FRED RUSSELL

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Transcribed from the author's

private manuscripts and as

dictated to his daughter, Elaine

Thatcher, Arizona 1990

PREFACE

This story was written in the first person as lived and seen through the eyes of the sixth child, Fred Russell, of the Henry Utilis Russell and Harriet Luisa Brewer Russell Family who settled in the Gila Valley, Graham County, Territory of Arizona in 1900. Although facts in the narrative are largely drawn from the memory of the narrator, I acknowledge and extend my sincere thanks for the valuable assistance that my daughter Elaine has given me in organizing and compiling this story. I am especially indebted to Utilis, my next eldest brother, with whom I lived and with whom I was happy to share the most intimate thoughts and experiences during our early life in Graham County. I am also indebted to Utilis and his lovely wife, Cleo, for their masterful work in their life as our family genealogist in compiling an interesting and informative story of my father's family back to our early ancestor, John Russell, a glazier which was our earliest ancestor to arrive in America. He landed in Boston on March 3, 1635, and also in researching and compiling a history of my mother's family back to our emigrant ancestor Thomas Brewer who, with his two brothers arrived from England to settle on the Connecticut River in the year 1682. He settled and took up land and with the aid of his son, Daniel, also father of our family line, developed one of the finest plantations in the area of that time. His son Daniel served in the French and Indian Wars prior to the American Revolution.

My father, Henry Utilis Russell, born March 30, 1863, at Fillmore, Utah, married my mother Harriet Luisa Brewer, who was born March 13, 1872, at Big Cottonwood, Utah, on March 7, 1887.

My father had been called in 1898, by the Mormon Church to serve a two year mission in the Kansas vineyards, recruiting saints for the New Gospel.

My mother and her brood of five children lived with her father's family, Grandpa Jacob Brewer and her nine brothers and one sister who had migrated from their old home in Pinedale (Northern Arizona) to the Gila Valley in search of, what they had been told, was a land of perpetual Spring and Summer. Grandpa had filed a homestead claim on the Stockton Wash, south of Safford with his family, and lived under a brush arbor they had constructed for a temporary shelter while they were occupied with collecting materials for a new house and eking out a subsistence in this wilderness area.

My father's mission temporarily fulfilled, he returned to his family sometime in the late fall of 1900. He acquired a team and wagon, filed a homestead claim and constructed a tent house on his new claim in the foothills at the base of majestic Mt. Graham (4th highest mountain in the Arizona Territory). His tent house was approximately four miles west of Grandpa's claim.

In Grandpa's day, he had progressed from hand cart to ox cart and in his late fifties, stood poised on the threshold of a new age...that of horse power, of which he still remained a bit skeptical, while Pa, who had progressed from ox power to horse power, was a great enthusiast for the new fast age. In his evangelistic duties he had, however, been living in the Lord's Day, each consisting of one thousand years, in which the rhythm of time had no essence and calamity did not exist.

As time marched on, Harriet, my mother, conceived and grew heavy with child. Where Pa was at this time, I do not know, but as typical of his behavior in subsequent emergencies, he was most likely somewhere out in left field looking after his evangelistic duties. In his mind, time was of no importance and a crisis was of little consequence. Pa was content to pursue his Church duties without thought of his family.

[See Ernest Russell's biography of Henry Utilis Russell, which includes an account of Fred's birth, for a different perspective.]

BORN UNDER A 'SKEET BUSH

As day broke, on the 8th day of September, 1901, Mother set out for Grandmother Brewer's place, to seek aid and comfort. Leaving my three-year old brother Utilis LeRoy, she grasped the hand of my eight-year old sister, Edna Ann. They followed a cow trail through the thickets of heavy brush, stopping occasionally to avoid the stabbing pain from the brush of a thorny mesquite limb. As the sun began to rise, they had progressed to a thicket on the sunny side of "Sugar Loaf Hill", about three and one half miles from home and a half mile from Grandma's place. The call of a quail, the faint odor of a skunk, recently disturbed by the inquisitive snout of a javalina hog, the parting of the red curtains of mist in the Eastern sky, permitting a sunbeam to escape and dance for a moment on the hillside, made her aware of the stir of life's awakening to a new morning. She paused in the thicket for a moment, looking for an opening in the thorny branches of the mesquite above and felt a sudden stab of excruciating pain, as a harbinger of the stir of life within her body. Then, suddenly something pushed the panic button and she pushed my little sister forward with a frantic cry, "Go get Grandma!" Presto...there I was...stark naked in a wilderness inhabited with scorpions, gila monsters and rattle snakes...under a "Skeet Bush"! There was no other shelter near by. This was known as the "Robinson Place". It was here that, I, Fred Russel was born. A new "Caruso", I presume? At any rate I seem to have been one ever since!

But the LORD blesses each hardship with some compensation...no doctor bills...no "Revenuer" to tax the shirt off one's back...of course I had none!

Eventually, Grandmother arrived, and after a few minutes in her capable hands, the crisis was past and the sun again shone on a new and happy day!

The area of my birth, had not been christened, and can only be described as brush and wilderness country located about seven miles south of the Gila River and a little Mexican village known as Safford. Recently expanded by the influx of a few Mormon families who had migrated from Southern Utah in search of what they had been told, was a land with an ideal climate. This large Southern section of the Arizona, New Mexico Territory, reaching from the Gila River south-ward to the present Mexican Border, had been acquired by the United States, resulting from the Gadsden Purchase from Mexico in 1853.

American Cavalry out-posts stationed along lines of travel and communication had secured the new territory from attacks of Indians and out-laws and enabled cattle ranching and mining ventures to get started. A branch line of the Southern Pacific had just been completed, extending from Fort Bowie, through Safford to Globe. Another branch was being constructed to serve the mining camp at Clifton.

Other military outposts extended along lines of communication were Forts Grant, Thomas and Geronimo. The village of Safford, named after an early Governor of the Territory, was favorably located in a fertile valley between Fort Bowie and Globe, contributed crops of grain, fruits and vegetables; which had been, prior to the railroads, transported by wagon caravans.

In the year nineteen hundred and one, William McKinley was President. On September sixth, two days before my birth on the eighth, McKinley was shot by an anarchist, Leon Czolgosz, at the Pan-American Exposition, at Buffalo, New York. He died four days after I was born. His administration was distinguished by victory in the Spanish-American War, the annexation of Hawaii, and the acquisition of the Philippines, Puerto Rico, and Guam. In the United States he was responsible for the "Homestead Act of 1902". This act made it possible for my father to obtain land free by filing a Homestead claim.

Most of the land was at this time densely covered with heavy mesquite, cactus and creosote brush which had to be cleared to make way for useful planting. This immediate area of my birth (later called Cactus Flat) was made up of bench land (small valleys and flat-top hills) benching up to the foot of a great granite out-crop of the Pinaleno Range towering from a base altitude of about four thousand feet to its crest of nearby eleven thousand foot Mt. Graham. This great mountain, densely forested with Oak, Juniper, Yellow Pine, Spruce and Aspen, acts as a windbarrier and water shed, although an arid region, it furnishes runoff for both surface and an artesian belt where flowing water can be brought to the surface by drilling wells about 450 feet deep.

The fauna of this region includes coyotes, foxes, bobcats, bear, mountain lions, deer, turkeys, rabbits, squirrels, quail, snakes, gila monsters and javalina hogs.

Under the National Homestead Act of that time, land could be taken up and patent obtained by filing a homestead claim, building a home, clearing and planting some of the land and adding other improvements. After living on it for a stipulated time a clear title to the land and all it contained, water, timber and mineral rights would be granted by the U.S. Government. Congressmen even sent packets of garden seed to assist and encourage the new homeowner.

DOMINANT CHARACTERS

For the possible interest to descendants of this family, a descriptive sketch of the dominant characters is being attempted:

GRANDPA JACOB BREWER, (born 21 June 1833, at Neversink, Sullivan County, New York), before being bent over by agonizing pain of rheumatism and premature aging from hard work, was about six feet tall, fair skinned, but deeply tanned by exposure, with heavy full-bearded face, blue grey eyes, brown hair, bald crest, soft spoken with old English inflection and word usage; he was one humbled by poverty; religious in nature, but undemonstrative with low profile, patient, charitable and understanding without show of emotion. In his late sixties, he walked only with the support of a cane and sometimes only with crutches; a lover of God and His Creations, a hewer of wood and a master craftsman of anything he wished to make of materials at hand.

His wife GRANDMA SABRA ANN FOLLETT BREWER, (born 15 September 1847, at Steubin Co., New York), a most perfect mate for a pioneer husband; a selfless, patient and devoted supporter of her spouse and their family. A brave, religious but quiet person who extended her services and healing skills to all in need in her community without thought of compensation. A pioneer woman, toughened by the hardship of poverty, made stubborn by adversity, humbled and softened by sorrow. She was a strong mainspring in family affairs. An expert homemaker and gardener whose efforts safeguarded her family from the pangs of hunger.

JACOB ALBERT BREWER, (born 15 June 1865), oldest child: Physically a giant in stature, standing six feet three inches of bone and muscle, weighing 250 pounds. When he braced his strength, something had to give, be it ox, wagon or newly fallen tree; quiet, patient, and modest by nature, rugged gut trim in stature, unassuming, charitable and benevolent; he was a strict servant of the codes of his conscience, a slave to duty and a bachelor who never married.

ADAM RUFUS BREWER, (born 21 February 1874), Physically a peer in height to his brother Albert, but in stature, was in the medium heavy class, strengthened by pioneer adversities, he had magnificent mental and physical control of both body and character. He was religious and devoted to his creed and his duties as he saw them. Patient, unassuming and humble, but gifted in wisdom and common sense. He served a two year church mission in Florida, married Miss Rosina Pomeroy of a pioneer family in Mesa on his return from his mission.

HARRIET LOUISA BREWER RUSSELL, my mother: A beautiful woman of medium height, trim in stature, with kind blue eyes; she had fair skin and honey hair. Her dominant traits were, number one: supreme patience, she was understanding, tolerant but persevering in pursuit of what to her was life's highest goals. She was industrious, courageous and tenacious. She was gifted with wisdom and good common sense. She possessed the enthusiasm to pursue the jewels in the crown of achievement which to her were the most precious. She believed the key to this treasure was to get a good education; an accomplishment neither she nor any of her family in those frontier days had an opportunity to obtain. Her enthusiasm in the achievement of this goal was so intense it became contagious, the infection spread to more or less dominate the lives of her children.

ALICE MAY BREWER, mother's sister: Alice, being the youngest child of the Jacob Brewer Family was humored by her mother to the point of being quite badly spoiled. She did not take well to bearing responsibilities and neglected to do her share of the home work to relieve her mother of the heavy work load she carried. Alice became extremely overweight and of course missed the admiration of the opposite sex. To this she became highly sensitive. To abridge this gap in life's motivations she turned her thoughts and energy to learning some of the fine arts. She learned, by self help, to become an exceptionally good reader and enjoyed reading both silently and aloud to others. For this skill she immediately became popular with children. Her selection of reading material included the best literature and stories she could obtain: Life of Abraham Lincoln, Uncle Tom's Cabin, Robinson Crusoe, Girl of the Limberlost, Robinhood and his Merry Outlaws, Swiss Family Robinson and some of Sir Walter Scott's dramatic novels. She also became quite proficient in music. She had a very good singing voice and understood music to the extent she could carry the tune in both Alto and Soprano. She mastered the skill of playing the guitar and organ and played for church services and dancing, the principal entertainment for young folks in our community. Aunt Alice lived with her parents until Grandmother passed away, then she lived in Mother's household. She never married.

HOW THE WORLD WAS

Children were born and lived without doctors or their medicines. They married and were encouraged to build their own homes and support their families without government assistance. There were no news papers to convince them they were poor...they knew that, and worked hard to improve their condition. What they earned was theirs to keep. There were no taxes except those they levied upon themselves to build schools and educate their children. There were no professional agitators to pit one group against another to convince them they belonged to a minority and were entitled privileges. No hunting licenses or permits to support bureaucrats, no union cards to support labor bosses, no permits required to camp where one liked or to cut down a few trees to build a cabin if one wished, to stay for a while.

People died, sure, but had no doctor or undertaker bills to pay that would cost their life's savings. When wars were declared, it was planned to win...winner take all...when new land was conquered, the conquering government kept it. They did not give it back to the enemy and pay them to take it back. When land was purchased they planned to keep this also, not give it back and pay millions in indemnity as they are now doing with the Panama Canal.

It was true there was considerable skulduggery going on in high places. Great land grants were made to the railroad builders to encourage them to build their roads; big concessions were made to oil developers, steamship lines and manufacturers. These government "handouts" made millionaires of private investors but netted an overall prosperity for the country and its people.

Money was scarce and hard to come by, but the buying power of a dollar at that time was equal to a twenty dollar bill of today. No paper was circulated as money. Copper, nickel and silver coins were used in the lower exchange including the silver dollar, while gold was used for all exchanges above the dollar.

SETTLEMENT OF LEBANON-CACTUS

Approximately fifty Mormon families migrated from Southern Utah and settled in this area between 1890 to 1910. Most of them filed on homesteads and developed artesian wells. My father came in 1900 and took up his claim in the foothills of Mt. Graham. He cleared some land, put a tent house and drilled a small artesian well, planted a garden and incidentally located a site for a small pond to catch mountain runoff to supplement his well water. Sometime after the second year, the well sanded off and went dry. Having no assets to clean the well or drill another, he tried to develop the mountain flow but his efforts met with little success, being a dry year, there was little runoff. He then began looking for other possibilities as he had already used his homestead filing right. He located a tract set aside for school support, called "School Land", under the control of the territory. This could be leased for a small yearly rental but could not be bought or homesteaded. To recoup his cash assets he took a job in Clifton laying brick for the Shannon Smelter being constructed at that time. He moved his family to a small place in Pima (a small village nine miles down river from Safford) where the older children could attend school.

After about a years work in Clifton, Father returned to the school land located on the Stockton Wash about three miles east of the homestead he had abandoned. He paid the years lease, cleared some ground and arranged for drilling an artesian well. This was about 1904. On April 4, 1904, my little sister Ina was born. It was about this time that the film of my first memory pictures of life recorded pictures of small incidents that occurred, such as memory of a small orchard with trees loaded with delicious peaches, apricots, plums and almonds. I remember how good those fruits tasted and of drinking cold water from a running stream that ran through the orchard.

I remember Tilis, my older brother and Wilford Brewer, my cousin, made some stilts and walked on them around the yard. The stilts raised them high enough to step over a barbed wire fence without touching the top wire. I watched them do these things with some envy. Being unable to walk on the stilts I tried fence straddling myself; needless to say, my legs were a little short so I compromised by using the stretched barbed strands as ladder steps until I reached the top strand where I got hooked near the top button of my blouse. I tried to get loose but couldn't. I saw no one around to help, finally I became tired and sleepy. The next thing I knew I was in my mother's arms. She had discovered me hooked on the fence with my head hanging back as if I were dead.

Another early childhood memory picture that impressed me: the Southern Pacific Bowie-Globe Branch Line which had recently been completed, ran on the border of this small place. We heard the whistle and clatter of the freight train each time it passed. As the line ran through the San Carlos Apache Reservation between Pima and Globe, any Indians wishing to come to town were allowed to ride free. This resulted in considerable movement of the Indian population for the first few years until the new wore off. Most of the cars were loaded with Indian squaws dressed in long full ruffled dresses, wearing buckskin high top moccasins decorated with colored bead work and turned-up pointed toes. I was told by my father to stay away from these squaws as they all carried big sharp knives in the leggings of their moccasins and they especially liked little "toe heads" like me. I gave them a wide berth but liked to watch them from a safe distance.

Another early memory picture: when we expected the train to be coming soon, we sometimes placed pins or nails on the track and when the heavy engine had run over them we found them flattened like little knives and if cross pins were placed they were often welded together as little scissors.

My father worked quite steadily with the improvements on the new school land location. He drilled another well, made a pond and planted cotton wood shade trees around it. He acquired an old frame house and moved it on the place for temporary shelter; set out a few apple and peach trees and after the pond had filled from the new well, he planted black bass fish in it. My elder brothers had grown old enough to be of considerable help to him by this time. Frank was about 18, Ernest 16, Tilis about 7 and Edna, who helped mother a great deal, was about 12.

BUILDING OUR HOME

We moved out to our new home about 1905. Soon after we became settled, I had an accident. I stepped on a rusty nail which resulted in blood poison. As there was no professional help, no effective treatment was given. High fever set in resulting in convulsions and spasms. I lay at the point of death for several days. I distinctly remember the sensation of going in and coming out of coma. My mother and Grandma Brewer did everything they could possibly do to save me and finally their prayers and medication prevailed. The big painful lump which had formed in my groin eased off some, my fever finally subsided, the pain receded and after a few more days I was on my feet again attending the Fourth of July Celebration about a half mile east of Father's homestead, a place that was later called "Lebanon".

This building was made of adobe, mixed, molded and dried on the building site. The dimensions were about 20' x 30', single room with a pitched shingle roof. It served primarily as the Church but was also used for amusements, school, and all other social activities of the community. This 4th of July celebration must have been in 1905. We had foot races, ball games, tug of war, sack races, along with ice cream, candy, peanuts and popcorn. I remember the pain and swelling from my poisoned leg had about all cleared but had localized in a big boil on my right foot, back of my big toe.

I believe this was the year the Jennings family took up a homestead adjoining our school land on the north. Chester, Uncle Chet, we called him, his wife, Addie, Chester Jr., my age, and Lucy, who said she would be "fre in August". These children, "Tilis" and I grew to become almost inseparable. Our homes were within sight of each other and we were together most of the time. Uncle Chet was from New York State. He had left his home at an early age and spent about 20 years working on ranches as a cowboy in Colorado before coming to Arizona, where he met Aunt Addie Coons, married her and settled down beside us. In spirit, he was young at heart, kind, tolerant and very understanding. Both he and Aunt Addie seemed like second parents to me.

My Grandpa Brewer had given my mother a milk cow, "Old Pet" for a wedding present. So in all it's moving, our family was never without a cow or two. Tilis learned to milk about this time. As we grew no feed, we depended on the open range for cow feed. It was our job to pen them up at night and let them loose after milking in the mornings. They ranged sometimes as far as three miles from home. So about two hours before sundown each evening we were out on the hills listening for cow bells. There was no supper when there was no bread and milk.

Under Frank's guidance and help, Tilis and I cobbled up a milk cooler, which consisted of an open frame with 3 shelves mounted on legs. It stood about four feet high covered with burlap, in the shade of a cottonwood tree, near the pond bank. A bucket with a small hole punched in the bottom was wired to a limb just above the cooler and did a fair job of keeping the milk cool. The bucket was refilled with water about twice each day.

Sometime in July or August, Edna was sent to the cooler to check the milk. Our little sister, Ina, was just learning to crawl and unnoticed, she left the house. While Edna was at the milk cooler she had a sudden impulse of excitement come over her. She left the cooler and ran for the house and there near the door steps little Ina was reaching out to a coiled rattlesnake that was all ready to strike. In panic, Edna grabbed the child just in time to save her life.

My father was occupied most of the time with plans to construct a new adobe house. He, Frank and Ernest worked on all kinds of jobs to procure lumber, shingles, doors and windows and hardware for the new house. When not working for others they prepared for making adobes and gathering rock for the foundation and walls. A pit was dug, straw procured, molds were constructed and eventually the adobe making job got underway. Mud with the proper mixture of sand and clay was mixed with hoes and shovels and tromped until it reached the right texture. Straw was added and mixed thoroughly into the mud; the wooden molds would be soaked and placed on a flat cleared ground which had recently been covered with a thin coat of sand and sprinkled with water. The mud mix was bucketed and then poured into the molds. The molds were tamped thoroughly to displace voids and air bubbles and then sprinkled lightly. The molds would be carefully lifted to prevent distortion. One frame yielded from four to six adobes which varied in dimensions to conform to the planned specifications of the wall structure...usually 4" x 8" x 16". After allowing the newly formed adobes to dry for a couple of days, they were turned on edge to complete the drying process. After about a week they could be handled, moved, racked or stored under cover for a month when they could be cured sufficiently to put into the wall.

Guide lines were prepared for the foundation trench, usually 10" to 12" wide and 12" to 16" deep. Then rock was gathered from the hills, hauled and placed in the trench with a lime-cement mortar mix to fill up the voids and bind the rocks. The foundation of rocks is essential to raise the adobe at least 6" above the ground where otherwise it would dissolve, melt and crack the walls. Adobe making and wall building extended until after the first of 1906. Carpentry-floor, roof, windows and door construction continued through most of the rest of the summer. By fall the house was not finished, but it had reached a stopping place, and the family moved in to enjoy the luxury of a wood floor and walls that kept the wind out and a roof to shed the rain.

In the mean time people had been moving into the settlement. The Jennings family adjoined us on the north, the Brenner family to the west of us across the Stockton Wash, the Scott family west of the Brenners, the Sparks family to the southwest on the Stockton Wash, the Paxton family south near our place and the O'Brian family down the wash, with the completion of the adobe meeting house in Lebanon, 3 miles to the west.

A new roadway was cleared on a section line running due west from the old "country road" (that we now call Highway 666). Lehi Smithson built at the corner intersection. Joe Hamblin on the road next to him. Tom Alger, Walter Woolsey, Frank Lee, Heber Daulton, John Will Mangum, John Lee, Ralph Lee, and the Winsors were all grouped conveniently near the new meeting house center. Church services were held each Sunday and a school was held week days and dances and other social activities were held in the evenings. Tom Alger was appointed Bishop of the Ward, John Lee was his first counselor and my father, Henry Utilis Russell was his second counselor.

At the dances my father played the fiddle and Aunt Alice Brewer, the organ or guitar. "Uncle Paul Gardner" played the banjo and sometimes the guitar for both round and square dancing. Some popular dance tunes of this time were: Turkey in the Straw, K.C. Jones, Over the Waves, and Redwings.

LEBANON NAMED

Andrew Kimball, who lived in Thatcher, had been appointed President of the St. Joseph Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He also was serving in the Territorial Legislature. He visited the Wards at Conference time and gave the principal talk at meetings and conferred with ward officers, the Bishop and his Counselors. It was about 1906 when he and his wife managed a trip to the "Holy Lands". Soon after their return from this trip he visited our Ward and told about his trip. In his talk he compared Lebanon of the Holy Lands to our settlement. He said the climate was about the same...warm and dry. Water was scarce and brackish to the taste and the ground in both places showed traces of salt and alkali. The contour of hills and small valleys and even the vegetation was much the same. Since we had not named our Ward up until then, he suggested the name of Lebanon. This name stuck as it applied to the Ward and the vicinity of the meeting house.

SCHOOL DAYS

After we had settled down in our new house, talk throughout the neighborhood centered on the need for a school. The Lebanon school was about three miles away and too far for the smaller children to walk through the brush. After discussing the matter with county officials it was learned that money for the establishment and operation of a school could become available from county funding. After a county supervisors meeting authorizing establishing a school district and election of a school board to implement plans for a Primary School, father was elected President and the board proceeded with plans to build a school house and make ready for school by the following September. This was the spring of 1907.

