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Show vowmest ert "DAE OGDEN VALLEY NEWS Page 11 January 1, 2006 Swineville transparent wings, hovered over the pond or sat in willow branches and studied me with malevolent eyes. me, even now, the beautiful dragonfly is a symbol of evil because of its association with Dead Mans Pond. After sundown bats, another symbol of evil, took up the watch and became the custodian of Dead Mans Pond through the 5 I was born in “Swineville” in the year 1908. Swineville was not the real name of our town. e were part of the Eden Township but some clown saw a need for a different name. He pulled Swineville out of a hat and Swineville it became. I thought it was a rotten name to hang onto a beautiful little valley like ours and yet, when I think of the great contribution the pig made to man on his long journey to civilization, the name takes on a little more dignity. The culprit who named the town was a conductor on the Utah Idaho Central Railroad. The U.I.C. operated a branch line between Ogden and Huntsville. The railroad station that served the north end of the Valley was located about one hundred yards south of our house. Because the station was several miles south of the towns of Eden and Liberty, the conductor was reluctant to lead his passengers to believe that they were actually in those towns so a new name was needed. West of the station, the track made a turn and headed straight east to the red brick station. At the bend was the proper place to announce the upcoming station. At that bend was a pig farm owned by a man named Moffett. The conductor was watching the pigs when he rounded the bend. The station had to announced so he shouted: “Swineville Station.” Swineville it was, and Swineville it stayed until it died in the mid 1930’s. It was buried by the waters of Pineview Reservoir. It was a shame that our town had to suffer the indignity of such a name, especially when there were so many splendid names that were appropriate. The famous artesian wells that supplied Ogden City with its culinary water were located in our town. Artesia or Wellsville would have been a great improvement on Swineville. The Blackman-Griffin Creamery was located across the street from our house. How about Creamora or Butterfield? The first pea-vinery in the Valley was located at the end of the road. Legume Flat or even Peaville would have given the town more dignity. Stillville might have been appropriate because of the many whiskey stills that operated in our town during the prohibition era. In spite of the name, Swineville was a wonderful place in which to live, especially if you were a boy. There were many exciting things to do. A deep swimming hole equipped with a diving board was a three minute walk from our house but we seldom walked. The three main streams of the val- ley, North Fork, Middle Fork and South Fork, flowed through our town and came together not far from our home to form a small lake we called “Stillwater.” All of these streams swarmed with native rainbow, and German brown trout. In the autumn, thousands of white fish left Stillwater and traveled up the river to spawn. They were stupid fish and I caught them by the dozens. There were several small creeks in which delicious, pink meated eastern brook trout prospered. They were always hungry and would jump out of the water to get grasshoppers that I fed them on steel hooks. I especially liked to catch these fish because my mother was very fond of them and always bragged on me when I took them home to her. The body of water we called Stillwater came into being with the advent of the elec: tric light. The Utah Power and Liht Company built a diversion dam where the Pineview is now located. From the reservoir the water was carried in a wooden pipe through the Ogden Canyon to the electric generating plant at the mouth of Ogden Canyon. Here it was used to turn the dynamos and make electricity. Because of this dam, the water table in the area was high and the growth of many plants, shrubs, and trees was stimulated. The area south and west of our home was a veritable jungle. Willows, dogwood, twinberry, alders, and many other water loving plants grew in such profusion along the slow moving streams, that in many places it was impossible to get to the streams. Timothy, yellow clover, pepermint, and several varieties of thistle grew shoulder high in the clearings. In this jungle were mysteries to challenge the bravest explorer. Oxbow lakes, formed by the everchanging river channels centuries ago, teamed with life and begged to be explored. These swamps provided proper habitat for toads, frogs, tadpoles, and winged creatures without number. One of these ponds fascinated and frightened me. We called it Dead Mans Pond. It had a sinister reputation, and according to the local “older boys,” it was a quicksand bog. “It really was” they said. They told me, with tongue in cheek, that the swamp contained the bodies of animals and men who were foolish enough to explore it. That it was evil was apparent. A dense thicket of willows surrounded it as if they were protecting it from prying eyes. The surface was covered with a green scum made up of microscopic plants and animals. Dragonflies or devil’s darning needles, as we called them, pursued the myriads of insects that hovered over the brackish water. These insects, with their great eyes, pencil shaped bodies, and ight. The temptation to explore it was great, and explore it I did. I fought my way through the willows and underbrush and always standing on a mat of willow roots, I looked into the murky water of the swamp. With a long stick, I probed, unsuccessfully, for the bottom. Several times I was startled by half submerged logs that took on the likeness of alligators that waited in ambush for me. They seemed to watch me with unblinking eyes as I fought my way through the jungle. The most frightening thing about the pond was the noises it made. Often when I stepped from one willow root to another, a giant air bubble would break loose from the bottom and rise quickly to the surface. At times, large blasts of gas rose in the center of the pond making frightening noise in the still, humid atmosphere, and sending ripples in ever widening circles toward the shore. My explanation of the noisy air bubbles was that these submerged decaying logs pro- duced methane gas that periodically broke loose and rose to the surface. My fear of Dead Mans Pond and a small unkempt cemetery located nearby always sent me home before dark. I learned the true meaning of fear when I was sent by my father to find a mother sheep and her lamb that had failed to return before dark. The story behind this little cemetery was typical of the suffering and hardships endured by the Utah pioneers. In the year 1876, an epidemic of the black smallpox ran rampant in Ogden City. The people were so terrified of the disease that they thought strange thoughts and did strange things. They believed that the belongings of an afflicted person must be burned. They believed that even the smoke from the fire could cause one to be infected with the dis- ease. It was at this time that Armsted Moffet left Ogden City and moved into an old cabin belonging to the Froerer family in Swineville. Moffett made the move to escape the epidemic raging in the city. Instead of escaping the disease, he brought it to the Valley with him. David Froerer, then 15 years of age, became infected. Lester Froerer, who slept with David, caught the SWINEVILLE =e = - on . ~ rey = Marion Stallings and grandmother Charlotte Hussey Stallings on George Stallings’ 1919 Dodge. 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