Life Sketch of Samuel & Martha
Contributor: Lorraine Gee Created: 2 years ago Updated: 2 years ago
Samuel Allen Wilcox
1819 New York - 1898 Utah Territory
Martha Bolton Parker
1820 Canada - 1912 Idaho
Samuel Allen Wilcox was born March 22, 1819, in Norfolk, New York, the eldest son of Silas Wilcox and Martha Belinda Allen. In his youth, his parents moved to Mountain, Dundas, Canada, where Martha was born. Samuel was religiously inclined.
Martha was born January 23, 1820, in Mountain, Canada. She had two fathers: Richard Bolton, her biological father; and Joseph Parker, her stepfather who raised her. She dearly loved both of them. Her mother was Lucy Boyd.
Martha’s father, Joseph Parker, owned a maple grove. As a young girl, she helped make maple syrup from the sap of maple trees. The family boiled the maple sap down in huge kettles until it was the consistency of syrup. Then the children dipped some out and sprinkled it around on the snow. It immediately formed into delicious candy. Martha often went out by the maple grove at night and howled like a wolf, and the wolves would answer from all directions.
Martha was a high-spirited and intelligent girl full of life and girlish pranks. But along with her fun loving nature, she had a deeply religious side.
Her parents, Joseph and Lucy Parker, taught her to believe in God and Jesus Christ. The family lived the best they knew how. Martha often asked religious denominations the question, “Where are the prophets, and will there be any more prophets?” The answer was invariably, “No, prophets are not needed in this enlightened age of the world.” Martha often wept as a child to think that she could never see a Prophet of God.
Marriage and a new faith…
In 1837 two elders came to Mountain proclaiming that the Lord had again visited the earth and had chosen the young man, Joseph Smith, to be His prophet. Both Samuel’s parents, Silas and Margaret Wilcox, and Martha’s parents, Joseph and Lucy Parker, were ready to listen. Samuel and Martha married January 17, 1838. Martha was soon to be eighteen and Samuel nineteen. Then on September 14, 1839, Samuel and Martha were baptized. Their parents also joined the Church soon after.
As soon as Samuel and Martha were baptized, they longed to see the Prophet and be with him and his people. On August 15, 1840, they bade farewell to their home and friends and started their pilgrimage of 1500 miles by team. Their small company of travelers included Samuel and Martha Wilcox and their baby daughter, Malinda Wilcox; Martha’s parents, Joseph and Lucy Parker; Martha’s sister, Asenath Parker; Samuel’s parents, Silas and Margaret Wilcox; Samuel’s sister Phebe, and brothers, David and Silas; and Martha’s cousins, John and Lydia Dingman.
Nauvoo the beautiful…
After almost two months, they arrived in Commerce, later called Nauvoo, on Friday, October 9, 1840. There had just been a conference that caused great rejoicing. The Prophet Joseph Smith had revealed the law of baptism for the dead. The next Sunday they saw the Prophet and heard his voice. He said there had to be a temple built with a baptismal font to do this work. Martha could not describe the feelings that thrilled her soul when she heard his voice and knew that she was sitting in the presence of a Prophet of God!
Samuel and Martha witnessed many early Church history events. Martha was a member of the first female Relief Society held in the upper room of the house of the Prophet Joseph Smith. She heard the Prophet preach the King Follett funeral sermon. Samuel took his turn serving in the Nauvoo Legion and worked on the Nauvoo Temple. They were in Nauvoo on June 27, 1844, when the Prophet Joseph Smith and Patriarch Hyrum Smith were slain and saw them in their gore.
On August 8, 1844, Martha heard Brigham Young preach to the Saints and saw him transfigured before them. Martha saw it with her own eyes and sprang to her feet, for she thought it was Joseph. She saw the mantle of the Lord fall on Brigham Young.
An ungodly mob threatened to annihilate the whole church and offered peace if the Saints would say that Joseph Smith was a false Prophet and deny the Book of Mormon. This the Saints would not do, so they were driven from their homes, their beautiful city, and their temple in the cold winter of February 1846. Many were laid down by the wayside, worn out with hardships and privations.
Farewell to Nauvoo…
Samuel and Martha lived in and near Nauvoo until they were driven out by a mob in April 1846. They left everything in the house except their clothing and bedding. Samuel took his family, his good span of horses, his wagon, and milk cow, and crossed the Mississippi River and traveled to Bonaparte, Van Buren, Iowa.
Samuel had neither tent nor wagon cover to shield his family from the cold winter blast. What to do he did not know. He built a structure to protect his family of mud, willows and timber. He made a fireplace and chimney out of thick heavy sod, and a roof of willows and dirt. Martha was quite sick, had four little children to care for, and gave birth to a son, Adam Wilcox, in this mud house. In spite of her circumstances, she found this home to be most comfortable.
With his family settled, Samuel went to find work. He worked for a week doing some hauling. When the man who hired him found he was a Mormon, he told him, “I will not pay a G.D. Mormon one cent.” Samuel returned to his family without a mouthful of food.
In a few days, another man wanted some hauling done. Samuel told this stranger that his circumstances for food were very poor. The stranger gave Samuel flour and groceries to help him along.
When Samuel finished the hauling, the man told him he could have whatever pay was right as he had not kept track. Samuel went home and discovered he had one hundred dollars over his wages. He took it back to the man and said, “You have paid me over my wages.” The man laughed and said, “Mr. Wilcox, you are the most honest man I ever saw. There is not one in a thousand that would have done that.”
Samuel and Martha caught up with the Saints near Winter Quarters but could not go on. They spent the next fifteen years helping to settle Iowa.
In Hamburg, Fremont County, they prospered eventually owning 320 acres. They raised corn, grains, and livestock. The family had their own smoke cellar and cured their own meat which Samuel freighted to the nearest cities. Martha sheared sheep, then washed, spun, and wove the wool into flannel.
Everything went well for the Wilcox family until South Carolina seceded from the Union on December 20, 1860. When Samuel heard the news, he said to Martha, “Well Mother, we must get out of here, for South Carolina has seceded just as Joseph said it would.” Samuel was offered a deed to a quarter section of land if he would give up going to Utah. Samuel said, “All the money in Fremont County will not hinder me from going!” They sold their lovely farm getting what cash they could and taking cattle for the remainder. The Civil War began April 12, 1861. Samuel’s brother, Silas A., fought in this war.
In May 1861 they started west. Samuel and Martha each drove a team and wagon and their sons drove the cattle.
They stopped to befriend a couple that was expecting a baby and needed help. Martha said, “Sam, our teams and cattle are tired. Why can’t we stop here and turn them out on this good grass and let them rest and fatten up. Then when these folks are ready to go on, we can hurry up and overtake the company.” Samuel’s heart was as big and warm as that of his wife, so they stayed.
The family arrived in Salt Lake Valley on October 7, 1861 and eventually settled in Cedar Fort, Utah, east of American Fork—where they remained.
Samuel was a man of enterprise. Besides farming and raising stock, he built a saw mill that he operated for many years.
The family owned its own loom and spinning wheel. Martha made suits for the men and dresses for the girls.
Martha established a little school in her home for Indian children. She taught them to read and write. How they loved her dearly. A little Indian boy came to her home and told her, “The Indians are going to attack in the morning. Don’t tell anyone I told you.” Martha warned the settlers, and they all got into the fort. When the Indians came and found them all in the fort, they left. Martha never told who the little boy was, not even her husband.
Samuel left for a mission to East Canada on October 30, 1871. His journey took him to Fremont County, Iowa, where he saw his old place and farm. In his heart he said, “What is that all worth; in my eyes nothing at all. I would not give one principle of the Gospel for the whole of this fine farm.” Illness kept Samuel from a full term mission. He was too ill to go into Canada. He returned home March 19, 1872, three days before his fifty-third birthday.
A second family…
Shortly after his return—at Martha’s suggestion and full cooperation—Samuel became a polygamist. He married Anna Petersen on October 21, 1872. Martha and Anna got along very well. Samuel loved his wives and divided his time between them. Martha continued living in her own home, and Samuel provided a separate house for Anna. Both bore him many children, Martha eleven and Anna nine.
Tribute to Samuel…
Samuel was a man of quiet disposition, never meddling in other people’s affairs. But he was also jovial as well as kind and very generous to those in need. He was so pleasant and very gracious. His twinkling eyes were surrounded with smile wrinkles. He was a staunch and true Latter-day Saint and never let an opportunity go by without bearing his testimony to the truthfulness of the Gospel. He was a good provider and worked very hard.
Tribute to Martha…
Martha was a woman rich in faith and had an unshakable faith in the Church and its Prophets. She bore a frequent and powerful testimony to the truthfulness of the Gospel and urged righteous living. She gave comfort to those in need. She gave of her substance to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. She had a strict disposition and kept her home immaculately clean. She studied the scriptures all her life and was called, “The Walking Bible.”
Insert in life sketch...
Martha . . . was always preaching the Gospel and loved the Lamanites. One old woman that was going to be killed came to her to hide. Martha put her in her beautiful white feather bed, and the Indians searched in vain. She later went to another tribe, and there she was saved. Many Indians came to visit Martha, and she fed them. One Indian baby funeral was held on her porch.
—Malinda C. P. Lisonbee (Granddaughter)
1850 Census, Fremont County, Iowa, Family History Library, SLC, Film 0007793, p. 143.
1860 Census, Fremont County, Iowa, Family History Library, SLC, Film 0803321, p. 941.
Hacking, LaVerne Liljenquist, Born of a Noble Heritage, 1990.
Hancock, Lora Lisonbee, A Short History of Asenath Viola Wilcox Passey, Born of Goodly Parents.
“Historical Sketch of the Wilcox Family in America,” Samuel Allen Wilcox Family Bulletin, No. 1.
“History of Samuel Allen Wilcox, Martha Parker and Annie Petersen,” Samuel Allen Wilcox Family Bulletin, No. 10.