With county money to work with, parents in the district got busy on a new adobe school house. The procedure in construction followed roughly along the same lines as were taken to build our new house. Plans were drawn to build a small one room of 12' x 20', with wood floor and pitched shingle roof. An adobe pit was started on the grounds and soon the foundation was in place and walls were in progress. By the first of August the building was up. No plastering was considered necessary. The new school house stood about 300 yards from our house. A new teacher was located. She was a little Texas woman by the name of Miss Archer, who later married a lawyer, Mr. Stratton, who served as Judge of the Superior Court of Graham County for many years. She found board and room with the Higgins family about three miles over the hill in the area called Artesia. She rode a pony to school each morning.

A typical morning school call included: 1st Grade: Chester and Lucy Jennings, Fred Russell, Clara and Stella Scott, Hazel O'Brian, Huston (Huse) O'Brian and Safrona (Fronie) Strawn. 2nd Grand: Gracie Sparks, Dempsie (Demp) O'Brian, Eric and Dudley Brenner (twins). 3rd Grade: Ada Sparks, Lovabell Scott, Arthur Strawn, Irene O'Brian and Bruce Brenner. Miss Archer was a strict disciplinarian and about the second week brought three long willow switches, which she fastened to the wall near the blackboard and handy from her desk. She let it be known there would be no foolishness while school was in session.

I was a slow learner, my attention span was very short and interest span in learning to read, practically nil. "Couldn't see much use in using up prime marble playing time to decipher words from a string of letters" ... this of course did not improve my deportment and I spent much time day-dreaming of recess time. The presence of the long switches on the wall tended to restrain me from open physical revolt, however.

To sight a couple of incidents resulting from this imprisonment: one time, while we were standing up having our reading lesson, I noticed a rock about the size of a hen egg on the floor while Lucy Jennings, (our best reader) was performing. I managed with one bare foot to slowly roll it up my other leg until I could reach it with my hand without stooping. I whispered to Chester from behind my Guffey Reader and handed the rock to him when the teacher wasn't looking. Chester started to throw it out the open door we were facing, but missed the door. The rock bounced back and hit Hazel O'Brian on the head. Chester promptly got three whacks with a long switch for that, while the rest of the class looked on with long somber faces as if facing the "Day of Final Judgement".

Another incident, while we were supposed to be studying our reading lesson, my old dog, "Spot", was barking at a stray cow that had wandered too close to the school house. Chester was looking out the window and became so engrossed, he had forgotten he was in school. He yelled out "thicker Spot". For this he promptly got a citation, but the switch was suspended that time.

The following is a little thought that could have been a misquote from the McGuffy's Third Reader, which formed attitudes and character building thoughts in children of that day and if used now, would likely be in a big class action law suit between pacifist oriented parents against the author and publisher for "an attempt at corruption of morals and lives of children". This particular thought did, however, impress me and remained a sign post in my code of conduct throughout my lifetime. It goes:

"When in battle, face your opponent toe to toe, trade his punches, blow for blow. For if you falter and begin to run, your life's big problem has just begun. A bloody nose, a blackened eye makes men of boys in the near by and by."

During this year, Edna and Tilis, were riding "Old Blackey" to school at Lebanon where they had the upper grades (4th through the 7th). Edna being the eldest, always held the reins and carried the club, while Tilis hung on behind, holding onto Edna with one hand and the dinner bucket with the other. On this particular morning, Edna, as was her nature, had become highly distraught by a late start and was urging the old horse along faster than his usual deliberate slow trot. They came to an open wire gate with a big long horned cow standing in the gateway. The old horse, seeing his pathway partly closed by the cow, slowed up some, Edna impatiently whacked and kicked him. The old horse, afraid of the cow, reared up and Tilis dropped the dinner bucket and slid off the horse's rump, landing on the ground right next to the old longhorn that had not budged from her position blocking the gate. Tilis was in such a panic he tried to go through (not under) the barbed wire fence, resulting in a disfiguring scar he carried throughout his lifetime. After getting "Old Blackie" under control and the longhorn to yield her position, Edna impatiently retrieved Tilis from his panic, tore off a strip of her petticoat, wiped off the blood from his face, recouped the dinner bucket and some of its contents as best she could, and continued the journey of about two miles to school, of course arriving about an hour late. Emer Plum, the teacher, after taking account of the blood and panic, suspended the rod on this occasion.

On the 10th of June, 1908, a little brother Karl, was born. He was a beautiful child with golden hair, fair skin and brown eyes.

The second year of schooling in the Russell District, our teacher was my Aunt Ina Brewer, a recent graduate of the Tempe Normal School. She was married to my mother's brother, Uncle Adam. Her teaching methods were as relaxed as those of Miss Archer had been rigid and strict. Soon after this term started, a pall of sadness fell over the entire settlement, caused by the death of Grandma Brewer, who had supervised many births and had given herself freely in helping with much of the illness in the community. She was laid to rest in the Safford Cemetery. This was my first experience with death.

Aunt Ina spent much of her time entertaining by reading stories...Peck's Bad Boy, Kit Carson, Buffalo Bill, Jim Bridger's Adventures, as a pioneer hunter and trapper, Swiss Family Robinson and Widow O'Callihan's Boys. She planned parties for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas with recitations, songs and tabloids. This was a made to order curriculum for me. Why learn to read, when someone who could do it much better, would read for you? I loved stories but songs were for girls, women and the birds; but even songs were much preferred to those switches of the first grade. Some highlights I remember in planning the Christmas party were: the teacher asked, "What would be nice to use to decorate the Christmas tree?" Hands went up and various ones suggested mistletoe, bells, stars, etc. "Fine, who will bring the mistletoe?" I raised my hand. I remembered a cottonwood tree with a big clump with plenty of berries. "Now, who could bring a bell?" "Yes, Marm, I got one, but its got the dingler lost." Eventually the Christmas party was planned with a Christmas fairy...our little sister Ina (pre-school) held the star in the tabloid.

Another event developed from our change of interest in marble games to trapping. (Brought on by the stories of Jim Bridger exploits in the frontier days as a trapper associate of Buffalo Bill). We acquired a few steel traps and I set one in a likely hole on the side of a hill we would pass on our way to school. On their way to school one morning, Chester and his cousin, Albert Hamblin, checked out my trap. Sure enough, a skunk had been caught. Albert stood back and threw rocks at it, but Chester found a stick to clobber her with. His advance was met by a spray from Mrs. Skunk and Chester got plenty!

Not knowing what to do, he set out for school. Within fifty paces, all the kids and the teacher could smell him coming. As Chester advanced to forty, then thirty paces his presence became increasingly stronger. About 25 paces the school population was clustered around the teacher, each holding his nose. She threw up her hand in a "don't come nearer sign" and said, "Chester, what have you been doing?" Chester said, "Nothin', a skunk done it!" Teacher, "Don't come any closer, go home and bury yourself!" Chester said, "Yes, Marm!"

In a dilemma as to what would happen when his Ma found out, he turned and ambled off with Albert following at a comfortable distance behind.

This school year, as compared with my first, was a carefree and a happy one. Aunt Ina was a genius in using meager resources to make events memorable and our lives more meaningful. The Christmas program was made with songs and recitations and the school room was decorated with cotton batting to look like snow. Stars were cut from cardboard and decorated with tinfoil, and the bells (even without dinglers) were hung around the room. Ina was a Christmas fairy holding a tinfoil star cotton batting snow and asparagus spray. There was a recitation by little Lawrence Brenner (first grade) in his gruff bass voice he said: "What will we do for bacon now? Sambo shot the Sandy Sow, she jumped the fence and broke a rail, Sambo shot her in the tail."

In the spring of 1909 came Easter with songs, egg hunts, chicks and bunnies and May Day, with more songs and braiding the May pole. All were memorable and jolly happenings in our school. But events which were occurring out of school were far more somber and tragic than one can imagine.

The appearance of "Halley's Comet", unannounced in the evening sky, traveling toward the western horizon at tremendous speed trailed a stream of fire and headed for the high crest of Mt. Graham....only a few miles from where we stood. Would it crash and destroy the earth? This was a breathless moment. Older people had described this event as a prelude to the Day of Judgement. No news media had prepared us for this event or explained the phenomenon that confronted us. To me, this was a frightening experience. As some of our Elders had talked of the "signs of the last days".

Speculation ran rampant after the climax of the first orbit passed. Some felt sure the next would be nearer the earth, collide and thereby fulfill the prophecy of Doomsday. Others considered it a warning sign. After the third night without a calamity the tension subsided and other problems developed.

TYPHOID EPIDEMIC

Aunt Ina's husband, Uncle Adam Brewer and his brother Hyrum, had made a deal with Amos Cook, a rancher, to buy his goat ranch on the Black Rock Wash, in which flowed a lovely stream of cold clear spring water from the north end of Mt. Graham. Their camp and ranch headquarters were located in an idyllic spot on the stream, shaded by giant oak and sycamore trees.

Frank, my eldest brother, was camped there with Uncle Hyrum's family. Aunt Katie cooked and the rest were occupied with repairing fences, pens and attending to the goats. Unbeknown to them, a family from the Gila Valley who were convalescing from typhoid fever camped up stream from them. In a short time the fever struck. Uncle Hyrum and his whole family, Uncle Adam and Frank all came down with the fever and returned to our place for help.

Dr. Platt (my first contact with a doctor) was called in. He had no effective medicines to fight the disease or to immunize others from taking it. He prescribed bed rest, light food, shade and fresh air. Lucky for us, the cottonwood trees my father had planted had grown tall enough to furnish plenty of good shade. It was about April and the weather seemed ideal. Pallets were scattered all over the yard under the shade trees and the pallets were occupied by the sick. As some recovered and began to convalesce, others came down with the fever to occupy the empty pallets, keeping eight to ten filled for weeks.

For food we had the black bass fish Father had planted in the pond. They had grown into two or three pounders. Then there were rabbits and quail in abundance. It was up to us to devise methods of obtaining these things for food. Broiled fish and quail broth were ideal foods for our sick patients.

To catch the quail, we built "figure four" quail traps made of strips of wood. Starting with four pieces of 1" x 2" x 16" for the bottom frame and adding 1" x 1" strips alternately log cabin fashion, drawing them in as each course was added until at the top the opening was about 4' x 4". This was plugged with a shingle wedged in place to keep the birds from getting out but permitting the trapper to withdraw his catch, one bird at a time.

The trap was set with three sticks...the "stand", the "flipper" and "trigger" and was baited with grain (wheat, maze or barley) sprinkled under and around the trigger...coveys of quail would swarm under the trap to pick up the fee, touch the trigger, letting the trap fall, catching four or five birds at a time. As for fish, all kinds of strategy was used to obtain them from the pond. We found small minnows or large tadpoles were the best bait for our hooks. When all else failed enough water was withdrawn to allow us to catch them with our hands or a pitchfork in the shallow water. As kids, we found a number 2 galvanized wash tub an excellent boat, sitting in the bottom with legs crossed, we could push off the pond bank at the water's edge and use our hands for paddles and we could go anywhere we wished on the pond's surface. This came in handy one summer after a bolt of lighting had struck a tree on the pond bank resulting in the electrocution or shocking the fish so that ten or twelve were killed and floated on the water's surface. We quickly retrieved them by using our tub boats.

My mother was strong for gardens. With Tilis' and my help we had plenty of blackeyed peas which she cooked green at the snapping stage. Green corn, squash, sweet potatoes, melons, carrots, okra and tomatoes were grown in abundance. This, with milk from two cows, supplied ample food for our sanitorium. With all this sickness, we were blessed to pull through with only one death, that of my Grandma's brother, a man in his sixties, Uncle Joe Follett. He died with the fever.

On the 24th of March, 1910, we were saddened by the loss of our little sister, Ina, about six years old. This death was from causes other than the fever. The fever epidemic had run its course by late summer. Frank, being one of the first to take it was one of the first to recover. After his strength returned, he took a farm job in the Safford Valley, coming home on Sundays for clean clothing. In the summer of 1909, we lost Grandfather, who in his late sixties, suffered from a heart condition aggravated by loneliness form the loss of his mate, Grandma Brewer. His remains were laid to rest beside her in the Safford Cemetery.

Aunt Alice, mother's maiden sister, came to live with us. She is the one I mentioned earlier who was a good reader and read them out loud to the family. We liked these stories so much, that members of our household often referred to our home on the Stockton Wash as "Sleepy Hollow".

HOW CACTUS FLAT GOT ITS NAME

One Sunday while the family was at Lebanon in Church, Frank came home. But, before he left to go back to his job, he left a cartoon he had drawn. The picture was of a young man lying on his back, a rock for a pillow, shoes off to one side, barefoot cooling off, hat over eyes and his companions in the shade of a Cholla Cactus were a coiled Rattlesnake, Desert Tortoise, Gila Monster, Road Runner and a Scorpion. The caption on the cartoon was: "Shading Up in Cactus Flat." Mother thought the picture described the situation so well, that she framed it and hung it up over the fire place. To those of our family, the name "Sleepy Hollow" was promptly changed to Cactus Flat and soon its use became popular with others to designate the area on the Stockton Wash. Few people really knew how the name originated.

BAPTISM

In 1909, I would be 8 years old in September and was told one day by my mother that I was reaching my age of accountability. This, she explained, was when I should be baptized. She explained that baptism was an ordinance established by Jesus Christ. She told me that baptism would wash all my sins away that I had committed up to the time of my baptism; but after that, I must be old enough to be responsible for my own sins. I immediately thought of the times Tilis and I had hidden behind the pond bank and smoked cedar bark, corn silk, and almost anything that made smoke, rolled up in newspaper. I wondered how she had found out?

On another day, I had hitched "Old Fan" to the buggy to take her to Relief Society, a woman's study group that usually met at the meeting house on Tuesdays. As I drove the mare, Mother sat beside me nursing my infant brother, Karl. It was a beautiful picture. She had fair skin, soft blue eyes, long honey hair and was in the prime of her motherhood. We talked some about religion and she mentioned the word, reincarnation. I asked her what that long word meant, and she explained that it was a belief that people were reborn with a new body after they had lived a full life and had worn out their old bodies and died. She further explained that life's purpose was a stage of developing the spirit to a higher plain of perfection, until at some future time we might become perfect like Jesus. I do not know whether reincarnation was a tenet of her own belief, or merely a subject for discussion at her meeting for that day, but it answered a religious question I had been pondering, but unable to solve up to that time.

According to most religious doctrines when one dies, he does not come back in a new body but must wait for the morning of the Resurrection (at some future time) to take up the one he has laid down at death, which was imperfect to begin with and after having deteriorated in the grave for perhaps centuries, it, in my mind, would be of no value. This slow process would also slow up the Lord's plan of Spiritual development, and make the efforts of trying to improve each day meaningless.

Soon after my birthday, I was baptized in Aunt Annie Lee's pond by my father and confirmed by Bishop Tom Alger. Following is an expression of my thoughts I feel and have written concerning resurrection:

THOUGHTS ABOUT RESURRECTION

I've often wondered if resurrection may be

Life's power to reunite with its carnal mate of antiquity

In skit of adventure, in joy, or in pain

A dance with companion toward Spiritual Gain

A waltz with old partner in the rythym of time

To recoup an experience, be it sad or sublime

To learn from a lesson shared eons ago

With Earth's companion reunited with terrestrial elements below

If mortal being be a trident of Spirit and Blood

With third Dominant Power impelling from mud

A slime encrusted creature toward Heavenly Crest

A step at a time and often regress

But steady the climb toward Perfection's High Goal

To share with our Lord, HEAVEN'S full bowl

Where both Soul and the Flesh will be PEERS IN PERFECTION

IMMORTAL at last on the DAY OF RESURRECTION.

Another incident that happened soon after my baptism that made me feel the nearness of the Lord, was how He saved me from a horrible death! I had a trap set in a hole in a bank of a branch of the Stockton Wash just west of our pond bank. In checking it out, I found a big pack rat. I removed the rat, reset my trap and started to take the rodent to the cat. Barefoot as usual, I moved slowly along at half pace, looking at the rat and unmindful of where I stepped. Suddenly I glanced down as my foot had reached it's zenith, and saw a coiled rattlesnake directly under my uplifted foot, its head raised within inches of my barefoot. In panic, the mechanics of self preservation automatically took over and my stride extended a yard or more as I sailed over the rattler. In some miraculous way, I had escaped the reptile. The pent-up breath in my lungs released with a snarl of a wounded bobcat as I made my way out of the thicket to higher ground.

TRIP TO BISBEE

Dad, by his nature and life style, was a perfectionist in his work. What he did, he did well, but he was so deliberate and slow that his daily accomplishments were very low. Because of this, he had difficulty in holding construction jobs for which he was best qualified. He could do beautiful masonry work and was a good carpenter. He loved to talk and visit with people. For this reason, he preferred working for himself. He found he could make money peddling. He and Uncle Hyrum Brewer, dad's brother-in-law, who lived near by, bought a couple of wagon loads of farm produce...fruits, melons, potatoes, and planned to peddle them in the mining camp of Bisbee which was roughly a hundred miles from home. It required about three days travel each way and two to three days to sell the produce.

Uncle Hyrum, his wife, Aunt Katie and son Fred (my age) Dad, and I took off early one morning in two covered wagons. We had a used oak whisky keg covered with burlap insulation that we filled with fresh drinking water, a chuckbox, bed rolls and camping gear that we fastened to the wagon side. The slow pace of the team enabled Fred and me to easily keep up on foot to do our assigned job of hunting rabbits to supply the meat ration. Each of us, barefoot as usual, carried a single shot 22 rifle. Fred took one side of the road and I took the other.

This was my first trip away from home and as I had anticipated the trip with considerable eagerness for several days, I was having great fun seeing new country as the wagon trail parallelled low hills forming the southern end of the Mt. Graham range. The trail was rough and much time was lost dipping in and pulling out of the many arroyos along the hillside drainage system. Water from storms and flash floods flowed eastward toward the San Simon Valley, extending on our left for 15 to 20 miles to the beginning of the Chiricahua Range extending southward into Mexico. This range formed a continuous backdrop from the Gila, gaining altitude as it extended southward to an elevation of nearly ten thousand feet. The extreme ruggedness of its crest had provided a suitable pathway for the famous Apache Indian Chief, Cochise, to escape into Mexico when Cavalry platoons pursued him as a scapegoat to placate the early settlers in frequent quarrels with this tribe.

At about mid-day we stopped to rest the teams and to eat a lunch prepared by Aunt Katie the night before. The horses were unhooked and set free to browse on bunch-grass growing nearby. A cool, refreshing drink was withdrawn and shared from the water keg. We then took a moment to gaze at the landscape at leisure, which revealed two large projections resembling heads on the highest crest of the Chiricahuas. Dad told us these were called "Dos Cabazos". Prevailing colors of the mountain scenery were various shades of lavender, changing to purple and blue as lights and shadows changed. The foreground was forested with mesquite and catclaw, stunted for lack of moisture. A few cattle were observed browsing on bunch-grass and mesquite beans growing in the arroyos. Various species of cacti, creosote and yucca dominated the broken hillside areas, sloping to more level planes of the San Simon Valley, tilted northward to drain into the Gila River. All of this was "Public Domain" and at that time was free to the settler to use without restrictions.

After the short rest period, teams were rehooked and our journey continued. Within an hour we had reached the southern end of the Mt. Graham range and were descending into the large Sulphur Springs Valley. The expanse of this level field of prairie grass almost waist high, seemed enormous to me. Many cattle were grazing peacefully on the unfenced pasture land, dotted with an occasional windmill pumping stock water. A few mesquite, yucca and cacti were observed. The high range of the Chiricahua bordered the valley on the east, but the flat level plain appeared endless to the south. After another three hours on the wagon trail, we came in view of the little cow town of Willcox. Stock pens for handling cattle, a few dozen board houses along the trail, a general store, saloon, Chinese restaurant and blacksmith shop about made up the town. Finding a favorable place to camp near the village, we pulled off by the side of the trail and unhooked the teams, hung nosebags of grain over their ears, brought out the camping gear, such as Dutch ovens, mixing pans, flour sack and lard bucket. We built a campfire with brushwood found nearby.

Fred Brewer and I had killed plenty of cottontail rabbits and set about skinning and preparing them for supper. Aunt Katie was tending the cast iron Dutch ovens and mixing dough for hot biscuits. Dad peeled the potatoes, while Uncle Hyrum removed the nosebags and hobbled the horses, freeing them to graze the abundant grass nearby.

The campfire blaze died down, leaving glowing coals and hot ovens soon loaded with biscuits, rabbit and sliced spuds, lids replaced and covered with glowing embers. The pleasing aroma of good food waft on the cool evening air whetted our appetites to a high pitch. At last the heavy lids were removed form the smoking ovens. Fred and I had walked most of the forty miles traveled that day, hunting rabbits, and were empty as a couple of young, starved coyotes. Supper over, horses checked, bedrolls laid out on the ground, we soon were asleep under the stars.

At sunup, after a breakfast of pancakes with bacon, was eaten and we were soon on our way. That day we made about forty-five miles and camped near a small mine near Gleason and arrived in Bisbee about noon on the third day. Bisbee was booming and came as near being a big city as any town in the territory at that time. Electric trolley cars served the city and extended to Douglas, 30 miles eastward. The Copper Queen was one of the biggest and richest strikes in the territory. We found a ready demand for the produce we were hauling and both wagons were unloaded that afternoon.

To me, Bisbee filled with bright electric lights and trolley cars zipping up and down hills was something I had no idea existed in the world. It fascinated me to see the trolley pole arc from time to time as the cars traveled on the steel rails at unbelievable high speeds. Luxurious hotels and amusement places, stores, saloons and restaurants lined the streets that were paved with brick or flagstone. I had never seen pavement or electric lights before.

While our fathers were selling their produce, Fred and I sat in one of the covered wagons. A man walked up the sidewalk and paused in front of a saloon. He stuck his hand in his pocket, withdrew it, looked at something in his hand then disappeared inside the saloon. I saw a glint of sunlight as something he had held in his hand dropped to the gutter. After he had gone, I ran over to see what he had dropped and found a shining new quarter. It was the biggest coin I had possessed in a long time. I returned to the wagon to show Fred what I had found, asked him what he thought we should do with it. Both of us being hungry, we decided to spend it on something we could eat and could buy the most of with our money.

We both went to a big general store brimming full of merchandise to shop, one thought in mind! It must be edible and the most a quarter could buy! We finally settled on licorice whips, with about an eight inch handle and a sixteen inch lash...a penny each. We shot the works for licorice and returned to the wagon with a big bag of twenty five whips which lasted us for weeks.

The wagons unloaded of the produce, we pulled out toward home and camped a few miles away for the night. My mind was filled with amazement at the wonderful new things I had seen in the big city and with regret that we could not have enjoyed them longer.

