Beehive History, Volume 11, 1985

BEEHIVE HISTORY

II

Melvin T. Smith Director Stanford J. Layton Coordinator of Publications Miriam B. Murphy Beehive History Editor @Copyright 1985 Utah State HistoricalSoc~ety 300 Rio Grande Salt Lake City, Utah 84101-1182

ZEEHIVE HISTORY Contents

11

Memories of Life in Farr West . . . . . . .F. J. Westergard 2 Pioneer Pottery in Utah . . . . . . . . . . William C. Seifrit 7 Lucky to Be Alive . . . . . . . .Maurice Newton Cope 10 Community Celebrations . . . . . . . Linda Thatcher 13 Early Life in Pleasant Grove . . . . .Ruth H. Henrie 16 The Genteel Life of Lucile May Francke . . . Gary Topping 19 Helmut Rimmasch and Salt Lake's German Community . . . . . .Allan Kent Powell 21 Christmas at Highland Boy . . . . . . . . . Claire Noall 27 Cover photograph by Gary B. Peterson, Photogeographics, of young dancers at the 1983 German Volksfest in Utah.

This publication has been funded with the assistance of a matching grant-in-aid from the Department of the Interior, National Park Service, under provisions of the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966 as amended.

This program receives financial assistance for identification and presewation of historic properties under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973. The U.S. Department of the Interior prohibits discrimination on the basis of race, color, national origin, or handicap in its federally assisted programs. If you believe you have been discriminated against in any program, activity, or facility as described above, or if you desire further information please write to: Office of Equal Opportunity U.S. Department of the Interior, Washington, D.C. 20240.

At the northern edge of our spacious backyard was an outdoor fireplace of brick with rods across the top forming a grill. In this we built a roaring wood fire and over it placed a big black rectangular boiler. While the water was heating the first pig was brought out.

Dad skillfully pierced its throat with a sharp killing knife. The poor pig squealed pitifully and tried to run away. Blood gushed from the wound. A rope tied to the pig's foot kept him conveniently near until he toppled over from loss of blood. After a few final feeble squeals and attempts to rise, the pig lay still in a pool of bright crimson on the white snow. Once I fainted during this operation. Always thereafter I struggled manfully against a recurrence of such disgraceful behavior.

By the time the pig had collapsed, the water was boiling vigorously. Several bucketsful were dipped out of the boiler and poured into a barrel propped at a 45degree angle against a raised platform. The pig was dragged to the platform.

Steel hooks were inserted through the cords of his hocks (ankles),and he was raised from the ground. From the platform he was lowered head first into the tilted barrel of boiling water.

Dad and his helper, each holding a hook on the animal's leg, would repeatedly immerse the pig in the barrel. When the bristles began to rub off on the edge of the barrel the animal was turned and the other half scalded. Then the pig was brought out onto the platform and scraped with steel disks attached to both ends of a wood handle. There was a sickening, stifling odor

Hog butchering on the Westergard farm as remembered by the author.

about the place from the hot blood, wet bristles, and scalded flesh.

With the bristles removed the pig was white and smooth - more human-looking than he had ever been. A slngle treelike stick was inserted through his hocks, spreading his hind legs apart to the limit. The carcass was carried or wheeled over to the old shed, a straw-covered, unmilled timber shack down by the pig pen and corral. A block and tackle was attached to the stick and the pig was hung up with his snout just off the ground.

Dad took his knife and began a cut near the tail and extending down the middle of the belly to the throat. Before the throat was reached the interior organs began to fall through the opening. A tub was placed on the ground by the head, and as the warm, slick, ropelike intestines came out they were directed into the tub. Later the chickens would get to peck at them for undigested grain and food particles. The edible organs were placed in another pan for our own consumption The bladder was carefully removed, drained, and set aside. Later it was washed, filled with beans, and blown up to dry. It became a balloonlike, rattling plaything. Usually three pigs were dressed out this way at the slaughter.

Mother's work began the following day when Dad cut up the meat. The fat was removed

and rendered in the oven to become the winter's supply of lard. The rendering was accompanied by loud popping noises and the heavy smell of hot fat.

Sometime later the hams and sides of bacon were s h n g through an end or corner with binder's twine and hung in the smokehouse, a little doghouseappearing structure joined by clay pipe to a firebox in the ground. A fire of apple wood was kept smoldering and smoking until the meat was a beautiful rich brown. The smoke slowly filtered up from cracks in the smokehouse floor. The tantalizing odor of burning wood and curing meat lingered about.

Dad's Threshing Machines To supplement his meager farm earnings Dad operated a threshing machine outfit in partnership with several other men. Their first thresher was a horsepowered, carousel-type machine.

Several teams of horses were driven in a circle around the machine by the operator on a platform above them. Gears transferred this genuine horsepower to a shaft extending upward to a pulley from which a belt extended to the grain separator. Later, the power was provided by a gasoline motor - a huge one-cylinder affair with enormous flywheels on both sides. Still later, a lumbering steam engine supplied the

power. This was Dad's pride and joy.

When the threshing season was on, Dad and his partners slept by their machine at night unless the job was within a five- or ten-minute walk from home. Each man had a bedroll of old quilts - no sleeping bag and usually no tarpaulin. The quilts were spread out on straw under the stars. With this arrangement an early start each morning was assured and possible sabotage by a competitor was less likely. After six days of working around coal, smoke, dust, and chaff, the men welcomed the Saturday night bath. The bedding, however, probably waited for the three- or four-week threshing season to end before getting its washing.

Church Meetings Hog killing and threshing were once-a-year events, part of the cycle of farm life. Church meetings were regular weekly events. Until I was about 14 or 15 years old Farr West had only a one-room combination chapel and recreation hall built in the nineteenth century. It had a fairly well equipped stage at the rear with a curtain that was always drawn while church was being held. Under the stage was a classroom, usually divided in two by a curtain. The kindergarten and primary classes went there after the opening exercises of Sunday School. The children had to march around the building to enter this room through an outside door.

At first the chapel had just a movable pulpit and a row of chairs facing the audience for the officials and dignitaries of the ward. Later, a removable riser was constructed to elevate them above the people.

When the opening exercises were over, someone duly appointed drew a curtain from

Church leaders on elevated seats. Watercolor by the author.

classrooms. ~atercolo;by the author.

the rear of the auditorium along a wire down the center of the room. Similar shorter green curtains were then drawn from the sides of the building toward the center, dividing the auditorium into six or eight classrooms. The curtains helped to confine the sound. Still, there was an overall buzz of the teachers' voices, and if you made a slight effort you could ignore your own teacher and listen through the curtain to a neighboring teacher. This was quite a sport for us boys because we could ridicule the teacher on the other side of the curtain without being seen by her. However, our own teacher soon corrected us. Once in a while, too, we had an opportunity to jab someone in a neighboring class when we saw them against the curtain.

This we did only to the younger children.

Holidays Fourth of July and Pioneer Day celebrations began about dawn in Farr West. Boys drove do- the road with pans and cans tied to their buggies or tin lizzies and scattered booming fireworks along the way. In the grove to the north of the ward hall a stand was constructed with four trees as corners. Red, white, and blue bunting was draped from the stand's counter. A display in the center of the stand temptingly exhibited Old Mother Goose popcorn, gum, candy, noisemakers, and probably something eke that didn't attract my attention. Cases of soda water strawberry, cream, lemon, lemon sour, and root beer - were stacked in one corner. Nearby were tubs of ice water where the bottles were set to cool. In another corner were huge freezers of ice cream from which cones were filled. In yet another corner hotdogs sizzled on a grill.

The day's official activities began with a

,

WANTED IMMEDIATELY, FIRST-RATE "THROWER" mi lind constant employment, A w ~,t hIlberal . wages, by applying to Mesrs. Perris & Hopkins, at their Portrait Gallery, on Main Suec~,or at the City Pottery, opposite the residence of Capt. W. H . Hooper.

52-3

CITY POTTERY. HE Propr~etorsof the above establishment, situated opposite the res~dence , . of Capt. W. H. Hooper, and familiarly known a Moorc & Green's old store, are now prepared to furnish the public wlth Ware of all descriptions.

Wood, Lead, and Provisions of all kinds taken in exchange.

1M CROXALL, CARTWRIGHT & CO.

T Fourth of July refreshment stand. Drawing by the author.

program of patriotic speeches and music, puwtuated by unauthorized fireworks from outside.

After the program, families that lived some distance away ate their lunches at tables under the trees. The youngsters who had to go home to eat did so reluctantly because they feared that while they were away something exciting might happen.