Nauvoo Baptisms for the dead, Family History Library, SLC, film 0183375.
Nauvoo Membership Records 1839-1846, Family History Library, SLC, films 889392 and 581219.
Smith, Joseph Fielding, Essentials in Church History, Thirteenth Edition, Deseret Book Company, 1953.
“Martha Bolton Wilcox Letter,” January 1881, Samuel Allen Wilcox Family Bulletin, No. 1.
Life sketch taken from...
Perry & Lora Their Roots & Branches Volume 2 by Dixie H. Krauss
The author based her conclusions on research and interesting tales passed down in the family. She made a dedicated effort to present accurate information but recommends independent verification before accepting the material as fact or using the data for genealogical purposes.
Our Life Together - Henry and Martha Hacking
Contributor: Lorraine Gee Created: 2 years ago Updated: 2 years ago
OUR LIFE TOGETHER
Henry Franklin Hacking
Martha Elnora Wilcox Hacking
Henry and I were very happy. Our first home was in Cedar Fort. It was a small adobe house near where the schoolhouse now stands. It had three rooms and has since been pulled down. It was a humble beginning but some of the very happiest days of my life were spent in that little home. We gave a wedding dance in Cedar Fort. Henry’s cousin, James P. Clark, was married about the same time and we had our dance together. He married Annie Bernard from Brigham City and a strange coincidence was that though we had never seen each other, our wedding dresses had been made just alike. My real wedding dress that I wore to be married in was a thin cotton material, long sleeves, high neck and floor length, with a fine rose thread. It was made like Annie’s white silk. She and I remained very close all her life. She passed away about 1931.
Mother Hacking was president of the Primary at that time and she asked me to be her counselor. I was a teacher in Sunday School and in the Mutual. Later, my husband was chosen second counselor to the president of the Mutual. We had lots of fun going to the dances. Henry and his brother, Lorenzo, were in the orchestra. I had a good time but Henry said he didn’t have a good time watching me dancing with everyone. Fellows would ask me to go home with them, not knowing me and not knowing I was married. At Fairfield a fellow asked me for two or three dances and I hated to turn him down. At the close of the dance he asked to escort me home. I said, “No, I’m going home with my husband.” “Well, where is he? He hasn’t been dancing with you.” One night there was a masquerade ball in cedar Fort. I was dressed as a school girl and everyone could see my legs clear up to the calf. A fellow from Salt Lake also masked as a sailor. He took it for granted I was a girl and he danced with me when they had the grand march and unmasked. There was such a racket as we were marching I thought he asked me to dance the next polka and I said yes. In a little while he came to me and said, “I believe the biggest crowd is going to chamberlains. Shall we go down there?” (During the intermission they always went somewhere for supper which they paid for unless they went to some home for a private party on invitation, they’d go back to the dance and dance sometimes until daylight.) I said, “Oh, I couldn’t go to supper with you. My husband’s here and I’m going to supper with him. He was mad. “What did you say you would for then?”
At one masquerade two clowns wanted me to dance with them. One came up on one side and the other on the other side. When these clowns commenced pulling me around Henry laid down his bass viol and came hurrying toward us, when fortunately they both left. This was the last time I ever masked for a dance. I heard afterward that it was against the advice of the church to mask. Henry was so sweet. He treated me like I was a queen and always has.
The following 14th of October 1896, our little son, Frank, was born. He was a beautiful baby. He had big blue eyes and light curly hair. Father, Mother, Vern and May came to stay with me. Orris went on to Idaho to be with Uncle Dave. Father and Vern went to Logan to move Uncle Joe Wilcox to Cedar Fort. How we did all enjoy our baby. One of my friends, Mable Crafts, whom I had met in Cedar Fort, (she had lived in Deseret and went to school in Provo, but came there to see her relatives) wrote the following poem to my baby.
ONLY A BABY
Lines written to Mr. and Mrs. H. F. Hacking in honor of the first baby boy.
By Mable Crafts
Only a crown of golden curls Only a form so perfect it is
Which rest on a fair young head. To describe it is only in vain.
Only two mischievous, laughing eyes Who is this being so beautiful,
Like the violets blue, ‘tis said. So perfect and dear you say.
Only two lips like the red, red rose As pure as the heavenly angels are
For kissing they’re surely meant. As fair as the flowers in May?
Only a dimple on either cheek It’s only a baby, that is all
For snaring all hearts their intent. Only a tiny baby boy.
Only a voice so musical His mama’s darling, hope and care
It fills me with ecstasy His papa’s comfort, pride and joy.
Only a laugh so full of mirth Yet he is an absolute monarch and
It vanishes care away. He rules an empire small.
Only a wee little throbbing heart His will is his royal subject’s law.
That beats with affection for all They come at his every call.
Only two feet like pearly shells His empire embraces our little home.
And hands so dainty and small. He rules without scepter or darts.
Only a face so wondrously fair And the throne where he sits in regal
As to put fair Diana to shame Is resting within our hearts.
Later Mable married Thomas Hughey. When she was looking for her second child and I was looking for my fifth baby, they moved to Cedar Fort. We talked over plans together, sewed for our babies together. Mable’s baby came first. One morning my husband and I saw the doctor go by our place and we wondered who it was for. I said, “Maybe it’s Mable.” Henry went to his father’s and came back and he said, “It’s Mable all right.” I said, “How is she.” “I guess she’s all right now.” “Henry, what’s the matter?” Mable died.” She had gone very suddenly leaving her two weeks old baby. She had died from a blood clot. It was surely a shock to me.
When our baby Frank was a year old we went to visit my parents in Escalante, Utah. We drove our white top buggy. They were called Democrats. On our arrival, Mother saw us first and after affectionate greetings took the baby in the house to have Father guess whose baby it was. After looking him over he exclaimed, “It’s not Matt’s is it? I could hold back no longer and was soon in my father’s arms. Sister May, or Mamie, as we called her, loved to tend the baby and Vern loved to carry him around piggyback.
Our visit was short, as we had to be home for our harvest.
On the 7th of April 1898 my grandfather, Samuel Allen Wilcox Sr. passed away, as the result of a stroke. He was sick for about a week. I was there nearly all the time while he was sick and Henry stayed up with him nights. He had difficulty swallowing. They had to wet a cloth and let him suck on that. He couldn’t talk but he made Henry understand that he wanted a drink. He raised him up and let him drink out of a glass. He had patience and let him drink a drop at a time. He said Grandpa looked up at him and smiled when he let him back down on the pillow.
It was a sad loss for me when Grandfather died. I loved him very dearly. He was so pleasant. I had never seen him cross. I remember when I was a child, he used to take his young children and me for sleigh rides. He always had a smile and there were smile wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
Grandfather had been in the bishopric and was always honored with a seat on the stand. When we had taken our baby, Frank, to Sacrament Meeting to be named and given a blessing, the new bishop told Henry it was his place to name Frank, but Henry was afraid to try, so the bishop told Henry’s father that it was also his privilege, and he didn’t want to. I felt so bad. And then my grandfather Wilcox raised up from his seat on the stand and said, “I want the privilege of blessing this baby. He’s my son in the third generation.” After the meeting he went home with us for dinner and he said, “Martha, I knew you wanted me to bless your baby.”
On July 31, 1898, our second son, Donald, was born. He weighed 12 lbs. He was so much larger of his age than Frank that they soon looked like twin boys. The next time I went to Escalante was when Donald was ten months old. I was called there because of my mother’s illness. My friends said, “Well, Martha, I didn’t know you had twins.” I went without Henry this time on the train to Salina, by bus to Coyote and my brother, John, took me on to Escalante. When I got home Mother still couldn’t speak above a whisper but was better. It was a spell with her stomach. We have thought since that it must have been ulcers. I was down there about three weeks.
Clarence Marion, our third son, was born June 26, 1900. It was about this time that Grandmother (Martha) Wilcox moved from Cedar Fort. How I hated to have her go and how I missed her.
Our little Marion was a mischievous little fellow. He always had a twinkle in his eye. At a very young age he began to climb everything he could. When he was two years old he went to the field with his father. He climbed up the ladder in front of the hayrack. Henry always kept the ladder fastened but he had loaned it and it came back unfastened. As Marion climbed the ladder fell back with him cutting a gash in his forehead. It required nine stitches. This scar remained with him all his life, although it was high up and not very noticeable. When he was five years old he fell from a tree and broke his shoulder. Later on he fell from a tree onto a picket fence. One of the pickets ran into his leg, it then turned and went the other way, making a wound within a wound. He had a bad time with it and was laid up for several weeks.
About December 1, 1900, Henry, his father and Tom Smith were butchering pigs. They built a platform to pull the pigs out of the scalding barrel. As Henry went to pull the pig out he stepped back and the board broke. His butcher knife fell with the blade sticking up and he fell on the blade. It ran through his arm about six inches below the shoulder and severed the main artery. The blood rushed out. His father pressed the arm to stop the blood, and them made a tourniquet of a handkerchief. Henry would surely have bled to death if his father hadn’t been there. He lost a great deal of blood as it was. We had to send three miles to telephone for a doctor who came twelve miles by horse and buggy. When he got there he just loosened the tourniquet to let a little circulation through, tightened it again and sent him to Salt Lake. While they were going to Salt Lake, the train ran into a cow and was derailed. They had to get it back on the tracks. It took fifteen hours from the time he was hurt to get into St. Mark’s Hospital in Salt Lake. It was five days before they knew whether or not they could save his arm. After they had tied the artery, one doctor said he’d never have any pulse, one said he’d have a slow pulse and the other said he’d have a good pulse. That summer he couldn’t work so we went visiting. We stayed with my parents in Logan for a few days, then came on up to Sunnydell and visited with Uncle Dave and my brother, Orris. Uncle Dave said he never saw such climbers in his life as Matt’s kids. Uncle Dave’s first wife had died and he had married Martha Hansen. She went out to get some water out of the well that had a bucket on the end of a rope. Frank was climbing around on the inside of the well and on the curbing.