With an early start (before sun up) and with empty wagons, we arrived in Willcox about dark that evening, camping near the blacksmith shop. The blacksmith was still working by the dim light of his forge, sharpening some cold-chisels. He pulled one out of the fire with tongs, hammered the glowing point to a sharp cutting edge, threw it on the dirt floor to cool, pumped the forge bellows a few times to renew the heat in the forge then withdrew another chisel from the fire and hammered it on his anvil. I stood watching him and became curious as to how the smoke from the fire got out. I saw no smoke stack. Stepping nearer to observe, my barefoot landed on the hot chisel. For a moment I smelled an unsavory odor of burning flesh, but as the heat penetrated the thick rind of my foot, reflexes came into action. I jumped and squalled like a cat on a hot stove and hobbled back to camp with my curiosity satisfied! Aunt Katie examined the deep brand on the bottom of my foot and doctored it with baking soda which cooled the burn and eased the pain. I rode in the wagon the next day, enjoying my licorice. Rabbit hunting was postponed for sometime.

THE FLUME

Returning home with money in his pocket, Pa, set out looking for another way to increase his assets. He made a trip to town and contracted to cut logs for the Mt. Graham Saw Milling Company that had a new steam plant; it was delightful and invigorating. I felt at home on burro back and in the excitement of the new venture, had forgotten the pain of my burned foot.

We reached the sawmill about mid-day and were assigned to a worker's cabin and sat about arranging our meager belongings. A fire was made in the wood cook stove which served for both cooking and heating the cabin. At this high elevation, heat was needed.

After a hasty lunch, Pa and Ernest set out with the logging foreman to look over the job site, while Mother and I remained at the cabin. I was impressed by the big steam boiler and wondered how they had managed to transport such a huge and heavy load on burros. The sawmill was running and great logs riding the carriage zipped through the whirling saw, dropped a slab and returned for a new cut in seconds. Each slab moved forward over roller tables through two edger saws spaced to accommodate the maximum width of useful lumber in the slab. Waste trimmings from the board dropped on a conveyor chain that carried and dumped it on the waste pile, while the slab was carried through the saw table, cutting it into dimensional lumber. A cut-off saw added the third dimension to the new finished boards. Each was dropped in the flume and zipped out of sight in an instant, to the stacking yard at the foot of the mountain, nineteen miles via flume below.

All operations seemed so efficient and effortless and it amazed me to believe them possible. The cool mountain air, almost cold, mixed with wood smoke from the furnace, steam vapor from the engines, along with the aroma of the pine forest and freshly cut logs, gave off a perfume of an entirely new world too complex to describe, but most exotic and pleasing to me.

A view of the valley below from the high mountain crest was a new vista in my lifetime. I imagined that's how the Lord keeps track of everyone from His throne high in Heaven. As evening shadows began to fall, Pa and Ernest came into camp bearing their long crosscut saw and axes on their shoulders. Mother pulled out crisply browned biscuits from the oven as they entered the cabin after washing up. The aroma and taste of the hot food, sweet potatoes, beans and water gravy, with buttered hot biscuits and Mother's peach preserves, satisfied every nook and cranny of an empty belly and every taste bud the food touched on its way down.

After about two month's work in the forest, Dad became restless and wanted to leave the job. Word was sent to Frank to meet us at the Cluff Ranch with the buggy to take us home. After we had walked within about two miles of the receiving point, Frank, Edna and Tilis met us on the trail and proposed we have the thrill of riding the flume. Frank returned to the landing place to make sure we all got out without an accident. Then Ernest helped me get in with instructions not to become frightened and grab the sides of the flume. Because if I did, at the great speed, my hands would be torn to shreds. A cross-board was placed on the sidewalls and when ready, I was released into the swift water feet first in a sitting position. I sailed over the steep, rough mountain side as a bird...except without effort, sound or vibration...across canyons and over huge boulders, brush and treetops. The thrill was as if I were weightless, without a body. In moments I was in Frank's arms and out of the flume. Tilis, Edna and Ernest followed later but used the cross-bar to get out. Mother and Dad followed on foot. We all returned home, Dad and Mother in the buggy and rest on foot.

Ernest, who had been dreaming of leaving home to get an education, earned a small nest egg on the logging job and as a new term was soon to begin, he packed his clothes and went to Tempe to enroll in the Teacher's College.

OUR FIRST BURROS

In looking after our cows that grazed on the open flats and hills, Tilis and I noticed a couple of burros roaming the hills. They were gentle and didn't object to being ridden. We could just climb on and go places by slapping them on the opposite side of the head to make them veer in the direction we wished to go. As that was just after the world champion boxing fight...Jess Willard winning from Jack Johnson...Tilis named his burro Jack and I named mine Jess. To induce them to stay around we pulled weeds and fed them each day. Soon we became good friends and instead of walking the range to bring in the cows each evening, we rode the burros. This went on for several weeks, until we became so attached to the animals we wanted to own them. Upon inquiring around we finally found they belonged to the Halderman brothers (a couple of old bachelor prospectors who lived over the hill to the east of us). Soon we contacted and propositioned them to sell us the burros.

Of course we had no money, but were anxious to know how much they would cost. After a little bargaining they set the price of $3.00 each. Now the big question...how would we get $3.00 each? It so happened it was about time for another school term. Mother was one of the trustees of the school district which would need its supply of firewood to feed the pot-bellied heating stove. It was estimated there would be a need for two cords of stove wood. We immediately submitted a bid of $6.00 for the job. Our bid was accepted by the board.

Now where were we to find some axes to chop the wood? Our old ax had a broken handle and had not been sharpened since it was new. After some searching we found a piece of hardwood that could be, with considerable rasping and cutting, fashioned into a usable handle. We found an old drawing knife and dull rasp that had belonged to Grandpa Brewer.

Eventually our ax with a new handle was assembled and after grinding the blade on dad's old grind stone for about 4 hours, it was ready for use. There were plenty of mesquite bushes and we started on the biggest one nearby. Tilis chopped for a while then turned the ax over to me. The wood was tough and the ax handle was rough. Soon blisters began to show. Progress was painfully slow...neither of us had any idea of how much it would take to make a cord.

When we had dinner we asked Aunt Alice...she didn't know but looked it up in the almanac...one rack 4 feet wide, 8 feet long and 4 feet high. Since in this instance we were chopping stove wood, we would need 2 ricks of 2 foot lengths instead of one. We worked several days but the progress was so disheartening we decided we would have to get another ax somehow.

Finally, we went to the Halderman place and explained our plight. They loaned us two good axes. After about three weeks of grueling hard work, we filled our contract by delivering the wood, all neatly racked and measured. Mother, being a member of the school board, we anxiously looked to her for our pay. One day she went to Safford and after coming home, opened a package. She showed me a new suit with knee length pants that she had bought with my three dollars. I immediately set up a strong protest, "I don't want pants, I want my burro," I wailed.

Unfolding the garments, trying to pacify me by pointing to the nice strong fabric they were made of, she unfolded the pants and the first thing I looked for were the pockets. To my consternation, there were none! Then I did take on. "Look Ma, no pockets!" "But what a pretty color, that makes up for the pockets." "I want pockets...I would rather have pockets than the old pants!"

She finally patiently appeased me by promising to make some pockets. I don't remember what Tilis got for his three dollars, but it wasn't a burro.

By this time school had begun with a new teacher...Mrs. Maude (Pace) Callison, a daughter of one of the most affluent merchants in the county. W.W. Pace, who with others had established the Big Six Hardware Company of Thatcher. Maude's husband, Mr. Callison, was a teacher also and had contracted to teach in the Artesia District, a small one-room school about three miles south of the Russell District. Within a short time he became ill and both schools were dismissed for a few days, opened and again closed for the same reason. He finally gave up and resigned on account of his poor health. Both schools remained closed until new teachers could be found and hired.

Our school was fortunate to hire a young teacher who had just graduated. Miss Ivey Sowell. She was a vivacious and lovely person, who seemed to enjoy the association with the children. She read stories, and played games, creating a pleasant and happy atmosphere in the school room and indulged in the spirit of sportsmanship on the play ground. She played marbles, hop-scotch, dare-line and other fun games with zest as though she were one of us.

One Saturday, Tilis and I decided to hook up one of the burros to the buggy. Getting a horse collar, we padded it up to fit the donkey. We fitted the harness and buckled it on, fastened the tugs to the single-tree and shafts to the backstrap and planned to take our new school teacher for a buggy ride, but the donkey seemed to have a better idea. He would not budge a step. We coaxed, whipped and even tried to push him but he would only hump up. Miss Sowell entered into this fun with the same enthusiasm as we did. We all had fun but no ride; he was a "pack", not a "pull" burro.

NEW DESERT HOMESTEAD

During the past years Congress had made some changes in the homestead laws: One provision which applied to this arid region and the southwest was the allowance of a Desert Claim which doubled the 160 acres homestead filing to 320 acres desert filing. There were some technical differences but the general purposes and procedures were similar. Those who had filed a homestead claim were also allowed to file a desert claim. Father made a filing on some brush land about 3 miles north toward Safford from our Cactus home on the school land. This new district was dubbed "Fairview". According to the requirements a dwelling must be built and residence established and occupied for a stipulated period of time.

To meet these rules, Dad built a small two-room adobe house. Mother, Tilis and I moved in during the summer. Since our livestock, orchard and most of our belongings were in Cactus, much of our time was spent enroute between the two places. Uncle Hyrum Brewer and his family filed adjoining our claim and erected a small cabin and took up residence about a quarter mile form our domicile. Two Markovitch brothers, Mark and Sam, immigrants from Italy, made filings and erected homes for their families. The Shirley brothers, Adolphus and Sam and John Spear (a brother-in-law) from Georgia, each filed and established a claim. The lively family and others from the Lebanon and Artesia communities filed and established residences. A new adobe one-room school building, about 20' x 30', located about three hundred yards from our house, was finished by mid-summer, to accommodate children of these new settlers.

At Church one Sunday our Bishop, Tom Alger, approached my father and said, "Henry, I've been considering asking for a release as Bishop of the Ward. I've served now for nearly ten years. I hear there has been some cattle rustling going on out east of here in the Seneca country and I think I would like to try for the job of County Sheriff in the election that is coming up. What do you think Henry, think I can win?"

Dad replied, "Tom, in my opinion there's no better man in the territory, congratulations!" Extending his hand, promptly clasped by the Bishop's, the two old friends embraced.

Tom Alger was a huge man, trim frame of sinew and bone, heavy chin, big square jaw, smooth shaven except for a heavy black walrus mustache. His bearing was that of a sincere man with complete confidence, but with a soft voice, a hint of almost an apologetic ring to it. Dad said, "To see him on his horse, wearing working tools, a bullet filled cartridge belt, his holstered forty-four, a loaded bandoleer of winchester shells and carbine 30-30 would put a chill in the old Devil's backbone!" He was truly one of the great lawmen of the Southwest. Although without the publicity that went to Wyatt Earp and John Slaughter, he certainly was a deserving member of their league.

A story came out that was reportedly told by one of his deputies that "when he ran into a truculent character, all Tom needed to do was to whisper in his ear and up went the bandit's hands." Tom served Graham County as Sheriff for many years.

Another Sunday, at the meeting house a traveling showman appeared. He carried the first moving picture seen in the country. The title of the film was the "Crucifiction of Christ". He had a carbide light, with a hand cranked projector. After contacting John A. Lee, our new Bishop, arrangements were made to show the film. As the showman had no screen and the Lebanon Meeting House had never been plastered, its walls were unsuitable for use as a substitute screen. Someone remembered the new Fairview School recently had one wall plastered with a smooth coat of mud, it might serve as a screen. All Church members present, and many others who heard of the marvelous new invention, enough to fill the school to overflowing, went to see the great new marvel. It truly was miracle in my young life. How can pictures be made to walk? Of course not! In those days no one had ever imagined they would ever learn to talk, also!

BOUNTY HUNTERS

The spring and summer rains of 1910 were heavy and frequent. With this abundant moisture, orchards and gardens responded with early blooms and lush growth. Rabbits, skunks and other local varmints also increased in numbers, destroying crops and small chickens. They became so destructive that Graham County placed a bounty of 10 cents for cottontails, 15 cents for jackrabbits and 50 cents for skunks. Rabbit ears and skunk hides were proof of their extermination. Payment was to be made in cash upon delivery of proof to the county treasurer's office in the county seat in Solomonville.

Tilis and I, always looking for an opportunity to make a dime, got out our traps and put them to work. At the end of the summer we had numerous rabbit ears and over fifty skunk hides. We hitched old Fan to the buggy, loaded the proof and set out for Solomonville to collect our bounty money. Upon arrival we proudly presented our proof, but were informed..."sorry boys, but we had to lift the bounty last week...just one week late young fellows...sorry." We were sorry and disappointed too! We did not know at the time but learned later that a crooked employee of the treasurer's office had stolen and made off with the bounty funds.

LIVING THE CLASSICS

Our teacher for the new school was a lady from Texas, Mrs. Paxton. She was a pleasant person and spent most of her time entertaining us rather than teaching. No attempt was made to organize or conduct a graded school system. One book which impressed us most, she read to us, was Cervantez' Don Quixote, an old sixteenth century Spanish romantic classic which captured our interest and imagination, in which the hero became demented by reading too many fictitious tales of romantic chivalry; imagined himself to be a knight errant, shielded, mail-coat and buckler, armed with lance and cutlass, mounted on his noble steed "Rocinate", accompanied by his trusted squire, Sancho Panzo, astride his ass. The hero, Don Quixote, challenged and would joust with all comers and when unable to find travelers, he would joust nearby windmills, which he fancied were enemy forces invading his homeland. This silly story, both humorous and dramatic, captivated our imagination and romantic impulse to the point that we picked the fair lady, our secret heart throb, Ethel Spear, the loveliest girl in the school, as our Queen, to defend and fight for her fair hand and honor.

Though we had no Rocinate, we mounted stray burros, made shields of cardboard or old washtub bottoms, made a cutlass of wood and lances from dry yucca stocks growing nearby and rode to joust with each other in the name of our secret lover...lovely Ethel, for whom we fought each other to dance with on Saturday nights. As the school ground had once been a bedding ground for range cattle that foraged on the brush nearby a good supply of dried "cow pies" was always available to throw at our adversaries in our war games. This was in 1910 and the year of my fourth grade.

Tilis, being three grades ahead, rode a little bay mare "nancy" (bareback) to the Russell District School that year. He, in his "Ugly Duckling" stage of development, long arms and legs with big feet, astride the little mare, with flailing arms and feet nearly touching the ground as he galloped over the hills, we dubbed as "Ichabod Crane" after the character of the "Headless Horseman" story. His teacher was a Mr. Flurrey from New York State, who lived with the Jennings family. He was a happy and friendly person, who entered into all the pranks and games going on and helped invent a few we pulled on each other. Being a "tenderfoot" in the West, he saw a skunk in a bush and asked "what kind of varmint is this?" We told him it was a pussy-cat, to hit the brush with a stick and it would run out. He tried it and was promptly sprayed. He took the prank in good part and laughed at his own stupidity.

The next year on April 13, 1911, a new baby sister, Eva, was born. A Sister Carter, an Adventist trained nurse, who had recently moved into the community, helped mother as midwife. Dad spent much of his time peddling and on other jobs away from home. Mother, Tilis and I were stuck trying to live on the desert claim to satisfy filing requirements. We had no water except what we hauled in barrels.

Our cattle herd at the Cactus home had increased to about twenty head. We had no feed except the natural browse. Some cattle rustling had been experienced by those unable to keep a close check on their stock and on the open range. Mother was nervous about losing some of her stock and urged Tilis and me to repair and build fences to keep the cows up at night.

Pa had grand ideas about drilling wells and farming the desert claim. On one of his peddling trips, passing through Willcox, he found a man who owned an old well rig. Pa made a trade with him to swap mother's cattle herd for his machine. He delivered the cattle but put off bringing the well rig home.

Soon he had other urges which superceded the well drilling plans and before long forgot about the whole deal. We had no cows to worry about! Suddenly Pa decided he should devote more time to the Lord's work in bringing his genealogy up to date. His Uncle Allen Russell, who lived in Fillmore, Utah, was interested. They corresponded for some time, then Pa took the urge. He somehow acquired a new buggy, new typewriter and camera, took our best horse, "Old Prince" and left for Utah.

A new teacher was contracted for the opening of the Fairview School in September. I was in the fifth grade but was scarcely able to read stories from the first reader. In the frequent spelling bees, I had a permanent place at the foot of the line and or arithmetic, I knew nothing. I liked history because it was more like the story books teachers read to us. Our new teacher was Mrs. Queenie Gillespie. She, a young woman, was pregnant with her first child. Because of this and her home duties, her mother, Mrs. Duncan, who had been an old-time teacher in Texas, did most of the work. Her teaching methods were much like those of our former teachers...more story reading. But she did spend some time teaching history. She taught us to recite the names of the Presidents by rote: Wash, Ad, Jeff, Mad, Mon, Ad Jack, Van, Hair, Ty, Po, Ta, Fill, Pier, Bu, Lincoln, Jo, Grant, Hayse, Gar, Aur, Cleve, Mack, Rose, Taft (who had just been elected in 1912).

Many of the Mormon families from Southern Utah had migrated to Mexico, settling in Sonora, Chihuahua and other states near the border. They had received charters to colonize, and land grants from the Mexican government and had succeeded in establishing a number of thrifty towns and business enterprises.

Pancho Villa, a bandit of questionable lineage and nationality (some say from El Paso), formed a gang of "Bandito De Caballeros" hidden in rough mountain hideouts, raided targets of the more affluent Mormon enterprises, such as banks, stores and warehouses. They finally became so "bravado" that they raided the Border town of Columbus, New Mexico. They must have had a pay-off arranged with some high officials of the Mexican government for it paid very little attention to them. Finally, after the Columbus raid, General Pershing was ordered to pursue him into the interior. He made a Cavalry expedition into Mexico following the crafty old pirate but no contact was made and the General returned without success.

The trepidation and insecurity of the Mormon settlers forced them to abandon most of their possessions in Mexico and return to the United States. Most of them settled in the bordering states of Arizona, New Mexico and California. A few settled in the Safford-Cactus areas.

ON OUR OWN AGAIN

In the fall of 1913, (Pa had left in the spring), Frank and Edna had been working in the valley and going to school as time would permit. As Pa had left us without support, Frank procured a cheap rent house in Thatcher and the family moved in, with Frank its provider. He and Edna attended the Gila Academy for the 11th and 12th grades. Tilis was in the 8th and I in the 6th grade. I found conditions much different in the new city grade school. I was deficient in reading, spelling and mathematics and should have been demoted to the third grade, but the teacher, Mr. Lofgreen was very patient and tolerant with me.

Outside the school room I had always been able to hold my own in tests of strength, which at that time was measured by one's ability to wrestle his opponent down and put all four points to the ground and to also compete with my fellow schoolmates in tests of scholastic accomplishments. They were all about as "dumb" in reading, spelling and arithmetic as I. Of course, the girls were much better, but we contributed this to what we postulated were simply "girls' things" and did not worry about it. Now it seemed different at the black board...problems would be given to find the sum of these numbers. I knew what "some" meant, but it did not make any sense to me when used in arithmetic. Or find the "quotient" of 360 divided by 3. Quotient, sum, dividend were "Greek" to me!

My deficiency in reading and spelling was pathetic and of some great embarrassment, especially before an audience of pretty girls, toward whom I was beginning to have amorous, secret thoughts. Such experiences were damaging to my ego and I began to hate school. I could think of no way to compensate for my incompetence. My thought each morning was with dread of a new exposure of my ignorance. I began to hate life, wishing to die before the dawn of a new day. This complex feeling of inferiority, which seemed to suddenly come over me in all my social relations, made me timid and unsure. I sometimes wondered if I were losing my mind. As I grew older, it seemed to grow and thrive as a bad weed. It baffled me! I had no one to tell me I was just approaching the age of puberty!

JOURNEY TO CHANDLER

In this year, on November 5, 1913, our little sister Luella was born. She was the last child of my mother's family. The last half of the school year finally ended without any remembered events. All students graduating but me...I simply "quituated". Mother received a letter from Pa, who had been living with Ernest in Chandler, who had been working for the Chandler Improvement Company. Pa told her that he had rented a 40 acre farm and wanted her to bring the family to Chandler and help him.

In the weeks preceding our planned date of departure, let us take a look at the "goings on" in the minds and attitudes of the "kid logic" of this day and consider the thoughts and conditions expressed in the nomenclature of the child's own language. Money, except for an occasional penny, nickel or rare dime was seldom ever "come by" in a kid's life in those days. It had little to do in terms of a medium of exchange. Most transactions were barter in exchange of marbles, pocket knives, whetstones, tops, balls, ball gloves, traps and various kinds of ammunition. For instance, a box of fifty 22 bullets could be bought for about 25 cents for shorts and 35 cents for long rifles. A box of 25 shotgun shells sold for about 70 cents for 16 gauge and 85 cents for 12 gauge.

In the barter arrangement, most valuables were determined by barter values. As in marbles, a "glassie" or agate was worth about ten "doggies" (a cheap clay marble). A "steeley" (a ballbearing) about the right size and weight to make a good "taw"...a marble to shoot with...was worth 15 to 20 glassies. a ball glove would be worth a box of 50 long rifle shells or 6 or 7 twelve gauge shotgun shells. The most prized possessions were always carried in the right hand pocket. a good knife or ammunition was carried where it would be easiest to get out. Other plunder of lesser value was stored elsewhere.

Boys in those days started hunting with a 22 rifle at about age six or seven. By the time he was nine, he would be allowed to take the shotgun, provided, of course, he had sneaked it out a time or two and proven his dependability...without Ma catching him! By the age of twelve he was considered by his peers to be a veteran small game hunter and might likely be allowed to go with an older boy carrying a 30-30 rifle to hunt big game.

For some reason the twelve gauge shotgun was the most popular for small game hunting in our community. If one acquired a 12 gauge and a 16 gauge shell, both could be shot in a 12 gauge gun. By carefully cutting the jacket of any empty 12 gauge shell just above the brass, a 16 gauge shell could be inserted with enough friction to allow the shell to be fired when placed in the 12 gauge firing chamber.

At this time a boy's great ambition as to occupation was to become a good hunter. Why? Because this was a man's most immediate and direct way to fill his belly from an adverse and sometimes hostile environment in the great but always dry South Western Frontier. Farming without water was out of the question. Grazing without cattle and capital was equally remote. It boiled down to "learn to live off the land as one found it, or else". Hunting was not limited to the hunting of wild game, but was extended to the search for anything that might ease the pangs of an empty belly or parched throat. These things included in a young boy's life, gathering and chewing "skeet beans", prickly pear and barrel cactus apples, acorns, pinon nuts, walnuts, hackberries, squaw berries, etc. A barrel cactus could ease a parched throat and the debilitating craving for water. Lives have been saved from physical exhaustion from thirst by this desert plant, by slashing it open and eating the white meat that resembles the meat of a green watermelon.