After lunch the races started, beginning with the smallest children. Once or twice I won a race and gloated with pride over my prize for the rest of the day. These activities ended with adults competing in threelegged races and gunny sack races, events that kept the spectators laughing over breathtaking spills and awkward movements. Baseball and dancing concluded the day's celebration.

Dad usually provided us with a few packages of firecrackers that we exploded in the middle of the backyard early in the morning.

My summer earnings - a sum of perhaps 30 cents - were carefully budgeted to provide me with as much variety of refreshment for as much of the day as possible.

A more unusual holiday tradition in Farr West was the Easter Saturday hike. Before I was old enough to participate I watched the boys and girls go by carrying their lunch buckets and sacks and longed to join them. On my first hike on the Saturday before Easter we went to Big Rock, an enormous outcropping of rock on the foothills below Ben Lomond. There we played and ate lunch before returning home.

The community of Farr West cannot be found on modern state highway maps. Only a few hundred people ever called this settlement between Plain City and Harrisville, northwest of Ogden, home. I am one of them, and when the first snowfall of winter lies on the ground I remember the sights, and sounds, and smells of hog-killing time in Farr West.

FOR SALE A T THE DESERET POTTER Y STORE,

1-

rn

Mr. Westergard, a previous contributor to Beehive History, is a retired teacher living in Ogden.

East side Main street, G.S.L. C~ty.

HE following first class articles of Deseret Pottery Ware: Handsome Tea and Dinner Services, Pickle and Preserve Jars, Milk Pans and Butter Jars, Baking dishes and Pudding Bowls, Toilet Services, and Chamber Utensils, etc., etc.

Flour taken at$.$. and Wheat at $1.25.

ROBERT GREER, 4-2 Sole agent for Messrs. Eardley Brothers.

T

HURRAH FOR THE 3

=

* F

N O R T H E R NPOTTERY!!!

'I"

*

II

E, the havlng just commenced In the above llne W of busmess ~n Ogden C ~ t yare , prepared to furmsh a good artlcle at reasonable rates and f a r for our labor undersigned

compensation

Wanted - AU kinds of Produce, Wood, Lead and Mangan e x ~nexchange for our ware Cash not refused 6tf SIMPSON & LEWIS

b

- ' - T J PROVO CO-OP. POllERY. RED WARE at Greatly Reduced P n m . Large dur ALLa u KINDS n t to Marhank and Peddlas For further &culars WM. D. ROBERTS

* '"

1 1

I

11

mquue

I

of

or

J BUCKNER. h v oC I ~

'.

Advertisements from the Deseret News of June 25, 1862; September 3, 1862; July 22, 1863; August 26, , 1863; and May 13, 1872.

I

Brothers John Eardley and James Eardley, left'and center, were well-known potters as was Horace " Roberts, right. USHS collections.

Pioneer Pottery in Utah SKILLED POTTERS, MANY OF THEM ENGLISH IMMIGRANTS, MADE DISHES AND CROCKERY FOR THEIR COMMUNITIES.

BY WILLIAM C. SElFRlT

When Utah's pioneer settlers trekked westward in the 1840s and 1850s they carried with them what they needed to survive on the plains and in the mountains. Their dishes and other food utensils were chiefly metal and wooden.

They carried their dried grains and vegetables, as well as seeds for gardens and crops, in wooden and metal boxes and cloth bags.

As the settlers began building homes and growing food, the need for additional table and storage ware became apparent. Several potters were among the first settlers in the Salt Lake Valley, and others followed. They soon began producing much needed crockery, storage jars, and other items from local clays. Among the first men to produce pottery commercially were J. and E. Reece, who, in 1850, advertised that there was available in 'their Thirteenth Ward store "a variety of stoneware, such as jars and pitchers.. .made in this place." This was one of the first instances of what would be called "home manufacture," a concept much prized

by Brigham Young and other leaders.

The development of the pottery industry was exceedingly slow during the early settlement years, primarily because food, shelter, and clothing were the most immediate needs to be met. By 1851, however, a number of potteries had sprung up. Ephraim Tomkinson and a Mr. Ralph had been potters in Staffordshire, England, and brought with them to Utah a rich experience in pottery making.

But even the increasing number of potters, who apparently had varying degrees of ability, did not produce the thriving industry that Brigham Young wanted: Twelve thousand dollars we have spent to get the manufacture of pottery under way; by and by some man will come along, not worth fifty dollars, and take the felspar which so largely enters into our granite rock, and make the best of china ware.

Young was correct, of course, in bemoaning the lack of a pottery industry; but the fault lay not in the lack of skilled hands but in the need for clays and glazing materials to be discovered,

potting tools to be constructed, and kilns to be built.

Some of the early pottery made in Utah was hand-thrown on a kick wheel and sometimes on a treadle wheel. Tomkinson and Ralph, however, used molds made of plaster of paris. These molds were made by pouring the liquid plaster around an object of which multiple copies might be wanted, such as a pitcher, a chamber pot, or a storage jar. As the plaster dried it was carefully cut away from the model in sections and allowed to dry. The potter would then mix a fairly thick substance called slip, made of locally mined clay, and certain chemicals to keep the clay in suspension until it would adhere to the interior of the rejoined sections of the mold. After a few hours the semi-hardened clay form would be removed from the mold, trimmed, and set aside for complete drying.

When a number of such pieces had been made they would be placed in a kiln for firing. The initial firing, called a bisque fire, hardened the forms so that they could be sanded, polished, and made ready for glazing.

Tornkinson and Ralphs also used saggars for firing. Saggars were generally tall, lidded ceramic (clay) cylinders into which glazed ware was placed to protect the piece from falling ash produced by the wood-burningkilns.

The kilns used by early potters for firing their ware were usually crude stacks of fire brick (if available] or of adobe. The floor of the kiln was frequently no more than a metal grate, beneath which was a chamber called a fire box.

Small openings were left in the kiln walls so that slender sticks of wood could be flung into the fire box to increase the kiln's interior temperature to nearly 1,700 degrees. This method of firing required many days spent in gathering the wood necessary for the firing and chopping and splitting it into appropriate lengths and widths so it would burn quickly. When the firing began the potter had to have enough wood to complete the firing without stopping or allowing the kiln to cool down. An entire week could be consumed in firing one load of pottery, constantly stoking the fire and checking through peep holes on the progress of the glaze melt.

Eardley Brothers pottery jug and jar. Courtesy of Gary L. Thompson Antiques & Art.

The forms created by Utah potters were, in the early years, simple and utilitarian. Shallow milk pans [resembling in size and shape contemporary pie tins) were popular. Many a pioneer family's evening meal consisted of milk fresh from the family cow with several slices of freshly baked bread floating in the milk. Tall, widenecked vessels were used for dried foodstuffs such as beans, corn, sugar, flour, and so on. The wide neck opening made pouring or measuring much easier for the homemaker. Other forms included cylindrical or round, narrow-necked vessels for the storage of liquids or other materials that required careful pouring and that needed protection from evaporation. Water pitchers and wash basins for the kitchen, bedroom, and barn were also required. Most homes had chamber pots placed discreetly beneath the beds.

The pottery jar on the left was made by the Eardley Brothers; the others are from Cache Valley. Courtesy of Nate Bischoff's Bearcat Antiques.

Utah's early potters ranged far and wide to locate clay supplies and experimented widely with local materials from which to develop glazes. Several clay deposits were located in or near Salt Lake City and were mined extensively.

Usable materials were also found near Ogden, Provo, Logan, Hyrum, Parowan, Beaver, and elsewhere. Most of the local clays used by home potters contained trace elements of low-grade metallic ores. Iron ore was most commonly found, and that tended to give the works produced a reddish brown cast.

For glazing the ware, lead [or galena) was one of the most popular basic ingredients, as the following advertisement shows: "Wanted for the Deseret Pottery, a few hundred pounds of good Pig Lead -for which I will pay the highest price." Other potters throughout the territory also depended on lead as their basic glazing ingredient. One potter, for example, collected dis-

carded tea caddies used by wives and mothers to carry hot tea to field workers for their daily lunches. The caddies were melted down and the molten lead used for glazing pottery. In the Uinta Basin potters would scavenge the shooting ranges at Fort Duchesne for spent slugs with which to make their glazes. Still other potters would buy or trade for pencil length lead bars from soldiers (who used the rods for making bullets).

Unfortunately, it was not until some years had passed that potters and the public generally became aware that lead-based glazes were harmful and perhaps fatal on ware that was used for certain foods. The brine used for pickling and the acids normally found in tomatoes and other fruits acted to break down the glaze and release the lead into the food being consumed.

Many cases of lead poisoning were directly traceable to lead-glazed tableware.

