In Commemoration
of the 100th
Anniversary of
Carson's
1855 - 1955

One Hundred Years of Carsons

I grew up with three of them, namely: William Huff Carson, John Carson, (my grandfather), Mary (Polly) Ann Carson who married Thomas Bradford Ewing. It was in September of 1851 when George Carson and his five sons and two daughters arrived in Utah. Besides George, the father, there were William Huff, John, Elizabeth, George and David (twins), Washington, Mary (Polly) Ann. During the time they lived at Cotton Wood, the father passed away and was buried there in 1854. Corilla Egbert, wife of William Huff also died in that year leaving a family of five, the youngest being William Harrison who was born in a covered wagon at Loop Fork, Nebraska. The stop over for the birth of this child was just one half day. Quoting from William Harrison in 1933 he has this to say: "Sula Goddard lived with us and before mother died, she asked Sula if she would take us five children. She did and about a year later married father."

In 1885 the five Carson brothers along with William Beardshall, John Clegg, and Amos Fielding settled at Fairfield and others came later. They established themselves in a Fort which they erected as a protection against the Indians. The Fort was four rods square. Erected 1856-57. In 1856 Indian trouble started. On February 21 of that year George Carson was wounded by the Indians on the south side of town. After this skirmish the Indians went over toward Utah Lake by way of Goshen or Soldier Pass and on February 22 met and killed Washington Carson and Henry Moran, who were caring for some cattle near the lake. On that same day George died, making three deaths by the Indians that day. The Indians headed for the Tintic District and were never over taken.

Amos Fielding being a Scout and somewhat of a surveyor with others laid out a town site which they named Fairfield. They also laid out some 200 acres of farm land and used the water from the large spring near by to irrigate the land. Each settler had so many acres of this grass land on which they grew hay for their stock. Even in my day I remember cutting and putting up hay from those same meadows.

I do not personally remember anything about the Carson brothers who were killed by Indians except what was told me in later years by my father, W. F. Carson, and my grandfather, John Carson, and Uncle William Huff Carson. I assume that they worked as hard as they could the next two years trying to raise something to eat, improve their farms, build homes and keep from being killed by the Indians.

In the summer of 1858, twenty-five hundred men of the United States Army moved through Salt Lake City. President Brigham Young had the promise from General Albert Sidney Johnston that the Army would not stop nearer than forty miles of Salt Lake City camping first near the mouth of West Canyon. (The north end of Cedar Valley.) After discovering the water in that creek dried up late in the summer, they moved on down to Fairfield and camped south of the main creek running from the Fairfield spring. This creek became the dividing line between the Military and Civilian population which soon after that time numbered about seven thousand. As soon as the Army was settled they named the Army camp "Camp Floyd" in honor of the Secretary of War.

On April 7, 1860, there was great excitement in Camp Floyd. People gathered on buildings, etc. looking westward. Presently a shout went up, for in the distance was seen a dark object which rapidly grew and took shape. It was a horseman riding on the run. In his saddle were two pouches - the first mail from California by Pony Express. At the Fort a fresh horse was waiting and the mail was transferred and the rider quickly disappeared in the direction of Salt Lake City. A few hours later a rider passed through going to Sacramento. Thus the camp flourished for a time.

The Civil War broke out, and as suddenly as the camp had sprung to life it began to vanish. Wagons were again loaded and the soldiers prepared to move. There were many supplies to be sold. Buyers came from Salt Lake City and other Utah towns for the sale. It had been reported that about four million dollars worth of goods were sold for a hundred thousand dollars. The commissary building erected in 1858, was sold to a local farmer, William Beardshall, and part of it still stands.

However, with the enlistments expiring, some deserting and those who had left with the arrival of the Army, many returned and remained to make their permanent home.

Years after Johnston's Army had gone and when I was a young man in my teens, I enjoyed so much listening to Grandfather John Carson tell of the many experiences he, with others, had during the time the Army was stationed at Camp Floyd. This one I would like to leave - especially to the descendants of John Carson. It was told many times by my grandpa, and one time I heard my father tell it to some men. It happened not too long after the Army came. This is the way it was told. (At this time I believe Grandpa was Presiding Elder and was supposed to look after his flock.)