A lucky hunter, if alert, with some resourcefulness and experience might even stumble on a hollow tree with a swarm of bees, called a "bee tree", or cave with some delicious honey inside. Equipped with some experience, he would, no doubt, pay for the prized honey, but if clever and hungry enough, would come away quite content and happy with his reward in exchange for the punishment! This was not recommended for a novice, however.

In planning for our long journey, Frank's ingenious skill in horse trading, old Fan, our faithful family mare and servant of the past ten years, was matched up with a boney old gray horse, "Old Tobe" of unknown age or lineage, for a long and rough trek across the frontier of Arizona during it's second year of state hood. The old wagon wheels had been wedged and soaked overnight to retain their iron tires for the first day's journey, axles greased and wheels remounted by Frank and the newly appointed "wagon mechanic", Tilis. The bows in place, canvas top stretched and properly secured...the water keg filled and mounted on the wagon side to serve for drinking, cooking and emergency wheel soaking, to keep the wood fellies and iron tires from separating. Two bales of hay and a sack of rolled barley to supplement natural horse feed to be picked up along the way.

The chuck box fitted with a new bucket of lard, a can of K.C. baking powder, a pound of sugar, some salt, a can of Eagle Brand condensed milk (to nurse the baby), along with a 25 pound bag of flour for biscuits and water gravy. These things in place with the bed roll, breakfast over, prayers said, asking for protection and guidance for a safe journey, Frank in the teamster's seat, Tilis beside him, Mother, Edna, Eva and Luella under the canopy, sitting on the bedroll...I , old "Buster", my faithful dog companion, and old Fan's colt to trail behind...were about to set out.

It was a beautiful sunny morning in Thatcher, about the first day of May, 1914. Mother, 43, had borne her last child, Luella, the past November. Frank, her eldest son and our brother, who always faithfully served in Pa's place as head of his family in his frequent and extended absences, had finished the 12th grade. Edna, 21, oldest daughter and fourth child, often mother's substitute in maternal leadership, had finished the 11th year of schooling at the Gila Academy. Tilis, 15, had graduated from the 8th grade under Doc Jones, Principal of the Thatcher grammar school. I had passed the 5th grade (without honors) under Professor Lofgreen. Eva, 3, was just learning to talk and growing up to be independent on her own good feet. Luella, an infant, frequently expressed her claim to personal freedom in her own way. All members of Pa's family at this time paused momentarily and looked back at Thatcher and then took off on a great and momentous adventure by covered wagon from Thatcher to Chandler via the newly finished Roosevelt Dam, a distance of about 250 miles.

At Frank's command the team started, the wagon wheels creaked in protest under its load over the rough trail as it began to move westward. For most of the way from Thatcher to Globe, the trail paralleled the railroad track as it snaked its way around impassable barriers of gullies, large granite outcrops, heavy clusters of mesquite growth and other inaccessible places. Tagging along most of the time in sight of the wagon, I was on the alert for cottontail rabbits to supplement the biscuits and water gravy I knew we would have for supper. Being late taking off and due to the slow pace of the team over the rough terrain, we planned to keep going until sundown.

About twelve o'clock noon we heard the whistle of the steam locomotive pulling the freight train from Bowie (Junction of the Southern Pacific) to Globe. It came rumbling by with ten ore cars and a caboose, to stay overnight and return to Bowie the next day. I marveled at the great advancement in travel of the steam locomotive, pulling the heavy load 150 miles in a single day! Globe was about 80 miles from Thatcher and we estimated it would take us three days to make it to Uncle Hyrum's place, who lived there.

About 3 o'clock, up ahead around a bend in the trail, I noticed a plume of dust rising, and shortly afterward heard a rumble which turned out to be an automobile. As it plumed its dusty way over the chuck-holes of the trail, there appeared one of our affluent Safford merchants, Mr. J.T. Owens, who recently acquired one of the first early automobiles of that day in Graham County. He wore leather leggings, the typical white duster coat of that time, a cap and goggles. The automobile was chain driven, without lights, windshield or top, resembling a buckboard with a high spring seat for two. Frank pulled off the trail for the new vehicle to pass and Mr. Owens waved a "thank you" as he whizzed by at about 15 miles per hour.

I had seen several cottontails run by and a few single quail, but my early training as a hunter had taught me, never to take a chance on wasting ammunition...never shoot at a running target or a single quail but to wait until one can get at least two birds at one shot. As the evening came on and game became more active...at last I shot a single rabbit with the "cobbled-up" 16 gauge shell I had been carrying in the chamber of my 12 gauge gun. Replacing the empty shell with one of my remaining two 12 gauge shells, I spotted two quails together and killed them both with my second shot.

OUR ANCESTORS

On the third day we managed to reach Globe about sundown and were welcomed into the home of Mother's brother, Uncle Hyrum Brewer and his family. We also found Aunt Betsy McClieve and her son, "Jody", who had just arrived for a visit from Mother's old home town of Pinedale. Mother and the members of her reunited family were soon deeply engrossed in reminiscent thoughts and conversation. I, a poor reader, but a good listener to good stories, found a corner where I could clearly hear the dialogue, sat through the hours until midnight, eagerly absorbing the scenario extending from the time Mother's first paternal ancestor, Thomas Brewer and his brother came to America. Thomas and his brother embarked from London, England. They came by sail boat, The Lion, in 1682. They landed in Rhode Island but soon moved to the Connecticut Valley.

Thomas took up land along the Connecticut River. He soon married and built a fine home. His first son was named Daniel (our ancestor). Daniel grew to manhood and helped his father to increase their land holdings. The virgin, fertile soil produced lush crops and bountiful harvests. Their holdings of land and chattels became one of the finer plantations in the Connecticut River Valley.

Daniel soon married and his oldest son took his father's name as Daniel, Jr. As migration to the "new world" continued, encroachment of English settlers in the New England Colonies from the East and French settlers from the North (in Canada), Indian tribes formed a confederacy called the "Five Nations" for self defense. This powerful barrier to curb encroachment, made it necessary for the colonizers to match the Indian defense with military troops to take the offensive.

Daniel, Jr., 26 at this time, was called to serve his colony. He left his bride, Ruth, and their two small children, joined a regiment of the King's Army being sent into the wilderness frontier. Ruth, pregnant when her husband left, had borne her third child, whom she named after her husband, but after losing her second child, William, she had died with a broken heart during her husband's extended absence. After several years fighting Indians, his regiment was sent North in an attempt to conquer Canada. Daniel, Jr., served in the battles of Ticonderoga, Crown Point, Tippiecanoe and Quebec.

After the failure of the expedition to conquer Canada, his regiment was returned, disbanded and he was discharged to go home. His wife gone and both children grown up and married, Daniel III (our ancestor) had married Lidia Penfield from Chatham, Connecticut. Having sacrificed his family life by fulfilling his military obligation, Daniel, Jr., applied for and was granted a charter to establish a ferry across the Connecticut River to serve the towns of Portland and Cromwell. This was in the year 1750.

Let us digress for a moment that we may relate the events of this story to contemporary events of American Colonial history: George Washington of the Virginia Colony had reached the age of 18 at this time and was soon to be inducted into the Colonial Indian Wars on the frontiers of Virginia. Looking forward twenty-six years to 1776...the Declaration of Independence had been signed by all the untied colonies. The Liberty Bell in it's belfry in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, had rung out the glad tidings and heralded the coming War for Independence. George had served his duty in the King's Army. Discharged, he became a full General to head the United Colonial forces in this new war against the King.

Daniel, Jr., by this time an old and broken man, tending his ferry in Connecticut, was contacted by "Patriots for Liberty" to join in the war effort. He replied, "I'm in full sympathy with your cause, but I once gave my Oath of Allegiance to the King and I cannot raise my hand against him!"

A new crop, tobacco, had been introduced in the Connecticut Valley. Daniel III had seen his neighbors become wealthy by growing it for a short time, but recognizing it to be a potential evil, a poisonous habit forming drug and to protect his young family from the misery of its use, decided to take no part in the production or to have his children live near others using it. He sold the family plantation and all his personal chattels, turned his back on prosperity and took his small family into the uncertainties and hardships of the wilderness. Blazing his trail westward, the National Census of 1800 located him, his wife Lydia with two children in the town of Rochester, Ulster County, New York.

Four years later, on the 7th of July, 1804, my great grandfather, Louis Brewer, was born. From Rochester the family moved to Neversink, Sullivan County, New York. It was a small settlement in the high mountains west of Rochester. This was a heavily timbered country. Wild life abounded in great numbers. Deer were more numerous than sheep. Wolves roamed in large packs and were destructive to flocks of sheep that ranchers were trying to raise. Streams were teeming with trout which were so abundant that while Mother fried them in the kitchen, her son was catching pounds of them a few paces from the kitchen door. In this lush mountainous region, trees of all kinds were growing and timber was free for the taking.

Daniel and his family became acquainted with a neighbor family who had been living in the mountain wilderness for some time. This was the William Wheaton family, who were coopers by trade. They could make anything from wood. Soon the two families became close friends and the Wheatons taught the Brewers their trade. Not only was the existing friendship beneficial to both families, but Lewis, son of Daniel and Lydia, won the love of Bethenia, daughter of William and Orpha Wheaton. The couple were married in 1827, at Neversink, New York.

To this union seven children were born. My grandfather, Jacob Albert Brewer, the third child, was born 21 June 1833, at Sullivan County, New York.

With the help of a village blacksmith, they made wagons and by ox teams they moved westward. About 1850, they took up residence in Woodhall, Stubin County, New York. There they became acquainted with a young man by the name of Adam Campbell. Jacob and Adam became good friends. Both in their late "teens", they were adventurous and talked about big things. Adam's father and mother lived in Kalamazoo, Michigan. He had been visiting an aunt and uncle by the name of Follett, in Stubin County, New York. Adam had made a few boat excursions on the Great Lakes and the stories he told, made Jacob envious of his friend's superior knowledge and experience in adventures. After a few months together, the boys had talked of various possible job opportunities. Adam knew of railroad building projects going on in Canada and how he was sure they could obtain good jobs in Canada.

Sometime after Adam had gone home, Jacob, reviewing Adam's tales of adventure and superior knowledge, became restless and dreamed of trying his own wings in the big world. The more he thought of it the more restless he became. Finally, unable to contain himself, he announced to his parents his decision to join Adam and go to Canada. Their efforts to discourage this wild adventure met with little success. He had just sold a calf he had raised and still had the $20.00 in his pocket...that would little more than pay his boat passage to South Haven, the nearest town to Kalamazoo.

Finally the day came and he was determined to "try his wings", (which turned out to be his legs). He bid farewell to his family and set out. He hitch-hiked 120 miles to the nearest port to embark at Westfield on Lake Erie. He then paid his passage of $15.00 and sailed for 15 days before landing at South Haven, Michigan, the nearest port to Kalamazoo. After that he hiked another 50 miles to reach his friend's home. The two friends reunited after a few days rest. They then went back on the shores of Lake Michigan and with Adam's prior experience in "thumbing his way", were embarked on a boat sailing northward with a cargo for Port Arthur, Ontario, Canada.

The boat ride for Grandfather Jacob, paying his fare by menial kitchen police, dishwashing, scrubbing deck and Captain's flunky, did not quite measure up to his fondest dreams imagined before he left home, but he bore with it until their landing. Inquiring about job opportunities, they finally were offered a job in a railroad construction camp in the deep forests of northern Ontario. This was in September. After more hitchhiking, they found both weather and camp conditions very rugged. Soon it became colder and colder.

The job assignment was that of "Gandy Dancer", a fancy title for handling heavy ties, rails and other heavy equipment as the track laying operation progressed. Most of the workers spoke only French or German, so the language handicap was difficult for a couple of green young men who knew only English. As the season progressed into bitter cold winter, bringing deep snows and sub-zero weather, work in the camps was suspended. During lay off spells, they received no pay and accumulation of savings was impossible. They "toughed it out" through the winter. Because of drifted, deep snow and no traffic, they were unable to leave the camp. As Spring finally arrived, about the first of June, supply lines were reopened and the two adventurers were ready to return from the frozen wilderness to the sparsely populated towns called civilization, located on the northern shore of Lake Superior.

Broke and gaunt as a couple of young polar bears just out of hibernation, they walked the broken trail for miles. Their pay for this rigorous adventure: hardened muscles from heavy labor, a smattering of vulgar French and German words, wornout shoes and clothing and a compelling urge to get back to America. Coming South as fast and as far as energy and luck in hitchhiking would permit, they never stopped until they reached Adam's home near Kalamazoo, where they found the Brewer and the Wheaton families visiting the Campbells, all making ready to travel south to Council Bluffs, Iowa, to join the western trek across the plains to Utah.

Before the families moved, Adam and Orpha Jane Wheaton fell in love and were married. This united the three families...Brewers, Wheatons and Campbells. The two boys, Jacob and Adam, were soon on their way southward toward the warm sun... they had never appreciated its warmth so much! This was the summer of 1859. Arriving in Council Bluffs, the two boys were offered jobs as teamsters, hauling supplies to Salt Lake City. Jacob accepted, but Adam, being newly married, stayed with his bride.

While waiting for a company of travelers to assemble for the hazardous trip to Salt Lake City, Adam's sister Rebecca became ill with a fever, later diagnosed as typhoid. While crossing the plains of Nebraska, she died and her body was buried on the lonely prairie, near Kearnie. Upon arrival at Salt Lake City, Louis, having heard of lush forests in Northern Utah, turned northward. At a small community of Bountiful, the Campbells decided to settle, while the Brewers and Wheatons journeyed on to a small settlement of North Ogden. There they found forests which fully measured up their wildest dreams. Finding a favorable spot they settled for the winter.

It was late in September 1859 and the weather had become quite cold as the season progressed, and an unusually cold winter set in, with high winds, drifting snow and sub zero temperatures that seemed to never end. All trails were blocked for months that seemed like years. By spring (June) the trails were finally open and hearing of the mild climate in Southern Utah (St. George), often referred to as "Dixie", (because someone had grown cotton there), the Brewers were happy to leave their lush forests of the North in search of a warmer climate. Bethenia had contracted tuberculosis and her suffering from the disease was greatly intensified by pioneer hardships during the long, cold winter.

Retracing their trail in quest of forests, they returned to Bountiful to visit the Campbells, where they found Orpha Jane (who had assisted in the care of Rebecca) had contracted the symptoms of the fever and had died during the winter.

The three families, reunited again, headed Southward toward the warm sun in search of a milder climate, suffering many hardships as they journeyed for weeks.

The great Wasatch Mountain range was on their left and the shores of the Great Salt Lake and Utah Lake on their right. The travelers passed through the small settlements of Provo, Payson, Nephi, Fillmore, Beaver, Parowan, Cedar and finally arrived in St. George (Dixie), their destination. The spring climate was ideal, the fields verdant and orchards all in bloom. They camped for a short period to survey the possibilities. They finally settled on the banks of the Virgin River east of St. George. There they found timber to supply their needs to build log cabins and wood to ply their trade in making shingles, barrels, tubs, buckets, churns and other items in demand by the pioneer families. Soon after settling on the Virgin River, they were made happy by the arrival of my grandfather Jacob, who had been driving freight wagons and guiding travelers from Council Bluffs to Utah. He told many interesting stories of his experiences since he had last seen them.

Jacob, 30 at this time, had been timid and girl shy, but this problem was soon solved by his old friend, Adam, who introduced him to his cousin, Sabra Ann Follett, of a family who had come directly from New York to southern Utah. Although Sabra Ann was much younger than Jacob, she had a mind of her own and accepted Jacob's proposal against her parent's counsel. They were married in 1863. To this union eleven children were born. The third child, my mother, was born at Big Cottonwood, a tributary of the Virgin River, on March 13, 1872.

After living in Washington county, Utah, for nearly twenty years, the three families had become prosperous. The items of their trade had met with ready sale or barter. The climate of the area was rather cold for commercial cotton growing but it produced fine grape crops. Soon the grapes were processed into wine and this combination brought in a rough element of settlers who consumed it. Typical of the Brewers, who had shunned prosperity of the tobacco production and its element, they did not wish to have their children live and associate with imbibers of alcohol, made possible by the production of their kegs and barrels.

At this time a call came through Church channels from Brigham Young for volunteers to migrate to the Arizona Territory. The Brewers heeded the call. My great grandfather Louis' family, his three sons, Jacob, Joseph and Charles, each with their families, planned to move to the new, sparsely populated frontier. Grandfather Louis was seventy-five at this time and was quite feeble to undertake another move. Grandfather Jacob, 46, with seven children, along with Joseph and Charles, inventoried their belongings they wished to take along. On the last day before their planned departure, Joseph, who had been in ill health for some time, decided he was not well enough to make the trip and that he would stay with his father's family until his condition improved.

The summer of 1879, the two brothers, Jacob and Charles with families, embarked on their journey in covered wagons pulled by ox teams, and slowly proceeded down the trail toward Lee's Ferry (approximately 200 miles away). The progress was slow. The children cared for some 15 head of cattle, browsing them along as they went.

By fall they finally arrived at Lee's Ferry. There was some difficulty in loading the cattle when they reached the ferry. One steer jumped the side rails when the raft was in midstream, but climbed up the bank ahead of the others. Each wagon with team was loaded one to a trip and finally the crossing was completed, allowing them to join other travelers going to the same destination at Joseph City, Arizona, some 400 miles away.

The progress was painfully slow and the food supply was short. This was supplemented with game birds and animals found along the way. In the North they found a good supply of pheasants which they called "sagehens" and with rabbits and occasionally fish found in running streams. Without these wild creatures to supplement their food supply, many pioneers would have starved. Names and dates of travelers preceding them were written with axle grease on the large, flat stones they found along the side of the trail.

The winter was very cold. High winds blew across the barren plateau with a high chill factor, making traveling and exposure extremely hazardous and dangerous to the health of the pioneer families who traveled in caravans for common protection. Those that had breakdowns, sickness and other difficulties were left behind. Those who were able to keep moving did not wait for those unable to travel. Having a herd of cattle impeded progress. The Brewers finally arrived at the Joseph City stockade on New Year's day, 1880.

At this time the new Transcontinental Railroad, the "Atlantic Pacific" was building grade in Holbrook, a settlement about 10 miles east of Joseph City. Many Mormon families found work on this job and were offered a contract, but while arranging for provisions in the town, they heard of a need for shingles to cover the housing being erected in the settlement. Of course, the Brewers preferred making shingles to working on the railroad grade. Looking for suitable nearby timber, they heard of a pine forest on the Mogollon Mesa, about 50 miles south of Holbrook. In a few days their camp was pitched on a spot called "Flakes Camp" in the virgin pine forest located on the crest of the Mogollon Rim.

They started felling trees and splitting out shakes and shaping them with drawing knives by hand. Able to sell all they could make, they soon built a shingle mill which enabled them to saw the shingles much faster. Becoming affluent enough to build a saw mill to furnish lumber as well as shingles. The milling and logging operations attracted workers and the small industrial settlement called "Pinedale" was established on the high rim country over 6000 feet in elevation, sloping gently to the north and dropping abruptly called "jump off" country to the south.

As the little settlement grew, a Church and schools were established. Gardens were planted and the rainfall was found ample to grow corn, squash, beans and clover without the need of irrigating. The open range offered good feed for the cattle.

My mother had grown to become a pretty young lady by this time when a young man by the name of Henry Russell came along. Henry Utilis Russell was born March 30, 1863, at Fillmore, Utah. His father, Horace Russell, born March 10, 1831, at Shelby, McComb County, Michigan, owned a blacksmith shop in Concho, a small Mexican settlement about 50 miles east, near St. Johns in Apache County, where Henry had grown up from a little boy.

"Hattie" and Henry found fun dancing together in the Pinedale Church house on Saturday nights. The romance developed to a proposal, which was accepted by Hattie. They were married the 7th of March, 1887. The first child of this union was named Henry Franklin, born January 28, 1888, at Alpine, called "Bush Valley". Other children: Ernest, born 24 December 1890, Edna, born 26 June 1893, Utilis, born 24 July 1898, (all born in Eager), where grandfather Russell had moved his shop.

In 1898, father was called on a mission in Kansas. Leaving his young family with Grandpa. Mother and Father traveled with Mother's brothers, Uncle Adam and Joseph Brewer to Utah where their marriage was sealed in the Manti Temple. Joseph, nearly blind with cataracts, proceeded on to Salt Lake City with father, who remained for a brief training for his mission assignment, while Joseph went on to Denver for his eye operation. Mother and Uncle Adam returned to her family in Eager.

My grandfather, Jacob Brewer, 67 at this time, had been suffering from rheumatism, called "dropsy". He suffered severely with the painful disease. He had heard of a warm climate in the Gila Valley. The family disposed of their interests in Pinedale. Albert and Adam rounded up the ox teams for the trek southward from the high mountain altitude of more than 6000 feet. On their way over the crest on the high rim, they found a beautiful pine forest in a small valley, called Forestdale. They could not resist, so they settled, built log cabins, cleared off a spot and planted a field of wheat. By fall the grain crop was a beautiful harvest of large full heads of wheat.

Upon seeing grandpa's fine grain harvest, the Apache Indians claimed his fields were a part of their reservation, although it was later proven they were wrong. The Indian Bureau sided with the Indians and ordered grandpa to get off.

Mother's family at Eager decided to join her father's family and with ox teams and a small herd of cattle, they traveled south, arriving in Safford in the fall of 1899. After checking out the settlements of Eden, Pima, Thatcher, Safford and Solomonville, they finally picked a choice spot to view the majestic Graham Mountain. Here the story of my mother's people came to an end. Soon all participants in this dialogue had found a spot on the wooden floor. Wrapped in a quilt or blanket and except for snoring, all was quiet.

I lay awake about an hour reviewing the highlights of the thrilling adventures: from Thomas' arrival in America in 1682...Daniel, the plantation builder...Daniel Jr., serving in the King's Army as an Indian fighter, in the French and Indian wars and attempted conquest of Canada...of Daniel III, who turned his back on prosperity to save his family from the tobacco plague that might threaten the happiness of his family and of their trek in the uncharted wilderness of New York State. Then my grandfather Jacob's experiences in the frigid forests of Canada and hike back to Michigan and the subsequent hardships in the Utah territory.

TO THE SALT RIVER VALLEY

When I awoke, the family was astir by 8 o'clock. Breakfast over, prayers and goodbys said to our relatives in Globe, we were on our way toward the great, newly completed "wonder of the west" the Roosevelt Dam, about thirty miles away. We found the new road (built by the government to facilitate the construction of the great dam) much improved to the roads we were accustomed to. The road was downgrade most of the way and smoothly paved with decomposed granite. Toward evening we came in view of the great lake, backed up for miles. This was the biggest body of water I had ever seen and soon the big dam, constructed of huge granite blocks taken from the mountainside came into view. The sights were far beyond anything I had ever imagined. The crest was wide enough to accommodate two wagons to pass each other, protected on each side by six foot railings made of stone masonry.

By sundown the trail dipped steeply into the box canyon below the dam, bordered by the river's edge on the right and a perpendicular cliff of granite on the left. Following the smooth road a short distance below the dam we soon found a camping place. It was sundown now, giving us a full view of the magnificent mammoth structure. I marveled at the great blocks of stone that had been removed from the canyon walls and fitted together so perfectly!