As the pottery industry grew a greater variety of items began to appear in the local stores and in the potters' own retail outlets. In 1851 the Deseret News noted that the local pottery had just fired a fresh load "and all who are in want of milk pans, mugs, butter boxes, &c.,will have to speak quick, if they would secure the purchase." The ware produced by the firm of Croxall and Cartwright was praised on the front page of the Deseret News: "The day is not far distant when Deseretans may sup pudding and milk from stone-china bowls of home manufacture and our tables will be adorned with sets of the same, as elegant and far more easily attainable than the costly imported wares." That day, unfortunately, never arrived.

Utah potters began branching out from their production of ware for home use and began producing larger containers for flowers, plants, and doorway ornamentation. These latter were frequently adorned with looped handles and small figures sprigged on. Then they were glazed in contrasting colors.

Home potters spread out from Salt Lake Valley just as other tradesmen and mechanics did. Potteries were located in Ogden, Brigham City, Logan, Provo, Spring City, Beaver, Parowan, the Unita Basin, and elsewhere in the territory. Indeed, the need for home potteries was probably never completely satisfied. A letterwriter from Sanpete County in 1861 noted that "a potter would be found delighting us," indicating that home-produced or commercially available ware had not yet reached that part of Utah.

Another indicator of the importance of home manufactured pottery was the inclusion of prizes for the best pottery pieces and sets exhibited in the earliest territorial fairs.

Following the coming of the railroad in 1869 Utah's home manufactured pottery industry began a gradual and then a severe decline.

Ware produced in large eastern factories and in England began appearing in local stores; these commercially produced wares were no more expensive than those produced locally and were more attractively decorated. Then, too, a wellmade piece of pottery could (and often did) last for generations. Utah's various museums have scores of pottery ware that could, if they weren't so rare and historically important, be used today for exactly the same purposes for which they were originally created a hundred or more years ago.

It is sad, but fair, to say that the death knell for home manufactured pottery was sounded in 1870 when ZCMI, one of the earliest and loudest promoters of home manufacture, began advertising the importation from England of crockery already imprinted with beehives and slogans such as "Holiness to the Lord" and "Zion's Cooperative Mercantile Institution," etc. Local potters, lacking the time, materials, and technology found in English and European pottery centers, were finally reduced to producing what they themselves could use for trade for other necessities.

As a home industry Utah potteries never achieved the economic importance of mining, lumbering, brick making, or rock quarrying.

During their time, however, Utah's pioneer potters filled a need in the territory's growing communities for table, kitchen, and bedroom earthenware.

An additional indicator that home potters had been superseded by imported goods may be seen by the gradual reduction of premiums for hand-thrown pottery in the territorial fairs and the gradual increase in the number of premiums offered for hand-painted china, both decorative and utilitarian. By 1892, for example, entire galleries were given over to exhibitions of the latter.

Utah's early potters produced what the people needed. When those needs could be better met in other ways, the home potter began to disappear. Perhaps that was, in its way, progress.

Dr. Seifrit is both a historian and an award-winning potter.

9

Lucky to BE!Alive IN THE SMALL COMMUNITIES OF GARFIELD COUNTY A BOY'S LIFE WAS FULL OF HARD WORK, ADVENTURE, AND OCCASIONAL DANGER.

BY MAURICE NEWTON COPE

I was born on a cold winter day, February 24,1885. The place of birth was Panguitch, Garfield County, Utah. I was born in a small tworoom cabin owned by Thomas Riding who was then spending the winter in St. George.

Father borrowed money from James J. Page to build a house in Cleveland* and to buy a small farm across the river from the town. The house was built by Thomas and Albert Riding.

The town of Cleveland had seven families, five on the west side of the road and two on the east side. We lived on the east side, and just north of our house was the most important building of all, the little log country schoolhouse. The door was in the south end and the big fireplace in the north end. The kids on the front seats would be roasting and the kids in the back would be freezing. My first schoolteacher was Martha McCarty.

Our outbuildings were east of the house.

One day I discovered that our old pig had little pigs. I wanted one, and as I reached between the boards the old pig all but took the end of my finger off.

We had a little horse by the name of Desert.

'One cold morning I went behind the shed, got a stick, gave Desert a lick, and she jumped up and gave me a kick and broke my right arm. Not too funny. I remember making the trip to Panguitch and Dr. R. Garn Clark's father set the arm.

Going Visiting Mother was great to go visiting. May 29, 1891, we went to Panguitch to visit with Aunt Christina. I was then six years and two months old. Heber, Theodore, and I were playing out under the shed close to the creek. The high water had washed up what they called wild parsnips. We thought they were carrots. We enjoyed eating them. Martha came out and yelled at us and wanted to know if we had eaten any of them, which we denied. She made us go into *Cleveland in Garfield County no longer exists as a town. It was located about six or seven miles north of Panguitch. On various maps of Utah it was later known as Orton, Bear Creek, and Spry. The present Utah state highway map shows no town north of Panguitch before Circleville in Piute County.

Maurice N. Cope, 1909.

Photograph courtesy of J. Austin Cope.

the house. Not long after, I was struck with severe pain in my head. That was the last I remembered until I came around about midnight. Theodore died about that time. That was my first and last time with wild parsnips.

One summer was partly spent up in Three Mile Creek where Father worked for Dan Gillis who ran a sawmill there. George and Dannie Gillis would each take a load of lumber to Beaver, sell one thousand feet of the green, heavy lumber for ten dollars, and receive for payment factory pay and store pay. It would take four days to make the trip. They, having no hay or grain to feed the horses, would hobble them out on the grass or brush during t,he night.

On the 24th day of July, George, Dannie, and Jess LeFevre decided they would walk up the creek and climb to the top of Little Creek Peak. I started to follow them. They tried to send me back, but I got ahead of them and kept going.

While I did not have any shoes, that made no difference. I reached the top of the mountain thirty minutes before they did.

I enjoyed the summer in the canyon very much. Two members of the Butch Cassidy gang were working for two large cattle companies who ran their cattle in those mountains, and each time they would kill a beef they would bring Mother a quarter. Back in those days if a

,

I

l

II

I I

I

man could get a job for a dollar a day it was like a gold mine.

Pine Valley Mother again wanted to make a trip to Pine Valley where Grandmother lived. We started out. George was the driver. The first night we camped at Red Creek. The next day we ate our lunch near the little town of Enoch. As we were going through Enoch, we who were riding in the back stuck our heads out frcim under the cover to see the sights. George said that it was an ignorant thing to do and hit me with the whip. I jumped out of the wagon and hit up the road on foot. I ran ahead and walked all afternoon.

Toward night we arrived on top of the mountain near where the iron mines are. Beautiful wild flowers and a perfect place to camp. A small stream of water and plenty of grass.

We arrived in Pine Valley the next day. I was about seven years old. Pine Valley was a new world to me. Grandfather ate with his hat on. Uncle Ben Lloyd had set Grandfather up in the store business. He built a small brick building, stocked with merchandise. Grandmother was a good, friendly woman. Here the town women came for credit, the curse to any store.

The people came up from Santa Clara loaded with sun-dried peaches. The first thing she knew her merchandise was gone, credit on the books and unable to collect. Her barn was full of sundried peaches. I found the peaches, took some outside, pounded them up with two rocks and had my fill. She offered the peaches to Uncle Chadburn to fatten his pigs. He said they were so hard the pigs could not eat them.

A canal ran alongside the store. Grandmother set duck eggs under the old hen, and when hatched the little ducks would swim up and down the canal while the old hen ran up and down the bank. That was another new one for me.

Grandma Slade lived in a small house back of the Lloyd home. She had spent much of her life making fancy quilts and bedspreads. I well remember being in her little house as she took the quilts out of a trunk one by one. How beautiful they were.

Herding Cows It was the responsibility of the kids to take the milk cows into the hills. Four of us would drive the town cows up on the side of Sandy Peak (Bear Valley Peak] about f o ~miles r away, herd them all day, and come back at night.

There was a small creek and good feed. We would play outlaws and robbers and the time would soon pass. One day I found a six-shooter with six holes in it. It had been there for some time and the rust prevented it from working.

In the fall of the year when the grain was cut it was my job to herd the cows on the grain stubble until the last crop of hay was cut. Instead of having a bridge across the river we had a large log we called a foot log. We would have the cows or horses go across the river and we would walk the log. Sometimes during high water in the spring the water would almost touch the log.

Some of us are lucky to be alive.

Each fall all the women and enough men to drive the teams would go into Smith Canyon to gather wild cherries. We kids looked forward to that day. Gathering bull berries was another great event. In the spring we always enjoyed gathering pig weeds for greens. It was a change from potatoes and gravy.

