A Treasure Shared
The Autobiographical writings of
Mary Luella Abbott Leavitt
Compiled and published by
Anne Okerlund Leavitt
Preface
On a day, in the early 1980's, while Dixie and I were visiting at Bunkerville with our family, his mother showed us a worn black book, legal size, with a red-bound spine. On the cover, emblazoned in fancy gold letters, were the words, AThe Farmers Business Record. The white pages, lined with pink and blue and purple lines, included pages to record all imaginable transactions of a farmers business.
There were pages titled Account of Grain Bought, Account of Grain Sold, Account of Hay, Straw etc. There was space designated for an Egg Account, a Butter Account. There was even a Bee Account. On the pages designated as Hired Labor Account, precise Mary Luella Abbott Leavitt had meticulously recorded the labor of all the men and boys in town on the all-important water ditch. Over a period of many years, she recorded their hours of work; how much they had earned and whether or not they had contributed a team and wagon. The credit they earned by working, would be deducted from their water ditch assessments. It’s a glimpse of early Bunkerville life.
But the most fascinating thing in the book, was that Mary Luella had also recorded her life. She had written a small history of her husband and then some cherished details of her own life. On pages labeled AAccount of Livestock Sold, she had written lists of the women for whom she had done proxy temple endowments. She carefully chronicled the whereabouts of her grandsons serving in World War II. And she wrote the story of her own remarkable life, filled with its anguish and its triumphs. She wrote in the simplest terms, stories of reliance on divine direction, faith promoting and inspiring.
I had known Mary Luella Abbott Leavitt, only as my husbands grandmother, the tiny, gray lady, stooped to a childs stature, eyes dimmed with age. Dixie had taken our first-born Michael to meet her in the hospital, to try to let her know him, before she departed life. But I was too young, and she seemed too old, and we didn’t ever really know each other.
But here, in this book, she was revealed. Mary Luella, as a child, wrenched with the sorrow in her family. Here she revealed herself as a woman, courageous and faithful, devoted and full of love for husband and children. Without a whimper, she detailed the harsh realities of life in Bunkerville at the time of settlement. She proclaimed her faith and her willing acquiescence to doctrines she believed in, that wrenched her soul. She declared her desire to be faithful and true, at any cost. I could not stop reading, and I learned to love this noble little woman, with all my heart.
Sometime later, Dixie's mother gave me the book. She said that she knew I would cherish it. And she was right. I always have cherished it. But I have also felt a little guilty having it. I have wanted to be sure that her posterity received the blessing contained in its pages. The blessing of gratitude for the kind of people they come from. The blessing of understanding the sacrifices that have gone into the creation of a family tradition of nobleness and strength.
Several people have extracted from the contents of the book to write good histories of their own, more comprehensive than hers. But I wanted her grandchildren, and her sibling’s and cousin’s grandchildren, to have her words just as she wrote them, so that they could see, without editorial intrusion, into her heart.
Her natural propensity for precision is evident everywhere. It comes through in her meticulous recording of accounts. It is evident in her careful record of the whereabouts of each of her grandsons in the war.
Her obvious personal preciseness caused me to debate with myself, just how to handle the copying. I found her spelling especially endearing. But I worried, that given her current elevated view, and with her natural gift for wanting things recorded properly, it might annoy her to have me repeat the spelling errors. So I corrected the spelling. There was no punctuation at all. It was easy for me to read, but only because I have read it so many times. I added punctuation, in order that her meaning will always be clear. I want her to be glad about the way her writings are presented, so I have added punctuation and corrected the spelling, even though it diminishes the delight, just a bit.
The pattern of her language is another matter. As I have read, I have always been able to hear her voice, as though she were speaking. So I could not change her small grammatical idiosyncrasies, for then it would have been harder to hear her tell her story. So you can read in her language. She will seem much nearer. You can hear her cry, when she weeps, and feel the feelings of her heart. She will be real to you. You can feel her devotion and her pure heart.
I hope that no one will miss the lovely little story, told so simply, of the three young Leavitt boys, Thomas, Edward and Lemuel, riding one horse homeward on a dark and rainy night. It is a story akin to the children of Israel, who were blessed with a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire at night. Every child with Leavitt connections should learn from it, that Heavenly Father is near, and watches over his children, in whatever predicament they may find themselves.
I hope that each will be inspired by the strong faith that healed them when they were sick, in their wilderness home. Of [her husband’s] twenty-three children, twenty-two grew to maturity. And there were terrible and frightening maladies that came upon them. The treatments were primitive and homemade, but the real remedy was always faith in the power of the Lord Jesus Christ, administered through his simple servants, bearers of the Holy Priesthood.
I hope you will feel the level of sacrifice that resulted in this family becoming the significant force among the rank and file of the Church, that it has become. I hope you will be reverent when you hear her say, “I hope not one of the children will ever speak lightly of it, nor say they do not believe in the Principle, because I feel it was one of God’s greatest commandments given to his people. It took courage and faith, prayer, determination and the help of the Lord to do this, with much more trust in the Lord.”
Mary Luella Abbott Leavitt is a lovely example of courage, faith, determination, and trust in the Lord. She was also a very good writer. She left us delightful details about how to make a dugout that will house 21 people. She left sweet memories of a time so long ago gone, that without her voice, we might forget it ever was.