This made me think of stories of building the great pyramids. The power plant generating electric power racing over long cables mounted on high towers of steel spaced about 500 yards apart, to light cities miles away added to the marvels of the project were thrilling beyond anything a small country farm boy from Cactus could imagine! Hot biscuits and water gravy was the menu for that evening meal.

The next morning we were off to an early start. The road (not a trail now) followed the river as it twisted and turned in the deep canyon of granite cliffs so high one could see only a blue patch of sky above. At some places we were so near the water's edge, we could see small fish in the clear water. After traveling a few hours, I became quite tired and stopped to rest under a large tree growing on the edge of the river bank. Looking in the clear water, to my surprise, a large fish swam near. Up went the shotgun, I aimed at his head and pulled the trigger. We dined on fresh "salmon" (probably carp), but we called it salmon and enjoyed a new menu that night and had fish left over for two other meals. What a contrast to water gravy!

At about sundown that evening, still in the box canyon beside the river, Pa came driving up in his new buggy pulled by old "Prince". We had not seen him for nearly a year. He camped with us over night and took mother and the two babies in his buggy back to Chandler, leaving us to follow by wagon.

Plenty of water in the river enabled us to keep the wood fellies of the wagon wheels wet, in order to keep the iron tires on. We camped at the bottom of "fish creek" hill that night. The next morning, pulling up the hill we left the river and looking at the vast expanse of the beautiful Salt River Valley stretching for miles, as far as the eye could see to the South and West of us. I had used the last shell on the fish...there was no use walking anymore. The old wagon crept along at the foot of Superstition Mountain and gradually descended to the flat desert country, forested with Saguaro (a new variety of cactus to us), paloverde trees, mesquite and catclaw growing in dry arroyos. The morning sunlight played a symphony of colors, light and shadows on the towering cliffs and crags of Superstition Mountain to our left. To our right the tall transmission towers carrying electricity from the power house that had looked so impressive to us when nearby, marched westward across the great valley, each becoming progressively shorter as they reached the vanishing point on the western horizon.

The giant cactus stood as great statues with arms extended at random, guarding the desert floor before us. In the far distance of perhaps 20 miles southward, we could see a freight train (the Arizona Eastern) crawling toward the valley's eastern rim to the Magma Copper Mine of Superior. The steam locomotive's smoke plumed backward as the train moved forward. A sign on our right marked "Gold Field" announced an old abandoned mining operation, which some thought might have been associated with the Lost Dutchman Mine legends of the past century.

Upon reaching what is now called Apache Junction, we left the main road that turned to our right toward Phoenix, and took a dim, rough, crooked trail going straight ahead. After two more hours, a grouping of what looked like small buildings could be seen. Bouncing along over chuck holes, crawling in and out of gullies, the tiny buildings we had first seen in the distance became larger. The straight lines of newly-turned earth stretching across the desert floor toward the distant village became a large canal carrying irrigation water toward an area which had looked like green postage stamps in straight rows, made up the village. The tiny village became a modern town with straight graveled streets and at it's center a large, imposing building of Old Spanish design and a sign...Hotel San Marcos...was observed. A shopping mall, including post-office and bus stop and stores occupied a prominent location on main street. We had arrived in Chandler.

CHANDLER

On the out skirts of town a few blocks east, stood a hay barn filled with baled hay, fenced from a 20 acre green alfalfa patch. This property Pa had rented and it became our home for the next twelve months. Driving out to the little house we found mother and our two baby sisters. Mother had cleaned the house which had not been occupied for some time and had a fire going in the small wood stove. Being late afternoon, she had cleaned and prepared the coal oil lamp for use and as soon as we arrived with the "chuck-box" a quick supper was prepared.

Pa came in carrying a dozen eggs, a paper sack of oranges and a pound of bacon he had bought in town. The team had been unharnessed, fed some hay and left loose in the small fenced enclosure containing the house. Soon beds were laid out and the reunited family reclined for a much needed rest after a week of hard traveling.

Next morning, looking out in the yard, to our amazement we found old "Fan" dead. She was lying close to the house; her tracks around the yard and house indicated she had been sick and had tried to get help! A partly filled tub of soapy water mother had been using to clean with was emptied, indicating she must have had a fever. Tears came to my eyes. I could not choke back a cry when I discovered my dear old animal friend and companion since I had first begun to remember. Memories came to me of the many times while she was loose in the field, she never objected to my walking up to her to pat her flank, scratch her nose, put the big toe of my left bare foot in the dimple of her left knee joint, grab her mane and throw my right leg over her back to a sitting position without difficulty. A kick of both bare heels set her off in a gallop. A slap of the open palm of my left hand on her neck turned her to the right and a slap of my right palm to the left. No rope, bridle nor saddle were needed. The last time I remembered riding her was during my fifth grade at Fairview. Fan was picking weeds near the school house. At recess I mounted her and took off across broken ground nearly on a "high lope". She jumped a dry arroyo about four feet wide and I tumbled off into the gully. She stopped dead on the other side, turning around she nuzzled me to see if I were hurt, then permitting me to remount, we galloped on. Now she was gone out of my life, but remained only in my memory. Dad and I buried her body on the rented farm.

Each member of Pa's family learned to become self-supporting at an early age. Before we left Cactus, Frank, Ernest and Edna seldom lived at home when Pa was around. Each took jobs in the Gila Valley as they could find them. If they were offered board and a bed, they took the job without much thought of monetary wages, hoping to work up to better pay. During school terms, cash was not expected for part-time work they were able to do. Sometimes they could find a second job paying a few dollars to keep them in the essentials as needed.

One home they could depend upon to take them in, was owned by a single parent widow lady, Mrs. Ella Heywood, who lived in Thatcher. She had reared a fine family consisting of Neil, Ella, and Spencer who had completed all schools in the Gila Valley and left home for advanced professional training. Her youngest son, Yates, was about my age.

Mrs. Heywood was a well trained teacher. She was a sincere believer that each child should have a good education and a chance to develop any talents he might have. She preached "that an idle mind was the devil's workshop" and stressed the importance of putting time to good use! Each of her children was on a strict schedule both at school and at home. She owned a few acres that were intensely cultivated to produce fruit, vegetables, along with cows, pigs and chickens to provide their food. Each child had his own chores to be responsible for, both summer and winter.

Time was strictly scheduled for home work and study. A time was set aside for music; all the children had shown some interest and proficiency in art and the practice hour was never neglected. Velma became an accomplished violinist and gave lessons on the instrument.

"Sister Heywood" as my mother called her, was a model my mother admired and tried to follow her example in raising her own family. This fine woman had a brother, Evans Coleman, who owned a small farm near Thatcher. Evans often needed to hire help in putting up hay or in irrigating. He would hire Ella's kids or anyone living with her family who wished to work. He paid about two dollars per day for his help.

These two families worked together, supplementing each other's needs and looking after their mutual interests. Frank, Ernest and Edna, each at one time or another, had lived at the Heywoods for short periods while attending school in Thatcher.

Uncle Adam and Aunt Ina Brewer assisted us in every way they could. Aunt Ina took Edna via horse and buggy to Mesa to find a job there. They found our old family friend, Mrs. Heywood, who had lived in Thatcher until her family married and moved to the Salt River Valley. She had recently sold her home and bought a new one in Mesa to be near her children. She lived alone and in her advanced age needed help, but was unable to pay wages. She offered Edna a home until she could find a better job. This was accepted and Edna lived with her for several weeks until she obtained a position as Assistant Housekeeper on the Tremain Ranch School for Boys. There she earned her board and room with a fair salary, which she saved to continue her education at Flagstaff Teacher's College, which she entered in the fall semester in 1915.

Of course, Ernest remained on his summer vacation job as ranch foreman with the Chandler Improvement Company, where he earned his board and keep with some salary, then returned for the semester at Tempe Teacher's College and to his part-time school job with the Arizona Commission of Agriculture. Frank took the first farm job he could find until he later obtained a job with the Salt River Valley Water Users Association as a Sanjero in Glendale. Tilis was hired by Seymour Allen on his hay and dairy farm in the Chandler area.

Aunt Ina took me and some other kids to pick figs from trees that grew on ditch banks near the town. No one seemed to know who planted them but the fruit seemed to belong to anyone who would pick it.

This was in the days when women wore big hats with a huge ostrich plume, scented with "come hither" perfume, that tickled her suitor's nose as it waved in the soft breezes of the Arizona Desert.

Mr. Chandler must have envisioned the prospects for billions by supplying her tools for romance, but failed to take into account the fickleness of women! At any rate, he had bought up a thousand acres of raw desert land to be irrigated by the new SRV project; spent millions on improvements, and planted many acres to alfalfa hay to feed about 500 ostriches he imported from Africa. These large ungainly birds found their new home a valhalla, picking lush, nutritious alfalfa without restraint, they multiplied profusely!

At last, like so many visions of elusive dame fortune fading, the woman had changed her mind! She no longer wore big hats but preferred to show her golden locks rather than plumes. "Now we have produced the product in abundance, where is the market?"!! A ravenous consumer of expensive hay, the great bird hatched from fifteen to twenty eggs each setting, which the female bird laid and the male incubated.

Trying to recoup something from his investments, he had some of the huge eggs blown hollow and sold them for curio value.

My first job in Chandler was blowing these eggs. Most of them were rotten and of course quite smelly. To blow an egg, a small hole was drilled in each end, then water under pressure was run through them until the shell's contents was cleaned out. This job paid only five cents per egg, so of course I did not get very rich!

An experience I had with an old male ostrich one day goes like this: I was driving a pony for a hay stacking operation in a hay field in which the old bull bird ran loose. He seemed to be having fun running the derrick horse boy up the stack, to keep him away from me. I had seen my employer, Seymour Allen, ride a horse and with a "black snake whip" run the bird out of the field. Thinking this would be a good way to get rid of my pest, I tried it. Seeing me coming, the big bird stood his ground and when I cracked the whip-lash around his neck, he charged and jumped on the pony's back and knocked him down. Before he hit the pony, I slid off to one side and climbed the hay stack while he was busy with the pony. I never tried that again!

Soon after arriving in Chandler, we began attending the Mormon Church, which was held in a large portable, prefabricated frame building, erected on a lot by bolting parts together. The Bishop of the Ward, Chester Peterson, was also one of the town's most popular lawyers. He was a large but trim young man, who treated everyone with respect and friendly consideration. His oldest son, Elmer, my age, encouraged by his parents, invited me to participate in their family affairs quite often. He soon became one of my best friends.

One of the Bishop's hobbies was picnicking on the desert and shooting doves that flew over in great numbers during the evening hours. The Bishop was a crack shot who rarely missed his winged targets. Elmer and I retrieved the birds that fell and his mother made them up into bird pies.

The Petersons owned a lovely home and a new car. They were considerate and hospitable with each other and made their guests feel at home. Mr. Peterson, a native of Utah, had received his legal training at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. He seemed to "go out of his way" to be nice to me and talked to me as if I were an equal person. This was a new experience for me because my own father's method of talking to his boys was the opposite, as if we were on a much lower plane and he needed to keep it that way to maintain his parental authority and discipline.

Crowded in a three-room shack, Tilis and I slept on cots outside or in the hay barn nearby. We usually had access to the daily newspaper, the "Arizona Republic". I made a practice of stealing it out to the barn where I could be alone, to keep up with the news. World War I had begun in Belgium and had spread to other countries in western Europe. Both France and England were becoming involved.

In the state and local news an effort was being made by the new State Educational Department to reorganize the system, or lack of system, that had existed in the territorial government. One issue that faced the planning board was: should curriculums be built on scientific theories or Biblical fundamentals and prophecy? The U.S. Constitution plainly states that it protects freedom of religion, but it also implies there shall be a division between Church and State and that no tax revenue shall be spent for religious purpose. Realizing our fore-fathers, who established our Federal Government, foresaw the wisdom of separating Church and State. I believed them to be right in this opinion. As I, in my young life, had never been tempted to use alcoholic beverages, nor had I formed an opinion on the need for women's rights, I became interested in the religious argument which was being waged between the two factions with "gusto".

These were the days of the great moralists: William Jennings Bryan, Billy Sunday and Carrie Nation, who were great advocates of prohibition and women's rights!

WINKELMAN

When school started, I was enrolled in the seventh grade. My teacher's name was Miss Newton, a pleasant young woman from Nebraska. Baseball and basketball were the popular outdoor sport. I entered them both and enjoyed the school year in Chandler without any special problems.

Dad had been gone about eight months. We did not know where he was, but by the last of May 1915, Mother received a letter from Winkelman. He explained he was in the fruit and produce business. He sent her train fare for herself, two babies and me and asked her to come.

We left by train and upon arriving in Winkelman, found Pa had rented a large, but unfurnished building from a widow lady, mother of three boys: William, Arthur, and Cline, ranging in age from about 16-18-20. She with the help of her three sons, had planned, mixed and poured by hand, this large cement building. It made me think of the story: "Widow O'Callahan and Boys". They were all fine people and became our good friends.

Winkelman, located on the bank of the Gila River, was a recreation center for mine and smelter workers in Hayden, located about a mile over the hill, by trail from Winkelman.

After an amendment had been passed to the State Constitution, outlawing the sale of liquor in open saloons, seventeen saloons and gambling houses were closed. They were all boarded up and vacated at that time. The brothel business with a six foot board fence around it was left intact, however. Left in the town was a grocery store, a small bakery, ice plant, a small restaurant and a drug store. Many residents of Winkelman worked in mining or related operations in Ray and Hayden.

Winkelman was located about two miles upstream from the influx of the San Pedro River, flowing north from the Huachuca Mountain Range. The town had no crossing except a cable car mounted on a one inch cable, anchored on the North (Winkelman) side to a steel anchor buried in concrete and on the south side to a large cottonwood tree. One desiring to cross the river could pull the car by standing in it and pulling on the big cable in the direction he wished to go.

The town was served by a branch line called "Arizona Eastern", branching from the Southern Pacific main line near Phoenix. It hauled mining supplies to operations at Ray, Hayden and to a small town named Christmas, east of Winkelman.

This was the summer of 1915. World War I had been going for more than a full year and President Wilson had finished his first year in office.

As soon as we were settled in part of the building, the market in the other part, Mother tending the store, I began looking for something I could do to make a little money. A young boy about my age had contracts for selling the El Paso Herald and the Arizona Republic. I applied for a franchise to sell the Arizona Gazette (an evening paper) and the Curtis publication...Saturday Evening Post and Ladies's Home Journal.

My magazines did not sell well because men were not interested and most women did not have the money. I made trip after trip hiking the trail over the hill to meet the five o'clock smelter shift change, without selling a single paper, but my perseverance finally began to pay an occasional nickel or dime as workers noticed me day after day patiently soliciting sales at the same place.

One thing that finally attracted a buyer of the "Saturday Evening Post" was when it's publisher began to use Norman Rockwell's true to life paintings on its cover. The pictures sold the magazine. As time went on, the pictures became so prized the demand was difficult to supply. The Gazette was never popular.

In September, school opened with a new principal teacher, a young man, Mr. John R. Spikes, a recent graduate from Tempe Normal School, who had been one of their popular athletes in baseball and basketball. I was enrolled in the 8th grade, but was deficient in mathematics. I found two good friends in Sexton Hiler, whose father operated a lumber yard and Carol Butler son of the Depot Agent. We three studied our lessons in the evenings and with their help I learned to extract the square root and square the circle. I enjoyed playing baseball and was complimented on my fast ball as a pitcher. Mr. Spikes taught me to throw curves and drops.

Soon after school opened, Pa left his family again. This time he was gone for three years without contacts. About Christmas time Tilis came down from Flagstaff and obtained a job as a brakeman at the smelter slag dump.

In February 1916, we had a big rain that lasted for about six weeks. Prior to the rain the state had started to build a bridge across the river about where the cable car was located. The heavy rains caused a terrible flood and a pile driver and other power machinery, on the job site, were lost. The flood washed away most of the houses located on low ground and it dislocated and swept away most of the prostitution center. The big tree that supported the cable car went down and most of the bridge building equipment was lost and several people were drowned.

GLENDALE

In March, soon after the big flood, Mother contacted Frank in Glendale and explained our situation. He sent money to help pay our debts and for train fare. We then moved to Glendale. When we arrived we found he had rented a forty acre farm and had bought on credit about sixty head of cull dairy cows. The farm was located three miles east of Glendale on lateral 18. There was a fair house on the property which we called home for the next two years.

Out of the sixty cows we three brothers hand milked about forty head twice daily. Milking started about 5:00 o'clock each morning and it lasted until 7:30. Separating by hand cranked separator and hour, cleaning up, feeding calves and pigs another hour. A trip to the Creamery with a ten gallon cream can tied in back of the buggy put us in town by 10:30 each morning. Then we did a repeat performance in the evening from 6:00 to 11:00 p.m. This worked quite well until school started, but as my Algebra class was scheduled for 9:00 a.m., I didn't learn much about the subject. I did not have time to do much socializing, but made up by doing a lot of day dreaming while working.

Somehow we got through that year. All things must end, even the most tedious...so a new year may begin!

The New Year in this event occurred in April of 1917. The school term had ended and Frank received a notice from the farm owner to move, as we had been unable to pay the rent. What would we do with the cows? That was the question! Frank tried to get Mr. Hamel from whom he had bought them, to take them back but he refused, insisting he must have the cash, which of course was impossible. After pondering for a few days, Frank set out to find another place.

GILBERT

He finally made a deal with Mr. "Toggery" Johnson, owner of a clothing store in Mesa named the "Toggery". Mr. Johnson owned a small ranch near Gilbert which was unfenced and undeveloped and no crops had been grown. It had a small three room shack totally unsuited for habitation. But we made do. We had a poor team, and old hay wagon and an old walking plow...nothing else to work with. The cows were poor, most of them being dry and a few had died.

Frank was 30, single, and a prime target of the Draft Board, who were picking up young able bodied men as fast as they could, to be processed for training. Tilis 19, was also on the list in reserve for a call within the year, depending on mobilization and processing. I would be 16 in September. At this time, Service Mobilization was set for all men between 18 and 45 to be called for physical examination. Single men were to be called first.

After a family discussion of what would be best to do, it was decided to move the cows to the Johnson place near Gilbert. There seemed no other option as we were under pressure to vacate the farm we were on. By day break we three brothers, on foot, had the cattle moving southward on lateral 18 up Grand Avenue, across the railroad tracks. We found some unfenced brush land and we moved slowly, allowing them to browse along the way until we reached the river about sundown. Here we found the ground encrusted with salt as if covered with snow. We went up the river to find a favorable crossing where there was no brush or other growth on the river banks, save an occasional palm tree, most of which were dead. By dusk we crossed down the river from Tempe. The cows were hungry and restless and refused to bed down. We spent most of the night on our feet keeping them from wandering. By day light we were moving south to Baseline, not much of a road, just a dim trail going eastward. We followed it slowly, allowing the cattle to set the pace. By 2:00 p.m. we arrived at the Johnson place. Both we and the herd were so exhausted there was little movement for the next day or two.

As there were no fences or corrals to contain the animals and no feed to hold them together, it fell to me to keep them together and off other farms along the roads. Frank and Tilis went back to move the family. While they were gone, I was alone and responsible for the hungry cattle.

I had a little "Buckskin" mare to ride and she was an obstinate animal. She always wanted to go in the opposite direction and set her own gait, which was most often contrary to how I needed her to go. For this reason I carried a board to regulate her speed and direction. To counter my method of control, she pitched me off and deliberately turned around and stepped on my rib cage with her front foot, breaking my ribs, leaving me with a permanent depression. I passed out, then regained consciousness with an excruciating pain that put an end to my cowboying!

There was no food in the shack except a couple of potatoes, a batch of pinto beans and a half pound of coffee that was left over by Frank and Tilis who had done some fence mending on the place the week before. I boiled the potatoes, beans and coffee. When the potatoes and beans were eaten, I had nothing left but coffee, which was consumed on an empty stomach to the extent it made me allergic to the drink to this day.

The evening of the third day of their departure, Tilis returned with the hay wagon, bringing Mother, our two little sisters and our belongings. Frank stayed in town looking for a buyer for the cattle, he returned the day with a buyer who offered five cents per pound. The herd was sold and money given to Mr. Hamel who was not pleased with the sale and threatened Frank with a law suit, but as his draft papers were being processed, did not press the issue.

A few days later, in response to his call, Frank took his physical and was sent to Camp Cody, New Mexico for training.

Tilis and I, after filling a contract of hauling and loading a railroad box car with hay, moved the family back to Glendale where we found temporary jobs. Tilis with Crystal Ice and I icing refrigerator cars in preparation for shipping cantaloupes during the season.

MESA

At that time, both our jobs terminated. After discussing our next move with Mother, it was decided that Tilis should go to Flagstaff to enter college where Edna expected to finish her training the following spring. Fall was approaching and a new semester would begin about the first of September, so Tilis left for Flagstaff.

As there seemed no other option, Mother, the two little girls and I went to Mesa. Uncle Adam was still working for SRVWUA, but due to an old job accident, had broken his leg and injured his hip joint, rendering him handicapped in walking. He had been transferred to a job caring for water regulations at the Division Gates, located northeast of Mesa. This job required a minimum of walking and it furnished him a large eight room company owned house for his family to live in. As he and Aunt Ina had only two small boys, their housing was more than adequate. He obtained permission for Pa's family to move in.

As many able bodied men were being taken for the war effort, a manpower shortage had developed and Uncle Adam was able to get me (a sixteen year old boy) into a man-sized job to be guided by his own supervision. I was hired as a "Sanjaro" (water boss) and assigned to manage "Mesa District number one". This included tow laterals running parallel about three miles from the division gates southward to the Baseline. The main ditch ran down what was known at that time, as the Mill Road, but later called Mesa Drive. The other ditch paralleled it about one mile west. I obtained a bicycle for transportation. The new job paid a big $100.00 per month, I thought I had struck it rich!

My job also included the operation of a big electric powered pump call the "McQueen Well", which supplemented the "gravity" water when needed. This big well had been developed by a farmer after whom the well got its name. It was used before the Salt River Project began to deliver water. It was hand dug, about seven feet in diameter, concrete lined, with a steel laded leading from the surface to a platform where a large 50 HP electric motor that powered the pump located in the deep pit below. Heavy bare grid wires carried high voltage power to a make shift switch that had to be operated with a stick to turn the power on or off, at which event the power would arc with a flash that lighted up the black pit so one could see the water about sixty feet below the platform. It was obvious that a slip or an awkward step could throw a body into the electric grid, become electrocuted and pitched to the bottom of the well. I viewed this task with considerable apprehension and dread each time I had to climb down the ladder to start or stop the pump.