One day Dee Tebbs invited me down to his place for dinner. When we went into the kitchen two little pups had their feet over in the pan of milk skimming off the cream. Dee took them out and we skimmed the cream from the other side of the pan. How we did enjoy that dinner of bread and cream. At home we always saved the cream for butter.

When my month's work was done Uncle Ben Lloyd drove me to Panguitch, bought me a %-cent pair of overalls, and left me standing in the street. With my prize under my arm I began my seven-mile trip to Cleveland, walking all the way. I was glad to get home.

In May 1894 I lived at the home of Uncle Bill Lloyd, up on the ranch ten miles above Panguitch. Uncle Bill and Uncle Ben were in the sheep business. Uncle Bill was busy taking care of the sheep, and our job was to take care of the small kids while Aunt Christina milked about a dozen cows morning and night. I did many other things like taking the cows to the pasture, bringing them in at night, keeping the wood box I full of wood.

Moving to Tropic Our pioneers were always looking for something new and big just over the other side of the hill. In the spring of 1896 Father and Uncle Mike Lloyd made a trip to Tropic. They purchased a piece of land from Sam Mecham two miles north of Tropic and decided to pull up stakes in the Panguitch Valley and move to Tropic. Uncle Mike moved first. I went to Panguitch on March 27, and after getting ready, Uncle Mike, with his family, left Panguitch for Tropic on March 31st. Rob and I were assigned to drive the cattle and horses. We arrived in Tropic about noon April 1.All the kids were out on the main corners to welcome the newcomers.

Uncle Mike had purchased a city lot one block east of the old Cope place. There was a lot of work to be done on the old farm - fencing, clearing land, and digging ditches.

Father came over to Tropic about the 11th of April and helped with the spring work. He and I then went back to Cleveland for the big move. Father drove one team with a big load and I drove the other. Raphael drove the livestock. The first night we camped in Red Canyon and built a big fire to keep Elsie warm. We arrived at the old homestead the next day. We lived that summer in a small shack and a couple of tents. The land was divided. Uncle Mike took the east half and we the west half. The land was

I still had a little time for fishing. One day while Robert Lloyd, Heber Riding, and I were fishing about a mile down the creek from the Lloyd ranch I walked up in a hollow and found a human skull. It was a proud find. When I waked back to where Bob and Heber were, Heber said, "What have you got there?" I handed him the skull. When he saw what it was he let out a yell that could be heard for miles, dropped the skull, and it fell into the creek. Men hunted for it but were never able to find it.

Red Canyon, Garfield County, as it may have looked when the author and his father camped there on the way to Tropic. USHS collections.

12

not enough to make much of a living. Farming is poor business unless you have a good farm.

That first summer went along about the same each day. However, a few days after we arrived Father sent me over about six miles west of Uncle Bill Lloyd's ranch, in what they called the little valley, to drive a load of wool to Richfield. The road then was sandy, rocky, and dusty.

I was gone eleven days to make the trip. The wool belonged to Uncle Bill and Ben Lloyd.

Wool was sold for 7 cents a pound. Coming home from Richfield it rained and rained.

Among other things, my load back consisted of canned goods and a sack of sugar. It was impossible to keep things dry. After my expenses were paid, I had coming, when I arrived in Panguitch, enough to pay for that wet sack of sugar. It went hard. For a long time we kids had sugar candy.

When winter came the first year our main sport was coasting down the hill on the south side of town. I made me a real sled with wagon bow runners. One morning real early in the forepart of February I decided to begin coasting.

The snow was crusted. I walked part of the way up the hill and began my fast ride. I could not stop and was headed for a fence. To prevent running into the wire my foot hit the post and my right leg was broken between the foot and the knee. 1lost the remainder of the school year.

Father had a couple of farmers come in; they set the leg. From the knee down the leg was black and blue. For about three weeks the pain was terrible. Night after night my time was spent listening to the clock tick. The leg never did get entirely well. I was lucky to have my leg saved.

It was impossible to get work in those days.

We had to have a little money. The spring of 1897 I drove 23 head of the best milk cows that ever came into Tropic to Blue Fly and delivered them to a buyer for $13.00 per head with a big calf by their side.

During the summers of 1898 and 1899 Ben and 1 were the town herders. We averaged about 75 head of cattle. We would have them all gathered in the lane by sunrise. We did the herding in Tropic Canyon and Henderson Canyon. In the fall of 1899 I herded sheep for Ole Ahlstrom for a month. I received for the month's work $15.00 in store pay. I was then 13 years old and was home just in time for school.

The autobiography of Maurice Newton Cope, of which this is a portion, was published in The Cope Courier, vol. 3, no. 2, March 1974, by the Thomas Henry Cope Family Organization which has given permission for its publication in Beehive History. The late Mr. Cope was a farmer, a schoolteacher, and a ranger at Bryce Canyon National Park.

Community Celebrations THE HARD-WORKING PIONEERS ALSO PUT LOTS OF ENERGY INTO CELEBRATING JULY 24 and JULY 4.

BY LINDATHATCHER

The pioneer settlers had to work hard to meet their basic needs for food and shelter. But they also needed diversion from strenuous tasks and long, work-filled days. So, dances were held frequently, amateur theatrical productions became major events, and holidays were looked forward to with enthusiasm.

One of the earliest community celebrations in the Salt Lake Valley was held on July 24, 1850, the third anniversary of the pioneer arrival. It began at daybreak with the firing of cannons from two points in the valley. Then the Brass Band and the Martial Band rode in three wagons around the valley serenading the local inhabitants. A cannon was fired once more at seven-thlrty as a signal for the people to gather on Temple Square in the Bowery from which the doors and windows had been removed to make it more comfortable on that hot July day.

After everyone was seated - in groups according to the LDS ward they belonged to they saw a grand procession: the Martial Band carrying a flag emblazoned "Truth and Freedom"; the Brass Band; a company of 24 young men - dressed in white pants trimmed with black cord, red sashes, dark dress coats, straw hats trimmed with green - carrying a banner inscribed "The Lion of the Lord"; 24 young women - dressed in white with blue scarves over their right shoulders and wreathes of red and white roses - carrying a banner with "Hail to our Chieftain" on it; and 24 older men carrying staves and the Stars and Strips inscribed "Heroes of 76."Other participants included the commissioned officers of the Nauvoo Legion and 24 Mormon bishops carrying barmers. This impressive parade then proceeded to Brigham Young's home and escorted him back to the Bowery where several speeches were given.

Seven years later, in 1857, the pioneers celebrated the Twenty-fourth of July on the shores of Silver Lake at the head of Big Cottonwood Canyon. For two days before the event people gathered at the lake. Three boweries had been built by the Big Cottonwood Lumber Company

for the celebration. Those who made the journey enjoyed dancing, boating, picnicking, games, and hiking. About midday on July 24 four men rode into camp with the news that U.S. soldiers were approachmg Utah Territory.

Unsure of the orders under which Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston's troops were moving toward the Mormon settlements, those celebrating at Silver Lake found their holiday spoiled. Most of the campers left the canyon early the next morning.

In addition to Pioneer Day, the early settlers also looked forward to Independence Day. On the morning of July 4, 1851, residents of Salt Lake Valley were awakened by cannon shots.

Brigham Young, now the territorial governor, was escortcd to the Old Tabernacle by 31 "Silver Grey Veterans" (representing the 31 states) and the Mormon Battalion. The "Star Spangled Banner" was displayed. Among those featured on the program was Eliza R. Snow reciting "Ode to the Fourth of July."

One of the grandest Fourth of July celebrations occurred in 1896, six months after Utah achieved statehood. A three-day midsummer carnival was held in Salt Lake City. According to the Salt Lake Tribune, all the buildings in the downtown area were decorated in the "tricolored bunting of the Nation." So much red, white, and blue had been used that "dealers.. . exhausted stocks of bunting that usually would carry the city over half a dozen Fourth of July celebrations, and every train that comes to the

Souvenir silk handkerchief, 1896, showing Queen Jean B. Russell. USHS collections, gift of Lucile May Francke.

city brings fresh stores." Residents were treated to no less than four parades, including two on July 4. Presiding over the carnival was Queen Jean Russell, while Mrs. Harry L. Jennings represented the Goddess of Liberty.

The carnival activities included the dramatization of a stagecoach robbery with 200 cowboys and Indians. Bannock Indians were scheduled to participate in this "Wild West" event, but officials in charge of the celebration refused to pay them the $10.00 a day they had re-

Buildings in downtown Salt Lake City were draped in red, white, and blue bunting for a parade that featured a "grotesquely hideous" dragon among its many attractions. USHS collections.

14

quested. The Bannocks were replaced with Uncompahgre Utes.

According to newspaper accounts, 50,000 people attended the final parade on July 4.