"There came a man one day who bean building a shack just above the last house and near the creek where water ran through the town for culinary use. He was also starting to build a corral that extended across the creek so the stock could get a drink anytime they wished, also a pigpen built the same way and a toilet right near the creek. Grandpa said he went and talked with the man, telling him that the people had to drink the water, and would he please move his buildings farther away from the creek. This was the man's answer: 'I am putting that there, that there, and that there, in spite of Brigham Young, General Johnston or God Almighty.' Grandpa thought he could not come out and make him do it. Just a few days before this happened, Grandpa had received a note from General Johnston asking him to come to his office as he wished to talk with him. Grandpa said he was afraid to go and met the General, and afraid not to go. However, as he tells it he went and when the orderly announced Mr. Carson was here the General called, "come in". The General had a course voice and asked his visitor to be seated and this is what he said: "Mr. Carson, I have felt since I have been here that you feel like me and my men may harm you and your people. I want to tell you we do not intend to molest you or your people at all, but I do want to say this - whether you know it or not, there is always a rough element that follows an army and they are coming here now. I can handle them on my side of the creek. It may be with the few police you have you may not be able to keep order. That is why I asked you to come here. If that time ever comes and you need some help, let me know and I will be glad to help you Mr. Carson, - Good day.'

Grandpa went home and after talking again to the man with the offensive pig pen thought he should perhaps see of the General could help him. Grandpa wrote a note to Johnston and explained things to him. I am quite sure my father was sent with the note to General Johnston. Shortly after the note was delivered, Johnston could be seen coming down toward where this fellow was building, with an orderly right behind with musket over his shoulder. When the General asked the man what his plans were he told him as he did Grandpa - that he was going to build this here and that there and etc. In spite of Brigham Young or God Almighty. He left General Johnston's name off this time. The General told the man the people had to drink the water below and that unless those things were away from there in thirty-six hours he would be moved at the point of the bayonet. The man took the General's word and went about two and a half miles east and started a house of ill fame. After that my Grandpa and General Johnston were good friends."

I was eighteen years old when Grandpa passed away and since we lived so near him I was around with him a lot - old enough to remember a good many things about the way he lived and got along with people. I am grateful for the main lessons he taught me, both in word and action. I believe I never knew a man with a more even temper. Very slow to get angry. I never remember seeing him mad but once and then he soon got over it. He was always nice to me. I often sat and listened to him tell some of the wonderful experiences he had during his life time and they were many. I was at his home the night he passed away. I shall long remember when he said to me that night as he held my hand and talked to me, only a few hours before he died which was sometime after midnight. He was in the north east room of his home in Fairfield. Since that night when ever I think of him, I think of a tall man with white hair; kind and friendly to every one; always willing to go out of his way to help some one in trouble, and never talked about people to their back, and now this date, December, 1952, since I am about the same age as when Grandpa departed from this life, I can only say I feel greatly blessed for having been able to have lived those few years while he was still here.

John Carson was born November 13, 1819, at Green Township, Wayne County, Penn. On the day of his death, August 22, 1895, he was first counselor in the bishopric of the Cedar Valley Ward, and a member of the Church in good standing.

And now I come to another of the Carson brothers, William Huff, whom it was my good fortune to know and work for at times. But first I would like to copy a sketch of Mr. Carson's life taken from the History of Utah:

"A settler in Utah since 1851, and for many years a resident of Cedar Valley, where once flourished Camp Floyd, the bearer of this name was originally from Wayne Township, Mifflin County, Pennsylvania, where he was born January 8, 1818. His parents were George and Ann Huff Carson, and he was their eldest child. Of Scottish-Irish ancestry, his grandfather William Carson, emigrated from the north of Ireland in time to take up arms in the cause of American independence. He fought under General Washington at the battle of Long Island, and served as a regular throughout the war. William H. inherited the characteristics of his patriotic, liberty-loving grandfather.