Other duties were to become acquainted with the farmers in my division and keep informed of their water needs and keep the farmer posted concerning the available water in the lateral that served his farm; take orders for water from the farmer and tell him the day and hour he could take it; learn to read water gauges so that full standard streams would be delivered; keep a day book journal to record all deliveries and report same to the accounting office at the end of each week so that billing could be done at the end of each month; be courteous and helpful at all times to customers in serving their needs or desires. In theory this seemed to be a bit incomprehensible. Suppose all farmers wanted water at the same time? What could be done?

In practice things worked out pretty well. Service was run on a turn system, for example, all farmers in the division were notified when water was being turned into the lateral that served their farm. Farmer "A" whose farm was at the bottom of the lateral was contacted. He had ten acres of alfalfa. He ordered eight hours of water. He is told it will be there at 6:00 a.m. on a certain day. All gates in the lateral are pulled. A standard (300 inch) stream is turned into the lateral at 5:00 a.m. and arrives at 6:00 a.m. The next farm above him has three acres of melons. He is contacted and orders two hours of water and is told to put in his gate at 2:00 p.m. This system is repeated until all needs for water are filled. Occasionally a farmer is not ready for his turn when he is notified, but would like to take it the next day. He says he wants ten hours. In that event if arrangements cannot be made for him to wait for his next turn, an additional stream may be turned in the lateral and measured at his head gate and turned off after the turn is completed and his headgate removed. The Sanjero's job is continuous and never ending. He may sleep when he has time and usually eats on the run.

My transportation was a new bicycle. There was no paved roads in those days, not even up town on Main street in Mesa. It was also before relief. One ate sometimes if he worked, but if he did not work he likely missed a few meals. Obesity was a rare disease in the lower classes of society.

My sister Eva became school age that fall and I bought her a brand new blue bicycle. (This was before school busses also).

War news at this time informed us that the Germans in their desperation, were using poison gases and were even experimenting with deadly virus diseases, known as the Spanish Influenza. People were warned to be vaccinated against the disease. People were dying in large numbers in Europe and it was believed it had spread to the United States. We were notified by the officials of SRVWUA that vaccine was available and urged all employees and families of the organization to come in and be vaccinated. We all went, but came down with the flu anyway a month or two later. We were all very sick, but managed to pull through. Many people we knew, however, were victims of the new bug.

Uncle Adam had begun to show his age by this time. His broken leg had become quite painful, causing him to limp severely when he walked. He had become quite heavy due to such sedentary habits. Both Uncle Adam and Aunt Ina were very good to us. Their two boys, Leslie and Lyle, were about 10 and 5 years old. They often went out wool hunting, gathering wool off barbed wire fences left by sheep bands that left it while crawling under fences. As Uncle Adam's work duties did not require much of his time, he and Mother cleaned, corded and spun the wool. Then the yarn was knitted into sweaters, foot comforts and hoods. Aunt Ina was always full of "verve" and was the life of the party.

Ernest, who had been in training in Washington State had been sent to Europe and spent most of the winter in the Paris area, but being a Second Lieutenant, was kept in administrative duties and never experienced any front line combat operations.

Frank, sent over later than Ernest, arrived too late for combat but was retained as a POW guard in West Germany for about one year after the Armistice.

Tilis spent the winter of 1917, in Tucson and was used as a male nurse during the flu epidemic.

Edna was in Flagstaff and finished her teachers's course by June of 1918.

Mother filed for a divorce and obtained a court order giving her possession of a building lot Pa had bought in Chandler. Also she obtained a court order for Pa to sell the old Cactus home for what the property would bring and turn the proceeds over to Mother. With the money she received for the lot in Chandler, she bought an acre lot in "Evergreen Acres", a new subdivision north of Mesa, near the cemetery. This lot had a small shack on it and with the spare time I had, I did all I could to improve it. I dug a cesspool and installed indoor bathroom facilities, put on a new roof and built an extra room or two.

When Mother received the proceeds from the sale of the Cactus property (something like $800), she put $100 first payment on a new Model "T" Ford touring car. (Total cost of $800.) This she turned over to me to do my work with instead of the bicycle. This arrangement did not last long because I got fired from my job soon after as the result of a dispute over a water turn between Donald McQueen and J.W. LeSueur. McQueen was watering with a pump head of water and LeSueur was using a gravity flow. A big thunderstorm came up and lightning struck the power line and stopped the pump. McQueen put his headgate in and took J.W. LeSueur's water. I took LeSueur's part and McQueen got me fired.

Tilis had been released by this time and came to Mesa. We both soon got jobs working for Billie Riggs Transfer Company. This lasted until the fall of 1918, when Ernest came home soon after Armistice Day, November 1918. He immediately went back to his old job with the Arizona commission of Agriculture and Horticulture. He then rented a little cottage in the 1700 block on West Washington Street, quite close to the Capital Building. Edna had been home since her graduation at the State Normal School in Flagstaff and had obtained a teacher's contract to the Liberty School District, a short distance in West Phoenix.

PHOENIX

Ernest invited Edna, Tilis and me to come live with him. Edna continued her teaching, Tilis and I enrolled in the Lamson's Business College. I took bookkeeping, typing, business English and business law.

The school occupied the upper floor of the Kress Building, located about the middle of the block on West Washington just off Central Avenue. Utilis and I enrolled about the middle of December, 1918, and did the janitor work in payment of our tuition. About the first of May 1919, it was determined I had attained enough skill in typing to hold down a job and was referred to the R.G. Dunn Mercantile Agency, located on the third floor of the Hotel Jefferson Building (tallest building in Phoenix at that time). My job was typing up credit reports from handwritten reports written by Credit Investigators.

My boss was Mr. D.M. Dillen, a little bombastic Irishman. When I took the job I explained that I would be going back to college in the fall. I had determined to become a lawyer and had planned to take my training at the University of Utah as my old friend Bishop Chester Peterson had done. I found my new job quite interesting as it gave me information on about every business in town.

At home Edna had renewed acquaintance with an old boy friend, Leslie Peel. They had gone with each other in Chandler. Ernest was courting Ethel Stewart in Mesa.

SALT LAKE CITY

After a long hot, uneventful summer, I had saved train fare to Salt Lake City. I bid goodbye to Mr. Dillon and thanked him for the job. He grasped my hand and bid me goodbye and good luck. I had nearly reached my 18th birthday and was anxious to get away on my own. Packing a small bag, I boarded the train one evening and arrived in Salt Lake City about dark the next evening. I knew no one nor anything about the city, but found a cheap room nearby to spend the night.

The next morning, after eating a light breakfast, I was eager to see the University and the City. On inquiry, I was told the school was at the end of East South, about a mile east of South Temple and that a trolley line ran to the front gate, but school was closed for a two week break between quarter sessions. The new session would begin the first of September. I also learned the College operated on the quarter system rather than by two semesters with a full summer break.

As I only had a few dollars left after my train fare I began to hunt for a job. I soon found out there were many hundreds of other young men recently discharged from service, all of whom had Veteran's preference to what few jobs there were. I also discovered the Federal Government had set up a make-shift U.S. Employment Service, employing two people, a man, Robert Wilson and a woman to answer the telephone. This was set up in a feeble effort to find jobs for the veterans.

Mr. Wilson was a large red headed Texan who smoked big cigars and rode a motor cycle with a side car. He seemed interested in my case but had no job to offer. He did have a spare bedroom in his home he let me use until I could find a job. For this I became greatly indebted. His wife was a motherly old lady from Dedalia, Missouri. She was very kind and considerate and treated me as if I were her own son.

Sunday came around and I attended Church. There I met a young woman about my age, who kept books for the Jensen Creamery. I told her I had taken a bookkeeping course and she arranged with her boss to have me help her a couple of days in sending out statements to accounts receivable at the end of the month. For this they paid me about three dollars. I lived on peanuts for the two weeks before school started. I worked steadily searching for work, but all my contacts were without success.

In my search I became well acquainted with all the streets and points of interest in the City, hardly a day passed that I failed to hike out to the University, hoping I might catch some one in the University to talk with, but it seemed all my efforts were of no avail.

At last, on the Saturday evening before registering was to start the following Monday morning, after I had given up all hope of finding work, I went out in the evening to take my last view of the beautiful valley from its eastern rim. I sat on the green grass of the Campus. A thought then crossed my mind as if someone had said: "Why don't you pray?" A calmness settled over me and I poured out my heart's desire to the Lord. A few minutes later as the evening shadows seemed to increase, I observed an old gentleman, perhaps in his late sixties, approaching me. He sat down beside me and ask my name and what I was doing? In reply to my answer he pulled a pen and notebook from his pocket, wrote a note and handed it to me with a verbal instruction to take the note to Mr. Shay, owner of Shay's Cafeteria about 310 South Temple, which was a basement location. A few minutes later he left as I awkwardly muttered my thanks in token of my appreciation.

I lost no time in delivering the message and was put to work as bus boy in one of the finest eating places in the City. My new employer lead me to a cot in the service room. After a few hours work and a good meal I slept soundly with a prayer of thankfulness in my heart to the Lord for His kindness and blessings.

The following Monday morning, I was at the College being counseled for entrance in pre-legal training. My schedule was Latin, Sociology, English I and Psychology.

The first quarter ended the last of December. I received good grades in all my subjects. Mr. Shay was very good to me. He assisted in advancing money to buy my books and in paying for other school requirements. He had a lovely home, a beautiful wife and a little daughter about two years old. He sometimes took me to Church with him. He belonged to the Christian Science denomination.

I worked full time in the cafeteria during the two weeks break, ending on January first and paid back the money he had loaned me.

During the break a young man, Jay Smith, came to work as a bus boy and worked along with me. He was a nice boy about two years younger than I and we became good friends and the Sunday when the cafeteria was closed, he took me to see his mother and sister. They were from Iowa and lived in a small rented apartment. Mrs. Smith was nice to me and invited me to have lunch with them. After lunch I joined them in an afternoon hike in the hills.

It was their custom to "back pack". They took food along that could be roasted over hot coals of a camp fire and eaten as a snack before bedtime. We had a very pleasant afternoon and looked forward to other trips in the beautiful hills and mountains that surrounded the picturesque city.

Mrs. Smith, "Ruby", was a small nice looking woman who had been widowed soon after her second child Sylvia was born. Sylvia was about fourteen at the time. They lived on a small annuity, probably insurance related. But Mrs. Smith did house work for others part time to supplement their income when work was available.

The beginning of the new quarter occurred January 2, 1920. My course of study consisted of Latin II, English II, Economics and American History I. I continued to live in the service quarters of the cafeteria, where I monitored the furnace and water conditioning equipment. Jay and I continued working as bus boys before and after school hours.

About the last of February I came down with a bad case of the measles. Mr. Shay moved me from my quarters to the basement of his home. I shared the basement with his big police dog while the epidemic lasted. I was real sick for a few days but quickly recovered after the high fever broke.

When the quarantine was lifted, Mr. Shay had made arrangements for me to work for a friend, Mr. W.T. Gregory who owned a small grocery store on the East side of the City. Mr. Gregory's store had very few drop in customers. He operated by telephone orders each morning, writing up each order for the day. I picked up the written orders as he obtained them, sacked or boxed the order and by noon when his calls were all made, the merchandise was packaged and made ready for delivery. He tended the store while I loaded and delivered each order in his model "T" ford pickup. This took from two to three hours each day.

Mr. Gregory paid me well so I was able to pay for my board and room in Mrs. Wilson's home, the old lady who first took me in when I arrived in the City. Oddly, all three of my benefactors, Wilson, Shay and Gregory were members of the Christian Science Church. They were also very fine people.

At the end of the second quarter about the 20th of March, I had finished with good grades. In fact I, with one or two others in the Economics class were excused of taking the final examination. During these two quarters I had earned 24 college credits. I worked full time for Mr. Gregory during this break, then dropped back to the part time schedule when the next quarter began, the first of April.

I enjoyed working at the grocery store. It seemed there was more freedom than in the cafeteria. Mr. Gregory was very good to me and our relations were almost ideal.

Registration for the third quarter included a continuation of Latin and the English languages, Political Science and continued American History. The basics totaled twelve credits plus a two units of a Physical Training Course (Wrestling and Judo).

Wrestling, a body to body contact sport unlike boxing and Judo, is a rough but not so brutal a sport as boxing, since the savage choke-hold had been barred. Historically it was in a stadium where the tyrants of ancient Greece amused themselves by watching their vassals kill each other in mock battle between victor and vanquished. Not having the courage to personally lead their subjects in battles, they humored themselves, became fat and ordered their subjects to kill themselves and each other while they viewed the contest in comfort and imagined themselves as the victor.

Judo, a sister sport to wrestling, originated in the Orient. Boxing, limiting the violence to the use of the fists, has its roots from all nations but has been refined and promoted in the United States and ballooned to the stance of big business.

All aerobic sports, if participation is within reason, is of course beneficial to health and general welfare. I, having strengthened my grip by hand milking about fifteen cows twice each day for two years, and my leg muscles by riding a bicycle almost constantly on rough ground for a year, decided to keep trim by enrolling in wrestling. At that time there were about a dozen Japanese boys at the University. They had organized a class in Judo that met at the same time in an adjoining room to the class I took in wrestling. They welcomed my joining them at my pleasure. So I took some lessons form them, but claim no laurels for my efforts.

My friends and classmates soon learned to respect my hand grip and jokingly dubbed me the "Plumber", stating if I decided to go into the plumbing business I would not need to buy any pipe wrenches. I did so well in this class I was chosen to represent the University in the Collegiate Intermural Contests. I spent considerable time and thought to making ready for the occasion and visited my Japanese friends to learn a few tricks that might prove helpful. This proved to be my undoing. I sprained my ankle that had been crushed by the gears of a horse power unit that powered the operation of a well drilling machine, when playing with other kids in my first grade. The ankle swelled and became feverish and so painful I could hardly walk, when the athletic event occurred.

My work at the grocery store kept me so busy I had little time for anything else, but I occasionally saw Jay at the cafeteria and we four took hiking trips into the hills on Sundays.

The fourth quarter began the first of June and subsequent studies for the next two quarters ending in March of 1921, were rather intensive studies in language, word meaning and building from their Latin and Greek derivities into the modern English words...Etymology, Philosophy, History, both Ancient and modern American; the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution.

The lives and contributions of the early patriots of our great nation were intensively studied during this period. My grades were above average, but I had grown up with an inferiority complex. I could not visualize myself standing on my feet before a court of law arguing a case. As a child, I was brought up to believe "a child should be seen and not heard".

I have always known I have been my worst critic and that this problem is a condition that can be overcome, but there have been many times when I've tried to express my thoughts in public, and a mental block has embarrassed me for weeks after.

Of course thinking of these things in my later years, I realize such circumstances are experienced by everyone in a lifetime and are of little importance, compared with other problems. I was too shy to seek help. I signed up for a course in public speaking, but could not stand the pressure and dropped it after attending a few classes. I was given a pantomime assignment in which my antics must have been a tremendous success, as it brought a roar of laughter, but I could not see the funny side! I had gone through a period of mental torture!

Word from home revealed that Frank had returned from Europe and married Julia Fish, a girl from Lakeside that Aunt Alice had referred him to, on the 14th of December 1919. Ernest and Ethel Stewart had married June 1, 1920, and Edna and Leslie Peal had married June 11, 1920.

By August 1921, I had completed eight quarters and earned 66 credit hours of the 124 needed for an A.B. I had satisfied all requirements for entering the study of law, except for the three credit course in public speaking I had dropped. I simply could not face the thought of retaking this course.!

Latest word from Mother informed me that she and our little sisters were living in Los Angeles with Edna, who was expecting a baby. Mother was having a hard time supporting herself and the little ones. Leslie was working as a truck driver gathering milk from farms and small dairies hauling it to the processing plants. The heavy lifting required had caused an abdominal hernia resulting in severe pain and discomfort.

After reading Mother's sad letter and mulling over my own self disappointment and failure to succeed in my ambition to become a lawyer, I finally decided I should leave Salt Lake and try to finish my education closer to home where I could be near my family. I had not yet decided on what career I should pursue but I was determined to continue my education.

RUBY SMITH

I was so depressed over my dilemma of what I should do, I felt I must talk with some one. I mentioned it to Mrs. Smith whom I called mother because she was twice my age. She thought it would be fun to hitch hike to Los Angeles. I had no money and had thought of hiking the long distance alone and welcomed the thought of having the company of her and her two children, who were my friends.

At any rate the planned date of departure arrived and we were on our way toward Los Angeles over the "Arrowhead Trail" with our back packs and blankets.

The first day we arrived in Provo. Darkness set in and we found a secluded spot beside the road, toasted a hot dog by a campfire, used the blanket each carried and made ourselves a bed. Finally day broke and we were on the road early next morning, none the worse for the experience of sleeping at the side of the road!

Next day we were lucky. A man driving his car picked us up and hauled us to St. George and parked at a service station. When I returned from the rest room, Ruby was alone. She explained that a couple had stopped for a moment who were headed for Los Angeles and they had room for a couple of people and had taken Jay and Sylvia with them.

No one will ever know how depressed and lonely I was at this time. I had gone through so much to get a lawyer's degree at the University of Utah and I had come so close to my goal, only to lose the opportunity because of my inferiority complex and shyness. It seemed that everything and everyone was against me.

Through the past two years Mrs. Smith and I had become the best of friends and we enjoyed each other very much. I suppose it was inevetable that what happened next would come about.

The next morning we continued our journey and made Las Vegas about 2:00 p.m. After we were there for a few hours we decided to get married, knowing that our families would really be upset. But we did anyway, because both of us were so lonely. So upon inquiry we found a Mormon Bishop who performed the ceremony and he gave her a certificate of marriage which she carried in her back pack.

Neither of us had any money, but she thought we should hurry to Los Angeles. So she wired (collect) a relative living in Iowa for money. An hour or two later we were riding a train and arrived before dark at the home of my sister Edna. It happened that Jay and Sylvia had found my folks and rented an apartment nearby and upon hearing of our expected arrival, were at Edna's place when we came. While looking for something in her mother's pack, Sylvia found the marriage certificate. Looking at it she cried, "Oh Mama, what have you done!"

The air suddenly turned blue with suspense. Our arrival met with a frigid reception which compounded my feeling of guilt and froze my tongue so I couldn't speak.

I went with my (Smith) family to their small apartment and the next morning I went out looking for a job. I took the first job I found, working on a truck delivering heavy milk and cream cans to various processing companies in the city. Within a few days I was hired by the Sam Selig Grocery Chain Store, which was located nearby. My home relations were normal and quite happy, but I felt I had blown my opportunity to do the things in life I had dreamed of.

I kept in touch with Mother and sister. After about three weeks, a relative of Leslie's had come for a short visit. He planned to leave for Mesa and had agreed to take me with him, because by this time I knew that I had made a big mistake in marrying an older woman with two children and I still had the desire to get my college degree. The time for his departure was relayed to me. He planned to leave at night to avoid the heat of the desert they would have to cross on the way. Instead of coming home that evening I went with him to Mesa. By doing this I added to the feeling of guilt I had on my conscience.

BACK TO ARIZONA

Arriving in Mesa, I found my brother Frank was working as foreman in a concrete paving operation being done for the City of Mesa. He gave me a job, but he became so critical of my having married an older woman and then leaving her, I could not take it. I left at the end of a two week work schedule without picking up my pay check which was due.

I boarded a freight train (cattle car) in Tempe about dark that evening. A cold wind blew through the open spaces of the car. I arrived in Tucson about sun-up next morning, chilled and hungry. I found a Chinese Restaurant and offered to wash their dishes for a meal. It took the train all day to make up cars for the run Eastward. By nine o'clock that evening it pulled out. A Mexican and I had found a warm place in the reefer of an empty refrigeration car.

I had heard that my cousin, Fred Brewer, was working in the mine at Lowell, (a suburb of Bisbee) and I planned to get off at Benson and catch another train on the Arizona Eastern branch line that ran to Bisbee. Being tired from my trip the night before, I soon went to sleep, hoping to wake up when we arrived at Benson. When I awoke it was about an hour before daylight. The train had stopped for a few minutes in Willcox (I had over-shot my mark about fifty miles). Crawling off I hoped to catch a west bound to get back to Benson.

About sunup the train I hoped to ride arrived but did not stop. It was not moving more than about 15 miles per hour, however. I thought by waiting for the last car, I might catch it and climb on. As it passed, I made a dash for the hand-rail, but could not hang on. The momentum threw me down the rough grade on boulders and brush where I laid for a few minutes to recover from the shock. Arising, I found I had some abrasions and torn clothing, but no serious injury. Walking down the track a few miles I came to a section house, where maintenance workers lived. I was hungry and traded my fountain pen for some tortillas y frijoles, then continued my journey southward.

The sun went down and darkness followed. The lights of Douglas were plainly visible across the flat level floor of the desert, but both Lowell and Bisbee, located in the mountains to my right were obscured from vision.

Near midnight, I observed the lights of a car, bumping over the rough trail coming toward me. It was the first one of the day. I was about exhausted. It turned out to be a rancher on his way to work on the "grave yard shift". He picked me up and hauled me in. After searching two or three gambling places, I found my cousin playing poker. On sight of me he jumped up and extended his hand. It was a happy reunion after several years of being parted. We went to his apartment where he had a pot of beans cooked up. My! how good they tasted!

LIFE AS A MINER

The next morning I was hired as a mucker (assistant to a miner). After being fitted with a hard hat, carbide lamp and heavy shoes, the elevator took me down to the thousand foot level. There I was assigned to work with an old experienced miner, a refugee from Czechoslovakia, Mike Majalovich. He was a tall, raw, muscular man who had worked as a slave in the mines in the Balkans before he migrated to America. He was a friendly person and we became good partners. Mike and I had been assigned to clean up a dangerous large cavity in preparation for timbering. The ceiling was already about ten feet high, due to seepage of water. Large flakes of approximately a half-ton were frequently falling. We were cleaning the floor with picks and shovels preparing footage for timbers. At the moment we were working about ten feet apart and stooped over. A big slab came down from the ceiling that landed between us. I was unscathed but a fragment hit Mike on his hip, causing a bloody abrasion. Mike's injury was not serious, but the slab could have killed us both if we had been a couple of feet closer together. Before the accident we had just finished "barring down the ceiling", a precaution against overhead sloughing.

The next shift I was sent to assist a Mexican miner, Frank Ortega, who was starting a "raise from the 1800 foot level" (bottom drift of the mine), to the 1700 foot level. This was the hottest place I had ever been in. Had it not been for the compressed air lines used for drilling, we would have suffocated. The formation we were working was black Sulfide that painted us black in a few minutes. The day after we had blasted the night before, I was cleaning up, shoveling the mineralized ore in a car and breaking big pieces with my pick. I raised the pick to find an unexploded stick of dynamite clinging to the point with an unexploded cap. My pick point had missed only by a couple of inches!

UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA

After about three month's work in the mine, I enrolled at the University of Arizona in Tucson in September. I found a job washing dishes and doing general kitchen KP in a Tuberculosis Sanitarium for my board and room. My hours and conditions were not favorable for study, so my grades were low. I took English Literature, Chaucer, father of English poetry and author of the Canterbury Tales and Spanish and Psychology at a junior grade level. The next semester was a continuation of the first.