Highlighting the two-mile parade were colorful floats of Washington crossing the Delaware, a war dance by Ute Indians, and a living flag.

Spectators were also astonished by a "huge Chinese dragon" that was "grotesquely hldeous when viewed by daylight" and doubly so in the evening. One description of the dragon stated that "a baleful light gleamed from the ferocious monster's terrible eves as it tossed its crested head and swished its awful tail in sullen anger, and the chlldren especially, expressed the fear that it might get away and render their mothers and fathers childless."

The evening ended with fireworks and dances. Reportedly, many ball gowns were ordered from San Francisco for the festive occasion. The thee-day celebration was a joyous and appropriate way for Utah to display its pride as the newest (and 45th) star on Old Glory.

Salt Lake City residents were not the only Utahns to enjoy holiday celebrations. Festivities were held in most communities on July 4 and July 24. For example, in 1856 settlers in Willard, Box Elder County, built a bowery within their fort.

Benches were made out of split timber. Quilts were hung as a backdrop or kind of stage curtain. Hollowed-out corncobs were used to hold candles. The Pioneer Day celebration included a parade of 24 young women dressed in white, children in wagons, and covered wagons and handcarts depicting the overland trek of the town founders. The evening's program consisted of songs, readings, and appropriate toasts.

One early Twenty-fourth of July celebration in Hyrum began with a gunpowder blast that was so loud that it awakened people in other Cache County settlements. Just south of Hyrum the little town of Paradise staged a unique July 24 parade that included fording an irrigation canal to reenact the pioneer crossing of the Platte River in 1847. Myrtle W. Hatch described the event: In one wagon, a woman was seated holding a baby, and several children stood at her knees.

As this wagon reached the middle of the stream, the team began backing and plunging around, the wagon lurched and the baby fell into the stream. The spectators gasped with horror as the father jumped from the wagon and at last caught the baby by the clothing. The cheers of

the crowd turned to laughter as he held up the dripping form -it was a rag doll!

These early celebrations appear unsophisticated when compared to today's expensive and professionaly produced parades and dramatizations, but they involved the whole community in spontaneous fun and patriotic sentiment. Members of the community were brought closer together by these holiday events and given a much needed rest from their daily tasks.

Ms. Thatcher is a librarian at the Utah State Historical Society.

Typical small town parade unit honoring the ploneer settlers. USHS collections.

Fourth or ~ u l rloat y of the Independent Ducats Organization in Eureka, Utah. USHS collections.

Early Life in Pleasant Grove MARIA LARSEN'S CHILDHOOD MEMORIES INCLUDED HER RAG DOLL, CARRYING FOOD TO THE POOR, AND WEAVING CARPET.

1

They were especially interested in getschools established.

The first schoolhouse in Pleasant Grove was begun in September 1852 and completed by Thanksgiving. Howard R. Driggs tells about it in his book, Timpanogos Town: Adobes were used in its construction. The Mormon Battalion Boys, Clark, White, and Peck, had seen these made when they marched into New Mexico on their way to California. A dirt roof covered the structure, this being made first of poles then willows and finally sod and dirt.

Though not very sightly, as compared with fine schools and churches of today, it was comfortable and rather commodious. A fireplace at the west end with pitchpine wood helped to keep it cozy during the winter months.

Studies at the beginning were reading, spell-

ing,writing, arithmetic, geography, and grammar. Spelling was the most popular, and Friday afternoon was given to spelling matches.

My mother had four sisters, Annie, Emma, Laura, and Ella, and one brother, Joe. They all learned to speak the Danish language, as children, from their parents. As a child, I was so fascinated by this that when I would see them together, I would dash up and say, "Speak Danish." I would stand there amazed listening to them.

Grandmother and Grandfather spoke what is called, "broken English" 1 used to wonder why Grandpa called me "Root" instead of "Ruth." He would trot me on his knee and sing a Danish song, "Den Gang Jeg Drog Afsted" by E. Horneman. This patriotic sow is still sung with gusto in Denmark today.

A man by the name of Joseph Wadley settled at this time in Pleasant Grwe and planted a 1fruit orchard just north of Pleasant Grove.

Later his brother, William, bought land there also and started his own nursery as well as planting a large orchard. These men made a significant contribution to the people of Pleasant Grove as they were able to provide employment to many people duri.ng the fruit season. A great many young people obtained employment to

My Mother's Story My earliest recollections are of a time when I was about three offour years of age. We lived in Pleasant Grove in a very comfortable log house of two good rooms, Back of them was an adobe building of one room which Father used as a granary. One of our rooms had a large fireplace where mother did most of her cooking.

She had an iron bake kettle in which the bread was baked, most always out-of-doors, and meat and beans were barbecued out-of-doors. We had a large brass kettle in which Mother preserved peaches and potawatorni plums. When sugar was scarce she used molasses. My father had part ownership in a molasses mill.

Maria Larsen Heywood, the author's mother.

Karen Kristine Swendsen and Nells Peter Larsen, Danish immigrants who settled in Pleasant Grove.

pick and care for the fruit. I remember my mother telling me how she loved to go to Wadleys to work in the fruit when she was a young girl.

My mother died in 1952 at the age of 85.

Two years before she died, she wrote an interesting account of her life. She entitled it, "Incidents in my Life." The following is the part that referred to her early life in Pleasant Grove:

I remember om first coal oil l a p . It was small, but we were cautioned a b u t the d q e r of fwe and aral oil. Then came our first stove. It was d d a s&pstove. That was a great event -no more cooking in theflmp1ace.

Mother was very clever. There was hardly mything she could not do. She mixed a plaster md molded dishes for me, bald118 them on a shelf in the fireplace. I loved those dishes and my mg doll, M y sister dhnie was ten years older than I. Her frfends were jolly young p~opIewho offen came to our horn, They sang and danced and playmi games. John Smith played the Violin very

wdl, When I was about five y m old my brother Nels died. We m t tcr the fmm to live. It was 1onely at the f'for a few yew$ as om nearest

neighbors were about half a mile away Jenses and Jacobsens. Later came the Wadleys, Gouldings, Jeppe Nielsens, Axel Johnsons, and Dr. Young's family.

To Dr. Young's family I am deeply indebted for many things. Mrs. Young was a partial invalid. I always stayed with her when the doctor was out on calls. He was the only doctor for Pleasant Grove, American Fork, and Lehi. Mrs. Young was an interesting lady of refined tastes and entertained her children and me with stories of her home in the East - in Quincy, Illinois - and described the boat trips they had down the Mississippi River to St. Louis and other points. She read interesting stories to us and told us the stories written by good authors, which gave us a love for good literature. She was an expert housekeeper and a good cook.

Association with this family remains one of my most treasured memories.

At a very early age I learned to know, love, and appreciate the poor, the unfortunate, and the helpless. Mother was not strong, but she was a good cook and had me carry food to the poor, some living a mile away.

There was Britti who lived for a time in a hovel in the ground. I had to walk down some steps and don't know which frightened me most, the dark room or Britti's kisses on my hands and her German chatter of thanks. I have hbr brass firelighter which was 200 years old when she gave it to Mother.

Then there was Jacob, the cripple who lived in a hut on one corner of the cemetery. He made all our brushes and they were well made. He carved toys from wood and painted them in bright colors -foxes, rabbits, chickens, etc. We always found some of them in our stockings on Christmas morning.

Then there was the forsaken woman who lived in a log house with a dirt floor. She was in bed unable to do any work. On my way to school I had to stop in and make her bed and give other aid. This was my most difficult task because I was afraid to find her either dead or dying.

We moved into town when I was about 13 years old. From then on life was very different.

We had so little money and needed some very much. We had an old loom, and Mother taught me to weave carpet. I wove thousands of yards.

During fruit season Ella and I worked at Joe Wadleys and we enjoyed it. Laura bought a knitting machine, and I knit hose for the stores and for people.

Mary Swendsen, Amy Rosa, and Maria Larsen, right, at about age 20.

Uncle built a cocoonery, so I raised silkworms and sold the'silk in Salt Lake for $2.00 a pound. The silkworm season was only six weeks, so I made a little money at that.

I learned how to reel silk from the cocoons, and I taught one of Brigham Young's wives how to reel. She was Susa Gates's and Mabel Sanborn's mother [Lucy Bigelow Young].

When I was growing up we had to make our own entertainment. It consisted of rag bees, peach cuttings, sleigh rides, dances, etc.

We had such nice friends and neighbors, and pages could be written about them.

I have fond memories of going to Pleasant Grove as a child to visit my grandparents. Their old home (174 East Center) is still there, remodeled and beautifully kept. Even now, when I visit Pleasant Grove in the summer, it seems to me that the air is permeated with the fragrance of roses and other flowers.

