Lucy Hannah White (wife of William Jordan Flake)

Alicia Kay Burk - Linda Kay Flake - Horace Henry Flake - Osmer Dennis Flake - Lucy Hannah White

--taken from the Smith Family Tree Book , published by W. Thomas Smith Listing the relatives of General William Alexander Smith and of W. Thomas Smith---Osmer D. Flake

Lucy White Flake: Pioneering Utah and Arizona
Lucy Hannah White was born in 1842 in Knox County, Illinois, the oldest of Samuel and Mary Burton White's eight children. Her grandparents and parents had joined the Church in England and emigrated to the United States to be with the Saints. Lucy was baptized in the ice-covered Missouri River when she was seven years old and walked across the plains with her family when she was eight.

Shortly after their arrival in Utah, the Whites, including Grandfather White and Lucy's uncles Dennis, Joel, and David, were called to settle a new community thirty-five miles south of Salt Lake City. In her 1894 autobiography, Lucy recalled that they "camped at a butifull spring one mile from the Jordan River. That place is now called Lehi. We spent the winter there, built log houses in the shape of a fort." In the spring a town was surveyed and permanent homes were built. "My Father built two log rooms a little distance apart and afterwards closed it in and made another room. We felt thankfull and happy in our new home. We did not have much to eat, but we always had bread." Lucy's mother, who had been a schoolteacher, "taught me my letters out of the Bible as [we] had not school book."

Lucy was ten when she was rebaptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1852. Her father, a counselor in the bishopric, always attended general conference, but returned somewhat shaken after the October 1852 conference, "and told Mother he was called to move south three Hundred miles. Mother felt dredful bad for she had 1852 conference, "and told Mother he was called been seperated from her people so much and now we were setled so near them she thought it was cruel she had to go away so far." Mary gave birth to a son on October 14, and on November 7 the family loaded their possessions into wagons and "started to go where we were called Ceder City Iron County. Uncel Joel White and Uncle David Savage [and] Grandma White went also. We were three weeks on the Road and very cold wether."

The Whites were part of a large group of settlers sent south in 1852 to reinforce Cedar City and Parowan, where the danger of an Indian uprising had increased. Lucy found nearly all the residents of Cedar were "from the old World" and "were so differant from what we were used to when they talked to us we could not understand half [of what] they said. Oh! I was home sick, but we were called and had to make the best of it."

Samuel White purchased a farm and built another house. Lucy attended school in a log cabin which "had no floor or window. Logs with holes boared in and legs put in was our seets." Her father raised sheep, and Lucy learned to spin yarn.