In 1901 Henry went out to Vernal, Utah and then to Green River, Utah to work assessments on Gilsonite mines, getting home just in time for Christmas.
Our fourth son, Arthur Clyde was born September 11, 1902. Our first great sorrow came when on Oct. 20th of the same year he passed away. He was a beautiful baby and weighed 11 lbs. at birth. He had little curls of dark hair, especially in the back. His eyebrows were marked as distinct as if they had been marked with a pencil. His eyes were dark. But we couldn’t tell whether they would be brown or blue. He died of pneumonia. I’ll never forget the kindness of Bishop Eli Bennett during his sickness and death. He had an appointment for a meeting at Fairfield but he came over before he went to meeting and he said, “Martha, if you’d feel safer with me here I’ll cancel that appointment. He blessed the baby and gave him his name. Alfred Anderson, Henry’s brother-in-law assisted. I told him to go to his meeting that I felt the baby would be all right until he got back. The baby died the next morning. Other dear friends that I remember during that trying time was Aunt Annie Wilcox, Hannah Dayton, Henry'’ mother, Jane Hacking, and his sister Harriet - in fact everyone in Cedar Fort. Not the least of these was a dear old Indian woman named Phebe, who came to my house when the baby was very ill. She said, “Poor squaw, poor squaw! You’re baby heap sick.” The next day she came and the baby had passed away. She came and placed her hand on my shoulder and cried and cried. The tears fell down on the floor. She said, “Poor squaw, poor squaw. Me heap sorry.” Her sympathy was as heart felt as any of the rest.
My dear grandmother remembered me and sent me the following letter.
Logan Nov 10 1902
Mrs. and Mr. Henry Hacking
My dear Children we received your verry welcom letter an was glad to hear from you But was very much grieved to here that your beautiful Lamb was taken from you But our father in Heaven know when to call his own Children home and he knows what is for there best good. The Prophet Joseph said the Lord took them in Infancy because there spirits was so pure that they could not endure the Evils of this life that they would have to pass through But there spirits were just as intelligent as the Gray hairs. He said the spirit was the inteligent part of Man The spirit of your dear one always existed with God in heaven. Now my dear Children do not mourn nor grieve to much But rather rejoice that you have one child saved in the Celestial Kingdom of God. Now when you think of him think how happy he is in the Celestial Kingdom of God his Father O my dear Children do not wish him back with you But rather prepare yourself to go to him for the Glory that he is in surpasses all your knoledge or understanding in the World except the Lord Should open the Heavens to you Now my dear Children rather be thankful that you have got A Representative in Heaven you know he was born under the Holy Law of marage Therefore he is A Legal Heir to that Celestial home O what A comfort and what A host of them sweet Babes there is in that Glorious World. They have come here an taken A Body an you have seen your son in the flesh an you will know him when you receive him in your Arms again Not so with Parents that Reject this Gospel. They will not know there own Children But you will receive your sweet one in your Arms just as you lade him down. O what A Glorious thought. You have no cause to mourn as those that you have no hope. And another hope you have that the Resurection is clost at hand And you will receve your little sweet son in his Glorified Body. Now never greve any more but prepare your selves to receve him Your Mah will write an send in this letter Please tell me in your next how many of my olf Neighbors have mooved from Cedarfort Has sister Malissa Weaks gone to Canada has the Berry Boys mooved away and if so where An is James Wilcox there and if not where is he
Tell me all you can about my good old Neighbors O how homesick I do feel sometimes Please kiss Franke and Donald and Marian for me And tell them not to forget Great Grandmah May the God of Heaven bless you my dear Children and keep you steadfast in the True Faith of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is my prayr for you one an all my dear Children
Your Grandmah Martha Wilcox
Ps Martha your Mah has failed to write for she has hired out for a week to Nurse A sick Woman Grandmah
Christmas of 1902 was spent at Logan with my parents. Henry and I and the children went to Salt Lake on the train and stayed in a hotel overnight. The children were greatly worried. It was Christmas Eve and they were afraid Santa wouldn’t find them. We told them if they went to sleep good Santa would find them anyway. Sure enough on Christmas morning they found that Santa had not forgotten them. We greatly enjoyed Christmas day visiting with Father and Mother and May. Mother cooked one of her famous Christmas dinners. Mother and we three girls had our pictures taken.
The summer of 1903 we moved out to Fairfield Switch, a wayside switch between Mercur and Lehi, Utah three miles west of the town of Fairfield, Utah. Henry freighted to the gold mine at Sunshine. Once when he was sick and couldn’t run his team he hired a man named Arch Thomas. He went up to sunshine with a load of freight and he got loaded himself. We had a four-horse team. When he went to cross the railroad track coming home he ran into the train. It killed one of the horses and broke up the wagon. He said to Henry, “Hell, Henry, I thought those old roans of yours would knock the train right off the track.” It was quite a loss to us as the man didn’t own anything and couldn’t make up for the loss.
My sister Lucy and her husband John Burr and two boys Clarence and Myrtice came to visit us while we were at Fairfield Switch. They had been to see us at Cedar Fort when Marion was little. John was in such pain from rheumatic fever that he couldn’t stand to be moved. He had a belt around his waist and the only way his wife could turn him was to lift him up by this belt first. He’d just scream from pain. Two year old Marion would often look in at the window. He had the cutest grin. He’d say, “Hello, Aunt John.” Uncle John would always have to smile. They went on to Logan then and John went to the Logan Temple and was baptized for his health. He didn’t suffer after that baptism. The pain left him, but his joints were ossified and stiff. He was bedfast the rest of his days. They stayed in Logan a couple of years, then on their way to Green River they stopped to see us again at Fairfield Switch. John was so different this time. He was happy and free from pain and so cheerful.
The boys had a good time together. Myrtice was talking and said, “If you see a bright light in heaven you don’t need to be afraid. Why, it’s nothing but an angel. The shepherds saw a bright light and they were afraid, but it was nothing but angels.”
One day a stray sheep came to the place. Myrtice and Clarence, Frank, Donald and Marion took a little rope and decided to catch the sheep and have it for theirs. They went so far, Lucy went after them. When Marion saw her coming he turned and said, “Never mind, Aunt Ucy, he won’t bump us.”
The station master owned a flock of Plymouth Rock chickens, domineered by one huge rooster. The boys had been warned to stay away from the station entirely. We were afraid they would be run over by the train. The children went over anyway. The big rooster attacked Clarence and was hitting him and spurring him at every step, Clarence screaming at the top of his voice. One of the men who was on the train picked up a stick and knocked the rooster away or I don’t know what would have happened. He might have put Clarence’s eyes out.
Another time we thought a geyser had erupted in our dooryard, but it was only an underground pipe that had broken and threw muddy water into the air a hundred feet anyway.
My mother’s cousin, Serena McKinney, lived on a ranch about five miles from the switch and we used to go there often. She would get up a big dinner and invite us all down. The station agent went with us once. He thought that was the most wonderful dinner he had ever eaten. She was a wonderful cook. She had so much good food to cook. The station agent especially liked her fresh buttermilk.
One night we were going to a dance in Fairfield and we asked Mr. and Mrs. Ingles, our next door neighbors, if they would like to go. To our great disgust Mr. Ingles took several satchels of liquor to sell at the dance.
After the smash-up with the horses and the train, we moved back to Cedar Fort. In September 1903 Henry went out in our lot to pick some plums at my request. There were rocks piled around the trunk of the tree. The limb he was standing on broke and he fell headfirst in the rocks. He suffered a light concussion and several broken ribs. May was in the yard, heard the noise and ran over to him. He told her to go get Sister Bennett but not to tell me. I was looking for another baby in December. May ran and on the way back I saw her running, and I came out on the porch and asked her what had happened. She tried to tell me nothing but I followed her around the house and saw what had happened. We got him into the house. He was in a lot of pain but he wouldn’t let me send for the doctor until the next day. It hurt him so bad to move that if he had to get off the bed he would roll over onto his knees. The doctor found that he had broken ribs and his pulse was very slow, showing concussion. The doctor told me that unless his pulse picked up they’d have to operate, saw a hole through the skull and release the pressure from his brain. I watched him night and day and took his pulse about a dozen times a day and finally was happy to see that it was going a little faster.
At this Christmas we had a particularly beautiful tree. The boys found many lovely gifts on the Christmas tree but when they awoke the morning after Christmas they found the greatest gift of all, a baby brother. We named him Leonard Elliot. I had such a bad time when he was born. I was run down because of Henry’s accident and the only comfort I had was when they brought my beautiful baby to me. I didn’t get out of bed for six weeks. This baby in a measure took away the sorrow I had of losing my last little one.
Orris Lamar was born Nov. 26, 1905. He was the most beautiful of all my babies. He had such even fine features, such beautiful skin and big blue eyes. Mother stayed with me when he was born. I had childbirth fever. Hannah Dayton was the midwife. I had so much fever in my head that it turned the oak headboard white where my head touched it, just as if a hot iron had been laid on it. But Mother knew how to treat me and through her faith and prayers my life was spared. When this baby was about four months old we bought the old Wilcox homestead and went up to live in my grandmother’s home where I had lived when I was a girl. It was a two-story building and had six large rooms. That home was nice when we got it fixed up and the children all received so many lovely gifts and had so much room to dance around the Christmas tree and we had such a jolly Christmas eve! After Henry and I had gone to bed we heard little footsteps coming down the stairs. We lay still. The next morning the first thing we saw when we opened the dining room door was a beautiful china cup and saucer for me and a mustache cup and saucer for Henry.
