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Show Volume X Issue VII THE OGDEN VALLEY NEWS Page 9 July 15, 2004 Pioneer Days in Ogden Valley Pioneering seems to be a tough job. It certainly was in Utah. Frequently necessity makes it so. Often after a settler had been located for some time in their new home and had acquired some property around, the family might be called [by the church] to move and help establish a new town somewhere else in a new part of the country. Thus, the strenuous work required at first, had to be sacrificed in order to get located a second time. The ose of such a policy was to get silanes established over as wide an area as possible so that a large stream of immigrants coming into the country would have no great difficulty in finding people of their liking and land enough on which to raise food for themselves and acquire a home. Men and families, therefore, who had this experience, were the most suitable people to go into these new places. They thus became important advisors to newcomers in all the problems that were likely to face them in the new settlement. When I was a small boy, I remember such an occasion occurring. Bishop F. A. Hammond and his family were called to move from our town to Bluff, way down in San Juan County. That town still seems to me to be at the end of the earth. The Bishop had been in our town for quite a few years and by hard work and good management had made himself quite well-to-do. His big, white frame house was on the corner of the lot just east of the Renstrom home. The half of the block north of the house was covered with barns, corrals, and sheds. The day he moved out, the whole town watched with heavy hearts as the stock, wagons, and all went down the street. I can remember that procession, for I had a feeling in me that something awful was happening. That feeling soon passed off, however. The Bishop, it seems, had always been a most hospitable man and he had gratified that feeling by inviting people to dine at his house. He had built a very long and substantial table of native red pine with rounded ends, and painted red. Upon it, I suppose, many a sumptuous feast had been served. Because of its size, I imagine, it could not be transported on those heavily loaded wagons down to distant Bluff, so it was disposed of to my father. The long caravan was not yet out of sight when that table began its trek to our house, followed by a highly pleased boy. Our old rock house had two large rooms on the lower floor and two rooms and a sizeThe north room downIt had a large fireplace and a nice mantle shelf. Stoves, of a kind, had arrived by that time, so very little use was mad of the fireplace. The south room was the parlor. It, too, had a fireplace and a nice mantle. ne an extra bed had to be set up in The two rooms ani the hallway upstairs were the sleeping quarters. Almost everything in the house, like the furniture, bedding, and clothing, was homemade. The floor in the kitchen, and I suppose through the house, was made of native pine, and was as knotty as it could be. It had been used for a long time, I suppose, without any kind of floor covering. As a consequence, since the knots were harder than the balance of the wood, they had resisted the natural wear and therefore stood out as conspicuously as a sore thumb. The so-called “rag carpets” had made their appearance about that time. At harvest time in the fall, white, clean oat straw was again gathered and all carpets were taken up, th straw removed, and the floors scrubbed white. It was at this operation that I first noticed the knots in the floor. It was a real joy to see the new straw come in. It had to be spread as evenly as possible over the whole floor and as deep as the carpet could be stretched to cover, and yet be tacked down at the edges. To keep the youngsters from bouncing around on top of it during the stretching operation required halfa dozen pairs of sharp eyes. It was soft and springy when completed. How warm and inviting that combination of rag carpet and clean oat straw. Cooking for a large family was an unending task. There was the yeast to keep fresh. Bread was mixed first as “sponge” and usually allowed to raise overnight. In the morning it was mixed down, then put in the pans and finally baked. There was nothing that could be served out of cans as now. Everything had to be prepared and cooked in the home. Foods were so limited that mothers were driven to distraction. Cream was skimmed from the pans and churned. The butter had to be mixed and salted. Every piece of tallow was saved, and when there was enough on hand, it had to be “rendered” for greasing cowhide boots and harnesses, as well as for making