Mrs. Henrie is a resident of Panguitch, Utah.

Lucile May Francke.

Salt Lake Tribune photograph in sports editor John Mooney's column.

The Genteel Life of Lucile May Francke SHE FOUND MANY WAYSTO SERVETHE COMMUNITY IN EDUCATION, THE ARTS, HEALTH CARE, AND POLITICS.

BY GARY TOPPING

I

Lucile May Francke was a wealthy Southern girl who believed that those blessed with riches should assist the less fortunate. In one sense, her life was as characteristic of late nineteenth-century American aristocratic life as an ornate Victorian mansion; yet, an element of liberalism in her outlook put her in tune with some of midtwentieth-century America's most progressive movements.

Born in Atlanta, Georgia, in 1885, Francke grew up in Tennessee, where she was educated to the ninth grade by private tutors. Later, she studied at various midwestern public and girls' schools, eventually graduating with honors from May Wright Sewall's Classical School. Her education included training in the arts. She studied violin, piano, and voice, both in the United States and in Europe. Her formal education never ended: she took an A.B. degree from the University of Utah with a library certificate

in 1944 and did graduate work at the University of Chicago, Columbia University, and even Oxford University.

Francke's stepfather, F. B. Robinson, worked for the Orgeon Short Line Railroad. His transfer brought the entire family to Utah. They lived 'at first in Milford, then in Salt Lake City. The first notice of her presence in Utah is an article in the Herald-Republicansociety pages in 1910,which calls her "One of Salt Lake's most popular society girls." She was employed first as a teacher and later as a librarian in various Salt Lake City schools, including East High School, Bryant and Horace Mann Junior High Schools, and Rowland Hall School for Girls.

Why she never married is a biographical mystery. The values of the society in which she grew up held marriage very highly, and her photograph in the Herald-Republican in 1910 shows her to have been very attractive.

Lacking domestic duties, Francke devoted her energies to public life. As a natural outgrowth of her teaching career she helped establish libraries in elementary schools and intrcduced extracurricular activities. Clippings and school papers she saved reveal her special interest in talent shows and athletics.

Francke sponsored various theater and concert events. A list of "musical and society people of Ogden" found among her personal papers reveals that she attempted in 1913 to arrange for concerts by the Salt Lake Quintette in Ogden.

In 1915 she brought James Goddard, a bassbaritone with the Chicago Grand Opera Company, to Salt Lake City for a concert. A news article she wrote tells an amusing story about Goddard's train journey to Utah. At six feet five inches, Goddard was a big man, and unknown to himself, was mistaken at several depots on the way for heavyweight boxer Jess Willard. Goddard would respond to the crowd's enthusiasm by singing some of his favorite songs. The mistake was not discovered until he saw a newspaper in Cheyenne, Wyoming, reporting that "Jess Willard Sings His Way Across the Continent."

Not content to remain in the wings while providing engagements for other performers, Francke herself acted in theatrical productions in Salt Lake City. She appeared in a 1910 production of Alice E. Ives's The Sweet Elysium Club by the Ladies' Literary Club of Mount Olyrnpus, and in 1913 she played in a comedy called The Concert at the Utah Theater.

Francke's concerns ranged beyond schools, libraries, and theaters. She became a registered nurse and worked with doctors to provide treatment and isolation for tuberculosis patients. She was also active in politics and promoted a bill to provide absentee ballots for shut-ins. Finally, she was a leader in women's clubs in Utah and at the regional level and wrote a history of the Federated Women's Clubs of Utah.

Her application in 1912 for a listing in the Women's Who's Who reveals something of her personality and her idea of her role in society.

She identified herself politically as a member of the American Progressive party, but a handwritten addition says, "later Republican." It seems likely that she was one of the aristocratic liberal Republicans who bolted the party with Thecdore Roosevelt in 1912 but quickly returned

This photograph was presented to Lucile Francke, "our most loyal suppoder," by West Junior High coach Raymond R. Brady in 1925 and autographed by him and his athletes. Left to right: Turner Love, soccer; Ben Bytheway, swimming; Fred Moore, basketball; Brady; Dan Beckstead, baseball; and Walter Gentsch, track.

USHS collections.

yam$ QBobbarb

fir.

BARITONE

PROGRAM

-

Hear Me Ye Winds and Waves

- - ---

0 tu Palermo (I vespri i i n i ) MR. CODDARD Berceuse Etude

- .- .- hliS

M

-

Verdi

-

Phillip

-

~

- - Cib Mir Dein Herze - - I1 lacerato spirit0 (Simon +canegra) Plairir d'Amour

-MR. GODDARD

Calf of Cold (Faust)

Caprice Eapagnol

-

Inviauc Requiem

UncleRome

-

'

-

-

MR simHa

-

- -

.

- - - - - - - MR: COD'DAR~) -

- - -

The Two Grenadiers

-

Gieg

Huhn Homer Homer

Schmano

CONSOLIDATED MUSIC HALL

MAY 7,1915

Lucile Francke resented a concert in 19i5 featuring bass-baritone James Goddard. USHS collections.

,

when Roosevelt's political life ended. Regarding her social role she wrote, "With a precedent established by my mother, I have always been identified with social, philanthropic, and club life.. ..I am known in Salt Lake as one of the 'young set,' and a worker for advancement and high standards."

Even though she embraced so much of Utah's cultural life, Francke never completely lost her Southern heritage. She remained, for example, an active Episcopalian (though, curiously, her papers reveal an intense interest in astrology as well). Upon her death in 1969, she was buried in McMinnville, Tennessee.

Dr. Topping is curator of manuscripts at the Utah State Historical Society. Material for this article was taken from the papers of Lucile May Francke in the library of the Society.

Y-'---t Rimmasch

CHURCH ACTIVITIES, SOCCER, AND MUSIC HELPED GERMAN IMMIGRANTS FEEL AT HOME IN A NEW LAND.

BY ALLAN KENT POWELL

I

Communities are made of people who live

in the same area or who share a common cul-

tural or historical heritage. Most of the immigrants from foreign countries to the United States lived near other people from their homeland who spoke the same language, shared the same music, traditions, and activities, and who were deeply concerned about events and developments in the country they had left. Most of these immigrants encountered severe problems learning the Enghsh language, finding work, adjusting to the different customs and life-style in America, and living away from their homeland.

In order to establish a happy and meaningful

1

I

Hermann Neumann, long-time president of the Germania Soccer Club. Photograph courtesy of Helmut Rimmasch.

In addition to the weekly German-language meetings in the stakes, German conference meetings were held four times a year to which all German-speaking Mormon immigrants throughout Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, and other western settlements were invited. Later, in the 1930s, the stake German meetings were dissolved and a German L,DS Organizationwas founded.

The German religious meetings provided Helmut with the opportunity to meet other young German immigrants. As the young men looked for things to do, they were attracted to the soccer games that were played between teams from the communities of Ogden and Bingham and teams made up of immigrants from England, Sweden, and Norway.

Soccer Clubs The young Germans had played soccer in school in Germany, but few had any experience with soccer clubs because the soccer games in Germany were always played on Sundays and their parents looked with great disfavor on any

Sunday sports activities. In Utah the soccer games were played on Saturday. The young Germans, anxious to participate in the soccer league, met at the home of Helmut and Heinz Rimmasch at 208 I Street in November 1927 and organized the Germania Athletic Club. Ludwig H. Schobert, an older German immigrant who had experience with athletic clubs in Germany, was chosen president. Helmut Rimmasch was elected vice-president. Within a short time the club's activities expanded from soccer to include gymnastics, table tennis, swimming, and bicycling. The Germania Athletic Club remained active over fifty years, fielding teams for the Salt Lake Soccer League until the late 1970s.

At times nationalistic sentimentswere clearly expressed both on and off the soccer field, Helmut recalled one game between the Germania team and the Enghsh team, Caledonia, at the Utah State Fairgrounds in 1938, just after the German chancellor, Adolf Hitler, and the British prime minister, Neville Chamberlain, had met in Munich. Tensions between the two countries

were severely strained over Czechoslovakia.

This was reflected on the soccer field. Helmut Rimrnasch said: The Caledonians always wanted to be on top of the Germans, and the Germans didn't want to give in all the time.. ..I wish I could recall that English boy's name. He was a nice fellow about five foot one or two, and my friend, Freddy Schwartz, was about the same size. Both of them were heavy set and both could run like weasels. They would try to take the ball away from each other, and then one would put a leg in front of the other, and someone got tripped, and then it started.. ..An old English lady and an old German lady. ..got so upset about the fight that they started to fight.

