firmly, “You go outside and walk all around the house and look in every corner.” I did as I was told and this time I found my brother, Roland, just around the corner laughing till he was weak. He had seen me through the window and had crept up to give me a scare after he had put his pony out to pasture. I felt like hammering him with the rolling pin.
Mother had a large wooden box with a curtain around it, in which she kept her treasures. There was no lock on the box, but not one of us children would ever think of lifting the lid unless mother was there. Often on rainy days we would all gather around the box and mother would open it and show us different keepsakes and tell us their story. There was a paisley shawl that belonged to Grandpa Murdock’s sister, Betsy Green; another shawl and lace cap that had been worn by grandpa’s mother, Sally Stacy; an ABC book of long ago; a tiny blue toy wagon that my little brother Willie had played with as he tagged along after father, and who’s death nearly broke father’s heart. I still have the cap, shawl, book and wagon. There were sad reminders in the four little tiny rolls of cloth that were used in the burial clothing of Willie (William), Archie (Archibald), Niffy (Nymphs) and Sadie (Sarah), the four infants mother and father lost. In those days the sewing was done for the dead in the home. As mother unrolled these sacred bundles, each about two inches long, she would hold up each piece, saying, “Now this lace was on Sadie’s petticoat, etc.” She would do it all so tenderly, but with no weeping. As I grew older I appreciated that she did it in just that way, because we all knew those babies were safe in heaven now.
Parents and doctors know much more about caring for children these days and so in fact mortality is much lower. My parents lost four of their sixteen children in their youthful years. I heard about Willie and his devotion for father. He and his little blue wagon would tag along with father whenever he could. She told us how father gave up playing his violin after Willie’s death. He seldom touched it after that.
When she opened Niffy’s roll she would tell us that she was at peace to think of him free from pain...he had suffered so long. Once I heard mother make a complaint about father having us go on sorting the wild oats from the wheat the evening after Niffy’s funeral. We would pour a bucket full of wheat on the kitchen table and pick out the oats. I don’t think father did it for lack of tenderness about the baby...but to lose himself and cover up his feelings in work. I read his diary about his feelings about the children after one of the babies had died and I’m sure I am right.
When new babies were due to arrive in our family we were not notified as children are today. Some things were kept as sacred and had a surprise element in them. Mother or Eliza would do secret sewing that would be hidden from prying eyes. One October morning father told us all to get ready to go to the potato field Lake Creek. Eliza had our lunches packed and we all piled into the wagon and away we went. Father hurriedly plowed a few rows of potatoes, left the sacks and buckets for us and told us to wait till he came. Then he went away in a big rush. Rob directed us. He built a fire to roast potatoes to go with our lunch later on. Then we gathered the rows of potatoes which had been plowed up and put them into the sacks. It didn’t take us very long to do our work as there were many hands. We played games until Rob said the potatoes were baked and we enjoyed a wonderful feast. What is better than homemade butter on piping hot roasted potatoes, especially when you have youthful hunger as a sauce? A few ashes just adds to the taste. We rested and waded in the warm pools of water along Lake Creek, and as the evening shadows began to fall father returned. He helped pile us and the potatoes into the wagon and we went home. We were ushered into mother’s bedroom. Mother was in bed and beside her was a little bundle in a soft blanket. A little fat, pink-faced baby girl, so plump that her eyes could not open...what a lovely surprise! How we loved her! And how we loved mother for this lovely gift to our family. This was Loranda Mabel Lindsay. Every new baby was welcome and came as a happy surprise as far as we were concerned.
We children loved to play in the snow. We liked to lie down to make our images in the soft snow in late afternoons. Once Jane Ann, Eunice and I were playing thus in the orchard and mother warned us to stop or we would be wet and get sick. We went right on playing just the same. Mother called again and promised a tanning if we didn’t stop. We didn’t stoop so before we went into the house Jane Ann, who always thought of weird things to do, took Eunice and me to the fields and stuffed the back of our clothes with straw. She then put a board up her back and we went to the house. Mother had her tanning stick ready and gave Jane Ann, always the ring leader, a whack on the back. When she heard the thud on the board she had to laugh. And that ended our tanning. When she saw how our little legs were scratched by the rough straw she thought Eunice and I had punished ourselves enough.
Once we were playing prisoner with my brother George. Jane Ann, Eunice and I were the enemies who had captured George and were forcing him to drag heavy log chains up the hill toward the granary. We had put these chains around his neck and they were dragging down behind. We were goading him and forcing him to drag the chains up hill. We thought he was doing a good job of staggering when one of us noticed that his face was turning black. He was actually choking to death. Were we scared! No more prisoners for us!