I really enjoyed my children but sometimes they cause me embarrassing moments, for instance when I was coaching a play. Leonard, about four and a half years at the time, came running in. “Come home quick. Frank’s going to Kill Marion.” I hurried home. Donald was holding Frank. Frank was mad about something and had threatened Marion. Frank was the oldest and thought he should be the boss and Marion wouldn’t be bossed by anyone, not even the president of the United States. Don mostly acted as the peacemaker. This sounds like I had some awful bad boys, but they weren’t. Most of the time they were real good. Frank and Donald would go down the street arm in arm talking together. Although they had their childish fights, when they grew up there were never people who thought more of each other or got along better than my family does.
I made peace with the children and had them ask each other’s forgiveness and when they said their prayers I had them ask the Lord to forgive them for being naughty and fighting. Leonard said, “I will, but I’ll tell the Lord it was Frank’s fault.”
The spring of 1907 I went up to Logan for some special reason I can’t remember now. I took Frank, Donald, Marion, Leonard and Orris. They had such a happy time. Their Aunt May had been taking kindergarten training at the Y. and she spent a good deal of time teaching them cut kindergarten songs and games. Baby Orris, fifteen months old, joined in with the rest as happy as any of them.
When I went home on the train I became very train sick. Henry met me with a whitetop. He had curtains all around it and a bed made in the back so the children could get right under the covers. Our baby took quite a bad cold in spite of all precautions. It was fifteen miles home. I started right into doctoring him because I had had this other experience, but nothing availed. It turned right into pneumonia and he died March 21, 1907.
I was in poor health at the time of his death. I was so nervous I could hardly stand to be alone. Henry was so tender and kind to me. I even went to the field with him. All that summer I suffered with nervous prostration. My husband’s brother Orson, and his wife, Ida, were very good to me too. They came to see me every day. Orson had a new surrey with a fringe on top. They took me for a ride nearly every evening. In a hundred ways they showed their kindness and thoughtfulness to me. I’ll always remember them. In October I went to the hospital for a major operation. I was in the hospital for seven weeks. Mary Wilcox Calton took care of my children and was a second mother to them.
When I went to the hospital I was president of the Primary. The teachers and other officers of the Primary decided to have a benefit dance to pay my expenses at the hospital. They charged 25 cents a ticket. Cedar Fort is a very small town but they raised $70.00. Nearly every day I’d get a letter from some of the officers or children and they’d say everyone in Primary is praying for you. And the Relief Society sisters all wrote to me and they sent me money. I still have letters my children wrote to me while I was in the hospital and a wonderful letter written by my mother-in-law and I still have letters written by my mother.
The following letter I received from my Mother-in-law.
Cedar Valley Nov 5th 1907
Dear Daughter I hope this finds you improving. We was sorry to hear of your backset. But do not get impasent or get discoraged. We hope to see you a well and happy woman. The Lord chastises those he loves surely he must love you and Henery. Henery as just called in he is dumping wheat to McKinney’s place for Ed Garn. Lenord as just gon passed up to Wilcoxes with May. Donoled and Miron was up a wile ago all are well we are all as well as we mostely are. Dear Martha the Teacher is having the children get a program for tomorrow night Egerson will be hear their will be lunchon passed around we have nice weather but cold night.
Now Dear Martha don’t worry or trouble for all is well at home and don’t try to write so much for a few lines to let us know how you are getting along and them can be writen to Henery and all of us can hear from you in that way for while you are weake in Body your eyes will be weake. I cant do much writing on account of my eyes. So Now Dear Martha don’t get glumey but be chearefull and feel that the Lord can heale you for you are young and have a greate future befor you. I do wish Dear Henery would look to the Lord for his aide & his asistance & he would be more faithefull to his duties. But he as meney good quality that some others as not got that make a showing to be good. Let us all pray that all may be right when the Lord comes to make up his Jewels that we may all be in that happy throng is the wish of your loving Mother Jane Hacking
I will Now leave you in the hands of the Lord. We all send kind love to you we remain your loving Parents Bros. & Sisters John and Jane Hacking & family.
I have been in the store 6 times since I started to write.
Henry stayed with me all through the operation and until they turned him out at night. The next morning he went to his cousin Emma Knight’s. She said he looked just terrible. She asked him where he’d stayed the night before. He said he didn’t stay anywhere. He couldn’t go to bed and he just walked around all night. He said, “I know she can’t live.” He stayed in Salt Lake about ten days. Of course there were no cars then to go back and forth. Then he went home. The very night that he left I had such a pain around my wound that I couldn’t get any rest. The Dr. came into the room to see another patient and I called him and told him about it and he said, “I guess you’ll live ‘til morning” and went on out. That was Dr. Middleton. I turned my face to the wall and cried. Then they brought in a little woman that was to be operated on for appendicitis. The dearest little white-haired man came in and administered to her. As he passed my bed I asked him if he would administer to me too. “Yes, Sister, I’d be glad to. You belong to the LDS church don’t you?” He administered to me and my pain was relieved and I went to sleep and slept ‘til morning. The doctors came in the morning to dress my wound and I was saturated with pus. I had had a stitch abscess and it had broken. There must have been a quart of pus. Dr. Middleton said, “Why Mrs. Hacking, why didn’t you tell us?” “I did, but you said I’d live ‘til morning.” Dr Allen said, “Well, that surely is too bad, Sister Hacking, you’ll have to be here four more weeks. A few days later Henry came and brought the children to see me. It was visiting hours and I was watching the door to see if someone was coming to see me and here came little Leonard – three years old. I was so tickled to see him I just about jumped out of bed. There stood the other boys in the door grinning. They told me of the experiences coming through town. They had never been in a city before. Donald and Frank were carrying the suitcase. They each had a hold of the handle and they met a girl and boy. They ran into them. Neither would let go of the handle of the suitcase so the couple had to back up and go around them. Donald and Marion enjoyed riding up and down on the elevator in the hospital, but little Leonard wanted to stay by mama. When the nurse brought my supper she put on something extra for the little boy.
There was a sweet little old lady whom they called Grandma Nelson, who shared the room with me, part of the time. She lived on one side of the railroad at Brigham Junction and her son whose wife had a new baby, lived on the other. She was hurrying over to see the new baby. There were some railroad cars on the tracks but there was no engine at either end. She decided to crawl between them. The cars were released from each other and she was pinned under one, taking off her leg up to the hip.
Some Relief Society women visited her one-day and they were commenting on how they couldn’t understand why the Lord would allow such to happen to her for she was such a good soul. She said, “My good sisters! The Lord didn’t do this to me. He blessed me with intelligence enough so that I knew better but I crawled between the cars anyway. I brought this on myself.” We do blame the Lord many times for things for which we alone are responsible.
When I got ready to leave the hospital Walter Knight ordered a Hansom (a two passenger carriage with an elevated rear seat for the driver) to come and take me down to their place. The doctor told me I could leave the hospital if I would stay in town so I stayed with Knights for two weeks. No one could have treated a person better than they did me. Finally the time came when I was to go home. Henry came and took me as far as I could go on the train so I wouldn’t get so tired going with the team. He had a team and buggy at Lehi, Utah. My sister, May, came soon after to stay with me. May Calton had stayed with the children and had the house warm and a warm meal ready. I was sure sick and miserable all winter. Henry and the children were all so glad to have me home again and Grandma Hacking and Alice Southam were all glad too. May, my sister, did me so much good. She was so cheerful. She didn’t sympathize with me. She’d sing happy songs, say funny things and kept my morale up. My cousin, Floy Kartchner, also came to stay with me. She had lived with me a lot for years. She’d get a job and go away and when the job was finished she’d come back.
The year 1909 arrived and that year we left Cedar Fort. I looked back on the joys and sorrows of our life there. Sorrows yes, but many happy memories too, such as one fourth of July when we had a wonderful parade. We copied many of the floats from the parade that was held in Salt Lake on the 50th Pioneer Anniversary. We had some very beautiful ones. Rhoda Johnson, myself, Edna Cook, and others were in charge of the floats. We had a band of make-believe Indians. The thing that drew the most attention, however, was my husband as the clown. He had a little donkey hitched onto a cart made by boring a hole through the barrel. It would wobble from side to side. Everyone roared at his antics in keeping himself balanced. Suddenly the mule would stop and he would go head over heels. After the parade a program was held at the schoolhouse and everything went well until the Indians decided to scalp the Bishop. Bishop Bennett had recently purchased a new toupee to cover his long-bald head. They thought it would be fun. He didn’t think so. He took that as an insult. He raised his walking stick and said, “The first one that comes a step closer will get this.” When they saw he was really angry they were very sorry. It spoiled the day for Bishop Bennett. He had had such a good time until then.
Henry had a splendid team of horses that were really on the go. He would hitch them on a bobsled and take all the young people for a ride. One time he took all the school children. They wanted him to whirl. He whirled a little too fast and tipped the sleigh over. He was surely frightened when he heard that nearly all of them had scissors with them that they had used to cut valentines in school. He’d shudder over it for years thinking some of them might have gotten their eyes put out or hurt in some other way. No one had been injured. He got out slipped the box back on and they all got in and finished their ride.
Henry had a single-footer named Jeff that he used to take me riding with before and after we were married. Sometimes he pulled the buggy and sometimes we rode on his back. My son Frank recently told me how proud he was when his father and I used to ride. He said no one sat up so straight, nor looked so nice as his parents.
Now it was time to leave Cedar Fort.
Henry’s brother, George A. had written from Canada and asked Henry if he would come up and run his place while he went on a mission that he had been called to fulfill. He told him the price of land and Henry decided to go up and buy land of his own and also run George A’s. Henry sold his 160 acres of land in cedar Fort, Utah and just as we were getting ready to leave I received word of the death of my brother Vern. My mother and father had moved to Sunnydell, Idaho, to make a home for their two sons, Orris and Vern, in the spring of 1906. Mother never went back to Logan, but they didn’t sell their home there until 1907 when father went down and brought the furniture back.