They started to hit each other with the purses, to tear hair, and call each other names. That was too bad. Both teams changed clothes in the little clubhouse at the fairgrounds. The two boys got to fighting again.. ..Sometimes I thought that the clubhouse would fall over. But when they came out they were friends.. .and the fighting didn't last long.

As with our present-day Olympics and other international sporting events, the athletic fields of Salt Lake City witnessed nationalistic differ-

ences and offered immigrant athletes the chance to represent their former homelands in ways that would not have been possible in the old country.

Singing for All Ages The third organization that Helmut Rimmasch joined was the German LDS Choir. The choir offered German immigrants perhaps their closest tie to the homeland. The Swiss and Germans are known for their beautiful music, folksongs, choirs, and singing societies. Music and singing was a basic element in German schools, and singing attracted many more participants of all ages than the sports club.

Helmut Rirnmasch started singing with the Gennan LDS Choir in 1925, the year he arrived in Utah. Sixty years later he continues to sing with the German Chorus Harmonic, a group that was organized after the German LDS Choir was disbanded. He was choir director for five years, 1927 to 1933, before his brother Heinz took over as choir director and Helmut became choir president - a position he held from 1933 to 1958.

The German LDS Choir sang for many occasions: Gemhanuchurchservices, German conferences, the LDS general conference, and nurner-

- -

""A

Members of the German LDS Choir and a children's choir in the Assembly Hall on Temple Square in Salt Lake City.

Photograph courtesy of Helmut Rimmasch.

were severely strained over Czechoslovakia.

This was reflected on the soccer field. Helmut Rirnmasch said: The Caledonians always wanted to be on top of the Germans, and the Germans didn't want to give in all the time.. ..I wish I could recall that English boy's name. He was a nice fellow about five foot one or two, and my friend, Freddy Schwartz, was about the same size. Both of them were heavy set and both could run like weasels. They would try to take the ball away from each other, and then one would put a leg in front of the other, and someone got tripped, and then it started.. . .An old English lady and an old German lady.. .got so upset about the fight that they started to fight.

They started to hit each other with the purses, to tear hair, and call each other names. That was too bad. Both teams changed clothes in the little clubhouse at the fairgrounds. The two boys got to fighting again.. ..Sometimes I thought that the clubhouse would fall over. But when they came out they were friends.. .and the fighting didn't last long.

As with our present-day Olympics and other international sporting events, the athletic fields of Salt Lake City witnessed nationalistic differ-

ences and offered immigrant athletes the chance to represent their former homelands in ways that would not have been possible in the old country.

Singing for All Ages The third orgallization that Helmut Rimmasch joined was the German LDS Choir. The choir offered German immigrants perhaps their closest tie to the homeland. The Swiss and Germans are known for their beautiful music, folksongs, choirs, and singing societies. Music and singing was a basic element in German schools, and singing attracted many more participants of all ages than the sports club.

Helmut Rimmasch started singing with the German LDS Choir in 1925, the year he arrived in Utah. Sixty years later he continues to sing with the German Chorus Harmonie, a group that was organized after the German LDS Choir was disbanded. He was choir director for five years, 1927 to 1933, before his brother Heinz took over as choir director and Helmut became choir president - a position he held from 1933 to 1958.

The German LDS Choir sang for many occasions: German church services, German conferences, the LDS general conference, and numer-

Photograph courtesy of Helmut Rimmasch.

24

A rest stop during a choir tour. Photograph courtesy of Helmut Rimmasch.

Ties to the Homeland The fourth organization in which Helmut Rimmasch was involved was "the Koenigsberger group." Members were German immigrants from Koenigsberg and East Prussia. The group existed primarily to maintain ties to the home region and with immigrants from the same part of Germany. Most activities were social events like dances, picnics, and talent evenings. Occasionally, plays were produced by the group. One performed during the depression of the 1930s was entitled Kein Geld, Kein Geld, Was Will Ich

ous English-speaking sacrament meetings. The choir traveled to Manti, Logan, Idaho, and other locations for performances. On these trips the immigrant choir members had an opportunity to see much of the Intermountain Area. The choir also worked with the German Dramatic Society to produce operettas such as The Poor Nobleman, The Three Maidens' House, and Old Heidelberg, known to American audiences as The Student Prince. Beyond the performances, the choir enjoyed numerous social activities including dances, dinners, and outings.

The cast of the German operetta "Wenn der Himmel Voller Geigen" ("When'the Heavens are Filled with Violins") performed in the late 1930s. Photograph courtesy of Helmut Rimmasch.

25

during German-LDSChoir barn dance and carnival on the Lippold farm in the early 1950s. Left: Helmut Rimmasch, a victim of the dunking machine. Photographs courtesy of Helmut Rimmasch.

Auf Der Welt, Was Nutzt Mir Der Sonnenschein, Die Magdelein, Kein Geld, Kein Geld (No Money, No Money, What in the World Will I Do, What's the Use of Sunshine, of Girls, No Money, No Money.) This performance was used to help raise money to assist members of the group who were unemployed and without money because of the severe depression. After World War I and World War 11 the Koenigsbergers were active in raising money and gathering food and clothing to send back to Germany where their friends, relatives, and former neighbors were suffering the consequences of war.

Other German cities and regions, including Hamover, Bielefeld, and Chemnitz, were repre-

sented by organizations like the Koenigsbergers.

For twentieth-century immigrants to Utah like Helmut Rimmasch, ties to the homeland and to people from their native country have been important aspects of their lives. In remembering and fostering such ties these immigrants were also becoming good American citizens. As former governor Charles Mabey told Helmut Rimmasch, "If you want to be a good American, you have to be a good German first. Don't deny your fatherland. If you can deny your fatherland you can also deny America.''

Dr. Powell directs the historic preservation research program of the Utah State Historical Society.

1

Hiphiand Boy in u r n

HOSPITALITY, FORGIVENESS, AND FRIENDSHIP WERE IMPORTANT IN THE SERBIAN COMMUNITY'S CELEBRATION OF CHRISTMAS IN THIS BINGHAM CANYON MINING CAMP.

BY CLAIRE NOALL

The house of Pete and Milka Loverich was warm from more than the flame on the hearth and the glass in the hand when Dr. Paul Snelgrove Richards first paid his friends a Christmas visit. That snowy day in 1923 he called on nine different families at Highland Boy, a Utah mining camp in the right-hand fork of Bi~lghaill Canyon. AS in the other homes of the settlement of between 3,000 and 4,000 people, at the Loveriches he was greeted with the joyous expression, "Mir Boze, Kristos se Rodi!"

Pete slapped this new friend on the back and gave him a kiss on both cheeks.

Young Milka, Sophie, and the boys in the family echoed their parents' greeting in English, God's peace, Christ is born!" .v The whole large dining room of people, iners who were boarding at this house and me of their friends from other homes, spoke , offering the traditional greeting. "You honor us," said one. Another man gave the doctor a friendly slap. Genuine hospitality would be extended to everyone who entered this door during the three days of the festivities.

Some of the women were dressed in their native costumes. And as it slowly burned, the

Dr. Paul S. Richards.

USHS collections.

large end of the Badnyak, the sacred log - an oak in Serbia, a juniper in Highland Boy scented the room. Mrs. Loverich passed Dr. Paul the wine, bobbing an old-world curtsy as she held the tray. He reached for a glass of red wine.

She deftly turned and with a smile indicated the choicer but also homemade white beverage.

Like Christmas bells the doctor's characteristic laugh rang through the room. He smelled the bouquet. For the first time he toasted these patients, these friends, at the beginning of the three-day festival.

Lost for a moment in the crowd while all were still toasting each other on this January 7, 1923, he noticed the Serbs lifting the glass to the Austrians,* and the other way about. Having already visited many homes this day, he realized that the Austrians - who, as a nation, were strictly Roman Catholic - had joined the Serbs in observing the day set aside for the Nativity according to the Gregorian Calendar, for the Serbs at the camp were Eastern Orthodox. The doctor fell in with the spirit and atmosphere, but he could hardly believe the pattern of these toasts. Two men known to be fiercely at odds were raising the glass to each other.

As the day passed he learned that this offering was no more than typical. All enmity was now banished from the homes.

The boarders stood around. They had all chipped in for the feast; they were now ready to receive their reward. The ruddy faces reflected the light from the embers of the log. Everyone was keen for the meal. The actual preparations had begun months ago, in late September and *Undoubtedly Croatians, who were often referred to as Ausbians because their lands - now part of Yugoslavia were controlled by Austria-Hungary until 1919.

early October, with the grapes imported to Bingham, almost by the carload. Each year it was the same. The day that the children showed up on the schoolgrounds with their feet stained purple, the whole town knew they had been crushing the fruit in the great vats at Highland Boy. The immediate beginning of the feast had occurred with the roasting of the suckling pig in the dooryard of the boardinghouse, only yesterday. The tantalizing odor of the meat had risen with the steam. As it wafted down the canyon, up the hill trailed the youngsters. Nearing the spit, they broke into a lively gait, tramping down, the snow, rushing forward with great chunks of bread in their hands. Breathlessly, each waited his turn to scoop up some of the drippings from the pan beneath the spit. With this act, Christmas had really begun for the camp. Pete Loverich had never turned down a single youngster.