In 1857 the Reformation arrived in southern Utah. [73] Lucy was ten when she was rebaptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1852. Her father, a counselor in the bishopric, always attended general conference, but returned somewhat shaken after the October 1852 conference, "and told Mother he was called to move south three Hundred miles. Mother felt dredful bad for she had 1852 conference, "and told Mother he was called been seperated from her people so much and now we were setled so near them she thought it was cruel she had to go away so far." Mary gave birth to a son on October 14, and on November 7 the family loaded their possessions into wagons and "started to go where we were called Ceder City Iron County. Uncel Joel White and Uncle David Savage [and] Grandma White went also. We were three weeks on the Road and very cold wether." The Whites were part of a large group of settlers sent south in 1852 to reinforce Cedar City and Parowan, where the danger of an Indian uprising had increased. Lucy found nearly all the residents of Cedar were "from the old World" and "were so differant from what we were used to when they talked to us we could not understand half [of what] they said. Oh! I was home sick, but we were called and had to make the best of it." Samuel White purchased a farm and built another house. Lucy attended school in a log cabin which "had no floor or window. Logs with holes boared in and legs put in was our seets." Her father raised sheep, and Lucy learned to spin yarn. In 1857 the Reformation arrived in southern Utah. We were called on to repent from all our sins. If we had stole or injured any body we had to make it right. Then we were cathicised [catechized] then rebaptised for our sins. I was then fourteen. Was baptised in February. The chunks of ice was running in the Mill race where we was baptised. These were very inthuseastick times. Many confessions were made. Five months later word reached Utah that President James Buchanan had ordered federal troops to Utah to put down an alleged "Mormon rebellion." Brigham Young ordered the missionaries home and directed the abandonment of several outlying settlements. Lucy's father and Uncle Joel were sent to help bring the Saints from San Bernardino, California, back to [74] Utah. When they returned, they brought word of "a good stedy young man" named William Jordan Flake. "While all the others were so Wild and rude, they had much to say of this young marts good qualities and good behavyour. I said I want to see this young man when he comes." Two weeks later Lucy got her wish. William arrived driving a herd of stray horses up from San Bernardino. Uncle Joel invited him and several others home for the evening. Lucy noted, "We all liked his aperance very much." Tall and well-built, William Jordan Flake was nineteen years old. His parents had joined the Church in Mississippi, moved to Nauvoo, and in 1848 arrived in the Great Basin. In 1851 the Flake family helped settle San Bernardino under the direction of Elders Amasa M. Lyman and Charles C. Rich. William's father was killed when he was thrown from a mule, and his mother died of consumption in January 1855. Elder Lyman looked after William, his brother, and his sister. On 30 December 1858 William and Lucy were married by Elder Lyman and moved in with part of his family. When the Lymans moved fifty miles north to Beaver three weeks later, William and Lucy went with them. In the spring Lucy's parents also moved to Beaver. William freighted for Elder Lyman and was gone much of the time, so Lucy lived with her parents until October 1859, when the young couple bought a log house and "went to Houskeeping." Their first child, James Madison Flake, was born the next month. "We had very little to keep house with but we were just as happy as could be. We loved each other and loved our home and felt truely thankefull." Their marriage was close and affectionate, but Lucy was troubled about their religious differences. "William was not religous, being brought up in California after he was twelve and haveing no father to teach him," she wrote. "This was some what of a trial to me but I loved him and prayed for him in secret." Whenever the teachers spoke to William, "he would say he was going to be religious when he got old." In January 1861 another son was born, but William and Lucy's joy turned to grief as they watched their sick baby suffer. Day after day he grew weaker and weaker. "It seemed like my   prairs did no good but still I kept trying to get my Hevenly Father to here me. Kept Praying but it seemed he could not here me." Finally, on March 20 little William died. "His death was the first trial of my faith. It seemed my prairs had always been answered before." Nevertheless, Lucy continued to pray and pleaded with William to join her. But praying did not come naturally to him, nor did he share Lucy's desire to be sealed in the Endowment House. In July William left on a three-month freighting trip west. In October Lucy attended general conference with her parents. William arrived during their stay in Salt Lake City. Lucy was very happy to see him and overjoyed when he reported, somewhat dismayed, that their bishop had invited them to go to the Endowment House. He was so surprised he knew not what to say. If the Bishop had told him he wanted him to go to England he could not [have] felt more surprised. He tried to get excused. Said he did not think himself worthy, but the Bishop would not let him off so he came and told me. I thanked my Hevenly Father. Knew it was in answer to prair. That night I was so thankfull I hardly slept. The 9th October 1861 we received that great blessing and was seled for time and all Eternity. Lucy returned to Beaver with her parents, and William to his freighting. She did not see him for almost three months, until Christmas day. The Church frequently called on William to freight goods to Utah from California and immigrants from the East. In December 1869 Lucy pleaded with him to pray before he left on his next trip. He promised he would when he got home. Lucy remembered the promise through the winter, and when he returned in March, "he knelt down and praid his first prair I ever herd him pray and I was thankfull and happy to know he was trying to do his duty a little better." Of the decision to enter plural marriage in 1868, Lucy wrote little—simply, "William concluded to take another Wife. I was quite willing." But Lucy's daughter Roberta recalled it in more detail, the way she must have heard her mother tell it many times. One night, after complimenting her cooking, William sat down with Lucy, took her face in his hands, and asked, "Lucy dear, could you share your husband with another woman?" I thought at first he was joking. and laughingly answered sure, if I could still retain first place in his affections. He bent his head over until his lips met mine. Each kiss carried the same thrill the first one had. He stood up, and pulled me to him and I noticed a seriousness about him that I had never seen before, as he said, "Lucy I have been counselled to take another wife, if you are willing." I could not speak, nor could I keep the tears out of my eyes. "Don't try to answer me now," he said in Iris gentlest voice. "I think I know how you feel. I have been struggling with myself for a week, trying to bring myself to ask you this. Think it over, pray over it as I have and then let me know." Lucy struggled for several days. She poured out her heart in prayer. She went to her mother—who gently refused to advise her. When William returned from his next trip, they put their five children to bed and took a moonlight walk. They sat down on a log and William put his arm around her. Then she asked, "Will, who is the young lady we are going to marry?" I felt his strong frame quiver, his arm tighten about my waist, heard the catch in his voice as he gasped, "WE?" "Yes, we." I answered in a voice I hardly recognized, so full was it of unselfishness and self-mastery. "We, of course," I went on. "We were made one a long time ago, you and I,—who are we going to marry?" I asked again. "Are you sure it is the right thing for us to do?" asked William in a trembling voice, and then I loved him as I never had before because I knew that he had been true to me. Then he told me his struggle had been as hard as mine. If he did not believe the principle was from God, he would never have considered it, but as there was no compulsion to entering into it, he had battled with himself to see if he were good enough to undertake it. I told him no one was more worthy, no one could make a better husband. Lucy spoke of the fine points of William's future bride, eighteen-year-old Prudence Kartchner, and then cried herself to sleep. Eventually, she was able to console herself with the thought "I had had ten years of blessed association with my man. That could never be taken from me. I was his first, and for ten years, his only love. If in that time I had not found a place in [77] his heart and life that no other could fill—then I had failed." In her own reminiscence, Lucy recorded the events surrounding the October 1868 marriage. Sister E[liza] R. Snow asked me was I willing. Said yes. She asked do you think you can live in that principal. I said am quite willing to try. My Mother and sister live in it and I think [I] can do as I was willing and she said Sister you shall never get old and she gave me a great blessing and ever[y] time she saw me that day she blest me. In the spring of 1874, William and Lucy "went in the United Order. Put in all our property. William was asined the stable to take care of." But in the fall he was called to work on the Saint George Temple. Lucy became seriously ill, and after several requests William returned to Beaver. When the United Order disbanded in 1876, William "gave up the stable...[and] commenced to work on his farm." By the spring of 1877, "We had a fine large house. We had geese, ducks, hogs, chickens, horses, and cows. We thought we was fixed for life." Then William went to the dedication of the Saint George Temple where he was called on a colonizing mission to Arizona. He had been a member of the 1873 expedition that had been unable to locate a suitable site for settlement in Arizona, so the prospect of leaving their comfortable home in Beaver for that desolate region was not appealing. "They gave us six months to get redy to go. … The thought of leaving my poor Widowed Mother … was cruel it seemed to me and William said he had rather go to England. He felt dredful bad but we was called and there was no other way." In August Roberta was born. In October William rebaptized his family as we wished to go and work in the Temple and it was council for all to get baptised before going … I was adopted to my Father and Mother. … This labor was a great comfort to us. … We recieved our second Washings and anointing. They said as we were coming a way so far we could recieve them but they never had given them to any one so young. … We were in Heven sure when we were working in that Holy place but when we get out Satan dubles his forse on a person trying to make up for the good one recieves." Returning to Beaver, William and Lucy sold their farm and in October 1877 loaded their eight children and belongings into five wagons drawn by nine yoke of oxen and seven span of horses. They also drove two hundred head of cattle and forty horses with them. The weather was dredful cold, colder than it had been. … Prudence had three very bad spells of sickeness. We had five men besides our familey to do for. Most all the work fell to me. I stood and washed clothes when the snow was very deep all day. There was a child … died. They called on me to wash it. Watter would freeze as quick as it touched the child. … Our stalk [stock] was so poor we had to leave them" on the range with Lucy's fifteen-year-old son Charlie. "On new years day the frost was so thick in the air we could hardley see the lead horses on our Wagons. … One day we onley traveled one mile." After three months the party arrived at the Mormon settlement of Allen's Gamp on the Little Colorado River. Roberta wrote that "the water in the river was so muddy that a barrel full of it left overnight would produce only about six inches of water clear enough to use for culinary purposes." Five times flash floods washed away the dams constructed by the Allen's Camp United Order. William became so discouraged that one day, according to Roberta, he "saddled up his horse, bade Lucy good-bye and told her there must be a better place in Arizona and if there was he would find it." Commented Lucy, "Some was tried with this, and said he was going to postitise." Then three-year-old George fell sick. "I did all I could with medicen and also with faith," Lucy wrote. My prairs did not seem to be herd but sevral times each day I went away from my wagon in secret and prayed. … Often had the Elders administer but it seemed they had no faith. … On the morning of July 6th '78 I was so deep in sorrow it seemed I could not bare it any longer. I went out in some brush out of site and asked my Father in Heven to take him home for I could not bare it any longer. My burden was hevier then I could bare. That prair was simple but from my hart. I went to him. He breathed a few times and passed a way so sweetley. My own hands made his clothes, dressed him, fixed some paint and painted his coffin. In one hour after he passed away his Father came. Had been gon three weeks. Had not herd from us or us from him. I truley was thankfull when he came. The next day, they drove five miles to Saint Joseph and buried their little child. On July 19 William moved his family to Silver Creek. When they arrived, Roberta reported, "all who were able jumped out of the wagons, rushed to the stream, bathed their faces and drank the first clear water they had since they left their home in Beaver." When William and Lucy later met Elder Erastus Snow, who supervised the Mormon colonies in the area, "William told him what he had done and Elder Snow said, 'I wish we had hundreds just like you.'" Then the apostle proposed the new settlement be named after the two of them; thus Snowflake, Arizona, received its name. But Lucy's initial enthusiasm for Snowflake was tempered by the spring winds. In her 1896 diary, for example, she wrote: Monday, March 2, the wind blows all the time day and part of the time nights and I feel nearly sick. Tuesday, April 14, the wind it blows night and day, it is just fearful, The sand drifts like snow. … It seems lonely and dreary when the wind blows. Thursday, April 16, all well but the Wind gets worse and worse, night and day. Saturday, April 18 [William] and John came home this morning. The Wind was so bad Thursday they laid up all day and could not travel. The wind blows very little today which is so nice. I cleaned up all the rooms and had a bath and am going to town. Sunday, April 19, today is fearfull the Wind blows so bad. Thursday, April 30, this ends the month and I dont beleave there has been one day that the wind did not blow. It has damaged the crops and covered them with sand, filled up the ditches, and made it very unpleasant. [Only] our Hevenly Father nows what this wind is for. Monday, May 19, I am on the place all alone. It seems like this country is going to blow away. Friday, May 15, the wind blows fearful. The sand almost blinds one. The children cant go out to play. Occasionally depressed by the unremitting wind, Lucy kept busy with close family ties and callings in the Relief Society, Primary, Sunday School, and Religion Class. William [80] served as first counselor in the bishopric for thirty-five years. When federal prosecutions for plural marriage reached into Arizona, William declined several broad hints by the sheriff that he could avoid arrest. Instead, he served six months in the penitentiary at Yuma, returning in good spirits and "so fat …he had to ware Osmers Pants." (Osmer was their stout son.) Lucy recorded with pride that the Relief Society planned a combination coming-out and birthday party for William: "Sent invertations to all the setlments around, had such nice picknick, esays, songs, speeches, a sketch of his life," complete with a band, and "you never saw a purson so surprised in your life." Lucy's autobiography and journal provide illuminating details of early Arizona life that would otherwise be lost. Among the routine activities she chronicled one spring were: whitewashing the house; gardening and irrigating; gleaning wool from carcasses along the trail followed by the sheepmen, then picking, washing, and carding it to make a mattress; making underwear, shirts, and carpet rags; tending grandchildren; and preparing meals for her husband and growing sons. On one occasion she set down her day's tasks, which were typical of Arizona pioneer women generally: I will just write my morning chores. Get up, turn out my chickens, draw a pail of watter, watter hot beds, make a fire, put potatoes to cook, brush and sweep half inch of dust off floor … feed three litters of chickens, then mix bisquits, get breakfast, milk besides work in the house and this morning had to go half mile after calves. This is the way of life on the farm. Lucy's pioneering life was not easy. Five of her thirteen children died in infancy or childhood, and Lucy herself died at fifty-five. Still, the struggle for survival did not absorb all of her energy or prevent spiritual fulfillment: William and me fasted and went to fast meeting. Had a very good meeting. Uncommon good one. Such a good spirrit there. The Sisters had a good testimoney meeting in the afternoon. Twenty two pressant. I presided as Sister West was absent. It is a nice day and all is well. ------------------------------ Lucy's autobiography: https://familysearch.org/patron/v2/TH-301-42192-726-80/dist.pdf?ctx=ArtCtxPublic