My brother, Os Wilcox’s daughter, Edna, died in Garfield, Utah on March 21, 1909. I had been to the funeral and had gone home when I received word that Vern had passed away April 27, 1909. Vern had done much wrestling and the doctor said he had a strain from wrestling. Afterward they found he had a ruptured appendix.
I came on the train to Idaho for the funeral. Henry loaded the railroad car we had chartered and followed. I had Marion and Leonard with me. Frank and Donald stayed to help their father take the stock and implements and household goods to Lehi where they loaded it. Henry called me and told me to meet the boys in Pocatello at a certain time. I went down. I took Leonard with me. I went to the station to meet the boys at the time he told me to and they weren’t there. I waited until the next train came and still they weren’t there, so I took Leonard to a hotel after inquiring of all the hotels and rooming houses to see if my boys were there. I put Leonard to bed and thought I wouldn’t go to Sunnydell, Idaho until I had found them. I heard a train whistle. It was black as pitch outside and there were trains standing on the tracks. I didn’t know when some man would step out and grab me. When I got to the station there were the boys staring out the window, looking pretty sorrowful. Donald was just about to cry. When I stepped in at the station door they were sure tickled. Frank had the money for me to make the trip to Canada tied around his waist. We stayed in Pocatello that night and went back to Mother’s on the train the next morning. We stayed there for two or three days then went on the passenger train to Canada. We got off at Sterling, Canada and Henry met us there. We rented a house at McGrath and lived there that summer and winter. Henry had purchased a section and a half of ground and it had a little shack built on it and we lived there that second summer. Henry had run it and George A’s. place the summer before. We were in Canada five years. There was a drought every year so we didn’t raise any crops that amounted to anything. One year he planted about a quarter section (160 acres) to fall grain and it winter killed. Then he planted it to spring grain and the grain was up about six inches high and just looked beautiful. Francis, George A’s wife, and I rode out and thought how beautiful it looked. Next day a wind came up and blew it all out. It blew everything right down to the hardpan. Then he planted it again about May 1st and a fairly good stand came up but it froze. He got a little crop and got 24 cents a bushel. It didn’t even pay for the three seedings. He lost everything he had after five years and had to borrow money to come to Idaho. The next year there was a good crop. If we had hung on one more year we’d have made it.
It was so cold in Magrath, Canada the children would nearly freeze going to school. One morning while I was living in town I put a heavy woolen turtle neck sweater on Leonard, pulled it up over his ears and fastened it on top of his head, then put on a woolen cap, put on his overcoat and turned up the collar. I thought he would surely be warm but when he came home from school his ears were frozen and swollen so they stood right out straight.
One spring day while we were living at the farm the boys wanted to go to town. We had a little team and buggy. The sun was shining nice and warm so I thought I’d let them go and get a few groceries that I wanted. When they came back they were nearly frozen. A blizzard had come up and the boys were crying with the cold.
We had good times too. We had so many parties. I worked in the Mutual and in the Primary and Relief Society and I was teacher of the Parent’s Class in Sunday School. There wasn’t a program but what I either had to give a reading, original poem or talk. We had so many friends we hated to leave them. All the young girls liked to dance with Henry, he was such a good dancer. The older women weren’t so popular with him.
At a character ball Henry and I went dressed as coons. He had a long-tailed black coat he’d had for years, and white pants, a wide yellow ribbon for a tie. I got fixed up in some old things I happened to have. (We didn’t decide to go until the last minute.) I had a bandana on my hair. We had to go through a door onto the stage, purchase our ticket and then go down into the hall. As we passed down into the hall I heard my nearest neighbor say, “Well, who in the world is that?” “Why that’s Brother and Sister Hacking.” “No, she never could look like that.” It took some time to convince her. When they called for the grand march, each group of people we passed would applaud. Finally we commenced dancing the cakewalk. The applause was even greater. We received the special prize of seven dollars.
The Magrath Fair was the outstanding social event of the year. The school children put samples of the student’s writing and drawing, etc. Marion took first prize in hand-writing the first year after we went up there. I got lots of prizes in the fair. Just about everything I put in took a prize. One year I got $18.00 for fancywork – embroidery, hand-painting, and crocheting. I got $12.00 in prizes on one little dress done in eyelet embroidery. I got the same on a doily. They both took firsts at Cardston, Lethbridge, Magrath and Raymond Fairs.
While we were in Canada three more children were added to our family. Kenneth Elbert was born August 1, 1910 in my Aunt Olive Heap’s maternity home. The other boys went out and shot some ducks and brought them to me. They all stood around and looked at their brother. Leonard, who was now seven years old, said, “One thing I’m glad of, they can’t call me the baby any longer.” Kenneth was a great joy to us after not having a baby in the house for so long. I had taken my first automobile ride the day before he was born. John Bradshaw, a neighbor, came with his new Cadillac and took us for a spin. Kenneth learned to talk early and could talk so plain. He’d make up stories and tell them, they were so entertaining.
Before Kenneth was born I wrote to my cousin Floy who had helped me so much when I needed her and she came all the way from El Paso, Texas where she had been attending a school in lady’s tailoring. She stayed about a year and taught a dressmaking class.
My mother came up to visit us when Kenneth was about a year and a half old. He’d delight her with his stories. We made a trip to Waterton Lakes. (Canada) When we turned the horses loose, the grass was filled with flowers. He said, “Oh, Grandma, make the horses stop. They’re eating all our pretty flowers.” Mother thought that he was so cute. After we came back to Archer, Idaho when Kenneth was four he came in when the wind was blowing, making a humming sound on the electric wires. He said, “Mama the world’s whirling around so fast you can just feel it whizz and the Lord’s sitting right up on the top playing a harmonica.”
On the 12th of November 1912, our eighth son, Elmer John, was born. By now we had given up looking for a girl. This baby boy was very welcome. Knowing that the folks at home would be disappointed because it was another boy, instead of sending announcement cards, I wrote on penny postcards:
“We’re sending a message to you at this date,
To announce the arrival of son number eight,
And this treasure from heaven, though preceded by 7
Is as lovely and sweet as the first that was given.”
Aunt Olive was again nursing me and she said, “Martha, that’s the sweetest thing I ever heard.” We were only permitted to keep this beautiful baby three months. He passed away on the 28th of February, 1913, of pneumonia. Our house wasn’t too warm and the cold in Canada was terrible. He took a cold and being a husky, fat little fellow it went right to his lungs. Dr. Beaman was treating him and we thought he was getting along all right. The pneumonia was confined to one lung, then suddenly the other lung filled up. My dear friend, Sister Alice Wooley, came the night the baby passed away. I had sent Frank up to get her. The night was bitter cold and she came with Frank and the three miles from town and laid my baby out. She was the sweetest woman. How much I appreciated what she had done for me.
On the 1st of May 1914, a wonderful event took place in our lives. Our first and only girl was born. We named her Florence May. She was born in a lovely little home Henry had bought for us in Magrath. Dear Aunt Olive was with me again.
The morning of the first (May) I knew the baby was on its way. I looked and saw the doctor coming up the walk and I thought, “How did he know I am sick?” He came and said, “Let’s see, when are you expecting to be sick?” I said, “Doctor, I’m sick right now.” He said, “Oh, no you’re not. You heard that I was going to Calgary with the Home Guard and you think you’re sick.” I told him I didn’t know anything about the Home Guard or the trip he was planning but I did know about the pains.” He said, “You won’t need me until I get back. I’ll only be gone three days.” Then he left and I called Aunt Olive. As soon as she saw me she said, “Have you called the doctor?” “The Dr. was here but he wouldn’t believe I was in labor and left.” She called him again and told him to come down. “She needs you right now.” He said, “Oh, Mrs. Hacking isn’t sick. It’s just her imagination that has started false pains because she thinks I’m going away.” Aunt Olive waited a few minutes and then she called him again, and she said, “Dr. Beaman, you get down here just as fast as you can.” He started out but took his time coming. In the meantime the baby was born. Aunt Olive said, “Martha, it’s a little girl.” I said, “Oh, no it isn’t. You can’t fool me.” “As sure as you’re alive, Martha, it’s a little girl.” The doctor came then and confirmed her statement. Olive had sent the boys running for their father who was working on the road. He got there just about the time the baby did. He was sure tickled and happy about it. The telephone began to buzz. Everyone said, “Have you heard the news? Sister Hacking has a girl.” My dear old neighbor, Mrs. Henniger came over that evening. She put her head through the portieres (a curtain hung in a doorway) and said, “I’ve just heard some news and you’ve got to prove it to me. I’ll never believe it until I see.” I said, “Come in and see. I’ll prove it.” When I was able to be out again all my friends would say, “Oh, Sister Hacking, I’m so happy about your little girl. I believe I was as glad as you were.” But I very much doubted it.
This same Dr. Beaman had pulled Frank through a severe case of typhoid fever just before Elmer was born.
Five straight years of drought had exhausted our resources. We decided to sell out and move to Sunnydel, Idaho. Just before we left Leonard climbed up the cupboard, tipped it over and broke all my dishes. Amelia Briggs had planned a farewell party for us and it was to have been a china shower. Her mother-in-law said, “Oh, don’t do it. She has so many parties and so many engagements she won’t have time to pack as it is.” I always felt bad because they had such lovely china in Canada. The Primary gave me a beautiful china set, a bowl and desert dishes. The Relief Society gave me a lovely linen table cloth and napkin set and numerous other presents were given us.
I hated to leave Magrath, Canada and our hosts of fine friends. Everyone in Magrath were our friends. All the children came with me but Marion and Frank. Frank stayed in Magrath to and Marion was to come with his father. When they got the car all loaded at the line his father put Marion on a passenger train and sent him alone because he had such a cough.