I soon obtained a job as a waiter in the "Varsity Inn", a popular restaurant outside of the campus gates. It was owned by "Ice Adams". This job supplemented my sanitarium job and paid 25 cents per hour for my work and I earned my meals. I worked at this during the lunch hour and sometimes on Saturdays. Mrs. Khurd, the German lady at the Sanitorium for whom I washed dishes, still furnished me with bed and meals for my work on week-ends and other times I could spare.

At the Inn, most of our customers were ex-service men with their government pensions, the affluent class who had money to pay their way, wear good, clean clothes and polished boots, shined by others. My, how I did envy them! They were noblemen and I was the serf. They studied at leisure, sometimes I had no time to open a book. As a result my grades suffered severely.

During the last month of the second semester, I conceived an idea. The cost of text books was no small item in the expense of going to school. It took most of my saving left from the few dollars I could earn during vacation. No one sold used texts at the college. Contacting the manager of the book store, I arranged for the use of a small corner of the store, built a counter and some shelves. Borrowing a typewriter, I typed out a message:

Notice

If you wish to sell your text books at the end of the semester, please follow these instructions: Lightly pencil the price you paid for your book on the upper left-hand corner of it's flyleaf. Either come in and contact Fred Russell or be sure to leave your address. Books in good condition will be priced for resale at 80% of the new price. If this is not satisfactory, please come in and negotiate your price. You may pick up your money when books are sold, in the amount of the sale price less 20% for handling.

I was surprised at the response to this ad. Books piled up to a point I could scarcely handle the business as the semester came to an end.

I stayed with the little business until the University closed for the summer vacation, then went to work in the Miami Copper mine in Miami, Arizona. I found this a more dangerous place to work than in Lowell. The over-burden created so much pressure, heavy timber was required to keep it from caving in. My job in this mine was a timber rustler working alone. Some of the drifts were blocked by broken timber. I found one specimen where an 8x10 inch by 6 feet long timber had settled from it's 6 foot length to resemble a sponge about 3 feet long. One could hear timber popping and cracking constantly. I was glad to leave that job when summer vacation was over.

I rode back to school with a friend and co-worker on the back of his motorcycle over the newly opened, but unpaved, Superior Highway. The unpaved road was rocky and rough and when we arrived at Mrs. Khurd's Sanatorium, I could hardly walk. I felt as if I had been pounded over the kidneys with a ball bat. This condition was extremely painful but cleared up in a week or two.

When school opened I went back to my bookstore business and made so much money I felt quite independent. (But I was still plagued with guilt and an inferiority complex for being a married man and deserter.) Within a week after classes my business came to an end, but I obtained a job keeping "Old Main" clean (the oldest building on the campus, in which the bookstore was located). I continued to live and help out at the Sanitorium.

At the Sanitorium I met one of the guests that was in his late forties by the name of John Scott Davidson, a New York lawyer, who had made his fortune in the law business on Wall Street. He preferred to be called "Jack" by his friends.

Jack, a talkative person, often engaged me in conversation. He called me "Freddie" and seemed to be attracted by my tendency to be self-conscious and shy. He spoke with a New York accent, using big words and seemed to be a walking encyclopedia of knowledge and information.

He smoked cigarettes and was liberal with passing them around and seemed offended if friends did not indulge in the pastime. I soon became "hooked" on the weed, which lowered my self respect several notches.

Jack wore knickerbockers and blue stockings and liked to accompany me when I went to my English Literature class, taught by Dr. Patterson, one of the regents of the college.

At first, I felt flattered to be accompanied by one with so much intelligence but soon noticed Jack's presence, uninvited in the class, was not appreciated by the Doctor. I did my best to slip away but Jack's ego and self-importance was difficult to evade. I sensed my popularity was fading by Jack's persistence in accompanying me to the classroom and that the Doctor felt I was to blame for my friend's imprudence. I finally decided to change my residence to the men's dormitory, with the hope of evading him...but he continued to come as if he were enrolled as a member of the class.

Dr. Patterson's office was located in "Old Main", the building I had contracted to keep clean. This was my senior year, 1923. I should have graduated in the spring of 1924.

Besides Dr. Patterson's English Literature Class, I had enrolled in Dr. Tucker's Shakespeare studies of Hamlet and McBeth. I took Botany I & II first semester and Zoology I & II second semester. The teacher in my Botany class was Dr. Caldwell. He was a precise old gentleman and had his students assigned to permanent seats alphabetically arranged.

In calling the roll the first day, he called Reese, Lenore, then Russell, Fred. I looked to my right into the most beautiful blue eyes of the loveliest young woman I had ever seen! My heart did a double flip-flop! I was speechless. Her lovely eyes reflected my feelings!

A side glance confirmed a patrician posture, crowned with immaculate golden hair and fair skin. There was the girl of my dreams beside me. Shyness and guilt compounded and I dared not look again.

In the year of 1924, after school was out, I failed to graduate from the University of Arizona. Had I been in the University of Utah, I would have graduated to my objective of becoming a lawyer, which was my great ambition. I had already completed pre-law subjects required. Belatedly, I had discovered the University of Arizona had no curriculum leading to professional training other than one leading to becoming a teacher. The college had no student guidance officers to assist the students. This failure upset my plans to the point that I would have taken anything that would pay a few dollars. I returned to Mesa.

BACK TO MESA

Ernest, who had been working for the Commission of Agriculture and Horticulture suggested that I apply for a job with that commission. At this time a new crop, cotton had been introduced into the valley. Along with the crop of cotton was the great fear that the cotton Bowl Weevil would be introduced along with the cotton. Ernest suggested that I apply to Dr. Bartlett for a position as a field inspector. This position entailed the study of plant life by sweeping the fields with hand nets in search of insects that might carry the weevil.

At this time cotton was in its experimental stage, with patches here and there and there was a lot of study of all insects that were connected with it. Cotton was growing extensively in the southern part of Texas, Alabama and Arkansas. I contacted Dr. Bartlett and he gave me a job along with two other boys, sweeping the fields. The job paid one hundred and twenty five a month. Payday occurred semi-monthly.

The fields were being swept by three men and a foreman. I was lucky to be placed along with a young man by the name of Bill Sorenson, who was the son of one of the commissioners. We spent the first three months in the local fields of cotton patches located in the Salt River Valley. Bill and I spent a day or two in preparation for inspections to be placed at Springerville.

Bill had a two seated Model "T". I had a car that I had put together. It was topless and one seated. We took off and arrived at Globe the first day. Around ten o'clock that day a storm came up, and rain poured down in sheets. This was in the month of June. Bill had some protection, but I had none. We went through the Indian Reservation to McNary and the farther we went into the forest, the harder it rained. I had no protection from the mud and water and my clothes were drenched. About three or four o'clock we managed to top the forest lands and we caught sight of the houses in the little town of Eagar, Arizona.

We observed that most of the houses were made of slabs and rough timber, with a few long houses of ancient vintage. As we approached we observed a sign "Sally's Boarding House", bed and two meals per day, at fifty dollars a month. Upon inquiring with the lady, she had been fore warned of our coming, and was prepared.

For a few moments I thought she would turn me down, but after looking at Bill she inquired, "How did you pick up so much mud?" Bill grinned and said, "We didn't get it all, there is still some left."

I asked if Jimmy Jackson, the third party, who came from Arkansas and was our supervisor had arrived. The lady said that he hadn't arrived yet and showed us our quarters. After our showers she had a good meal for us which consisted of a nice steak, potatoes, topped off with a cool drink. After the meal was over we inquired of our host where we might find where we were to work. She explained that there was a small lean-to erected one half mile down Highway 66 on the other side of Beckers Store. As we still had some day light, Bill and I crawled into his car and went down to look things over. On the side of the road we found a small board erection of about 6x6x8 with benches, with vision to the east. On returning back to the boarding house we had a sound sleep during the night.

The next morning we were out about six o'clock. After a meal of cereal and milk, we set out to explore our new surroundings. After exploring our new work place, we drove over to the Becker Store. We found a big general store, where you could find almost everything that you could imagine. We talked to the lady in charge, Ida Nelson. She introduced us to Paul Becker, who managed the Bank of Eager.

After about noon, a man and lady drove up and introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Jimmy Jackson. Jimmy was to be our supervisor. We then went out to the place we had selected as the place where we intended to stop the out of state cars to check for insects that would injure our crops. He outlined the plans we were to work by.

We should stop all west bound vehicles that might carry any kind of plant life. If in doubt...stop them anyway...and check for any plant life. Bill and I would work eight hours each day, beginning at six in the morning. Jimmy would be on call to handle any plant life or insects. This routine would be continued as weeks and months went on. Sundays and holidays were exempt. The telephone connection was installed from our work place connecting to our foreman's quarters. Anything that might be suspicious would be reported.

Our social affairs were very limited. The main amusement was dancing and parties because there were no movies. We arranged our shifts so that there was one person per shift.

MAR­RIAGE AND FAMI­LY

Since Be­cker Mer­can­tile was the only store of its sort in Eagar, I visited it quite frequently. Each time, I spent time visiting with Ida Nelson. She was building a new home. Her father Ed, had given her a lot to build on in Eagar. I would ask her how the house was coming along. We would visit about parties and other things. Ida was dating Joe Udall and Stan Hamblin at this time.

After about two months we received a fifteen percent raise in salary. At this time a young man, named Charlie Jensen, was transferred from Yuma. Charlie and his wife had been married only a short time. Having him here gave us more time off. Just before Thanksgiving we transferred to Holbrook for the winter. There was very little traffic in Springerville. We worked in Holbrook for about four months and then were transferred back to Springerville.

It was in February of 1926, and I was working again in Springerville. I began to make frequent trips to the Becker Store after work. My relations with Ida Nelson became warm. I told her of my past experiences and she told me of her's. We began to make plans. After a while we made a visit to St. Johns and visited with the County Judge, Judge Udall. Since I had been a married man and was now separated, I desired an annulment. Judge Udall gave me a certificate of annulment, and my name was printed in the paper, which went through the county, making me a free man. As soon as I received the annulment we began to make plans to get married. Ida and I were married March 4, 1926, in the County Court House at St. Johns.

Soon after this, we started our family. When the time came for the baby to be born, I received some time off. This was the reason for the fourth man at the station. It was necessary for us to go to Phoenix to have our first child.

On October 1, 1926, our daughter Margaret Elaine was born in the Deaconess (St. Joseph's) Hospital in Phoenix. She weighed four pounds at birth and had to stay in the incubator for a week because she was premature. During the time the baby was in the hospital, Ida and I stayed at my sister's and husband's home, Leslie and Edna Peal. They were very kind to us.

After Ida and the baby were strong enough, we went back to Springerville. Since I was on pay during this time, I resumed my job at the station in Springerville. Within a couple of months, Ida started with her second child.

At that time inflation set in and the prices of food and housing were doubled, then tripled. The parallel was: ranchers got rich selling their crops. Cotton values jumped from ten cents to thirty cents a pound.

In order to get in more money, I had an opportunity to get a franchise to sell Maytag washing machines. At first I tried to work with the job at the Inspection Station and sell washers on the side. I had a franchise for the two counties of Navajo and Apache. There was a great demand for the washers. When I sold a machine I would receive eighty five dollars for my pay per washer. I couldn't afford to work at the Inspection Station anymore because I received half the pay that Maytag was giving me. Harold Davis, my brother-in-law managed to get my job.

E.A. Thomas had the franchise with Sleuters Washing Machine Co. for the state of Arizona. Since I had the franchise for the two counties, I ordered the machines through him.

At that time many of the ranch ladies were abandoning their scrub boards and buying new power washing machines. I would make a call to the ranch lady and ask her if I could do her washing. If she said that she would like to see it, I would give her a date and time. When I arrived she would have two tubs of very hot water ready for me. I would unload the machine with the engine on the side. One model had a place where you could kick it with your foot and it would start. The new washing machine did a good job and the washing was finished in about one and a half hours. The same washing would usually take most of the day. With the increase in her husbands income the lady would be able to by the new luxury. Of course her husband quit riding his horse, because he had a new pickup.

While the inflation was going on, things were happening to our money. The political money managers of Washington and New York were taking care of the money situation. The ten dollar gold coin had dropped out of sight. The twenty dollar bill took over the twenty dollar gold piece. The silver coins were getting rare, and the nickel had vanished.

Practically all money had turned into paper, except the penny, which had been rare in the past, it bounced into popularity.

The temporary inflation, where groceries, clothing and housing prices went up about thirty percent made living much harder. Herbert Hoover was President of the United States at that time and had just been elected, taking the job from Calvin Coolidge. To mention this practice of changing our money to paper...it was breaking the law of the Constitution of the United States. It plainly stated that "the money shall be made by the Congress, who shall coin the money and determine the value thereof". The fact that Congress shall coin the money does not mean it will be made out of paper.

EAGAR

It didn't take long to fill the demand for washers. We were living in Ida's new home in Eagar. The time came for our second child to be born. Ida's sister Loa Jarvis, was a registered nurse, and she and her sister Carrie also lived in St. Johns. Loa and Carrie Davis invited us to come to St. Johns so they could help with the birth of the baby.

On November 10, 1927, we felt it was time to go to St. Johns so they could help with the delivery of our second child. On November 15, 1927, Ida delivered our son Fred Russell Jr. We were very thankful for Ida's two sisters, Carrie, in whose home we had the privilege of staying, and Loa for the help that she also gave us.

Since the demand for Maytag washers had been satisfied, I took on the job of selling "Sure Stops". A sure stop was made of glass and it was mounted on the wall and secured by a brace or mount. A pint of carbon tetrachloride which was red in color, was inside the glass. When the glass became hot, it would break. The carbon tetrachloride would escape and put out the fire. They were built to protect closed buildings. One unit was designed to automatically put out a fire in a 100 square feet per unit. We had many witnesses that these things worked and performed without aid in a closed building. The chemical enclosed was a sealed vacuum that it would contain the chemical without any service. The fire extinguisher would last indefinitely, unless the glass was broken.

At that time our baby, Freddy, became ill with a fever while we were on a business trip to Winslow. Ida and the children had accompanied me on this selling trip. There was a doctor there that was able to help Freddy. We stayed longer than had been intended because of his illness. While we were away from our home in Eagar, we left Tom and Price in charge. These were Ida's younger brothers. When we arrived home we found our home had been burned to the ground.

The boys, who were staying there at the time, had built a fire in the stove. They had left for a short time to attend a meeting and when they returned they found that the blaze had gotten out of hand and the house burned to the ground. The house had been insured for six thousand dollars and we were able to collect that amount.

At this time there was a bad recession. All the coin money had been taken out of circulation among ordinary people. They didn't have any money and just couldn't get any. The six thousand dollars that we had received for the insurance money just dwindled away. Soon we didn't have any of it. The "sure stop" business had been doing pretty well up to now.

SURE STOPS

Since our home had burned to the ground in Eagar and our money supply was limited, and we went to Mesa. Since the population was much greater, there was more money to be made there. I was still working with the Sure Stop Company. Business began to pick up and I was able to make a down payment on a nice brick home on 415 N. 3rd Street in Phoenix. Soon after that on October 28, 1929, our third child, Caroldeene was born in the St. Joseph's Hospital in Phoenix.

The company headquarters was located in New York. In order to stir up more trade, they decided to put on a convention to stimulate trade. The proposition was that each manager who sold a thousand dollars worth of Sure Stops during one month, would be invited to the convention. All cost would be paid by the producers. I was fortunate and was accompanied by three other salesmen at the company's expense.

When we started home after the convention, the news papers were all ablaze...The depression had struck! This was on Christmas Day nineteen twenty nine. The depression had actually started in New York around September, but was not felt in the western United States until December.

When I arrived home I began selling my product. Almost everyone I talked to about fire protection would have a sarcastic remark about it putting out fires. The customers would say, "What we need is something that will make fires, so we can collect the insurance." Practically all businesses in the Salt River Valley were at a stand still. Shops and business of all kinds started to close down. Every time a shop or business closed, workers would lose their jobs.

I wasn't aware that the money situation was as bad as it was, so I continued to try to sell Sure Stops. I spent months trying to sell my wares. The longer I worked, the deeper in debt I became. I felt that my problems were becoming worse and I began to blame myself for the situation. I made several trips in the belief that I could raise enough money to make my next payments. I took my family with me. Once when we returned, we found our home locked up with all our belongings that we had inside. The landlord happened to be one of the best lawyers in Phoenix. The possibilities of ever making enough money to pay back payments were impossible. My only outlet to retain our property inside the locked doors of our home was my brother Tilis. He gave me enough money to accomplish this. We will always be grateful for this great man.

PINEDALE

At this time we were without funds, job, or a place to live. Tilis informed us that Aunt Margaret Brewer's brother had deserted his ranch at Pinedale, Arizona, and had moved to Florida. There was a fine house with land that we might be able to use. So we contacted Aunt Margaret in Showlow and she gave us permission to live there if we would care for the house and the ranch.

We had been at the ranch at Pinedale only a few days when Aunt Sussie Brewer came to see us. We gave her the note that Aunt Margaret Cheney Brewer had given to us. The note stated that we could live on the place rent free. But we were expected to take good care of it.

Mr. Cheney was a carpenter by trade. He had built the beautiful home that was on the ranch. There was hardly any money when he constructed it and he worked tirelessly with the material that he could find. He was a master builder and whatever he built was done right. The home had a big front room with a huge fireplace. The fireplace really got hot and in the winter when the snow was on the ground it was a big comfort to us. There was a big picture window that looked out into the forest. The pine trees were full of little squirrels and chipmunks that went hurriedly about their business. There were three bedrooms, a bathroom with toilet that was hooked up to a cesspool. There was a screen porch in front and back with a big kitchen with lots of cupboard space. The stove in the kitchen had an oven and a place to heat water. The home was located on a high bank of a big wash. You could look down into a beautiful low place where a garden could be planted. On the north side of this meadow there were tracks where a train came through about two times a week about ten thirty every morning. Beyond the track and around all sides was a forest. There was a low place about fifty steps from the house where a spring flowed that had cold mountain water. We had plenty of rain so it was not necessary to water the fields of corn and grain that grew so well there.

It was evident that within a radius extending about ten miles around Pinedale there had been a prehistoric volcano because of the saucer like area with Pinedale in the center. The ground around this area was very fertile and produced excellent crops such as corn, beans, peas and other vegetables and especially grains of many kinds. There was a dry wash that passed through the area extending northward to the Little Colorado River.

There was a place beyond Pinedale called Standard where men worked and what they were doing was used for the war effort. About two or three times during the month a freight train with only a few cars passed our place to go to the various little surrounding towns. There were outcrops of coal, asbestos, oil and nitrates yielded by the forest in that region millions of years ago. There were no trespassing signs posted all around this area so the people of that vicinity would not be too nosey. The people supposed that these minerals were what the government was shipping in the box cars. Within a quarter of a mile there lived a forest Ranger who was placed by the Federal Government, to police the curious. But we really had no idea what was in those box cars.

Sussie Brewer Webb, a relative of my mother, stopped by our home two or three times a week. We always enjoyed her visit because she was very knowledgeable about nursing. She observed that Ida was going to have another baby and kept tabs on her. She always helped with the ills of the children also. When it was time for our baby to be born, she kindly advised us that it was time that we looked for some help for Ida.

There was a terrible storm approaching and I dared not risk not being able to get out to the main road. So I took my truck to the old bridge in Pinedale which was about four miles away and parked the truck there and walked back home. During the night we had a big snow storm and it piled up at least three feet in places.

During the war a short line track was laid to bring in the timber needed at that time for the war effort. After the war, the short line rails were pulled up leaving one main track. There were many ties left along the side and I gathered a few and made a sled, arranging the hookup to the mules to haul things on.

On the morning of January 27, 1932, I hooked the mules to the sled and I boarded my wife and our small children who were dressed in warm clothing into the sled. The snow was so deep that the mules were belly deep in the white stuff. But it only took us about forty minutes from the house to the truck. When we arrived at the truck, I unhooked the mules from the sled and they went home. We all climbed into the cab of the truck and started toward Holbrook. The county roads from Pinedale to Holbrook were graded regularly and this made the roads more passable.

At that time, Holbrook was about the biggest city around, but we didn't even stop for a bite to eat. We just continued on to St. Johns. We arrived in St. Johns about four p.m. at Carrie and Harold Davis'. They had invited us to come, but they had no idea when we would be there. As soon as we arrived, Aunt Carrie sent for Aunt Loa, mother's sister who was a trained nurse. She examined Ida and told us that we had just arrived on time.

Our little red faced, beautiful baby girl was born about midnight on January 28, 1932, with Loa and Carrie in attendance. We named our little daughter Jeanne. We stayed there for a few days until the storm was over and wife and baby were able to travel. We then climbed into the truck and headed home. We were now the proud parents of four beautiful children: Elaine, Fred Jr., Caroldeene and Jeanne.

When we arrived at the ranch, aunt Sussie Brewer Webb, came to live with us. She was a widow woman and lived alone. She was a great help to my wife, who was very weak after Jeanne had been born. She helped with the children and the chores around the house.

Finally spring came. There was an old Jack Knife Saw Mill which belonged to Peter Jensen. He ran it occasionally and when he did he needed a man to help him. He was making rough lumber for log cabins. He asked me to be his chocker man. He paid me thirty five cents an hour. This amounted to a dollar or two for a days work. This money helped us to buy food that we needed. We were grateful that we had a good cow. We called her Budinsky because she was so full of life. Ida and Aunt sussie made delicious butter and buttermilk from her milk. We would store this and the fresh milk in buckets that we lowered into the old well outside to keep them cool. The butter went really well with the luscious yellow corn and vegetables and home made bread.

This was a special time in our lives. We loved the big house, the garden and the beautiful country we had to look at. But our ranch, while providing us with all this plenty, was a lot of hard work.

After the crops were planted in the spring I built a big barn. I wanted to be able to have a warm place for the animals and to store the grain and clover and vegetables for the winter.

Around Thanksgiving time we decided to have a party to celebrate Thanksgiving. We would have a big barn dance and party in the new barn. I invited my brothers Tilis and Ernest and their families. They all came. The night of the party there was a big bon fire built. We had sent out folders, which contained invitations to the families of Pinedale and told them all to come. We wanted them to bring their musical talent and instruments to play and provide music for the dance. We also asked them to bring a pumpkin pie or anything else that might be fitting for a Thanksgiving Party.

Everyone brought their children. We gave all the children their supper early and got the little ones to sleep and left two older girls in charge of them. We put quilts on the floor and we had wall to wall children. After they were all bedded down and bribed not to leave the house, our wives met us at the barn. We had a big bonfire going outside the barn and had the food inside on big tables. There was a place for the dance. I never heard such beautiful hoe down music. Everyone was swinging their partners and do-si-doing all over the place. It was a night of fun and friendship that I will never forget. The ones who chose to view the party from the loft in the soft straw, said that they thoroughly enjoyed the view too.

It was the summer of 1932 when I conceived the idea that I could make some money by hauling fruit and vegetables from Mesa in my truck. I made several trips from Pinedale to Mesa, but had trouble getting money from the people. Most people in the Pinedale area had no more money than I.