soap and candles. There was always a pile of darning, knitting, and patching waiting until mother found some leisure time. Wool had to be washed, scoured and dried, then carded into rolls and finally spun into yarn. I can remember as though it were just yesterday, a plainly furnished room, dimly lighted ofa winter evening, with an old fashioned wood cook stove placed out in the room some distance from the wall. There was a shallow ash pan covered with a moveable lid protruding from the front of the stove that constituted a useful hearth. In front of the grate there was a door that swung out when necessary, and air vents that exposed the whole box. This allowed emanation of considerable heat and not a little light ofa kind. Nearby sat a woman at a spinning wheel. Close at hand there was a pile of soft, fluffy wool rolls. At regular intervals, one of these rolls was taken from the pile by her left hand and without any apparent effort, was attached to the end of the yarn without the loss ofa second. Her hand moved methodically from end to end, thinning and shaping the roll to the prepared size of the yarn as it moved to the spinning wheel. At the same time, her foot kept the peddle moving up and down at the proper speed to allow the work of the hands to be thorough as well as comfortable. In a corner of the room, a bed was improvised for the comfort of two small boys, the tick of which was fat with the recent filling with new, clean white oat ‘aw. The flickering light from the stove dancing on the opposite wall, the purr of the spinning wheel, the diminishing pile of the fluffy white wool rolls, the ceaseless, rhythmatic movements of the woman—your mother. To all asleep in such surrounding is, for a child, truly heaven. In common with all boys of my time, I wore cowhide boots, when I wore anything on my feet. They were thick and durable, but uncomfortable. There was a small brass cap on the toe, and a small square of softer leather, dyed red, at the top in front. The BARBARA BEALBA INTERIORS uppers were cut in two pieces, front and back, and the seams were on the sides where they could rub the most effectively on the ankle bone as though they were designed as an instrument of torture. Probably because of this, no youngster wore them in the summer. Before the season was over, the sole of the foot got as thick as the leather in the boots, and as tough, and boys returned to the meal time. I am not positive of this, howevr. I do know if there were visitors, the younger children had to stand at meal time. Since this produced no widespread comment, raised no eyebrows, and brought forth no expressions of sympathy, I imagine it must have been the usual thing in every household. Mother had a big copper kettle that her Q Donald D. McKay a the booklet entied “Memories of Huntsville and I Pec ople.” Copies of the full text can be purchased at the Huntsville Historical Library. Historical Photo a keine rs ey: Ready for a picnic, probably up Wolf Creek about 1931. Keith and Merlin Burnett, Norma, Leona Ferrin, Donna Burnett at back of buckboard, Joseph Ferrin holding Bud White, a grandson, and Minnie Ferrin leaning on wheel. Photo courtesy of Donna McKay. use of these boots at the end of the summer season with great reluctance, and usually this action was delayed too long. The wet, cold weather was sure to prove disastrous. The skin by then would get wet so frequently that it soon chapped, cracked, and bled in many places. Many a night Mother put me to bed with a bran poultice on my feet to rid them of chap so I would wear my boots ain In most homes, furniture was of the plainest sort, and not too abundant. I think we had chairs enough for all the family at ae gg . LOCATED IT MAKES Discount father had brought to Utah from Iowa City where he spent a year outfitting for the trip to Zion. He had also made and brought here from Iowa, a pair of end irons for a fireplace, and also a stool, both of which I now have in our house. That copper kettle was used for many purposes in those early days. Much of the clothing worn then had to be made by hand and the only fiber available for such work was wool. A lot of it around our house was “scoured” in this kettle. here even was another interesting PIONEER IN THE 745-2269 cont. on page 14 A DIFFERENCE commissions as low as 4%. Call for details. 2003 CLoseED SALES VoLUME uP 111% OVER 2002 We need homes & land to sell, call 745-6000. Paul Judd 745-6000 Office 814-5667 Cell Manager/ Broker Sales Master/GRI Chairman OVBA Custom Draperies Blinds, Shutters & Shades Reupholstery Design Consultation E-mail: barbar DAYS VALLEY 5460 Bast 2200 North Eden Utah 84310 Connected to the Community The Valley is our Business |