Florence was three months old. While we were coming home on the train we heard the first rumors of World War I. After the first day everyone was discussing the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria, and thinking it would lead to a world war. We arrived on either Kenneth or Donald’s birthday (Kenneth’s on the 1st of August or Donald’s on the 31st of July) 1914. We had been here about a week when Marion came. My sister Lucy and I were going down the street and she said, “Well, whose that kid carrying that big sack on his back?” “My land, that’s Marion,” and I ran to meet him. He had passed several orchards on the way, and as he walked the nine miles from Thornton to Sunnydell he went into Chris Nelson’s farm about two miles from father’s and asked if they’d sell him a quarter’s worth of apples. In Canada he might have gotten a dozen, more likely a half-dozen. To his astonishment they gave him half a bushel. Here he came trudging up the street carrying this half bushel of apples on his back only to find the ground covered with the same kind of apples when he got to his grandfather’s place. When we were going to Canada, Marion had helped his grandfather plant these trees. He had been nine years old. His grandfather made this remark, “Marion is going to make something of his life. He looks ahead into the future. When we were planting the trees Marion said, “When I get to be a man and have two boys, I’ll come and get some of these apples.” Father thought that was pretty good to make a plan of exactly what he was going to do.
When we first came to Archer, Idaho we stopped for a short time with my sister Lucy and her husband, John Burr. He had been bedfast with rheumatism for years. A few days after we left I sent Kenneth down there on an errand. When he came back, he said, “John’s in bed yet.” He thought it was the funniest thing that he didn’t get up.
After visiting with Lucy we went up to Mother’s. Henry came with our possessions and moved them up there. My brother John went to help him one day. When he came in he said, “There isn’t room in Madison County for all that junk.” Mother was hard of hearing. After he left she said, “Did he say there wasn’t enough whiskey in Madison County for one good drunk?” Henry worked for my brother the rest of the summer and fall in the harvest, using his teams. We moved into the Muir place, where Delmoe Cook now lives, for the winter.
Frank came from Canada and spent the winter with us. Having left his sweetheart in Canada he went back and was married to Vera Jacobs January 10, 1916. They lived in Magrath, Canada.
The second summer we moved into Mark Young’s place and rented his farm. It was there that we celebrated Father and Mother’s Golden Wedding, August 23, 1915. They looked so sweet, Mother in her white dress and Father in his dark suit. They sang a song together and danced the two-step as they came into the room. We had large tables arranged under the big trees on the lawn where we had dinner.
While we were living here (1915) I was chosen first Bee-Keeper in the ward and one of the first in the church. The following spring we purchased the lot where Henry’s Service now stands, expecting to make a residence of the rock schoolhouse that stood there. We had quite a lot of work done on it. We had a rock mason make holes in the walls for rafters on which to put the ceiling and changed some of the windows.
In April 1916 the bishopric called on me and asked me to be president of the Mutual, which position I accepted.
Our tenth child, Thayne William, was born August 12, 1916. People joked us about this baby, saying he should go for tithing but we felt he was too precious to us to turn in to the Bishop. When he was a year old my brother Orris took my cousin Belle Hess, Linda Kartchner and myself and little Thayne through Yellowstone Park. Orris says he carried him all through the park. After we came home every time Orris would come there with his car Thayne would go get in it and say “Rank the ar.” (Crank the car) Orris laughs about that yet.
Uncle Albert Savage, mother’s half-brother, lost his wife. I had his four children for awhile and nursed them through the measles. Then their father took the boys. Vilate lived with me four years. She went then to Brigham City to stay with her aunt when she was fifteen, and stayed with her until she was married to Roy Chapman. They often visit me and their home in Salt Lake City is open to me at any time.
We purchased the forty-acre farm where our home now stands about 1917. We built three rooms and a basement, intending some day to build on to the front of it. Marion did much of the work. One last baby was born in this home, October 4, 1920. We named him Bryce Dennison. Although he was our tenth son and eleventh child, he was just as welcome and loved as all the others. He was the favorite of Uncle John Burr, my sister’s invalid husband. He sent to Sears and Roebuck and got him a lovely baby blanket as a gift. He always called him his boy. Whenever I’d see him, he’d say, “How’s my baby?”
Frank and Vera and their little daughter, Esther, moved from Canada to Archer late in 1919 and lived close to us. A son they named Vernile Jacob was born to them the next spring, March 1, 1920. On Feb. 20, 1924, Frank and Vera were blessed with another baby girl. Vera chose the name of Lorna. Vera did very well after her confinement but when the baby was three weeks old she suffered an attack of gall trouble. I mistook it for pleurisy. I called her Dr. and he said it was pleurisy and he said to put a red hot mustard plaster on. She grew worse instead of better. I called Dr. Parkinson, our family doctor. He knew it was gall bladder trouble. He came out and gave her medicine but it was too late. The gall bladder broke and the poison went to her heart. She died very suddenly and was buried March 17, 1924.
Frank was so affected by her death that he had what appeared to be a heart attack on the street and the Dr. told him he had to get away and have a change of scene. I took the three children, Esther, Vern and Lorna. Their grandmother Jacobs had wanted to take Esther but we thought it was better to keep them together. They lived with me as if they were my own children. When I had had them a week Lorna took pneumonia. During the time of her mother’s funeral Mrs. Arthur Neiderer had taken her and nursed her and in passing her from one place to another she caught cold. I was nearly frantic. She gradually grew better, however, but before she had recovered, Kenneth, Florence, Thayne, Bryce, Vern and Esther came down with the measles and mumps. Esther took the mumps first and before they all had them the first ones came down with the measles. I had two pairs of twins, Esther and Thayne were eight months apart and Vern and Bryce were seven months apart. Vern ad Bryce had the measles at one time. They were both sick in one bed. Bryce being my baby thought he should have all my attention and Vern called for me constantly. He was frightened. He thought he was going to die like his mama did. They got so jealous of each other they wouldn’t lie side by side. One would get down to the foot and the other the head of the bed. My health was very poor at this time. I should have been resting, but I had to care for these children. Marion hired my washing done for me for a full year. He was deputy sheriff at this time and lived in Rexburg, Idaho.
Donald, Marion, Leonard and Kenneth graduated from Ricks College. Thayne attended school there and then went to the Southern Branch at Pocatello. Donald was president of the student body for two years. Marion was third highest in scholarship when he graduated. Leonard was very prominent in athletics. He was chosen on the all-star basketball team for the state. He played football, too. Donald played both. Marion played football. Kenneth was only 13 when he started high school at Ricks and was too small for sports; however, he was an excellent student. Thayne graduated from Madison High and was in musical and athletic circles there.
He played football at Ricks College. He stayed with Frank and went to high school in Pocatello for part of his high school. Later on Bryce graduated from Madison High School and kept up the family tradition as an athlete. He also went to the BYU at Provo for one year. Donald also attended the BYU for one year.
As soon as Leonard graduated from Ricks College he married Edna Harris from Marysville, Daughter of Mack and Belle Karen Harris, who had also been attending Ricks College. They went to Grace, Idaho to live. Leonard ran a grain elevator. Edna was beautiful and good, overflowing with life and happiness. They have hosts of friends wherever they go.
Donald had gone to the BYU for a winter term and had then gone to Spring Canyon, Utah to work as shipping clerk and tipple (habitual drinkers) boss for the coal mines. There he met Amelia Jorgensen who had come from Denmark with her parents when she was small. They were married Sept. 13, 1925, at her parent’s home in Spring Canyon. They made a striking and distinguished looking couple – she with her corn colored hair, blue eyes, fair skin and slender figure; Don, 6’ 3” tall, dark of hair and skin. Funny thing – the first three of their four children were red-headed and no red hair on either side of the family as far as we knew.
Donald and Amelia took us on the one long pleasure trip of our lives. This was in 1928. We went out through Boise and up to Columbia and went down that beautiful highway. We intended to stop at Portland, then decided to push on to Seaside and watch the sunset over the ocean. That was our first glimpse of the ocean. We went up the coast to Vancouver, British Columbia. There we saw the park that has the name of being the most beautiful park in the world – Victoria Park. We crossed the Puget Sound on the ferry to Vancouver Island and drove our car down the island to the city of Victoria. The scenery was breath taking in its beauty. Little islands dotted the sound and the water was blue. Cliffs line the mainland shore and added to the beauty of the view. At Victoria we took an ocean liner, the Princess Pat, down to Seattle. The water was so still I didn’t even get seasick. It was during Prohibition days. People would go over to Canada for drinks and had to drink it up before they crossed the line. The passengers were therefore rather hilarious. We saw a large fish, at least as long as a man, jump out of the water. We were told it was a porpoise. We landed at the dock in Seattle, drove our car onto the mainland and found cabins where we stayed for the night. We traveled through the wonderful apple orchards in Washington and higher up through the dry farm grains. These dry farms were supposed to be the most productive in the world. The grain was just ripening. We went west to Spokane and then through northern Idaho past the beautiful Lake Couer d’ Alene on over to Butte, Montana, down through Roberts, Idaho where we had dinner with my brother John’s daughter, Zula Holm. The memory of this trip was a bright spot the remainder of our lives.
In 1930 my brother, Orris lost his wife. I took his two-year-old baby Esther. She stayed with me constantly for four years and then she spent some of her time with her father at the dry farm until she was married. Except for her first year of school she stayed with me winters and went to school. Her sister, Helen, stayed with me some and I did the sewing and baked bread for the family until Helen got big enough to do it.
On June 3, 1931, Marion was married in the Cardston Temple to LaVerne Liljenquist. Marion had a job with the International Harvester Co., and then went to Utah to live. I didn’t need to learn to love LaVerne for I had always loved her.