Another time we were playing funeral. I was the corpse. I was laid out in a deep wooden box that was too short for me. I had all mothers starched doilies and crocheted tidies over me to make me look death-like. Whether it was the cramped position, the emotional strain of being dead so long or the lack of air I don’t know, but I fainted. Then there was real emotion. The next thing I knew all my burial finery was soaked with water and the children were really crying and shaking me into life again.
In my day people all went to funerals and took their children. The mourners all dressed in black and put on a good show. Self control was considered a sign of lack of love the the departed. People sat up all night with the corpse, which was ghastly after the facial saturation of saltpetre for two or three days. People were not put in outer vaults, just a wooden box outside the coffin. Then at the grave everyone waited to hear the rocks and sod drop down on the wooden boards, and the children watched to see how their elders would react to those deadening sounds. No wonder children dramatized such scenes, and were afraid of death and the dark.
The children of our two families played together much of the time, especially when our parents were away. The highway went right by Lindsay’s Dell and when the spring water ran across the road, most sheep men, lumber men, or Indians would stop to refresh themselves in the shade of the trees and get a drink of cool sparkling spring water. Eliza and Mamie, the oldest child in each family, were very much afraid of Indians, so after our parents would leave the two leaders would take us into the cedars on Lindsay Hill or into the shady willow groves in our pasture to play until the parents came back home. One time Mamie’s mother left her to bake the bread, so we were by ourselves with Eliza. We were all playing quietly and heard a loud rap at the door. We opened it cautiously, and there stood a woman with white paste-like face and drooping eyes and mouth. I was terrified and screamed and clung to Eliza, and so did the other children. Eliza hastened to pull the ghastly face from the woman and there stood Mamie nearly suffocating with her dough mask and laughter. We learned later that Eliza and Mamie had planned the whole thing.
Eliza was always afraid, but no Indians, tramps nor land jumpers ever injured us in any way. Many Indians came begging for bread and many camped in our fields. We children were more curious than afraid, all except for Eliza. Often at night the Indians, returning to the Unitah Reservation from Heber would go by our place screaming and yelling in a scary way. They would be drunk and at that time they were really dangerous. Once in a while we would hear shots from a pistol as they rode by on their galloping horses. We heard many Indian stories that frightened us. I remember Uncle Andrew and his pal were herding their cows. The two boys were hiding in a ditch near by and they watched as the Indians tied one of their own to a tree and shot him to death. Such stories which happened earlier in Heber history kept alertness and a certain amount of fear alive in us.
Father used to quarry red sandstone from the rock quarry two miles east of Heber. The Buffalo Trails were part of this quarry. Once time I had to go alone to take his dinner to him. That was a long way for a little girl to go...along the dusty road, through the sagebrush to the pit where father was working. Just as I reached the depression and looked down, father hit his finger with the heavy sledge hammer and took the nail off. The blood poured out, but father just shook his hand vigorously and went right on working. He didn’t even say a swear word.
Sunday did not creep upon us unawares in those days. We planned and worked and looked forward to it. Saturday, chips were gathered and scrub oak was brought in and piled neatly in the wood box behind the kitchen stove. The wash boiler was filled with water from the well or the spring creek that ran some distance from the house and down the hill south of the house. The wooden tub was placed beside the stove. Quilts were thrown over the kitchen chairs to form a nice warm private bathroom. Before the bath, each person old enough to be responsible had already polished his pair of shoes until they were shining like a tin mirror. The polish was soot from the bottom of the stove lid and moistened with mild and a bit of sugar. The stockings, all properly mended, were put in the shoes. They were then placed along the wall with heels back, waiting to step out for Sunday. Petticoats, dresses and pants were hanging on a peg over each pair of shoes. We did not mend, hunt, bathe or polish on the Sabbath.
Then came the cleansing rites...youngest first with mother or sister to help. The only consolation for those who had to bathe in thrice used water was saying, “First the worst, second the same, last the best of all the game.” Mother was very careful in putting water in the tub. She always poured cold water in first to avoid accidents. She was the one to decide when the tub had to be emptied and a fresh start made. It was a joyous feeling to be able to start with clean water. Bathing by a hot iron stove in a tub of soapy water is no place to make a fuss. No matter if you like the regulations or not, you just can’t fume about it. If you make a fuss or gesticulate or move some part of your body, a hot stove and bare skin have only to come together once to teach their lesson. One skid in a tub of soap suds brings you on humble knees before the voice of authority. You meekly accept decrees of those in charge of this cleansing process...The Weekly Bath.