"The first years of his life were spent in his native State, after which he moved with his parents to Ohio, They were farm folk, in humble circumstances, but were able to maintain their large family in comforts, by themselves. William's education was limited, but was sufficient to enable him to transact business intelligently, and that was quite an acquisition in those days for a framer's boy on the frontier. In religion the father, a Presbyterian, and the mother a Quaker.

"They were converted to Mormonism through the preaching of Elder David Whitehead. He was baptized and confirmed by Elder Wheeler in Missouri in 1833. The same year they were expelled with their co-religionists by mob violence from Jackson County, and for the next five years lived in Clay County, prior to making their home for a brief period in Caldwell County, whence they were driven with their people into Illinois. In Adams County of the State, where they remained for about twelve years.

"About the time of his removal to Illinois, William H. Carson, then twenty-one years of age, married Corrilla Egbert, who made him a faithful and devoted wife. She was the mother of seven children, six of whom were born before the family started for Utah, here to rejoin the main body of the Church. Early in the spring of 1851, they set out for Salt Lake Valley, with a comfortable ox team outfit and the usual stock of supplies for a journey across the plains. The Mormon emigrant train in which they traveled from the frontier was under the direction of Captain Harry Walton. There were sixty wagons, divided into sections of ten, and of one ten Mr. Carson was captain. All in all it was a pleasant journey, though two deaths occurred on the way, those of mother Thompson and Miss Kinsley, the latter killed by buffalo, smelt by the oxen, had maddened them and thus caused the disaster. Captain Carson's team was the only one that did not run away. He controlled his oxen by means of rope lines, which he had taken the precaution to arrange. His seventh child, William H. Carson, Jr., was born just after rounding the head of Big Horn River, which was not fordable at the time. He arrived at his journey's end in September.

"He settled first at South Cottonwood, ten miles south of Salt Lake City. The same fall his father, then in his sixty-fourth year, fell sick and died, and less than three years later, on July 7, 1854, his beloved wife passed into rest, and was buried beside his father at little Cottonwood. In 1855 he married again. A year later he moved to Cedar Valley, where he became a resident of Fairfield, built in after years on the site of the government post founded by General Johnson. He and his brothers performed military service against the Indians, and George and Washington Carson were killed by the savages. His brother John was a Bishop for over thirty years. By farming and stock-raising he acquired a competence, enabling him to live in comparative independence.

"William H. Carson has been thrice married, his second and third wives being Triphenna Ursual Goddard and Emily Ann McMinds. He is the father of twenty-one children. The character and career of the worthy veteran is thus eulogized by a friend: "His life record has been a beautiful reflection of those graces which enabled his grandsires and made the name of Scotch Presbyterianism a synonym for champion of Christian Liberty. Worship of God, love of freedom, fidelity to purpose, and devotion to family, have found expression in all his relations of life - religious, civil, and domestic, making him the beloved husband and father, the trusted church member, the true friend, kind neighbor, and helpful guardian of the public weal."