After Kenneth got out of school he farmed Marion’s farm which adjoined our property for two years. Then he said to me, “Mother, I have money saved up. Shall I use it to go to college or to go on a mission?” He said, “I’d rather you’d go on a mission.” He said, “Well, that’s what I’d rather do too.” He left Jan. 21, 1936. I went as far as Salt Lake with him and spent some time each day at the mission school. On Feb. 3, I went to the depot and saw him off to the New England States Mission. I was very proud and happy that I had a missionary son. In the two years he was gone he hardly missed a week of writing to me and wrote often to the other members of the family. Florence was teaching school at the time and helped some to keep him on his mission but his own money paid for most of his expenses. While he was there he met Laurel Small, a member of the church. He fell in love with her. At the end of his mission his president gave him permission to do a little discreet courting. They were soon engaged to be married. Marion wrote and asked Kenneth if he would like to drive a new car home from Detroit for him. This gave Kenneth the opportunity he was looking for. Laurel’s aunt and her husband wanted to come to Utah so the mission president gave him permission to bring Laurel and her relatives home with him. Her grandmother made her promise to wait six months after she got here before she married to be sure that she liked him away from the mission field, and that she liked his folks. Every member of the family fell for her as soon as they saw her, and learned to love her more dearly every day. They got home March 1, 1938 and were married September 1, 1938.
Shortly after Kenneth left on his mission my mother became ill. I walked the mile up there and back each day for some time, then I had her come to my place. Her poor tired body was worn out but her stout heart kept her alive. Finally it too reached its limit and she died May 28, 1936. (Mary Theodocia Savage Wilcox)
It wasn’t long after that I had a bad spell with my heart. The Dr. said I had a tired heart. I got so miserable I didn’t know whether I’d live to see Kenneth come home or not. One day Henry met Patriarch Larsen on the street. He asked how I was. He said to ask me if I wouldn’t like a special blessing. We were over to Leonard’s that day in Rexburg, Idaho so he came up to their apartment and gave me the blessing. He told me that if I took care of myself and did the things that he asked that I should have wisdom to do that I would live to see my son again. I enjoyed comparatively good health then for several years.
On one of the doctor’s visits to me Henry was working in the field. He hurried in to see what the doctor said. The Dr. could tell by his breathing that his heart was bad. He told him he’d have to be very careful and quit all hard work. His was the kind of heart that took people suddenly. In the fall of 1937 he had a heart attack in the field. Leonard had come out from town and said, “What’s father’s team doing standing in the field?” I said “He has probably gone over to Beck’s to get a drink of water.” Leonard went on up the country. When he came back the horses were still there. He went out to investigate, and found his father very ill. He had to be carried to the house. Leonard took him over to his place and called the doctor.
On December 7, 1941 the Japs had bombed Pearl Harbor. My grandson, Vern, was in the Navy and was there at the time of the bombing. He was shaving when he heard the terrible explosion and ran out and was horrified to find dead bodies floating all around his ship in the water. He had taken deep sea diving. He rushed into his room and dressed and went to help in the rescue of the wounded. Afterward he helped to raise the ships that had been sunk. From that time I worried constantly about Vern and also about the time when Thayne and Bryce would have to go into the service. They had jobs in defense plants in California. About this time I had a heart attack and lost consciousness. They sent for the doctor and he told me I’d have to stay in bed for at least eight months. Even at the end of the eighth month every time I’d move to get up it would affect my heart. Finally in August or September 1941 I got so I could get into a wheel chair.
In March 1943 Marion and LaVerne and their two girls moved to Archer. They bought a farm a mile and a quarter from us. Henry had been feeling less and less like working. Marion and Kenneth offered to farm his land for him but Henry wouldn’t do that. All our family had gone and we didn’t need much so he said he’d rent it to them. The next year Marion rented the whole twenty and from then on we rented to Frank Weekes because our boys had more work of their own than they could do.
Thayne was the first to be drafted of my own boys. Bryce was called a few months later. Both were in the air force. After their training was completed Thayne was sent to Greenland and was stationed there for ten months. While Thayne was in defense he had boarded at the home of a young widow who owned her own home and took roomers to pay expenses for herself and two girls, Sharon and Paula. Thayne fell in love with her. On one of his short furloughs he and Cleone Windley Smith were married August 4, 1945. Cleone has made Thayne very happy. She is an immaculate housekeeper and keeps herself and her girls neat and well dressed always.
Bryce was sent to England with an air-borne group. They were assigned to drop food to the American soldiers who were marooned in Holland. They’d have to fly low to see that the provisions were dropped to our men. Bryce was on furlough to London and met his cousin Keith Wilcox. They enjoyed three days together in London taking in shows and dances. Finally Keith had to go back to his company and Bryce boarded a plane to go back to France. As soon as he got settled in the plane he went to sleep. When he woke up he found himself several feet from the plane on a mountainside, the plane burning. Bryce was burned on his neck, face and hands and his hair was burned. His woolen clothing had saved the rest of his body. Only six of the thirty-one passengers had come out alive. Bryce was taken to an English hospital where he stayed for three days before being removed to a Canadian hospital. There they found that both of his legs were broken in two places, and his jaw bone broken in two places. Months later they discovered that his hip had been broken. The plastic surgeons fixed him up as best they could and as soon as possible sent him to an American hospital. When they took the casts off they found that all the work had to be done over again. They re-broke the bones and put in silver tubes and screwed them in place. After he was sent to the United States to the Madigan Hospital in Tacoma, Washington, they took the casts off and found that he had broken his hip. Over a thousand dollars worth of x-rays had been taken and they still hadn’t found it. The doctor allowed him to come home for a month and then he went back and had his hip operated on. It had been broken so long that it was impossible to pull it together so they could set it. They had to wire the hipbone to the pelvic bone. This left him badly crippled. He made a remarkable recovery and gets around and does as much work as any man. It’s a tribute to him that he did not lay down for the rest of his life as so many did who were not hurt as badly as he was.
While he was in the hospital in Tacoma he became much interested in one of the nurses – Elizabeth (Betty) Totten. Later when he was working in Bakersfield, California and she was a Red Cross-Nurse in San Francisco, they renewed their acquaintance and were married in Bakersfield, California December 29, 1948.
While I was still in bed because of my heart condition, my daughter, Florence, was married to Warren E. Dye in the Salt Lake Temple the 31st of June 1943. Warren’s wife had died and left him with three children. He was a son of Patriarch Dye and was himself a High Priest. He was and is a very fine man. Florence made a good mother to his three children and did everything she could to make them happy and to bring them up right. Florence had attended Madison High School at Rexburg, Idaho and then gone to Pocatello to stay with Marion and LaVerne and attended the U. of I. Southern Branch for two years. She took part in two operettas and sang in the choir and special groups. She then taught school for seven years, and was an excellent teacher. Many people wherever she goes still remember her and praise her work. She loved little children and when her own little son was born she felt that one of her life’s ambitions had been realized.
On the 18th of May 1941 our granddaughter Esther, was married to George William Kimber. She had gone to school in Pocatello and then took a course of Fashion Design in California. She was employed by the Ogden Knitting Mills as a designer. She has done sewing for exclusive shops, making blouses and other wearing apparel for sale.
Before his six years in the Navy had expired Vern was married to Pauline Tillotson, October 8, 1942. Since his release he has graduated from the University of Idaho South, with a degree in forestry and soil conservation.
Lorna left her schoolwork at Ricks College to come home at the time of my long illness. Afterwards she went to Idaho Falls to work. She was employed by the First Security Bank of Idaho and became a proficient bookkeeper. The work there was too hard on her eyes so she became bookkeeper at the Brown Frock Shop and later for the A. P. Salvage Company. She was married to Jack Bailey in the Idaho Falls Temple the 16th of Sept. 1946. Jack had recently returned from war duties in India. Jack graduated from Rick’s College in accounting and took post-graduate work at the B.Y.U.
People naturally look forward with dread to the time when their children are all married and they are left alone, but the years after Henry’s retirement from farming were among the happiest of our life. After our strenuous life, this was the time of calmness and peace. We enjoyed each other, if anything, more than we ever had. We’d spend long winter evenings playing Chinese Checkers or reading to each other, listening to the radio or talking. Henry was just as attentive as he was in the days of our courtship. Everyone noticed it and many remarked about it.
We made several trips to visit our children. In the latter part of August 1949 we went to Cedar Fort, Utah to attend a Hacking family reunion. Henry enjoyed immensely seeing his relatives, some of whom he had never seen for forty years. He enjoyed every minute of the week we were there. We then visited in Tooele, Utah for several days with his brother Orson and his wife, Ida. We visited the Ordnance Plant where his brother worked, the farm home of President J. Reuben Clark in Grantsville. We had just a wonderful time. In Salt Lake we attended the wedding of our Granddaughter, Janice, daughter of Donald and Amelia on the 18th of Sept. 1949, to Bill Howard. How proud we were of our beautiful granddaughter and her stately father as they came down the room to meet the bridegroom. We enjoyed the reception following the wedding. Florence and Warren were in attendance, Florence having been asked to be matron of honor. We rode home with them and the trip home added the finishing touch to our wonderful trip, which we called our second honeymoon. We enjoyed the gorgeous autumn colors and the orchards laden with fruit. We stopped at Brigham and picked peaches and tomatoes to bring home with us. We stopped at Logan to see my sister, Lucy, and at Pocatello had supper with Frank, Pearl and family, then on to the Dye home in Firth, Idaho. We rested there the next day, then they brought us home – tired, but thoroughly delighted with our trip. As it had always been with us, remembering and talking about the good times we had had was a large part of the trip. Together we canned the bushel of peaches Warren and Florence had insisted on us having. Our apples were ready to pick and though I begged him not to Henry insisted on picking a bucket or two each day. On Friday, October 26, he suffered a heart attack, and after four days of suffering passed away in his sleep.
Minutes before his passing Florence went in to care for him. He had his eyes closed and when he opened them he said, “I didn’t know that there was such a beautiful girl looking down at me.” Then he told her how proud he had always been of his little girl and how much joy she had brought him. Thus he passed on with love in his heart and the very expression of love on his lips. Love that which was exemplified through all his life!
