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Show The Judge and Margie Judge and Mrs. Clay AreLast Of Original Snake Valley Pioneers I ' "'V "V : ""' " "''. I ! l -V "" 5 - -' v--- ....... -f V" ' , r -. f a ." ! ".v . "' ,.v , t i, . V l ' ,'. V ' - ; i J. I ' : ' ' ' v 1 ' , ' ' . I I . ' - : it; ,. ! in- mil r- n--' iM." 'WhJIJNitoiilW. the ceremony was .performed. Willard Burbank eventually left the ranch, and it became the Clay home. The mother passed away and Lizzie married, but later at the death of her husband, hus-band, she and her little boy became be-came permanent members of the Clay household. Later generations genera-tions have come to know the sister sis-ter as Aunt Lizzie Shoemaker beloved by all and deeply mourned when she was laid to rest in the little cemetery a few years ago. Her son Fred is one of the prominent members of the Snake Valley community. It is interesting to know that Snake Valley is named from the Snake Indians a branch of the iarge Piute tribe. There were about 1,000 Indians living in the mountains there when the settlers set-tlers moved in. About 300 of them stayed near the settlement and were hired by the cattlemen many of the squaws helping in the homes. They seemed to be a peaceable tribe and caused the settlers very little trouble. Once there was an Indian scare caused by a renegade Indian In-dian shooting a prospector, and all the settlers were warned to go to Baker and prepare for an attack. Lizzie Burbank saddled sad-dled her pony and carried the warning to the neighbors and so made her first contribution to the community life of the Valley. The renegade Indian was turned over to the settlers for punishment and trouble was, fortunately, averted. In those days the mail came to the Valley from Pioche. About 50 miles north of the settlement set-tlement was a salt marsh, and great wagon-loads of salt were hauled by ox or mule team to Pioche, to be used in the mills there. These outfits would take the outgoing mail and return with word from the outside world. Aunt Lizzie would ride out to meet the returning wagons. wag-ons. They would give her the mail sack, which she would empty on the ground, pick out the mail for the settlement and come back to the house to deliver de-liver it to the neighbors as they came by. Later, a post office known as Burbank was established. estab-lished. Aunt Lizzie was its first postmistress a position she helc for 18 years. Very early, a school was established es-tablished and money was available avail-able for five months of schooling school-ing each year. Often the settlers set-tlers chipped in and paid for extra time given by the teachers. teach-ers. If any higher education (Continued on Page 14) By VENA WILSON "Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man " If you would like to see this poetic sentiment assume living reality, go out to Garrison and visit with Judge and Mrs. E. W. Clay. Here in a softly-weather beaten, rambling log house, within a few feet of the main-traveled main-traveled road, is the home built by Judge Clay himself over 70 years ago. The timber was cut and hauled from the mountains a few miles away, and made into one of the largest and most commodious houses of those early days. It was the dynamic center of much of the pioneer life of the Snake Valley settle-nent, settle-nent, because of the rare and kindly personalities that guided its destinies. Mrs. Clay at 96 is a stately and gracious lady of the old school, her mind keen and alert, her correctness of speech unchallenged, her rich, vibrant voice with its eager tones happily recounting the doings of long ago. Mr. Clay, "now 92, has a good-humored smile on his friendly face and a merry twinkle in his eye, as he greets his many friends with true Western hospitality. The history of the settlement is the history of the Clay family and their neighbors, and is so intermingled that there is no possible separation of events. They are very modest people the Clays and will speak freely of the early days in the Valley, tho they skilfully refrain re-frain from placing themselves in a prominent position in any of its interesting activities. But the remarks of their neighbors when their name is mentioned testify to the love and veneration venera-tion in which they are held by all who knew them. They are "wonderful folks," or "grand people" or the "salt of the earth," and nothing anyone can do is too good for the beloved Judge and "Aunt Margie," as she is affectionately called. Neither is a native of the West, Mrs. Clay coming from Vermont and Mr. Clay from Michigan. Mrs. Clay's girlhood was spent near the Vermont j town later made famous as the home of Calvin Coolidge, though her birthplace was Massachusetts. Massachu-setts. Her father was a teacher in Black River Academy and here she received her education. She had an older brother and a younger sister. Her father's death made it difficult for the mother, and the boy Willard not being very rugged, it was ' decided that she send the two older children to their uncle, a doctor, who had come to San Francisco some time before and had finally located in Austin, Nevada, where he practiced his profession and became widely interested in mines. So Willard and Margie Burbank, he but 17 years old and she 15, left New York City by boat in 1868 for their new home. A week's sailing brought them to the Isthmus of Panama, which they crossed the day the boy was 18, then two weeks on the Pacific and they landed in California. They went up to Sacramento by boat and there took a stage to Argenta, which was a rip-roaring frontier town, the western terminus of the then uncompleted Southern Pacific Pa-cific Railroad. The stage was an old Concord coach, carrying 14 passengers, with a four-horse team. The body of the coach J being suspended by leather straps, it rocked about as they raced along the rough mountain roads. The driver perched way up topso he could view the surrounding sur-rounding country. The stage always carried some Wells-Fargo Wells-Fargo express, and the expressman express-man sat out front with a rifle across his knees, ready