He was always known to me, and most of the town folks, as "Uncle William." His son, Frank was just a little older than I but we were always good friends and pals, especially when we were young boys. I was around Uncle William's home a lot during that time. Later as a young man I worked for him at little jobs, one job was digging 160 post holes and setting the posts for a partition fence in his meadow. I remember it was in the summer and the ground was very hard. When it was not too far from a creek I would dig down eight or ten inches and fill the hole with water and the next day it was easy to finish the hole. As I grew older, I enjoyed sitting on his porch and listen to him tell of things that happened in the early days of Fairfield. Uncle William was a good neighbor and always willing to help anyone in need, one time there came a man to Fairfield. (Strangers would of times wander into town as work was not to be had and there was less money!) This man worked for a number of the farmers in town. He was a good worker and very strong. In the hay field he could take two or three piles of hay at a time and throw it on the load. Most every one thought at times he acted a "little off." In the fall when most of the crops were in, a neighbor one night noticed Charles Burchell's barn on fire. He ran to the barn and when he opened the barn door found that a fire had been started in an empty stall between two horses. This man, whose name was Joe Lewis, cut the ropes and got the horses out of the barn then gave the alarm. It wasn't long before everyone in town was there with buckets. The barn could not be saved, neither could the sheds or hay stack, but they did save a neighbor's grain stack. Even Uncle William got out of bed and came to the fire, although he was very old and cripple. On leaving the scene of the fire he made this remark: "Charley had no hay now but I have hay and will see that he has hay for his stock. A few minutes later someone noticed another fire about a mile below town. This time it was Uncle William's stacks that were on fire. A hurried check of the crowd found the stranger, Mr. Lewis, missing. One member from each family hurriedly went home to protect their property, while the rest went to help fight the fire. I told my father if he would go watch our place I would go with the others to the fire and do what I could. We saved a grain stack, but the hay was burned to the ground. My father seeing him come down the street went out and talked with him until the Constable came. Now Uncle William's hay had gone up in smoke too, but Mr. Burchell's stock did not go hungry.

Mr. Carson passed away December 25, 1901 at Fairfield, Utah.

Mary (Polly) Carson, born March 16, 1833, at Jackson County, Missouri, the youngest sister of the Carson brothers, came to Fairfield with her brothers. She married Thomas Bradford Ewing. I was not very old when I first remember Uncle Tom and Aunt Polly as they were always known to me. My earliest recollection of them was when they lived at Ophir, where Uncle Tom would freight ore from the mills at Ophir to Slagtown as it was known at that time. (Now Stockton in Tooele County.) Uncle Tom and Aunt Polly would always stop at our home when they came to Fairfield. Many times they would go on to Lehi.

Aunt Polly was always so kind and friendly that one could not help liking her. Years after, when my brothers and I had sheep in the Ophir mountains in the summer, I would go to Ophir for supplies, I would always like to visit a few minutes with her. One could not help partaking of her friendliness. Never would you hear a complaint about anyone or anything. She lived her life, which at times was not an easy one. She and her husband reared a large family. As for me, it has been a great privilege and honor to have known Uncle Tom and Aunt Polly.

And now at this time I would be ungrateful indeed if I did not say something about a wonderful lady, my Grandmother, Elvira Egbert Carson. Next to my own mother, Grandmother Carson was my ideal. She was kind, friendly, forgiving, she was true blue to her friends; she had no enemies; she had an abiding faith in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. That is my opinion of that lovely lady, gathered from my childhood until I was twenty-one years of age. The older she got, the more lovely she became to me. She passed away (while I was serving as a missionary in the Northern States Mission) on February 12, 1908. Since we have had our family, I have wished so many times that our girls and boy could have seen and known her. Much more could be said with respect to this lady's life and work, but I do not feel equal to the task. Elvira Egbert Carson was born September 10, 1821, at Carlyle Sullivan, Ind.

In 1855, Fairfield was settled by John Carson, William Carson, David Carson, George Carson, Washington Carson, William Beardshall, John Clegg, and others. There were also two sisters of the Carson brothers; who married Patterson Griffith, and Mary (Polly) Ann, who married Thomas Ewing.

An Overland Stage Station was established in 1859 an operated until 1868. The Pony Express Station operated from April 3, 1860 to October 26, 1861.

Camp Floyd, adjoining Fairfield on the south and west, was established July 4, 1858, by Brig. General Albert Sidney Johnson, and the Utah Expeditionary forces, numbering about 3,000 men. Col. Phillip St. George Cook succeeded in command March 1, 1860, changing the name to Ft. Crittenden, February 6, 1861. It was abandoned July, 1861.

In the early Fifties a scout whose name was Amos Fielding looked over a broad level meadow, discovered water and decide that this would be a good place to build a home and live.

In 1855, Fairfield was settled by John Carson, William Carson, David Carson, George Carson, Washington Carson, William Beardshall, John Clegg, and others. There were also two sisters of the Carson brothers; who married Patterson Griffith, and Mary (Polly) Ann, who married Thomas Ewing.