William Jordan Flake

Alicia Kay Burk - Linda Kay Flake - Horace Henry Flake - Osmer Dennis Flake - William Jordan Flake

William Jordan Flake, the oldest son of James Madison and Agnes Love Flake, was born in Anson County, N.C., July 3, 1839, and now past the age of 82, lives at Snowflake, Arizona. Although only three years old when the journey was made, he has not forgotten the old time "Schooner" and the two mares and a horse which drew it when they left Anson County and settled on a small branch of the Tom Bigbee River in Kemper county, Mississippi. There his parents having embraced the faith of the Latter-Day Saints, or "Mormon" as often designated by others, they preferred to move to Nauvoo, where they could mingle with those of their religion. There he saw his first temple, was taken to the top where he could see all over the surrounding country. It was beautiful sight.

Here he first learned how quickly powder burns, when he took some in his hands from his father’s powder keg, and threw it in the fire. The flash so burned his face that all the skin came off and for months he had to wear over it a black cloth, with holes cut in it to see through. Mobs often in that day came and looted Nauvoo and when he saw them on the street he would run and hide. He saw the people driven from Nauvoo and he shared in the exodus. The trip across the frontier was slow and full of tribulation. A youth of but 8 years, he walked the entire distance to Utah. First to Council Bluff for winter quarters. Here he received his first schooling of two months. Then on to Salt Lake. With three other small boys and a negro girl, he drove cattle from Nauvoo, Ill., to Salt Lake, Utah. The plains were then covered with the buffalo and he saw many thousand of them. Again in 1851, he went with his mother to California and he was put behind the cows with an Indian pony his mother had bought for him. This pony carried him the most of the way but was too poor to ride all the time. At one time on this journey they were five days and nights on the desert without water for the stock and very little for themselves. When at length he reached a small, bitter seepage, he drank three cans of water and was reaching for the fourth, when a man caught him and took the can from him. He wasn’t too strong and he was then allowed to eat, after which he was allowed to have more water. This no doubt saved his life. His first stop was in Cahoon Pass, near San Bernardino, where he was able to get another month of schooling.

While driving cows up the Mojave River, one got away out in the brush and as he went out to drive her back into the herd, an arrow whizzed by him and hit the cow, a trick of the Indians to kill the cow and have a feast. His youthful days were busy ones in assisting and helping his widowed mother. He did quite a bit of freighting, helped to build a home, worked on the roads and did manual work of all character. An orphan at fifteen, he felt he was almost alone in the world. For nearly fifty years he never heard of any of his relatives, although he inquired of hundreds of people from all parts of the country, he was never able to hear of any one by the name of Flake, until the writer happened to meet John J. Flake from DeKalp, Kemper County, Miss. This was in Dec., 1897, on a train near Meridian, Miss.

While bathing in 1856, he dived from a stump about eight feet high and struck the ground in shallow water. He was dragged out for dead but finally was able to breathe. His head was knocked back so he could only look upwards, not being able to see the ground without getting down on his hands and knees. The physician informed him that he would never be able to get it down again. He said he would get it down or break his neck trying. He also found that he was quite numb on one side. Later one day he was asked why one leg was shorter than the other one and found that he had but one shoe on. For months he worked with his neck, rubbing it, using liniment and would lie with the head on the chair and weight of the body suspended on the back of his head in this way for hours. At length it yielded and in time he got it so corrected that no one could tell that anything was ever the matter with it. It now does not bother him unless he undertakes to do some writing or work that requires the head to be held down. The numbness has never left him, but while he uses that side as well as the other, he has little feeling in it.