Henry’s death was a great chock to me – almost more than my heart could stand. As people were calling at the home prior to his funeral I became so faint that I could not distinguish one friend from another. Warren’s father, Joseph H. Dye, who was a patriarch, administered to me. I revived immediately and was able to attend the beautiful services we held in the Archer Ward Chapel on October 28, 1951. I have never seen such beautiful flowers. It was at the right time of the year for all the gorgeous fall blooms. The chapel was filled with lovely sprays, wreaths and baskets and a host of friends. The services were very comforting from the minute they began. Such wonderful things were said of my husband and all of them deserved.
The sorrow was eased more than we thought it could ever be by the appearance of George A. Hacking, Henry’s brother, the day after his death. He filled, in measure, the place that had been vacated in our hearts. He came from Cardston, Alberta, Canada and was on his way twenty minutes after receiving the message. His other two living brothers and their wives came to the funeral: Orson and Ida from Tooele, Utah, Will and Karen from Cedar Fort, Utah and many of Henry’s nieces and nephews from other parts of Utah.
We buried Henry in what he thought was the choice spot of the Archer-Lyman Cemetery. It is situated near the foothills and our lot is up on a little hill above the main part. When we returned from the cemetery the Relief Society was there and served the large crowd a delicious lunch. (Cemetery is called Sutton Cemetery)
Bryce and Betty remained to make their home with me. Betty was a great comfort to me in those days of sorrow. She gave me the care of a nurse and the love and affection that I so desperately needed.
One of the proudest moments of my life was when our six fine sons acted as pallbearers at their father’s funeral and carried him so gently and reverently. Our oldest son, Frank, stayed by me and was such a help and comfort. I don’t know how I would have lived through that time of sorrow had it not been for my dear children. They were surely a comfort to me, so thoughtful and affectionate. Leonard and his wife, Edna, insisted on me going to California and spending the winter with them. So as soon as I was strong enough to travel, Kenneth and Laurel; Florence, who had been with me most of the time and had really been a tower of strength to me, took me to Leonard and Edna’s home in Bakersfield. My first three days were spent in the hospital, but I soon began to improve and the warm sunshine and tender loving care did wonders for me.
After a stay at Bakersfield about two months I went to Van Nuys to visit Thayne and Cleone and was made as welcome and treated as wonderfully as I had been at Leonard and Edna’s. Beautiful little one year old Kathy with her large dark eyes was her grandmother’s joy and pride.
While at Thayne’s I visited my cousins James and Minnie Turner, formerly of Magrath, Canada. They were visiting their daughter, Mrs. Jean Hale, at North Hollywood, California. Through them I met two other cousins, Mrs. Edna Cook Young of San Padro, California and Mrs. Rhoda McKinney, of Salt Lake who was a cousin by marriage and a life-long friend. She had rented a lovely apartment about a mile from Thayne’s for the winter and had brought along her big Cadillac car.
My cousin, Floy Karchner Saddler and her husband Max, lived at Palm City, now Imperial Beach, 9 miles south of San Diego. Rhoda knew her well. She took me and her houseguest, Mrs. Blackham, also of Salt Lake City, down to visit Floy. It was a beautiful drive. Most of the way was along the ocean. I stayed with Max and Floy 2 weeks and what a wonderful visit it was. Floy and I were so happy to meet again, not having seen each other for 30 years and it seemed as if I had always known Max. There are so many beautiful places down there and they wanted me to see all of them, so they took me to see the Little Chapel of the Roses, a duplicate of the one built in England in honor of Lord Alfred Tennyson. It stands on the top of a green hill among other green hills and overlooks the city, Chula Vista, far below. It is very beautiful. They also took me for a drive up the silver strand to Coronado Island. The silver strand is a narrow strip of land between San Diego Bay and the Pacific. They took me across the Mexican border to Tijuana and down to the beach numerous times to see the mighty ocean in its different moods and changing colors. Once there had been a storm at sea and the breakers were 9 feet high.
Floy and I made us a lamp of tooled copper.
Max and Floy took me back to Thayne’s and on our way we made a side trip to the old Spanish Mission at Capistrano, established by Friar Serra in 1774. It is the oldest in the state and is famous for being the place where the swallows return every year on March 8, after wintering further south. It was with a feeling of sadness that I parted with Floy and Max at Thayne and Cleone’s home.
One of the highlights of my stay in Van Nuys was an afternoon spent at the Forest Lawn Memorial Park. Thayne took Minnie Turner and me out. It is a beautiful place in the low hills near Los Angeles. It has many beautiful statues, pools and fountains. But what impressed me most was a large stained glass window, picturing the “Last Supper”. It filled one end of the chapel and was the most beautiful piece of art one could imagine.
Leonard came for me in March and after spending another month in Bakersfield, I went back to my home in Idaho, traveling with Edna’s mother, Belle Harris, on the fast train, City of Los Angeles. The winter had passed much more pleasantly than I ever dreamed it could. But still there were many times when I was so terribly lonely that I thought I couldn’t go on. How I dreaded to go back to my home. But there was Bryce and Betty and dear little baby Mary to comfort me. Dear little Mary! She filled a part of the vacancy in my heart and I love her as if she were my own.
I was glad to see my children and grandchildren, brothers, sister and friends, but when fall came and Edna and Leonard came up, I was glad to go back with them for the winter. Thayne and family had now moved to Bakersfield and my time was divided between their two homes where I received the same warm welcome and loving care.
We all spent Thanksgiving Day and Christmas and Leonard’s birthday, Dec. 26, together. Thayne took me to see Floy on Easter day. It was 300 miles from Bakersfield. This time Floy and I spent our time doing ceramics and china painting, aided and abetted by Max. We surely did enjoy it and I took home some lovely things I had made and lovelier ones that she had already made for me when I got there.
Again I came home for the summer and enjoyed my loved ones here. Mrs. Harris and I traveling by plane. Edna was operated on for goiter and got along fine, but Leonard became ill with an internal trouble, which was found to be more serious. Both got to feeling fine and wrote to see when I was coming down, so that fall Marion, LaVerne, Marjory and Donna took me down.
On Thanksgiving Day Leonard took Edna, Dick, Marilyn and me down to Floy’s again. It was a beautiful day for our ride down the coast, a day I will never forget. We stopped at a swell eating-house and had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner where we could look out over the sea.
There was a big welcome awaiting me again at Floy's and again we spent most of our time doing ceramics and china painting. Once a week we took the wonderful drive up the silver strand to Coronado to a china painting class, and we really did enjoy ourselves together. Leonard and family came and took me home with them for Christmas.
Thayne had built a beautiful new home just through the block from Leonard’s, which made it very nice for all of us.
When it came time for me to go home Thayne and Cleone took me to St. George and Donald and Amelia met us there. After resting a week at their home in Salt Lake I went on to dear old Archer, Idaho. I felt now as if I’d like to settle down and be by myself when I wanted to be quiet. My children thought that my house was too large for me to care for and too far away from anyone in case of sudden sickness. So it was decided that I should have a little house built close to one of them. I decided it should be by my only daughter, Florence, so now I have a very comfortable little one-room apartment with kitchenette and bath. It is well insulated to make it cool in summer and warm in winter. The big picture window in the West and three smaller windows make it light and cheery. Bryce did the carpenter work and wiring, as he is a builder. Kenneth did the plumbing and the others helped financially, though I was able to do a good share of the latter myself.
I had not been in my little home very long when a great sorrow came in the death of our dear Leonard, who passed away September 6, 1954.
He was such a wonderful son to me and I miss him dreadfully, but he suffered greatly and it was a mercy when the Lord took him.
So here I am close to Florence. Her children come in often to watch the television, a gift from Thayne when he was up to see me. Florence, Warren and their family treat me so well and the rest of my family come to see me as often as they can. I keep busy with sewing, crocheting, painting and writing and reading so the time passes very pleasantly.
I know the Lord has blessed me and continues to bless me every day. May He bless all of my posterity with a love for the Gospel and a desire to do right.
A TRIBUTE TO MY MOTHER
By Kenneth Hacking
I am happy to have this opportunity to pay tribute to my mother because I feel that she is one of my very best friends. No one has had better or greater influence on my life.
Mother is blessed with a great deal of artistic and dramatic talent and it has been her joy to use her talent for the entertainment and enlightenment of her friends and neighbors. Her acting and humorous readings have delighted people in every community in which she has lived. For many years she was drama director in M.I.A. and had outstanding success. I remember that one of her productions reached the church finals in Salt Lake City.
Her poetic ability is recognized and many bereaved have been touched and comforted thereby, and many happy days commemorated.
I feel that her greatest talent and greatest success is as a wife and mother. She was the center of my father’s life and his joy in her companionship and pride in her accomplishments was great and constant. She returned his love in full measure. Together they provided a safe and happy home for their many children and many more. Although they were not wealthy they always seemed to find room for children in need of mothering. Cousins, nieces and nephews and grandchildren were taken in, made one with the family, and loved with the rest of us.
To me she epitomizes the Later-Day-Saint ideals of motherhood and womanhood. God bless her always.
MARTHA ELNORA WILCOX HACKING OBITUARY
Died Feb. 3, 1961 at Firth, Idaho, born 6 Aug. 1877, Kingston, Piute, Utah in the United Order; daughter of John Dingman Wilcox and Mary Theodocia Savage.
FLORENCE MAY HACKING DYE OBITUARY
Died September 18, 1961 at the Salt Lake LD.S. Hospital of brain cancer. She was born 1 May 1914 at Magrath, Alberta, Canada, daughter of Henry Franklin and Martha Wilcox Hacking. She was the wife of Warren E. Dye. She is survived by her husband and seven children from ages 17 to 4.
Note:This history is from the Samuel Allen Wilcox Sr. Bulletin 1957 #14.