A townsite was laid out and named Fairfield because of its pleasant situation and also in honor of Amos Fielding - Fair Field! Other settlers came later and established themselves in a fort which had been erected against the Indians. The fort was four rods square and was erected in 1856-1857.

In 1856 Indian trouble started. On February 21st of that year, George Carson was wounded on the south of the townsite. The next day, February 22nd as the Indians went over toward Utah lake by way of Soldier Pass, or Goshen, they skirmished with other settlers and killed Washington Carson and Henry Moran. On that same day, February 22nd, 1856, George Carson died, making three deaths at the hands of the Indians that day. This band of Indians headed for the Tintic and were never overtaken.

In the summer of 1858, twenty-five hundred of the United States Army moved through Salt Lake City headed west. They first camped near the mouth of West Canyon. However, it was not long before they discovered that the water in the creek in West Canyon dried up in the late summer. They consequently moved down to Fairfield and camped south of the main creek running from what was now known as the Fairfield spring. This main creek became the dividing line between the military and civilian population. The civilian population also increased rapidly and soon after that time, numbered about seven thousand.

As soon as Johnston's Army were settled at Fairfield they named the army camp "Camp Floyd" in honor of the Secretary of War.

On April 7th, 1860, there was great excitement in Camp Floyd and Fairfield. People gathered on the tops of buildings and on all vantage points looking westward, for in the distance could be seen a dark object which gradually took shape and proved to be a horseman riding hard. He eventually arrived and in his saddle were two pouches of mail - the first mail from California by Pony Express. At the Fort a fresh horse, by pre-arrangement, was waiting for him and the mail was immediately transferred and the rider very quickly disappeared in the direction of Salt Lake City. A few hours afterwards on the same day another rider passed through Fairfield and Camp Floyd on his was to Sacramento. This became a regular occurrence and thus the camp and town flourished for a time, until the Civil War broke out and just as suddenly as the Camp had sprung into life it began to rapidly diminish. Wagons were again loaded and soldiers prepared to move. There was a great accumulation of supplies and it was noised around to surrounding settlements and towns that they were to be sold. Buyers came from Salt Lake City and most other Utah towns for the great sales. It had been reported that about four million dollars worth of goods were to be sold, and it is said that they were all sold for approximately one hundred thousand dollars. The commissary building itself which had been erected in 1858 was sold to a local farmer, William Beardshaw, and part of it still stands. When the war was over and enlistments began to expire, quite a number returned to make their permanent home at Fairfield. An Overland Stage station was established there in 1859 and operated until 1868. The Pony Express Station operated from April 3rd, 1860 to October 26, 1861.

"Camp Floyd, adjoining Fairfield on the south and west was established July 4, 1858, by Brig. General Albert Sidney Johnston and the Utah expeditionary forces numbering about 3,000 men. Colonel Phillip St. George Cook succeeded in command March 1, 1860, and the name was changed to Fort Crittenden February 6, 1861. It was abandoned July, 1861".

- From "Memories that Live," a Centennial History of Utah County, compiled by the daughters of the Utah Pioneers.

"Grandfather Carson, that is George Washington, left winter Quarters the spring of 1851. Father was put in Captain of one the groups which included about ten wagons. My folks had got as far as Loop Fork, Nebraska, the place where I was born, on July 18, 1851. My folks just stayed over half a day. We arrived in Salt Lake City the fall of '51 - about the latter part of September. We didn't remain in Salt Lake very long but the folks settled in Cottonwood. I don't remember whether it was Big Cottonwood or Little Cottonwood, but in 1854 mother and Grandpa Carson died and were both buried in big Cottonwood. Years afterwards when Father started the Cemetery out here at Fairfield, he wanted to move mother and Grandfather but was unable to find their graves. You know people had used the ground for farm land and everything had been plowed up. Mother had five children. There was John Alma, Mary Anne, George Washington, Samuel D. and myself.