In 1857, when Johnson’s army was sent to Utah to "bring the Mormons into subjection" and it was reported that the Mormons were all to be killed, William Jordan Flake returned to Utah, to live or die with his people. He knew they were honest, honorable people, that their loyalty was second to no other people who lived. Evil-disposed men had gained the ear of the United States authorities and the army had been sent. When things were represented by honorable men, the army was recalled. He however now decided to remain in Utah. His first job was following some Indians who had stolen a bunch of horses which they took with them. He was ten days on the trail and most of that time without food. He took the horses he brought from California to Salt Lake and traded them for five yoke of oxen and two big wagons. While returning to his home a snow storm came one night and he lost his oxen. For ten days in eighteen inches of snow he hunted for them, and finally found them in a small cove up in the mountains. A little further on he got his oxen into Salt Creek, had to drag them out, got wet and nearly froze before he got a fire to warm by. Two deserting soldiers came up, warmed by his fire but dared not stop for fear of being captured. They both froze to death before morning. He reached home without further trouble except the freezing of his feet. This kept him in for a short time and while not being able to do work, he made use of his time in courting Lucy White of Cedar City, Utah. Later he married her. Later in the winter, while on the Sevier River, an officer tried to take from him a Government overcoat. He refused to give it up, saying that it would mean death by freezing and he would rather die fighting. Finding that he well knew the roads and the officer having a detachment of soldiers on their way to California, they obtained from him all the information they could as to the roads and went on their journey, leaving him the coat.

For several years he herded stock most of the time, generally to protect them from the Indians and sometimes from the white outlaws. He joined the Minute men, an organization whose members were always to have, in easy reach, a good horse and saddle, to be ever ready on the trail of the outlaw at once day or night. He often went on these missions. In 1859, he moved to Beaver, Utah. In 1860, while the mountain road was covered with snow, with a load of logs he was hauling with which to build a house, he was coming down the mountain when the wagon slid from the dug-way, his feet were caught in the logs and he fell under the load. The snow was ten feet deep and this saved his life. His brother, Charles, dug in the snow from the lower side and got him out unhurt. He shortly afterwards traded two horses for two houses and lots, and of a generous nature, he gave one of them to his boyhood chum, Marion Lyman, and with his young wife, lived in the other one.
The house furnishings were more crude than the younger generation can well imagine; a tin plate or two, one case knife that he found without a handle and for which he whittled a handle, a wooden spoon, the work of his hands, a bedstead made with an axe, a couple of log stools, and yet he lived in the fashion, as nothing more could be bought within a thousand miles. He must wait until he could make a trip to the "store" for something better and that trip meant a summer’s journey.

That same year he took up a farm and fenced it. He has been owning farms ever since that time but has done little farming as you cannot farm well while in the saddle and riding a horse. The following year he took a herd of sheep to keep on the share and kept them for several years under this arrangement. He employed men to look after them in the summer time while he went off freighting, one summer on the Pony Express and two summers he went to California.

In 1854 at the call of his Church, he took a six horse team and went to the Missouri River to bring out immigrants who were then constantly coming to Utah. He was to bring 2000 pounds for the Church, and any additional matter he chose to bring, he could bring for himself. He brought things most needed, of which were two stoves.

Most of the year of 1866 was spent in the Indian War, known as the Black Hawk War.
In 1868, he married Prudence Kartchner. He now spent his time working with cattle, taking all the cattle of the community to look after and was helping to open up new places on the frontier. In 1875-76 he was employed by the United Order, at $1000.00 per year, to look after their cattle and also opened up a farm in Escalante, southeastern Utah. In 1873, having been sent with a few others to look up the prospects for settlements in Arizona, he was called by the Church authorities in 1877 to take all he had and go to Arizona to help develop that country. To him the call was a command; a duty that could not be shirked. He sold his home, his lands and everything he could not move and on Nov. 19, 1877, started for a new home 500 miles distant, in an unsettled and wild country. He had six wagons loaded with provisions. Nine yoke of oxen and seven span of horses pulled them. With him he carried 200 head of loose cattle and some 30 or 40 horses. A cold winter, snow in places on the road from 12 to 15 inches deep, they did not reach the valley of the Little Colorado until about the middle of January, 1878. Here they settled, the whole of the winter being spent in wagon boxes for homes. Because of numerous floods which took out the dams needed for irrigation purposes, this location proved very unsatisfactory and in June he started to look for another home.

There were few settlers in that country, some small towns, and a few ranchers. Those in the towns were principally Mexicans. We were compelled to get along on what we brought with us as the nearest trading post was 250 miles away. After a two week trip, during which he went as far East as new Mexico, he returned having found only one place that suited him and as the owner wanted $12,000.00 for it, he did not buy it as that was more than he then was worth. His family wished to move so badly that he went back and purchased it, and got three years in which to pay for it. It was necessary to go back to his friends in Utah to get stock on credit. He went and traded sheep for cattle, telling them that he had no sheep but that the Mexicans did and he could trade for them. He promised them that he would deliver them twice the number he sold them, the delivery to be made in three years. They knew him and did not hesitate to trust him. The following year he did the same thing again and got more cattle.

The first winter at this new home, some fifteen families from the South who had been West about a year, came to him for help. They had neither food nor clothing and begged him to provide for them, saying they would work early and late for just enough to keep them until they could get something to do for themselves. There was no work to be had and they were destitute. They were taken in, every room in the ranch house sheltered a family, and the adobe stables were pressed into service. He thus furnished shelter of some kind for all. His wife Lucy cut up the seamless sacks for pants for the boys. I have worn them myself, and the wagon covers were used to make dresses for the women and girls. We ate anything we could get to eat. When the flour was gone, all ate Graham bread, and the Graham had been ground in a coffee mill. We had barley bread.

This benefactor bought grain from ranchers for seventy-five miles distant and then went to Utah and purchased $500.00 of cloth with which to clothe them.
The most of those who came were poor. He purchased farms or ranches and turned them over to the people to pay for when able to do so, reselling to them without a profit. He never collected one cent of interest from any man, although some did not pay him for years. His home was the camping place for travelers passing through and for fifteen years, he fed more to the travelers passing through than it took to keep his large family. He fed their horses for days sometimes, never turned any man from his door empty handed nor did he charge a cent for the accommodation he gave. Twenty and as many as thirty strangers at a time sat at his table in a single day and during these days, it was rare that the family ate a meal with no other one present.

I remember an old miner who came to our home and being sick, asked to be allowed to stop a day or two until he was able to go on to Colorado. Father unpacked his burro, took the man into a room, and placed him in bed where he remained for weeks. Several days later this old miner called mother, and handing her a belt containing several hundred dollars, asked that she take care of it, informing her at the same time that he had not stated the truth when he came and told us he had no money. He said that he had feared the Mormons would kill him, if they learned he had the money, as he had been told they were that kind of people and had never met one before. He said he knew different now for it was her kind nursing that had saved his life. Three months passed, before he was able to go on his journey and when his belt was handed back to him as given to mother, he offered to pay for his keeping and the feeding of his two animals, but father refused to accept anything. Used to roughing it, this old miner cried like a child and said it was not right to refuse to accept pay, and opening his belt, he dropped several pieces of gold upon the table and walked out and went on his journey.

The first year after William Jordan Flake bought the valley, he raised 2100 bushels of grain. There were those who were ready to buy it, but he kept it, used and gave it to the poor for food, as they needed it. More land was now needed for those coming in to settle, he gave forty cows for the Concho ranch and then he gave three hundred cattle for the Nutriose ranch. Then he helped to purchase Springerville, which was a part of the valley purchased from the Mexicans and finally purchased the Nutriose. Most every settlement made in Navajo and Apache Counties, Arizona, by the Latter-Day Saints, after he came into that section was purchased first by him and they are the beneficiaries of his exertion.