Father’s violin in a tan figured cotton sack was a choice belonging of early days. It had belonged to his father and when the family left Scotland, grandma Christina would not leave it behind. As then were crossing the plains, she was told that there was no place for the violin, but she said, “I’m taking it even if I have to carry it in my arms all the way!” Father used to play it for us once in a while, but mother said that for a long time after my brother Willie’s death he would not touch the violin which Willie had loved so much. This violin was later given to George, then to Esther who passed it on to her son Theo Anderson’s daughter, Jean. (In 2015 Jean still plays in a senior’s string group).
Father hired a Swedish fellows to build the family a new house at Lindsay’s Dell. The builders slept in the log granery which still stands of rock stilts on the hill. The log house is well built. Wooden pegs fasten all the logs together. Weather boarding over the logs add strength and warmth. The house was roomy and comfortable, but the water was not installed until quite some time after father’s death he had always hoped to get the water piped from the spring so that we could have a bathroom installed. He told us about such things before we had even seen them. The farm house in 1955 has three upstairs bedrooms with clothes closets, one bedroom downstairs, a large living room, dining room, kitchen and a bathroom. Father would have been delighted with the new improvements. He had also planned for a furnace for heating.
While the Swedish men were working on our new house, we children were peeping into their sleeping quarters in the top of the granary and we saw some smoking tobacco there. I have never been able to understand what gave Jane Ann the idea, but she took a narrow piece of a fresh new shingle and cut notches in it all the way down. They she filled these notches with this smoking tobacco. She had been to the dentist before, but none of us had had that enlightening experience. She said she would be the dentist. She had me sit down on a box for the dentist's chair and put my head back and open my mouth. I did as I was told. She put the tobacco-laden shingle strip in my mouth and blew the contents into my throat. Of course I began to choke nearly to death. I swallowed enough of the stuff to make me sick to my stomach too. If ever you saw a frightened girl, it was Jane Ann. I was so white that she sent Eunice to the house for mother’s sunbonnet. She put that on me and led me around all day with pulled down over my face. She wouldn’t even let me take it off when the sun went down. I remember we were in the corral at milking time and the boys asked what was wrong, still she would not let me take the bonnet off nor tell anyone what had happened. Mother used to blow goldenseal down our throats when we had sore throats. Whether that is where she got the idea, I will never know, but I was one sick girl for some time...I do know that!
My mother’s youngest sister, Esther Murdock, had a marked influence on my life. She was my ideal of kindness and genuine goodness. She took good care of grandmother, Eliza Murdock, and of grandfather, Joseph Stacy Murdock. She would go to the store with us children to help us buy our shoes when mother couldn’t go. She would look after us when the weather was bad and we needed to stay in town over night so we could be at school in the morning. She helped mother sew and do many other things. Once she made me a dress...the prettiest one I ever had. It was brown brilliantine, left over from one of grandma’s dresses. It was trimmed with gold-colored plush. My, how I loved that dress!
During watering season it was grandfather’s custom to ride to hay fields on an old mare. His legs were then and the air would whip up his pant legs so he would tie a string around each leg. He seldom had strings of the same color. One morning he had a white string on one leg and a red one on the other. Aunt Esther had to snip these off before he could put on his Sunday pants. I could not understand why grandfather hd so many different colored strings on his legs. After years I remembered that grandma had her carpet rag balls on a chest by her bedroom door. Now I know that grandpa would just reach in and break off a string as he needed one. It didn’t matter to grandpa what color it was.
Aunt Esther didn’t marry as early as some girls did at this time. I liked her for that. She finally married George G. Lindsay of Park City. He was my father’s cousin. Their first child was a girl whom she named Eliza after her mother. The summer she was expecting another baby, I went to Park City (Empire Canyon to stay with her awhile and keep her company, and to care for little Eliza. Aunt Esther felt miserable and I got the feeling that she was not too happy. I decided that if a grand woman like Aunt Esther didn't deserve the greatest happiness in life, then why bother getting married. She told me that if something happened to her, she did not want George’s mother to take little Eliza.
During my stay in Park City I liked to visit Aunt Mary Murdock who had married George Murry, a miner. They lived in Ontario Canyon. Their house was always clean and cool. I used to comb her long auburn hair till she would fall asleep. She was not even allowed to wash a dish while her husband was on night shift for fear of waking him. She had to tip-toe around and talk in whispers all the time. I didn’t like that either. I wanted to shout to see what would happen. Later on Aunt Mary had several children. I don’t know what she did when they cried.
When Aunt Esther’s baby was born they both died and were buried in the same casket...her little boy cuddled in her arms. Aunt Esther was buried in the Heber City Cemetery. For years her grave was unmarked. Then I painted over a red sandstone marker that father had made. It was still standing in 1955 marking the resting place of this wonderful woman and her little son.
Elizabeth F. Lindsay never married but she left us a remarkable legacy of history, literature and poetry. She died in the family home in Provo, Utah on January 6, 1958, and is buried in the Heber City Cemetery.