Ursula Goddard became the second wife of father. I remember hearing them say that Sula was living with us and before mother died she made Sula promise her that she would look after us kids. She died shortly afterwards, it seems to me it was about a year, she married father. She had three children. There was Stephen H. Oscar and Isabelle. Years later when Sula and father separated, Sula went to California and took with her the old Bible that contained all the family records. No one could remember how old I was. It was after I was married and was up at Ophir staying with my uncle Tom (Ewing), and he told me when my birthday was and how old I was. When Sula went to California, they had some little trouble with who was to take the children but Sula finally took them with her.

After the folks left Cottonwood, they moved to dry Creek. We only lived there for just a short time. I was just a small boy but I remember one day the folks sent me to the spring where the snow had been melting to get a bucket of water. The water was running pretty swift and when I reached the bucket down in the water, the water took the bucket right out of my hands and I never could get it. The folks were quite angry with me and it took them a long time to get over that. You know buckets were quite an item in those days. The Carsons, you know, were very dear friends of the Zimmerman's and I remember one day a bunch got together and came out to John Zimmerman's at Lehi to pass the day. Bill Quail was with them and my oldest sister, Mary Anne. I was just a little feller but I climbed in the wagon anyway. They tried to get me out, but I wouldn't get out, and we didn't get back until late that night.

We moved to Fairfield in 1855 and the first place I can remember living was in the Fort. Most of the houses in the Fort were log houses. There was just one or two abode houses. All the roofs on the houses were slanted toward the Fort so that there was just about three or four feet from the roofs of the houses and see what was going on that way. It seemed to me there were about forty families who took claims and each claim consisted of one city block and five acres. Some of these people never did get out here, though. My folks lived right next to Uncle John and his family in the southeast corner of the Fort. There seemed to be trouble brewing and we had heard of Johnston's Army, who had been camped up around Echo Canyon for about three months, was coming down, so some of the families picked up and left. Uncle John only got as far as Lehi. My folks went down to Beaver - and yes, they went still farther. They went to Cedar City because I remember dad traded a horse off down there for my brother and me - a little bay and he was a frisky one too. We didn't stay down south very long but came back to Fairfield. I remember we came around by the lake. I remember we stopped at a ranch - I can't remember their names now, but they were Welch people. There were some people by the name of Hickman that were stopped there too. I don't suppose you remember them do you, Dave? No, no, I guess that was before you were born. Anyway, these Hickman's had got up and had their breakfast and he had gone down to ask this Welch lady how much he owed her. He said, "Can you change a twenty?" She answered, "Good Lord, No. Haven't ever seen one." neither had he! He was just trying to make her think he had something.

We arrived back to Fairfield the same day that the Johnston's Army landed. I don't remember everyone who lived in the Fort, but there were Cowley's, Ofields, and Cunningtons. Mr. Cunnington was the Bishop or Presiding Officer. They didn't have a Bishop. Later he went to California but came back again in either 1871 or '72.

I remember Jack Cunnington and his brother Henry. They were very quarrelsome boys, and during the days of Lewiston when they were quarreling over mining claims, drinking and so forth, Jack shot a man by the name of White. This happened in the old Snyder Saloon. I remember seeing them carry him out and lay him under a tree. He was sure bleeding from his mouth and nose. For nights afterwards I couldn't sleep for thinking about that. It got on my nerves so much and made me so nervous.

You know father had three wives. His third wife was Emily McMine. She had been married before father married her to Washington Carson. She was left a widow when Washington and his brother George were killed by the Indians in 1856. After the death of Washington, she had a daughter, Julia Carson. Then she married father and they had a large family. Let's see. I don't know if I can remember all of them or not. There was the twins, Jonathan and Susan. They only lived about a month and they were buried in Cedar Fort. There was another pair of twins - Jacob and Isaas. They weren't very old when they died, but they were buried in Fairfield. Then there was Washington. When he was about eighteen or nineteen years old he was out with his father fixing a fence. He ran a nail in his foot and it turned to blood poison and he died. James died too as the result of Diphtheria. They had quite an epidemic out here but didn't know just what it was until after about twenty-eight or thirty had died. (Emily Maud Carson died at this same time.) Now there was Mary E. (Daw), Marriah (Parks), Louis G. Henry, Wiley, Frank, and Edith."