His word had ever been his bond. He was never required to give security and has purchased property running up into the thousands without any security other than his oral promise to pay. He was never sued in court nor has he ever entered suit against any one. He was often the instrument of breaking up gangs of thieves, who infested the West in an early day and he has looked down the barrel of a gun of an outlaw on several occasions. He never used a gun in defense of himself or his property, although he always carried it as a protection against the Indians at times.

Two wives have been buried and for twenty-one years he has been without a companion, living with his children, all of whom are now married. Until eighty years old, he rode the range in all kinds of weather, thought nothing of lying out all night on a quilt, or being out in the rain or snow, or having missed a meal or two in order to accomplish a task undertaken. For exercise, he often, yet, goes out for a day’s ride among the cattle he sold some years ago. He has good teeth, reads without glasses, enjoys a good appetite, eats any kind of food and hardly knows what a days sickness is. He has become somewhat deaf and for that reason does not mingle or go out much where he will meet strangers. He has more and truer friends than any man in Arizona and has in his lifetime done more to build up that State than any man ever has or can do. In his dealing with mankind, he has never considered a man’s politics or his religion. He has treated all men as brothers until proven unworthy. Uncompromising with evil, he has ever stood for clean and honest living. No scandal has ever been attached to his name and when he passes from this sphere, it can be well said of him: "There lies an honest man."

--By his son, Osmer D. Flake

 (photo on right) William Flake here appears in prison garb during his six-month sentence at the Yuma Territorial Prison for illegal cohabitation (polygamy).

Gladys Stevenson Jordan

Alicia Burk - Linda Flake - Dolores Jordan - Gladys Stevenson

Sisters Ruth, Letha, and Gladys in Farmington, Utah

 George (middle) and Gladys (right) in 1918, while they were dating

Gladys with her 2 oldest children, baby Ray and Dolores

Gladys with her 2 oldest children, Dolores and Ray

Gladys and George with their children: Dee, Bob, George, and Donna

One day while Gladys’ mother was very sick with typhoid, Gladys and her siblings were out in the haystack where they decided to pray for their mother. To their delight, they found a cat with a new litter of kittens in the haystack. Gladys was so excited! They each grabbed a kitten and ran to show it to Mother, but Mother was so sick with fever that she thought they were lions. She screamed and no one could hold her down. Their grandmother rushed the children and kittens outside and scolded them for upsetting their mother. When two more brothers became sick with typhoid, Wilford decided it was time to move, because they didn’t know where typhoid came from.

When Gladys was six, she went to bed in a big bed in her new home (with Grandmother Mary Jane Johnson in Logan, UT) and she was sure she heard bears. She put her head under the covers, so terrified. The next day when she told her mother that she’d heard bears during the night, her mother said that it was just her grandmother snoring! When Gladys was six, her family saw Halley’s Comet heading straight for the earth. Everyone thought the comet would hit the earth and explode. All of Gladys’ relatives gathered together in her grandmother’s house to be together when the comet hit and killed them all. They all talked about it and went out to watch the sky. Gladys was so terrified to hear them talking and to think that a comet would hit the earth and suddenly kill her. She was so frightened, she couldn’t even talk. Then suddenly, the comet flipped its big fiery tail and turned back the way it came. So they knew they weren’t going to die!

Gladys says to her posterity, “I hope they will grow up in the Gospel and honor their fathers and their mothers.”

Sources: Cassette-tape interview with Gladys Stevenson Jordan, by John Rogers Burk , 1971

 Gladys and George with Donna, Les, baby Cheryl and Lorna  / Gladys and George

 Gladys with great-granddaughter Juliet Peden. Juliet is wearing a shawl crocheted by Gladys.

George and Gladys on their 50th Anniversary

I, Gladys Stevenson Jordan , was born in Fielding, Utah , on July 24, 1901. We lived in this little town until I was about 5 years old. I had two older brothers and when I was three and one-half a little sister came to bless our home. While we lived here my mother took typhoid from the well water and my grandmother Mary Jane Ainsworth Johnson came to take care of her. The night her fever broke my father was sitting in the chair waiting to take off the ice bags and add hot water bags when he fell asleep. As he awoke suddenly he saw my grandfather who had been dead for years looking in the window. He hurried to my mother’s side and found she was almost gone. It took quick work to bring her back. When she was better my father took sick with the same disease and nearly died. As he became better, my older brother took the dreaded disease and Mother and Father were so discouraged that when he was well enough they sold their home and went to Logan , Utah , to stay with Grandmother Johnson until they could become settled. There the second boy, Kenneth, became ill. The fever followed us wherever we went. The Lord blessed my father and mother again, and this boy became well.

I remember this house. It was a two-story house, and we loved to sleep upstairs. Morning glories covered the porch, I loved those flowers. They were so beautiful in the morning. When I was about six, my parents moved to Brigham City , Utah . There I started school. This house was a two-story house too, but we only lived in the lower part. In the summer we had great adventure playing in the empty rooms upstairs. There was a balcony and a cherry tree which we could reach from the balcony. This we would climb down and up, and the cherries were delicious when in season. All around the house was a tall hedge of lilacs. When they were in bloom it was a beautiful sight and we spent many hours trying to find five-leafed ones, which was supposed to be good luck.

My father bought Grandfather Stevenson’s farm in Farmington , Utah , and built a five-room house next door to Grandfather Stevenson. When I was seven we moved into our new home. When I was 8 I was baptized at Farmington , in the river. I remember hjow we undressed and dressed behind the bushes. I was glad my birthday came in the summer because in winter they just broke the ice and dunked you in. James Steed baptized me. When I was ten in 1909, on October 31, another little girl came to our house and being Halloween we were a little disappointed because we were not allowed to mix with the spooks. Instead, we had to sit on the porch and watch the others have fun. In the spring when I was ten, I took typhoid and was healed only through prayer and the goodness of the Lord.

My childhood was spent on a farm at the foot of the mountains. We climbed these and went into the canyons on the north and south. The meadows and lake lay on the west. We gathered buttercups, sago lilies, curley cues and ferns in the mountains, and may flowers and violets in the meadows. We rode horses and swam in the lake. My childhood was very full and free.

I remember when we lived in Brigham City . My Aunt Effie Johnson died of small pox. The doctors pronounced her dead and her husband Jarvis Johnson prayed for Father In Heaven to give her back her life, that she might raise her eight or nine little children. She opened her eyes and became well, raised her children and outlived her husband. We were not informed of the change and came to the funeral loaded with flowers and tears, to find no funeral, which made us very happy.