to protect pro-tect his precious consignments. It was almost impossible for. the boy to get a room for hia sister in the town, for it was full of prospectors. Finally a man who had a large upper room where he let the miners sleep on the floor in their own blankets, blank-ets, at a dollar apiece per niaht, rose to the occasion, hiredA a carpenter, partitioned off a small portion of the room and Margie was made safe and secure se-cure as her brother guarded her door by sleeping on the floor in front of it. She said she had no fear everyone was very kind and helpful, and it was really a grand adventure. Their uncle met them later and they went to Austin and ended their trip in Hamilton, in what was called "Ragtown," as nearly everyone in the place was living in a tent during the great mining boom. Though very young, she taught school in Hamilton, married a Mr. Lake, and was left a widow with a little lit-tle boy, Eddie, before she was' 20 years of age. Meanwhile her brother ws regaining his health and shortly the mother and sister Lizzie came by rail from the ,East, and were taken to what is now the Clay ranch, where Willard was establishing himself in the cattle cat-tle ' business. Here they began to accumulate a goodly amount of stock and to. make preparations prepara-tions for a permanent home. Among the young cowboys employed em-ployed on the ranch was a slender, slen-der, blue-eyed, soft-spoken lad named Elwin Clay. He was a magnificent rider and a crack shot. Though born in the state of Michigan his mother brought him to Nevada as a tiny infant. As the Judge says, "I came Wfest before I got my eyes open." He had spent a few years in California Cali-fornia and was always a good horseman, riding as a jockey a short time a thin lad, he and his saddle weighing" in at 117 lbs. He had come back to Ne- ( vada while still a stripling, for he says on the Fourth of July, 1874, he was in Beaver County heading for Snake Valley, and was one of the men who drove 1,000 head of cattle and many horses across the Beaver River just south of Milford, at what was then known as Horse Shoe Bend. It was near the old Pete Martin Ranch now owned by Carl Elmer. ' Young Elwin rode the range for 22 years, a likeable young chap with a ready smile and a host of friends. In those days each man carried the. law with him and Mr. Clay said when a call came to go, he always had to buckle on his "hardware." It was inevitable that Elwin should meet Margie when she came with her little son to visit her mother in 1872. She stayed and taught the school in the Valley for three terms. So they became better acquainted and finally married. Judge Clay said he was very persistent, but she wouldn't give him any satisfaction sat-isfaction until one night at a dance at one of the neighbors as they sat together on a trunk he said again, "Will you marry me?" To his surprise, she said "Yes." He said "When?" She answered "Now." When Mrs. Clay was asked for a confirmation confirma-tion of this story she only said, "That is the way he always tells it," but she did not, deny it. He went to Hamilton, 150 miles away, for the marriage license, and after chasing up a justice of peace in the Valley HERE'S MORE ABOUT j JUDGE AND MARGIE (Continued from Pat;e 11) was desired (in those days "higher education" meant anything any-thing above the eighth grade), the children were sent out of the Valley to some large town, often Salt Lake. The teachers were usually very fine women. They always boarded with the Clays, and Mis. Clay said she enjoyed their company and didn't mind the extra work. A Union Sunday School was organized very early in the life of the Valley, and Mrs. Clay and Aui.l Lizzie were among- its most faithful members. As they bolh played the organ, they were invaluable as teachers and musicians. Some of the children chil-dren came 20 miles on horseback horse-back to the little Sunday School, and they were the ones who rarely missed a meeting. S'lme one the men went twice a year to Fillmore or Provo or Salt Lake City for groceries. It was a long trip requiring many days travel by wagon. If any supplies ran out before it was time to make another an-other trip, the settlers simply did without. They always observed the Fourth of July by decorating their wagons with flags and it was surprising that every family fam-ily had one .piling in all the children and lunches and going to the mountains, about nine miles away, for a grand picnic. In later years they - enjoyed horse racing and ball games. In winter there was always good skating on the reservoir. From the earliest days, dancing was a favorite entertainment. They were held in the various homes, moving out the furniture and having a real old-fashioned . time that lasted most of the night. Judge Clay played the I "fiddle" and called for the I square dances, and either Mrs. Clay or Aunt Lizzie pumped the old par'or organ. Mrs. Clay says many times they danced two sets in her dining room, which is rather a good-sized room. There were no social clubs or literary societies. Their nearest doctor was in the mining town of Frisco, so hey doctored themselves usually, usu-ally, calomel, quinine and nitrate nit-rate of silver being their favorite favor-ite drugs Young Willard Bur-oank, Bur-oank, then only 20years old, aved the life of a little boy who was dying of diphtheria by painting the child's throat with aitrate of silver, which moistened moist-ened a small white rag tied to a stick. His uncle beirtf a doctor, doc-tor, the parents had begged him to help them so he took a chance and won out. When the Valley was new there were no trees and consequently conse-quently no birds. But trees were planted by every settler, and soon the songs of the robins and the meadow lark cheered the hearts of those who had so sorely missed their feathered friends. Such is the setting in which the Clays have spent their lives. As the years went by four sons came to cheer the old home: Leslie, who is known by everyone every-one in Milford; Burton, who resides re-sides in Salt Lake City; Stanley and Elwin, who were taken from them in early