When we asked Mr. Carson to give us the names of his family and the dates of their birth, he could recite them all from memory - one right after the other. We asked him how he could remember them all and recall them so quickly and he told us that because of the fact that he had been so old before he had known when his birthday was and how old he was he had made up his mind to try and remember such information in his family. Due to the age of Mr. Carson and the number of dates he would have to remember, as he had twelve children although one was born dead, we thought it rather remarkable for him to be able to do so. Mr. Carson is in good health and has just celebrated his 82nd birthday. (July, 1933)

Perhaps some of you will think I am trying to make an old, old pioneer of myself. But when you finish reading this little story, "You be the judge." When the Western Railroad was built from Lehi Junction out through Cedar Valley in about 1882 and 1883 it passed east and south of Cedar Fork and west of Fairfield, on through five-mile pass and long the east side of Rush Valley over Bolter Summit and on to Eureka, Utah (a mining camp). There were many individuals who took small contracts as the work was done by team and hand work. One such camp was just north of what is called the Red Cut, four miles west of Fairfield, consisting of a very high dirt fill. This is where I came in the picture. My father had a job there. I believe the boss' name was Hychel. Father's job was to haul water from Fairfield in a large wooden tank; guessing from other tanks I have seen since then, the one father use would hold 350 to 400 gallons. Father of course, stayed at the camp. Some days he had to make two trips for water. Some days he made only one. Father used to fill the tank out of the large creek in front of our home. One morning when father came, he told mother he would have to come again in the afternoon, so I coaxed father to let me go with him. It was quite a sight for me to see so many teams hitched to scrapers going up and down the grade, scraping dirt to make this high fill. About the first thing that caught my eye was a little span of white mules. I headed for that team. The man was very nice, talked with me, and followed up on top of the grade. The dirt was dumped and we came down empty. When we started up again the man said, "Do you want to drive?" and handed me the lines. The next time the scraper was loaded the man told me that I could go alone that time, which I did. No boy was more proud that I was following that scraper, driving the little mules up the grade all by myself. From then on every time I went to that camp with father I would head for the white mules, that man was a real pal of mine. I never did learn his name. It was not long before the contract was finished and that was my contribution to the railroad for when the white mules left I lost interest in the project. The road has since been torn out and moved away. All that is left is where the roadbed had been.

As I remember the first ride I had on a passenger train was over this same line from Fairfield Station to Bolter Summit where a friend of mine, Otto Snyder, and I went shearing sheep.

I would like to write a little about myself as a boy, not that I was different from other boys of my age. There were things I remember I used to listen to my grandparents and my parents tell of the hardships they had to go through, and yet as they told of these things they did not complain. I really believe that there were times when they did not have enough to eat and feed their families. As for our family, we were very poor as this world's goods go, but we never did go what you would say "hungry." I remember many, many times, though, mother would put a pan of milk on the old cook stove and stir a little flour into that milk to thicken it some, and we had to eat it with a spoon. (I think they used to call it thicken milk.) The pan was set on the table. Mother would give each of us a dish full and that was our supper.

Almost always father raised a couple of pigs to kill for winter, and sometimes he would kill a small beef. I never remember when we did not have a little flour in the house. It was always Bur Mill and Graham flour. I don't think there was much yeast in those days. My mother was quite an expert at making a salt-risen bread. (I don't know much about how it was made, but I think mother used to stir water and flour together to a thin batter and let it stand in a warm place until it would sort of ferment, and then she would use some of that to make the bread, always leaving a start for the next baking. (It was used the same as yeast.)