We have a resort in Farmington where we danced when we were older. We had many happy evenings there. I went to the Davis County High School . President L.J. Muer was my principal. Here I met my husband, George E. Jordan, at a dance. He was an Ogden boy and had come to a basketball game and dance. We were married on May 29, 1919 and went to live in Ogden , Utah . We lived there for six months and moved to Pocatello , Idaho . There our first little girl, Dolores Elaine, was born on March 14, 1920. When she was nine months old, she had the whooping cough and measles, which left her in poor health. We lived in Ogden at this time and work being bad we went to Sparks , Nevada . There we found a little Church and a handful of Saints about 25 families in all. It was part of the California Mission. There were no stakes in California in 1921. We stayed there a year and a half. There we learned to love the Saints and enjoyed having the elders to our home several times a week for their meals. My husband was baptized there by Elder Frank P. May, a fine boy whom we learned to love as a brother. My husband was ordained to the priesthood, and was a faithful worker. Bishop Vanderhoof gave us a recommend to the temple and on the morning of April 12, 1922, we were sealed in the house of the Lord for time and all eternity, taking our little girl with us who then was just 2 years of age. I taught primary and Sunday School and was secretary for Relief Society here.

Now Dolores took pneumonia this same spring and the doctor said we must bring her to California for her health. We came here in 1922 in the summer. Rent was $50 a month for 3 rooms so we rented for 3 months and then bought a lot in San Gabriel County , whiat is now called Rosemeade. There we lived in a neighbors garage while we built a four-room house, moving into it as soon as the outside shell was up.

The following February 7, 1933, our second child came to us, a 9-pound  boy we named Raymond Jay. We spent many happy days here, and we found a branch of the Church in Alhambra where we went to Sunday School and mutual. These meetings were held in the W.O.W. Hall on Main Street . I taught Sunday School here, we had no primary, and relief society was held in the sisters’ homes. There was only about 35 families here then and, of course, we had 2 missionaries. I always loved living in the mission field. There is a different spirit there. The Saints are so close to one another. It seems that after wards are established people become too dependent of themselves and lose a portion of that Holy Spirit that is necessary to maintain and hold a mission together.

In 1925, Mr. Jordan was transferred to Sacramento . Here we again lived in a mission field. We learned to love the people here and I was appointed Secretary of Relief Society and also taught a class in the Sunday School, but we had sadness come into our home here and we were not satisfied in this town again. Our little Raymond took diphtheria on the 1^st of April, 1927, and went to his Father in Heaven at one o’clock April 5, 1927. This was a shock to us and I know my belief in this Church and its teachings kept me going form day to day. My husband and I had always been very close to each other but this brought us to even a greater understanding of life and our mission together here on this earth. We took this boy to Ogden and buried him close to his grandfather coming back to Sacramento to take up our life again where we had stopped to pause.

The following July 20, 1927, a lovely boy came to bless our home and because I always felt bad that I had not given my first boy his father’s name, I named this boy George Earl Jordan. He was much comfort and joy to me coming to me so soon after my great loss.

During this time the branch had been separated into three branches. The Sacramento Branch being the original and North Sacramento Branch and the Sutter named for the old fort which is still standing there.

We belonged to the Sutter Branch. Now my baby was the first baby to be blessed in this new ward and Bishop Jensen blessed him. My husband had always wanted to bless his babies but he was so timid at doing these things that he never gained the courage to bless one until the last baby and he gave her a lovely blessing.

Here I served as secretary of Relief Society, teacher in primary, sang in the choir, and helped my husband with mutual as he was president. We held mutual and primary at my home; these were certainly inspirational meetings, the crowd being small and the Spirit of the Lord being large. We had a large basement and the M-Men would go down there for their boxing and basketball practice while we would have classes on the main floor. Sometimes we couldn’t hear ourselves think for the noise downstairs, but we never thought of complaining.

Now the depression was beginning to stir and my husband was laid off work with the railroad so he went to work as bookkeeper in a bank This did not pay very well and soon we became discouraged trying to keep up with our obligations so when the bank asked him if he would like a transfer to Los Angeles,, we were very happy as we felt we could find better work here after getting settled.

We came to Los Angeles in the winter of 1929. George went to work in the Bank of America as bookkeeper. After getting settled, George began to look for better work. This he found with the oil company in Santa Fe Springs as a bookkeeper, but soon the company began laying men off and George received his notice. He then went to work for a truck company called H.P. Truck. The wages were small, but we managed to live within our income and help some that were more unfortunate than we.

Now we went to Church at Alhambra again. By now they had bought an old building on 1^stStreet here. I was not in the ward long before I was asked to be second counselor in Relief Society, Sister Agnes Bruce being our president. I learned to love her very dearly and enjoyed working with her. George was asked to take charge of the basketball in the Alhambra Ward and being a very fine athlete he made a great success of this work.

About 1930 we began to build a new building, the old one being too small and the Church sold it to the Seven-Day Adventists. They allowed us to rent it and continue our meetings there until our building on 8^th Street was up sufficiently for us to meet in.

Sister Bruce resigned at this time because of her husband’s health. (He passed away in 1935.) I was put in her place. We fed our men two meals a day and raised a great deal of money for our new building and then in September 1931 I was released because of the coming of my next baby, a boy born October 26, 1931. We named him Robert Ray and again I took a short vacation, but the following spring Brother Bill Chappel chose me as second councilor for the Genealogy Society, Pauline Clapp being the first, and again I was put in second counselor to Sister Norah Hoyle in the relief society. But this baby was a very cross baby and when older had to have an operation on his throat, so found I must the relief society work. But I helped them with their magazines and I taught in the primary during these years.

In 1934 I had to resign everything as my health was failing and August 18, 1935, a baby girl came to our home. We named her Donna Ruth, Ruth for her aunt. I was two months in bed this time and it seemed that my mission here was finished when the Genealogy Class on Monday night sent me some lovely flowers and prayed for the Lord to spare my life. I know that these prayers were answered for I was better the next day and only one week I got out of my bed. I was a year gaining my strength back and perhaps will never be as well again, but I am able to do some Church work and take care of my little family for which I am thankful.

In 1936, we decided we could save some money by moving to Hunting Park as his work was in Vernon . The building there was finished and dedicated. The new organ was in and paid for so we felt that a good job was finished and we could leave content.

Moving to Huntington Park, I helped here with the teaching, being supervisor for about a year then again I was chosen for counselor but my health would not allow me to do what my heart and mind wished to do, so I had to ask for a release after about 6 months, but I took the teachers topic and for one winter I carried this on. Now the primary asked for help and I took a class in the winter of 1938. It is now 1939 and I am still there.

This winter, 1938 and 1939, we started a junior genealogy and I was asked to be a teacher. I am glad now for all the years I have attended this organization for now I may help the young girls and boys to enjoy an dlove this work that is so close to my heart. I hope I might help some of these people to a sure footing in this work that they might be leaders. During all this time from 1921 to now I have been a relief society teacher only asking for rest while my babies were born. I love this work too.

The winter of 1928 and 1939 has passé by. My Junior Genealogy class advanced with the Spirit of the Lord and are almost ready for their second years work. My primary class went into the Guide Class and I feel these two things have been accomplished well. It is now time to start another winter’s work.