manhood. These, with Eddie, Mrs. Clay's son of her early marriage, made five boys to cook and wash for and to love and plan for. The Clay children often rode their horses to the school, five miles away. Mrs. Clay says she can "see the children yet," gathered about the big dining table after the supper dishes were done, studying or reading or listening listen-ing to the teacher as she talked with them or read to them. The Clay home became the general meeting place for all the boys of the Valley, for there they found a warm welcome and understanding un-derstanding friends. As all women do, Mrs. Clay, when she first made her home in the Valley, thought perhaps she would not care for these Western people, for she had been brought up in the old New England traditions of conduct and standards, but she says long since she came to know that there are no better people in the world than their neighbors in Snake Valley. And may it be suggested that perhaps this is but an illustration of "Be noble! And the noble- j ness which li"S in other men ' sleeping, but never dead, will rise to race', thine own!" The Clay ranch seemed to be a sort of half-way station, between be-tween the entering and the leaving leav-ing of the Valley, and, as Mr. Clay knew everybody and loved company, they rarely sat down to a meal wi'hout guests, and the Judge made everyone welcome, wel-come, i There is a spring on the ranch which is the source of their water supply. It never seems to vary in volume or temperature tem-perature as it emerges from the ground about 300 yards from he house. An open trough is by the road and a hose from a pipe makes it easy to fill a water bag. In the early days it was a great drawing card for the ranch, for all travelers stopped for a deliciously coo! drink and to water their horses. The Judge says now they stop to drink and fill their radiators. It has never been used much for irrigating, as this is not (primarily a farming country, but it is a paradise for stockmen. stock-men. Judge Clay, always a lover of horses, kept a little blacksmith shop where he shod his own horses. It was just back of the house, and soon the neighbors were bringing their horses to be shod and he was mending all sorts of tools and implements and machinery. It was a most necessary service in those days, and it pleased Mr. Clay, for one of the things he prized most was his ability to help his neighbors. Mr. Clay was one of the first men to explore Lehman's Cave. There wre seven or eight in the party, among them Eddie, who was about 10 years old. The,y got lost and while the men were sitting and talking the situation over, Eddie took the light and, looking around as boys will, found the hole where they had come into that particular particu-lar part of the cave and so they got out unaided. This was in 1880,. 1 The Indians used the cave as a burial ground and did not want the white men around there, so they told the settlers that there was a "little old man of the mountain" with a blue beard, who would kill all the white babies if they came into the cave. This tale, of course, did not affect the white men and they continued Jheir visits, so Continued on Next Page JMI1IHHHU IMJUl.il l-HmitJ)luJWMJJillB HERE'S MORE ABOUT JUDGE AND MARGIE (Continued from Page 14) the Indians ceased to use it and never went there any more. The white man had desecrated their burial ground. For many years so many Leslie could not recall when asked about it Mr. Clay has been justice of the pace. As such, many weddings have been solemnized in the old house and the happy and frightened couples sent out into a new life with the love and good wishes of the Judge and Aunt Margie to bless them in their new undertaking. un-dertaking. The years have come and gone, bringing much work, much joy and the fruitage of many dreams. The boys have left the Valley for homes of their own, but they and their children and the grandchildren are the dearest things in all the world to the pioneers of another age who live in the "house by 'he side of the road." New faces have replaced the old in the circle 'of friends, but the doors of the old house still stand open to all comers, radiating radi-ating cheer and good fellowship to the passing parade. Shy and retiring in their personal life, the Clays do not speak of the many children they have helped usher into the world, the long nights spent in caring for the sick, the comforting words spoken into the ears of the heart stricken, the cheerful message mes-sage and friendly handclasp ihat restored courage to the faltering, and renewed the life of the despairing. They feel they have but done their allotted al-lotted bit in the making of a better world, for as they put it, "Everybody did all they could." The old rooms . with their shadowy corners and relics of bygone days are filled with an atmosphere of peace and serenity seren-ity of the spirit, for the days of ' accomplishment are ended. And now with the heat of the day long spent and the end of their lives drawing near, they rest in the house that a "heap o' livin" has made a hallowed spot for them. The afternoon sun makes a lacy pattern of leaf shadows through the trees that Elwin, the range rider, planted when life was young. Its softened radiance touches the cushioned rockers and the old piano and the reading table in front of the window with a gentle warmth. The Judge rises from the desk where he has been searching for some old letters, and turning to Aunt Margie sitting near him says, in his gentle way, 'Shall I help you up, Mother? We must say good-by to our guests." And Margie rises and takes "Ellie's" hand as they together wish their friends a happy future fu-ture and a safe trip home. Across the Valley the blue hills seem as the gateway to an unknown fairyland, the setting sun stretches long fingers of light over the fields and pastures pas-tures and they touch the old house caressingly, as though with loving care they would remember re-member these two who have walked the earth so valiantly, and by their deeds of mercy, charity and love have become great because they have blessed their fellowmen. |