Though their mischief could at times rise to the sky, at this moment the kids were his gang. The meat would taste all the better at the table because they would have had their taste of the drippings.

Steven (Pete) Loverich, right, and Nikola Masich, left, roasting pig and lamb for Serbian Christmas, January 7, USHS collections, courtesy of Sophia Piedmont.

Another festive occasion in Highland Boy, a baptismal dinner in the early 1900s. USHS collections, courtesy of Sophie Melich Borich.

Milka, Pete's wife, had commenced her preparations at sink, stove, and counter weeks ago. A great storeroom ran directly into the mountain, connected with the kitchen by a narrow passage. This underground cooler, or "refrigerator," had been heaped with smoked hams and other meats, such as beef, bologna, sausage; with salted fish, pickled cucumbers, and preserved fruits; with cheeses, butter, and large pans of sarma; almost anything one could put away ahead of time.

At each place at the long table, to be occupied mostly by men and served by women, a soup plate now stood waiting. Once the guests were seated, Milka brought in a huge tureen of her delicious broth. It was simply floating with homemade noodles, cut as fine as the blades of rosemary she had dropped into the pot. Here she had also simmered the tender part of a head of cabbage. At the same time she had parboiled some outside leaves for the sarma. Sniffing the aromatic odor, Dr. Paul, as guest of honor, was the first to pass his dish forward.

After the soup the cold meats were served, and now came the sarma, piping hot. For this typically Eastern dish, Milka had held on the palm of her left hand, one at a time, the parboiled leaves. With exactly the right turn, she

had folded in the edges of the cabbage leaf around a tablespoonful of wonderfully seasoned, ground pork. The sarrna came to the table straight from the oven. What a tantalizing note it added to the cold meats and the sauerkraut, and even to the pickles, preserves, and fancy breads that Milka had made! One of these breads was the pevitza, mixed with honey and crushed walnuts.

Still, no man's appetite was dimmed. The real highlight of the feast was yet to come. Milka, followed by the girls with dishes of hot vegetables, brought from the huge iron stove the suckling pig. She placed the great platter, smoking hot, before her husband. Cheers and sighs went up from the men. Pete took his sharp knife and severed the head. He arranged it upright on a special plate. Before transferring the plate to the center of the table he removed the apple that was resting on the top of a glass of red wine. He sipped the wine and offered the glass to Dr. Paul, who also took one sip and then asked the blessing of the Lord upon this house and all the friends therein. Pete placed the glass in the mouth of the pig as the symbol of the Serbian boar's head and the blood of Christ. Near the center of the table a can tied with a small bow of ribbon held a cluster of sprouted wheat

Obilich and Dushan Serbian Lodge gathering in Bingham, Utah, 1920. USHS collections, courtesy of Milka Smilanlch.

which Milka had planted on December 19, St. Nicholas's Day. Its fresh and charming green complemented the ceremonial wine as the sign of the Resurrection.

When the meat was served, the guests fell to, singing their praises for the meal and again cracking jokes. Their laughter rang from end to end of the table. Milka, the daughter, clapped her hands when Dr. Paul found a coin in his piece of the round flat loaves baked for the occasion. The children had washed and polished several pieces of money until they shone brighter than any bauble on a fir tree. The mother had hidden them in the dough as a token of the giving of one's means as well as his heart.

Finally, the .guests were ready for the dessert. Over a rich dough, beaten, kneaded and rolled thin upon a cloth that covered the top of the kitchen table, Milka, the mother, had spread a bounteous layer of freshly sliced apples. After sprinMing them with cinnamon and other spices, she picked up the corner of the cloth to roll the strudel. As the concoction took shape, she peeled

the cloth away and then folded the roll, tripling it from end to end so that it just fit into her largest roasting pan. At the table she cut the strudel crosswise and served it hot with another taste of wine.

At last the doctor sat on his horse for the homeward journey. In those days he made all his calls on horseback. With his family he lived just across the street from the hospital in Bingham. His mount knew the way by starlight. Dr. Paul pondered the essence of the meaning of this day as he again heard the folk songs of the young people who had dressed in costume.

Again he saw the intricate steps of the peasant dances. At times the group had made a wide circle and had then broken up for a measure or two, as in a square dance. What was this wonderful, different matrix of the East? Dr. Paul asked himself. Some day he was sure to understand. Another year would come and, with it, other invitations. At this camp a man's word was his promise.

After Pete and Milka Loverich had both died, their daughter Milka carried on in their

place. She had long since married George Smilanich. Friends and relatives now gathered at their home in the camp. Later, after his own father had died, it was young Steve Smilanich who gave Dr. Paul a slap on the back and offered the kiss of affection.

Just 35 years after the doctor's first Christmas at Highland Boy, he again shared the holiday with the Smilanich family. Steve had become a writer for the United Press International. Since 1923 the only celebrations Dr. Paul had missed among his friends in the canyon were when he went East for surgery on his hands and when he was at his ranch near West Yellowstone.

As happy as he was to be at the Smilanich home in 1958, Dr. Paul looked surprised, over such tidbits as olives, potato chips, and storebought dill pickles. Even the can of sprouted wheat was tied with a bow of red, white, and blue ribbon. Yet the eyes of Milka Smilanich shone with tenderness while she and her children observed the old ways. Millca had attended the local school. She was American; still she was devoted to the symbols of the East.

In his own words we may read of Dr. Paul's admiration for the Serbian Christmas. He had long since come to understand its essential meaning: This was a time when judgment against another for some individual trespass simply could not be held by anyone. The doctor understood this sense of forgiveness and love in the radiant faces of the women and in the clasp of brotherhood when hand met hand among the men.

In answer to the urging of two of his sisters he finally dictated his memoirs. In reference to the Christmas celebration at Highland Boy, he said:

I think this was one of the most interesting things that ever came into my life. It was an entirely new and different concept of Christmas something I had never known before. Here the spirit of Christmas was the emotional giving of one's self openly and wholeheartedly to any and all who would come to the door. The Austrian homes were open twenty-four hours a day for three consecutive days, and all who came were invited in and fed. The meal was a banquet such as I had never experienced in a home previously. Everyone was wined and dined most royally and the feeling of friendship and genial association was very impressive. I comprehended for the first time in my life that the giving of one's self to his friends and to all those who were attracted to his home is the true spirit of Christmas. There was nothing in the home that passed from one person to another that was not produced with their own hands. The people raised their own sheep and pigs and these were dressed and barbecued the day before the Christmas celebration. The entire banquet was prepared from things that the family had made in their own home. The custom of giving to others with no feeling of a need to purchase presents moved me deeply.

The gifts were all homemade. The planning and the work, the self expression and real feeling that went into them were remarkable and unique.

Strangely, Dr. Paul still referred to the customs he so much loved as the Austrian Christmas. He must have known that it was the Serbian tradition that had shaped the festivities.

In any case he understood its meaning. He finally left the house on this, his last day in Highland Boy, knowing well where he himself stood with the world. In farewell he said, "Mir Boze, Kristos se Rodi!" And the laugh rang out.

Setting up-the

feast. USHS collectians.

This is an edited version of an article that originally a p peared in the fall 1965 issue of Utah Historical Quarterly.

In preparing the manuscript, the late Mrs. Noall consulted the "Memoirs of Dr. Paul Snelgrove Richards" in the possession of Mrs. J. Bryan Barton; "Serbian Christmas Customs" by Voislav M. Petrovitch and "Why Do We Celebrate Christmas on January Seventh?" in The Messenger; and notes from Mrs. Ethel Richards Baker, a daughter of Dr. Richards. Dr. Richards, about whom Mrs. Nod1 wrote, was company physician and surgeon for the United States Mining, Smelting, and Refining Company in Bingharn, Utah, for 35 years.

Yugoslavian Folk Items

The Serbians and Croatians (present Yugoslavians) who lived in Highland Boy, as described in the preceding article, brought many hand-crafted folk items with them to Utah from the old country.

From the top: tarnbura, gift of Sophia Piedmont; purse belonging to Mrs. Francis Davich, gift of the Rev. George Davich; hats, gifts of the Rev. George Davich and Mrs. Marie Hatch; flute and shoes, gifts of Mrs. Marie Hatch. From the Peoples of Utah Institute collections.