During this summer I took my two boys and little girl to Lake Elsinor to camp on the edge of this beautiful lake. Both my boys can swim and my little girl loves the water. Donna had the whooping cough while we were there. I also had my brother’s boy Odell Stevenson for the summer. He is a good boy. An old friend Sister Mable Ripley who lives at 1827 Vic Street in Sacramento , California , spent a month with us. Our vacation was perfect. After returning home I put up much fruit and vegetables, having 800 quarts in all as our work stopped in June; work being very bad here at this time.

Today, September 3, 1939, England and France declared war on Germany , who has been firing on Poland for two days bringing my thoughts closer to our genealogy teachings of the last days and the last war. I hope I may have courage during the things that must come and never lose sight of my duty to do the Lord’s work.

It was always thought that the Jordans came down from noblemen in England , however, cousins who have been contacted in England know nothing of this story. However, in Salt Lake City ’s library there is a Gerrard from the same territory as the Jordans came from and this could be the noble line in place of the Jordans , however, here is a copy from a book in the Los Angeles Library, Page 1223 – Gen R. 974-1 and Gen R. 920.073 A 511-V4 (Jordans ancient family in Dorsetshire, and occurred very early in Coker Frome, at Frome White Field. Their arms are quartered with Trenchard and Mohun.

In the windows of Manor House of Wolverton, if windows remain there is almost a complete pedigree of these ancient notables. Wolverton Manor lies eight miles from Weymouth , John Jordan its ancient owner was escheator of the county. The fifth of Henry the IV and his name occurs in a list of gentlemen the twenty-fifth of Henry VI he bought place from his daughter’s heir to Henry Trenchard of Hampshire.

            John Jordan held land at Wigmouth 1440

            John Judeyne a member of Parliament, 1553

            Richard Jordain, Mayor of Melcomb, 1596

            The name Jordan was adopted as a surname

One Weeks Diary

Sept. 1             Friday – today it is still summer. The children are out of school. My day went as usual. Poland and Germany are at war which brings sadness to we who have been through the world war 20 years ago.

Sept. 2             Saturday – Drove over to Bell Gardens to see Georges brother Edd on arriving home we heard over the radio England gave Germany until Sunday noon to withdraw their troops and stop fighting.

Sept. 3             Sunday – This morning brought news of England and France declared war against Germany . We went to Sunday School and the testimony and prayers of our good people were full of the Spirit of the Lord, each one spoke of the ward and prayed for strength for the Saints.

--typed up by Alicia Burk Riley, April 2015, from typewritten pages found at my parents' home
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Grandma Jordan was a descriptive writer.  I like how she tells about the two story homes she liked with flowers.  It shows me another side of her that I don’t remember.

She was a most perfect grandma.  I loved it when she played “This Little Piggy” with me, then laughed so merrily.  I later played it with all of my grandchildren.  She was very talented with her artwork and china, but she also embroidered dishtowels and pillowcases for her granddaughter’s “Hope Chests”. She also painted each granddaughter a set of beautiful, floral china.   She later made cute little crocheted dolly purses and embroidered books for her great-grandchildren.

Grandma Jordan had the warmest laugh. It just bubbled up from inside of her.  She was always very cheerful with her grandchildren, and loved to teach us how to do things.  

When I was staying with her on a break from BYU, she told me that she didn’t feel any older than when she was 17, but then she would look into the mirror and wonder who that woman with gray hair was!  My mother, my twin brother Bob, and I lived by her and Grandpa Jordan for the school year after my father died, in July of 1963.  We moved to Huntington Park from North Bend, Oregon, where  I started my Sophomore year at the same High School (I am guessing?) Lorna Graduated from in probably 1957.  (She lived with them at the end of her Senior year because she had gotten very sick in Oregon.  She needed the warm Los Angeles air to get well.)  My Grandma taught me to paint a china dish and I have it to this day.

~Linda Kay Flake Burk (This is told to the best of my memory : )

 Alicia with a picture of her great-grandmother Gladys

Silhouettes of George and Gladys / Gladys with her mother in Farmington, UT, early 1900's

Horace Henry Flake

Alicia Burk - Linda Kay Flake - Horace Henry Flake

MEMORIES OF MY BROTHER HORACE by Lester W. Flake  Phoenix, AZ  May 5, 1998

Dolores and Horace

 Dee (3rd from left), Gladys, George, Horace

Dee, Horace, Lorna, Linda, Bob, Cheryl

Horace Henry Flake, my brother, was less than two years my junior, so I do not recall when I was first conscious of having a younger brother. However, until I was 15 or 16, I do not recall not being in almost constant (or at least daily) touch with him. He was closer to my heart (I feel) than any other person except our sweet mother.

Very faintly I recall scenes at the little ranch house near Sholow, AZ, when Aunt Jewel (Ray), mother’s sister, came to spend a short time with us. They seemed so happy to be together, and they made the little frame house ring with their laughter and singing. I faintly recall (after mother told me) that I made Horace cry one day, when I told him I was going to marry mother. “Wall”, he is reported saying, “I guess I’ll have to marry Aunt Jewel.”

The next thing that crops out in my memory was while we were still very young Dad brought home a pony for me, and Horace went with me to drive the milk cows out to the range. On the way back we decided to have a race. Horace was mounted on old Charley, a trusted saddle horse on which we both had learned to ride, and as I recall, he was so small his legs stuck straight out as he sat on the bare back of the old horse, so it was difficult for him to hold on. The horses started loping, and Horace started bouncing. Trying to catch the mane he dropped the reins, I recall each time he bounced he went further back on old Charley until there was no more back, and Horace was left sitting in the sandy lane.

Our differences were never very serious, but I learned early not to fool with Horace! He was smaller than I, but athletically gifted and had the heart of a lion. Anything I did he would try, and there wasn’t much he couldn’t do. On another occasion I made my brother cry, I have no recollection of what it was over, but mother came out onto the front porch (in Snowflake) just in time to catch a hatchet he had raised over his head, and was intending to bringing down on the top of my head.

The next recall still haunts me. We both became very sick. We were in bed together, and mother all the good women of the Snowflake area were trying to help us. It was 30 miles to get any medical help, and the doctor had to come by horse and buggy. Our pioneer father considered faith more important than medicine so we were in very bad shape before the doctor was called. We were delirious by then so I don’t recall the doctor, but I was told he stuck his head in the door and said, “Whoo, diphtheria!” Fortunately he had a good supply of antitoxin with him. When he’d done all he could, he advised mother to keep us very quiet as long as she could. “If they survive,” he said, “They will always be weak and will probably need glasses.”

Horace was hardly recovered and still very weak when he went with Dad to haul a load of heavy barnyard manure out to the farm. For some reason Dad was driving a fractious team, and seeing some person he wished to speak with stepped off the wagon, and handed the little boy the reins. Something spooked the team and they hit their collars so as to jolt the wagon and pull the little boy off and under a heavy iron wheel which went right over his head. Dad grabbed the horses then saw Horace. The little fellow’s head was flat as a pancake and he appeared as though dead. Dad picked the boy up and ran for two blocks to the house of his sister, Pearl McClause, and she went to work on the little fellow.