I remember some of mother's friends would say, "Rachel, do you have an extra loaf of salt risen bread you could loan me?" Then we would have some homemade sorghum. I have gone with father many times to American Fork, where there was a molasses mill, taking a load of good cedar wood and trading the wood for twenty or thirty gallons of molasses, depending upon the size of the load of wood. We had very little fruit, so the molasses took the place of fruit. The sorghum was good for making candy also. Sometimes in winter when we made candy, (which was an art by itself, to boil just long enough and not too long) mother would put a pinch of ginger in it. That was good for coughs, etc. I used to listen to the older people talk about pigweeds and sego, a plant that grew like a butter onion, for greens. These people dug and ate them because they were hungry. They also dug the old bull thistle. I dug a lot of them, not because I was hungry, but because they tasted good. There were two kinds of sego; one was poison, the other was not. I knew the poison one then, but I doubt it I could tell which was poison now. I could take those old bull thistles and a table knife (we had no silverware in those days) and peel the outside off of the bull thistle and eat it like a carrot. All in all, I don't believe we fared so badly. We had enough to eat, a good place to sleep, and clothes to keep us warm, even if they did not look to nice for Sunday. Really, I think mother and father felt worse from the fact that they could not get the things for us they would like to, than we kids did. As I look back now I want to say, "God bless them, they did their best."

By this time I was getting old enough to realize why the neighbors' kids sometimes had better clothes that we did. As I mentioned we always had a cow. The one we had got into the lucern field, bloated and died; and we had no cow. I remember it wasn't long before father got another cow and we had plenty of milk again. Then something happened to this cow and we were without a cow again. Then father got a red cow from his father (I don't know if Grandpa sold the cow to father or just gave it to him. I am quite sure that father was very short on money at that time, though). But from then on until father moved from Fairfield, he was never without a cow. Sometimes he had five or six milk cows at a time, all descendent from Old Red, that was the cow's name.

My parents, as well as most of their neighbors and friends liked to visit each other at their homes for a friendly social time. I remember mother and father taking two or three of us children and going to some friend's home for the evening. Mother would carry the youngest, father the next, and I would walk to where we were going. It wouldn't be long before we kids were asleep, so we were put on the bed in the bedroom, and I supposed slept until the party was over, then I would be awakened out of a nice sleep and the neighbor would carry me home. Mother and father each had one to carry. Then in a few days or a week someone would come to our home and the same thing would happen again. This time father would help carry the neighbor's kids home. Everyone seemed to have a good time, unless it was the kids. At least there was a friendship between neighbors and friends which I doubt exists today.

I would like to write about, and maybe add a little to a story told to me when I was about twenty years of age by Albert "Al" Egbert, my father's cousin, so far as a I knew. "Al" never married, but I remember him very well, as he used to live at our home whenever he came to Fairfield. Sometimes he would stay a month or longer, working on different jobs. Now to the story:

It happened long before I was born, and has to do with the hard winter when most of the stock on the range died from lack of food and cold weather; the snow got very deep. When I was a boy in my teens I remember hearing the "Old Timers" talk about it. There were a lot of cattle ranged in Cedar Valley. As I got it from the "Old Timers" the summer before the hard winter was dry and windy, very little feed grew and so many cattle to eat what feed did grow, that feed conditions were very poor at the beginning of winter that the stock just simply starved.

My father one time was talking to some men and he said he believed if the cattle that died in the valley that winter had been placed in a row a man could have jumped from one cow to another across the valley from one side to the other. There was nothing that could be done it seems; so they just took their loss. It has always been my understanding that 1868 was the bad winter. However, I do not have anything to prove it.

Back to Al Egbert and his part of the story, which I believe is true. Al told me the fall before the bad winter, that my dad decided he would take a bunch of his cattle down to Deseret, where there were a lot of bull rush, etc. Al said that they took sixty-one head, one was a bull. If father had more cattle that year Al did not say. When they arrived there Al stayed to care for the cattle. But he told me every one of them died. The bull was the last to go. Even in those days the pioneers had their ups and downs, too: no subsidies, no government help. If you lost it was your hard luck. I have reason to believe many had to start from scratch again.