My Mother, Harriet, and brother Tilis made a trip to Pinedale to see us in August of 1932. They suggested that it might be a good idea to complete my schooling at Arizona State College at Tempe. After talking this over with my wife, we decided that was the thing to do.

I needed only a few units to graduate, but found that I would need to take a full year for residential requirements. We packed our belongings into the truck and with our four children we left the ranch. Before we left we contacted Aunt Sussie Brewer and told her we were leaving and we needed her to take care of the place.

DIPLOMA, AT LAST

We arrived in Mesa and went directly to my mother's home on Perkins Lane. The next day I consulted with the registrar in tempe, who informed me of the subjects I needed. At this time I enrolled, received my schedule of classes, and was ready for school the following day.

The year passed quickly. I received my Bachelors Degree the year of 1933. My major was English with a minor in Social Science. I applied for a teaching job in various towns and was accepted in a small town in Northern Arizona called Linden. This little Mormon town was only three miles from Pinedale and the ranch that we had called home. Pinedale was also the town where my Mother's family, the Brewers, originated in Arizona. Brigham Young had assigned them to come to Pinedale while they were living Utah.

LINDEN

We rented a little home not far from the school. This little house was located about twenty yards from the main road to Pinedale. It was surrounded except in the front, with pine trees. We lived in this little house for a few months and then we found a house that had more room with a fireplace in the front room. It was much larger and more comfortable and it was located in a deeper part of the forest. It had a big barn where I kept a few chickens and a cow which furnished us with plenty of milk and butter. I used to enjoy walking through the forest with my children when the weather was good. I would tell them the things I had learned about the origin of our beautiful earth and about the little animals that darted busily on their way.

There were two one-roomed small buildings where we held school. One building was for the upper grades and the other for the lower grades. Mrs. Jack Frost taught the first through the fourth grade. I taught the fourth through the eighth. During the two years that I taught school in Linden, we made many choice friends and had many happy times. However, my salary was only one hundred dollars per month. I was paying thirty dollars a month for our rent. By the time I paid this payment along with my truck payment, there was not enough to live on. So I decided to look for a job that paid more money.

SHOWLOW

I went to the neighboring town of Showlow because I had learned of road construction that was going on. I applied and got the job. We had found a better house there and I would be able to make almost two times the money. So we packed up our belongings and moved to Showlow.

The night we arrived we had just finished eating our supper of beans and home made bread and chow-chow. The moon was almost as bright as day outside. It was October, 1934. I heard a loud noise out side and I went to the door and found that about ten couples about our age had come with lots of food to welcome us into their town.

While we were visiting and having a happy time, we heard our little girl Caroldeene, who was about three years old, crying. She was sitting on a little pot behind the big wood stove. My wife exclaimed, "I forgot about my little girl." She hurried to her and she was almost cooked. We all felt very bad that she was too frightened to come out from behind the stove.

We had a big barn in Showlow where we kept the cows and chickens. When the snow was deep in the winter, they stayed in the barn most of the time. One time I was cutting wood and the ax slipped and I almost cut my foot off. My daughter Elaine ran for the neighbors. A woman and her son lived close to us. They were the Reiks. Carl Reik came with some turpentine and rags and after he had stopped the bleeding he wrapped it after he had applied the turpentine. It didn't take longer than a few weeks for it to heal. But in the meantime I had lost my job and again we realized that we needed to find another job. So we moved to Clifton.

CLIFTON

In order to relieve the financial pressure, a new President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt established CC Camps in various places throughout the area. I applied for a job as an Educational Advisor and was accepted in Camp AAA. This camp was located five miles out of Clifton, Arizona. I was accepted by Captain Joseph Hanson who was the Commander and officer in charge of the camp. My pay was to be one hundred and eighty five dollars a month, mailed directly from the Phoenix Headquarters. The Captain interviewed me and outlined my duties. This camp contained about twenty five boys and was called a Soil Conservation Camp.

The assistant to the camp commander was Lieutenant Dolittle. He took over the command from the Captain when he needed to be away. The camp had a doctor by the name of Dr. Edwin Arthur from Brooklyn, New York. The camp supervisor was George Higgins. The Captain advised me of my duties. I was to be on hand when the boys were available. Theoretically, my job was to be with them when they were at leisure. I was to organize them in games, such as baseball, basketball and other amusements and sports that they were interested in.

Most of them came from Arkansas, Texas and Oklahoma. The boy's ages varied from nineteen to twenty three. They had their own quarters and were separated from the supervisors. Working time was from seven a.m. to four p.m. The purpose of the camp in addition to assisting the needy was to save erosive land which would otherwise go down streams and erode the land, the gullies, washes and other places where erosion took place.

To do this required the operation of heavy duty equipment...such as cats, scrapers and plows. It took young men to operate this heavy equipment. The young men were paid a minimum of twenty dollars a month with board and room. In addition, their parents were paid a minimum of one hundred and fifty dollars a month for the rest of the young men's work. Many of the boys had very little education. Some could not read or write. My job was to help them in any way I could when they were at their leisure. The leisure time was scheduled for holidays, Saturdays and Sundays. I was free anytime the boys were working on their jobs or absent from the camp.

About six months after we moved to Clifton on January 10, 1936, we had a beautiful little dark haired daughter that we named Beverly Ann. She was a frail little girl and my wife breast fed her often and with much care. Ida was having health problems also and needed to see the doctor frequently.

STRUCK WITH TRAGEDY

Three months after Beverly Ann was born I was notified at work, that my little eight year old boy was missing. Apparently he had not returned home from school on the usual time and night fall had set in. I took three men with me because I had a feeling that something was terribly wrong. When we arrived at my home, my wife told me that she had inquired of his friends and found that he was with Richard Condell. His Father was our medical doctor and they were trusted a lot in the community. While we were deciding what we could do, there was a knock at the door. This was about nine p.m. It was the Doctor and his wife. They were very sad and upset. They had found their son Richard in his room in bed. He had finally confessed that after school he had convinced Freddy to go with him to below the bridge on the Frisco River. He told him that there were a lot of pussy willows there. For some reason they told us, Richard loved to play with pussy willows. He told them that the River was running very swiftly, which it usually did in the month of March, and there had been a lot of rain fall. He had gone ahead but stopped to roll his pants legs up. Freddy had gone on and a current had swept him away. He told his parents that he was frightened that he would get punished so he returned home and hid in his bedroom.

We were devastated. The Doctor took the three young men and me to the camp. We informed Supervisor Higgins and he enrolled about fifty men to comb the Frisco River. We formed a horizontal line, holding hands. About midnight we found Freddy's little body on a sand reef. The only bruise on his body was a bump on his forehead that had a discoloration.

The men at the camp helped me make a wooden box. This only took about an hour. We put my little boy in it and they helped me to secure a tarp over the entire bed of my red pickup. The Camp asked me to come for services that morning before leaving for Mesa. I got my wife, Elaine, Caroldeene, Jeanne and our new born baby Beverly Ann and about eleven a.m. that morning we drove into Camp. The men were all in uniform and the flag was flying at half mast. They had me drive my pickup by the flag which was on the pole. About two hundred men came out and saluted. They gave a little service and then played some music on the trumpet. It was a sight that I will never forget. I had taken my son Freddy with me to work on many occasions and every one in the Camp had learned to love my little boy. He had blonde hair and big brown eyes and a beautiful smile. He was large for his age and his stature. He was so friendly that everyone seemed to enjoy his company.

After the ceremony, I drove my family to Mesa. My folks were unaware of our sadness. But soon after our arrival there, things were under control quickly and we had a family funeral in the Meldrum Mortuary. Our son Freddy was buried in the Mesa Cemetery.

Since our son had not been baptized when he was eight years old, my brother's son Ralph Edward acted as his proxy for baptism April 30, 1938, and Ernest acted as Fred Jr.'s proxy for his endowment on May 6, 1938.

After the funeral we returned home to Clifton. My wife and I had a very hard time after the death of our little Freddy. I continued to work for the CC Camp for about a month. I then became mentally ill and depressed. My wife was very sick and our frail little girl was having a struggle with health problems. We decided to leave Clifton and move to Thatcher.

THATCHER

We conceived the idea that if we rented a large house close to the College in Thatcher, we could get some college students for boarders. Our friends, the Petersons, had suggested that we allow their daughter Bulah to come and stay with us while she attended Gila Junior College. She could work for her board and room and could help my wife with the college students, such as cleaning and helping with the cooking. We rented a large house from Sarah Hunt on Main Street in Thatcher.

A few days after we had moved in we decided to go to Mt. Graham for a picnic. So my wife and our four daughters, Elaine, Caroldeene, Jeanne, and Beverly Ann, went for the day. A big rain storm came up while we were there and we hadn't taken any blankets. Our frail little daughter contacted pneumonia. Upon arriving home she looked very lethargic. The next day we took her to the doctor. He told us that she had pneumonia. Our little daughter continued to get worse and finally passed away on June 17, 1936.

The day she passed away, my wife and I boarded Elaine, Caroldeene and Jeanne with friends and we went to Mesa. We buried our little daughter next to her brother, Fred Russell Jr., who had passed away only three months sooner.

Since I had received my salary, with a few hundred extra that the camp had alloted us, we were able to start our boarding home. We were able to get eight college students. Kimball Nelson was the first student besides Bulah Peterson. Things went well with the students that fall except for another problem that we had acquired.

Our oldest daughter, Elaine, came down with rheumatic fever. The doctor gave strict orders that she must remain completely confined to bed except that I could carry her to the bathroom on occasion. She missed a year of school and we had to teach her to walk again. That was a very hard time. My wife cared for her as well as for the needs of the rest of the family and the boarders.

We were only able to stay the year out in Thatcher. The student boarders could not make their payments and we had to give up our business.

COAL MINING

I had done some prospecting while we were living in Linden. I was aware of coal mining that was going on in that area. The depression was still on and there was no money to be had. So I began to check out the possibilities of mining for coal. I contacted some surveyors and with their help and encouragement found a vain of coal in the vicinity between Linden and Showlow. I found that there were two kinds of coal, anthracite and bituminous. The anthracite coal was the harder and it took longer to burn. The bituminous was the soft one and it burned fast and gave off a hotter fire. This vain had the soft bituminous coal.

I contacted a boy by the name of Curley. He had been one of the boys from the CC Camp. He was an illiterate young man but enjoyed hard work. I moved my family to Globe with the prospects that my wife could get orders for the coal and I would come to fill the orders as I filled the truck.

I dug a tunnel in the hill and with a pick and shovel and wheel barrow, Curley and I would load the coal on to the truck. As time progressed, I was able to secure tracks from the old mine in Clifton, along with an old iron car. I slanted the tracks to an elevation of about twenty feet with a gradual decent. At the top was a lever that would open and let the coal fall into the truck. The car was pulled up the track by steam from a furnace which was attached to a big boiler. I would fire up the furnace and the steam was used to pull the car up the tracks.

The distance from the mine to Globe became too far. So after discussing the matter with my wife we decided to move back to Showlow. We rented a home just off Main Street in the middle of the town of Showlow. We lived down the alley just in back of McCorkles Mercantile Store. At the side of our house there ran a big wash. It had the out door toilet about thirty yards from the wash. During the summer many kids from the town came to swim in the eight foot hole by our home.

I continued to work at the mine. I came home only when we were out of provisions. About that time the gas line came in and since the people preferred gas to coal, the demand was less for coal. I continued to work with the mine, but at this time, the coal became powdery and came out in small pieces. So since there was no demand for powdery coal, I had to give up the coal mine and all my hard work. I had no money to pay my helper Curley. For payment I gave him the land that I had purchased. This land was located along the road on the main highway going towards Springerville.

BACK TO THE GILA VALLEY

In 1939, we made a trip to Safford. I had saved some money and I wanted to move back to the Gila Valley. My wife and I contacted Kimball and Greenhalgh Reality and they sold us three lots on Fourth Street in Safford.

Once more I loaded up the old truck with all our earthly belongings. Together with my wife, Elaine, Caroldeene and Jeanne we went to the Gila Valley. In the meantime we had visited the Chet Jennings family who had bought my Dad's (Henry Russell) old homestead in Cactus Flat. They informed me that the old home which my dad had built was not being used and we were welcome to live there until I had our home on Fourth Street ready. This was in the month of May and the girls were out of school for the summer. The Ranch at Cactus Flat would be a good experience for them.

I was offered the material in a big brick building, which was located across the street from Safeway on Fifth Street. If I would tear it down and clean the lot, it would be free. I was able to secure enough bricks and adobes to build two bedrooms and a bathroom, which we could move into by the time school started. I was planning on finishing it after we moved in. I was able to get the walls up, together with the floors and roof, by the time school started in September. I used ocotillas for the insulation. We moved into the structure with two rooms and a bath in the center in September. At this time Elaine was starting High School and Caroldeene and Jeanne were still in grade school.

It had been a very tedious job to tear out and clean each brick and adobe from the big building on Fifth Street. I had started to tear the building down as soon as we had arrived in the Gila Valley. I spent the first two very hot summer months getting enough material to build the two rooms with a bath. I was able to get a few men that I had picked up off the street to help, by giving them a place to live and some food. After I had finished the first building and we were moved in, I finished tearing down the big building on Fifth Street. I then had enough material to start another house. I decided that it would be better to do a complete new house rather than build on the house we were living in.

As soon as I had moved my family to the building on Fourth Street in Safford, I was able to get a job with the Employment Service in Safford. I worked at this job from eight a.m. to five p.m. Then I started the house on the same lot and worked on it after work, on weekends and on holidays. This house had only one bedroom. I added steps on the side that led to a room for the girls to sleep. Directly under it was the washroom. Attached to the washroom and bedroom was another house built like the one on the other side. I would use this house for a rental. I used the adobes from the old building to build a work shop and storage room. I had enough material to build four rental duplexes.

My intentions were to finish the house that I had started in the beginning. However, I decided to use the rest of the material on a place that we could have a grocery store. Our grocery store was on 216 East Main Street in Safford. We had this store for almost a year. Originally my wife intended to operate it while I worked, but she grew disinterested so we sold it. We used the money to buy some land in Cactus Flat. This place was about three miles from the spot where I was born under a small mesquite on the ground at the base of Sugar Loaf Mountain.

After I had purchased the land at Cactus Flat, my wife and I decided not to finish our home on Fourth Street. We decided that a Ranch in the country would be a better place to spend the rest of our lives. I began to clear the land. After I cleared about three acres, which were almost completely covered with mesquite and under growth, I began to lay the foundation for our new home.

My wife Ida, became seriously ill. She had severe headaches along with other ailments. Dr. Don Nelson of Safford suggested that she had a brain tumor. However, since she had other ailments, he felt that it wouldn't be wise to operate. She continued to go to doctors all over Arizona and down into Mexico, but was not able to find any relief. She gradually became worse. Her sister Loa Jarvis came to help. We were all grateful to this wonderful lady and nurse. On the morning of November 13, 1956, just as the sun was coming up, Ida closed her eyes in death. This was just two days before the anniversary of her son, Fred Russell Jr.'s birthday, who had preceded her in death.

I was very lonely after my wife passed away. My boss at the Employment service suggested one day that I meet one of his wife's friends. Her name was Martha Pauline Mullins Atcheson Brown. Martha's husband had passed away and he thought she might enjoy my company. He introduced me and after a few months we were married April 6, 1957, at Lordsburg, New Mexico.

I continued to work at the Employment Office and she continued her job at the Welfare Office, where she had been employed for twenty years. We began working on our home in Cactus in the evenings, weekends and holidays. While we were building our home we resided at her home on the Bowie Highway in Safford because I had sold my property to Helen Pittman.

I took an early retirement so that I could work on the farm. Martha continued to work until she was 65 in 1977. We really enjoyed our lives at our Ranch in Cactus Flat.

As we became older the farm was too much for us to take care of. We traded it to Roy and Dixie Powell in 1983 for a home in Thatcher on First Street, where we reside now at the writing of this biography in April, 1990.

ENDNOTE

Fred was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints soon after his 8th birthday, by his father in Aunt Annie Lee's pond. He remembered this incident all of his life, as recounted in his autobiography. He fell away from activity in the Church when he went to college and the events that happened there undoubtedly caused him a great deal of suffering. He married Ida Amanda Nelson when he was 24 and she was 33 and even though he supported her in her Church activity, he did not attend church, except for very brief times in his life. His second wife, Martha, was a devout Methodist and attended that church from time to time. Fred generally prayed before meals and from his history, it is obvious he maintained a belief in God. However, it was not until he began writing his life story, which he wanted to pass on to his posterity, that he began to remember the teachings of his youth and put them into eternal perspective. After he moved from the farm in Cactus and bought a home across the street from his daughter, Elaine, he began to talk more about spiritual things and, with her encouragement, he and Martha began attending church in Thatcher and began to be receptive to the Gospel. After a while he visited with his bishop, James Palmer, who counseled with him and on 29 Apr 1990, Fred was ordained a High Priest by Hugh LeRoy Larson, who had been his bishop in Cactus. On 10 May 1990, when he was 88, Fred went to the Arizona Temple, where all three of his daughters were married, to receive his own endowment and to be sealed to his family. His three living daughters and their families were in attendance for this significant occasion, when the veil was indeed very thin. Sometime following this event, Fred dictated the following testimony to be included as an endnote to his autobiography:

I am thankful that I was worthy to be ordained a High Priest. I am also thankful to have my wife, Ida Nelson Russell, who is the mother of my children, and also my children, sealed to me for time and eternity in the holy temple. I experienced a very choice feeling during the sealing ceremony. I felt the presence of my beloved wife, Ida. I knew she was there at that time, by my side. I believe that Jesus will come again in due time and that the promises He made will be fulfilled. I know that God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, answer prayers. Time after time He has answered my prayers according to my best welfare.

Fred Russell.

Fred spent the last few years of his life living in his home in Thatcher across the street from his eldest daughter, Elaine. He enjoyed talking about his life and his belief in the afterlife. He was physically and mentally active until only a few months before he peacefully died from pneumonia on November 18, 1993.

LIFE HISTORY COMPENDIUM OF FRED RUSSELL

Born September 8, 1901: Lebanon, Graham County, Arizona

1915-1917: Curtis Publishing Company and Arizona Gazette, Winkleman, Arizona - Paperboy.

Jan 1916: Glendale High School, Glendale, Arizona. Student, part time work, dairy and farm work at home.

Aug 1918-Jul 1919: Employed by SRVWUA at Mesa, Arizona "Sanjuaro" (Water Boss)

Jul 1919-Feb 1920: Lamson Business College, Phoenix, Arizona Student-part-time work- janitor in school

building.

Feb 1920-Aug 1920: R.G. Dunn Marc. Agency, Phoenix, typist

Sep 1920-Jun 1922: University of Utah, Salt Lake City, student part-time work: Sep-Nov 1920 Shays Cafeteria, bus boy.

Jun 1921-Jun 1922 Table Supply Company, W. A. Gregory, Prop., grocery clerk.

Jul 1922: Sam Selig Chain Grocery, Los Angeles, Calif grocery clerk

Dec 1922-Jan 1923: C & A Copper Mine, Lowell, Arizona- mucker

Aug 1923-Jun 1924: University of Arizona - Student Part-time work: University Inn, Ice Adams Prop.- worked as a waiter.

Jun 1924-Sep 1924: Miami Copper Mine, Miami, Arizona-mucker

Sep 1924-Jun 1925: Self employed, Prop. of U of A Second hand book store.

Jun 1925-Jul 1925: Arizona State Hospital, Phoenix, Az.-guard

Jul 1925-Aug 1925: SRVWUA at Phoenix, Time Keeper

Aug 1924-Jun 1927: Arizona Commission of Agriculture & Horticulture, Springerville, Holbrook, Tucson, as Road Inspector

Mar 4, 1926: Married to Ida Amanda Nelson at St. Johns, Arizona.

Jun 1927-Jul 1928: Saleuters' Maytag Sales Co. at Springerville, Winslow-commission sales.

Aug 1928-Jul 1931: Self-employed, Prop. of Modern Equipment Sales co. and Arizona Fire Protective Associates at Phoenix, Arizona.

Jul 1931-Sep 1932: Farmer, Pinedale, Arizona (dry farm)

Sep 1932-Jun 1933: Farmer and Produce Trucker at Pinedale.

Sep 1932-Jun 1933: Arizona State Teacher's College, Tempe, Az student, graduating with A.B. in Education.

Jun 1933-Se 1933: Farmer and Produce Trucker at Pinedale.

Sep 1933-May 1935: Navajo County School Dist. No. 19, Linden, Arizona, Principal and teacher.

May 1935-Aug 1935: Del E. Webb Construction Co., at Showlow, Arizona, labor on road.

Sep 1935-Jan 1937: U.S. CCC at Camp S.C.S. 4A, Clifton Camp, SCS 2-A, Pima, Camp SCS 3-A, Safford; camp SCS 21-A, Duncan; camp D.C. 61-A Pima, Camp Educational Adviser

Jan 1937-Jul 1937: U.S. Soil conservation Service, Safford, Arizona, guard

Jul 1937-Feb 1938: Self-employed at Showlow, Arizona, prospector for soft coal.

Feb 1938-Jul 1938: W.P.A. Educ. Division, Globe, Arizona guard

Jul 1938-Apr 1941: Self employed, stock holder and President of the Apache Coal Mining Co., Showlow, Arizona.

Apr 1941-Jul 1941: W.A. Bechtel Construction Co., Elliot Long contractor, Roach and Green Contractor, Morenci, Arizona, Carpenter.

Aug-1941-Oct 1941: 76 Ranch, Mrs. Webb, Prop., Bonita, Az. Carpenter.

Oct 1941- Dec 1941: Self employed on repair work at home, Safford, Arizona.

Dec 1941- Feb 1943: Arizona Commission of Agriculture and

Horticulture, Solomonville, Arizona-

Road Inspector.

Feb 1943-Mar 1963: U.S. Employment Service and Arizona Employment Service, Jr. Interviewer, manager, senior interviewer, Interviewer-Technician.

April 6, 1957: Married Martha Pauline Mullins Atcheson Brown.

Sideline work: Built six apartment court in Safford from 10/41 to 10/51. Built Grocery Store on East Main Street, Safford, 11/51-5/52. Operated Grocery Store from 6/52 to 6/53.

March 1953: Bought farm land in Cactus, cleared land, drilled well, farmed cotton and grew live-stock.

1963: Retired after 21 years as Sr. Interviewer and Manager.

1983: Sold farm in Lebanon, moved to Thatcher, across street from daughter, Elaine

May 1990: Ordained a High Priest in the Thatcher Arizona Stake of Zion by LeRoy Larson, former Bishop from Lebanon

10 May 1990: Endowed in Arizona Temple, after which he was sealed to Ida Amanda Nelson and then the three living children, Elaine, Caroldeen and Jeanne, along with proxies for Fred, Jr. and Beverly Ann, were sealed as a family by Temple Sealer Peter James (Jim) Brewer, a cousin.