I was told she held the boy’s head in her hands, working it with her fingers, and blowing into the child’s mouth. Dad, a big rough frontiersman, was almost hysterical. His wife had been after him for not considering dangerous situations where we children were concerned. Now it looked like he’d have to face her with the consequences of what she had been talking about. The little boy survived that ordeal, but it was a long time before he would look healthy like the other children. In fact, he didn’t do well until after he was in high school. Then he seemed to blossom, and tried to go out for football. He was fast, shifty, and strong for his size, but the Coach said he was just too small, and he was afraid he’d be hurt.

It was about that time Dad started to subdivide the farm we lived on, and Horace became his right hand man. A man named Scott who painted houses for Dad was so impressed by the way Horace did whatever job he was given, he offered to teach him the painting trade. That was in the midst of a terrible depression, and learning a trade was considered very helpful for a young person. I was never around when this happened as I had a job at a large produce company and was bringing in a paycheck the family needed badly. But Horace became a good painter -- and was to fall back on that trade for the rest of his life.

When he was in his middle teens, the love bug bit my brother. He had by then become very popular with both boys and girls, and was a good mixer and dancer. A family from St. Johns moved to the valley and after Horace took a shine to their teenage girl, the father decided to move them back. We planned going to Snowflake that summer, so Horace promised the girl he would come and see her as the towns were only a few miles apart. The closer to Snowflake we got in the old Ford, the more anxious my brother got. We all knew how he was looking forward to seeing the young lady, and how he had been planning to surprise her.

When we arrived Horace asked Dad for the car to go keep the date he had dreamed of in St. Johns. He received a flat rejection with no explanation. In fact, Dad just turned his back on him and walked away. Horace was absolutely crushed. Mother was frightened my brother might run away -- but after the shock wore off Horace never mentioned it again. Howbeit, that day Dad lost his right hand man. When we returned to the Valley, Horace went to work for Mr. Scott who had gone into the painting business for himself. Dad saw very little of his second son after that. Horace was then called on a mission.

A year after I went on a mission for the LDS Church, my brother Horace was called to the same mission. We had a chance to work together, and I never had a better companion or one I enjoyed more. It was in MIssissippi, and the weather was mostly hot and humid. We walked the dusty country roads, ate the fare of the country folks, and shared their meager accommodations. One day we walked several miles to look for a family. It was in swamp land near the Mississippi River across from New Orleans. Coming to a clearing in the pine trees we could see a little unpainted shack.

On the porch stood a person looking our way, soon a second joined and we were close enough by then to see it was a man and a woman. Excitement was obvious and the woman went back inside. As we got there we found it was an Indian family that hadn’t seen an elder in several years. They were so happy to see us and we could see that the woman had gone inside to set a table for food. That was good news for us as we had not eaten since the day before. On the table were four unmatching plates and two huge sweet potatoes. The man cut each potato in half and that was the meal. That was their meal and without comment or apology they shared it with us. However, the afternoon was a wonderful spiritual feast!

Time came too quickly for us to leave as they obviously had no room to put us up. Like happy children we walked along the sandy road talking of how strong the Spirit had been and how we’d enjoyed the simple Saints. Suddenly, as though it struck the two of us at the same time, we stopped and looked at each other as if coming back to reality. It was Thanksgiving Day! Without another word we walked into the Piney Woods and knelt together. We then thanked our God for the most wonderful Thanksgiving Day we had ever had. In my long life I have become no stranger to the Spirit of the Lord --  but I doubt it has ever come over me stronger than it did that day with my brother in the backwoods of Mississippi.

Later, after we had been assigned to different companions, our Mission President, LeGrand Richards, came to hold a conference in a little farming community of Darbin, where Horace was stationed. Asking where the bathroom was between sessions, he was told to walk out to the ridge, “Ladies to the right, men to the left.” The good man was shocked! He asked the Elders present for one with building experience. He then instructed Horace and his companion to build two “Chick sales” (outhouses) with ample accommodations at mission expense. “This isn’t even civilized,” was the conclusion of the good man.

Soon we were ready to build a new church in Columbia, and a contractor from Utah was sent with his brother and their wives. Horace had done such a good job in Darbin, that he was recruited to help the Pierce brothers. One Elder had been a champion rodeo performer from Canada. A committee for raising building funds for the new chapel decided to put on a Western style rodeo, for the town of Columbia. The mayor was contacted and other dignitaries, who seemed to think it would be a good idea. Advertising for the needed animals produced a great assortment of mules, horses, and bovine. I heard Horace rode a wild mule and did a good job. One of the visitors was heard to say, “They are just a bunch of fun-loving boys, and to think they are all preachers!”

After his release as a regular missionary, Horace stayed at Columbia to help finish the chapel. At the finish of a hot day, a few of the local boys took him with them for a refreshing swim in the river. As my brother told it to me later, he offered to show the boys how he caught fish in Arizona. There were big “sloughs” in the dry Salt River Bed where we would swim in the summer and fish would spend the hot days back under the bank in the shade. I was told that when he reached under the bank in Mississippi, he caught what he thought was a big fish. As he pulled it from the water he faced an angry cottonmouth moccasin (close relative of the rattlesnake), and it nailed him on the arm. That ended the party. Horace was rushed to the hospital and was administered to. To the doctor and nurse’s surprise, he was up next day ready to go back to work.

We were never in close touch after that until I came home from the Army. By then Horace, Dee and their children were living on a little ranch outside of Bend, Oregon. I was having it rough trying to get started again, and when I went to see my brother he persuaded me to come and join him in running a dairy, and dealing in other ventures. I took my wife and two little girls to Bend and started a never-to-be-forgotten adventure.

It was a joy to work with Horace, he knew only one pace that was full speed ahead. I had been living a rather soft life, and the first job he gave me was to move a mountain of baled hay from out on the John Day River to the ranch (by myself) with an ancient flatbed truck and a pair of hay hooks. I lost 60 pounds in 60 days, and stretched every muscle in my body to the breaking point. But I felt useful for the first time since I had been home from overseas. In addition to milking night and morning, Horace was cutting pulpwood. Soon I was able to do all the the milking and he went full time to “pulping,” and I helped him part-time.

Working hard 16 to 18 hours a day (everyday) we seemed to literally coin money -- but there was a catch to it. We would get a little ahead, and a milk cow would have to be replaced because of mastitis or the woods would be shut down for some reason beyond our control. I never worked harder in my life and finally it dawned on me; I was not the leader anymore; “little brother” was the leader! It was a great two years, we didn’t come out with any money, but I thoroughly enjoyed working with Horace and I once more got hard as nails and in good physical shape.

I was fixing a fence one morning when Horace came to me. I could see he was worried. We talked of what needed to be done for a bit; then he said he thought we must break up, as we were just not going to make it. He offered to let me keep the dairy if I wanted to, but he had been offered a job and he and his wife had decided they had better take it. It was a dramatic moment, and we both wound up crying and hugging each other. That (to the best of my recall) was the last time I saw my brother. We worked together closing things up but communication was done by phone. The herd was sold -- and I took a job as a pick and shovel man for a road contractor until my third daughter was born, and I could move my family back to Phoenix. However, I expect to see my brother in the near future, and I hope (and feel) we’ll again work together.