With great love and respect for this lovely little grandmother, I present this cherished record. A treasure shared.
---------- Anne Okerlund Leavitt
Bunkerville, Clark County, Nevada.
January 21, 1938
My children request of me to write a history of my husband's life and my life, as nearly as I can by memory. So I will not wait to get a suitable book, as this one is better than none. And as I am now 72 years old, my eyes and hand is not as steady as they once was and as procrastination is the thief of time, I had better begin. I will write my husband's sketches very brief first, then my own, until we meet in Bunkerville in 1877. From there on we will be together.
Thomas Dudley Leavitt Sr.
Thomas Dudley Leavitt Sr. was born in Santa Clara, Washington County, Utah, November 8, 1857. His parents were Lemuel Sturtevant Leavitt and Laura Melvina Thompson Leavitt. They were called by Brigham Young to Dixie to fill a mission to the Indians with Jacob Hamblin, his brother in law. He asked President Young how long the mission would last. He told him forty years or more.
This was a hard country, no markets, no place to get supplies without going to Salt Lake City. This was two weeks or more driving over rough mountain roads. The hard times, not much to eat, proved to be too much for Melvina. Her health failed. She was the mother of eight children under 12 years old. The last two were twin girls born in 1861. That same year there was a great flood, called the >61 flood. It washed away the greater part of the town and much of the land away, which made it much harder for her. She would pick the cotton with the help of the older children, pick out the seeds with her hands, card, spin and weave it into cloth to make their clothes and that was a very hard task that proved too hard for her. She died when the twins were 11 months old. One followed her in three weeks after. The other one became my step-mother in January 1878, Aunt Lovica.
Thomas' only recollection of his mothers was clinging to his mother's skirts for safety when the flood was carrying off the houses and big trees and when she was laid out after death.
Naturally, in hard times the children were put to work and through the hard struggle, Thomas was put to work very young. He was made responsible of many things, which made a man of him long before he was a man in years.
When he was fifteen years old he had hauled many loads of wood to the Temple at St. George to run the engines, and had made trips to Mt. Trumble after lumber for the Temple. He drove a span of mules for Bishop Morris Ensigne. They were very high-life-ed, and he h ad just drove in the yard and unhitched his binding pole, and the whistle went off and they sprung and threw him off the wagon and all tried to stop them, but it took Thomas to do that, and when he did get them stopped, his load was scattered over the grounds. But many hands were willing and ready to help him and get it is the pile. Bishop Ensigne would not let anyone drive him mules but Tommy, as he called him.
Through hauling so much wood he become almost an expert with the ax and was hired to go to Panguitch, Utah to cut and haul saw timber, at the age of sixteen years and got a man's wages. Afterwards he came to Santa Clara and worked in the United Order while it lasted. He always like to have a good time. He loved dancing. He was a natural leader.
He had many narrow escapes he told of, that I will tell about. He and Orange were herding cows on the hills east of Santa Clara. It was very hot and their water had run out. He climbed a black volcanic rock to find water. He found a pocket in a huge rock and got him a drink and filled the bottle. But in getting up, the rock slipped and rolled with him. He could see the danger he was in, and sprang and jumped. He just got by and where the rock fell he would have been killed it fi had lit on him. In doing this he cut his heel nearly off and threw his ankle out of joint. He was bleeding very bad and couldn't walk. He tried to get Orange to go get his father, a distance of three or more miles, but Orange would go a ways and come back to see if he was all right. He did this several times. Then Thomas got on his knees and crawled as long as he could. Then he would put his arms around Orange and hop until he tired out. He kept this up until he got to where he could call to his father. He had good lungs, but he was nearly gone, he had bled so much and it was so hot and no water.
The Pillar of Light
Another time, he Edward and Lemuel were coming from Gunlock, all three of them on one horse. It was raining and very dark. It was so late they took and cutoff and went down what they called The Twist. The horse slipped and fell. They got off and couldn't get the horse up. It was so dark and raining so hard they couldn't make a fire. Matches would just go out and they didn't know what to do. While they were trying to find a way to get the horse up, a small light appeared and rested on a rock, to one side. It was about the size of a candle and burned so that they could see. They found their horse's foot had slipped between two flat rocks that were slanting. They pried one off and the horse got up. They led him away, out of the rough rocks, then they got on him and started off. The light went out. They watched it go out, but was not afraid. When they told their father he said, AIt was your mother. She is watching over you. You are so young and have to do so many hard things.
I have heard him tell these two incidents and others of his experiences while he was young. He always worked with his father, and when his father came down on the Rio Virgin, he come.
Edward Bunker asked President Young about coming down with a colony to build a town. President Young answered, AIt can be tried, but I'm afraid there is too much mineral in the land to ever do much, but it is my opinion that the south side of the river is the better place to build your town.
Accordingly the company was formed and about ten men and two young women, with their horses, mules, oxen and wagons, and some cattle with provisions made a start. They arrived at the head of Mesquite and stayed there two days looking the situation over and then come to the south side. Thomas drove the wagon with lumber, and was the first man here. He stopped just above where the bridge is now. They decided to go on top of the hill that is now scraped away, and put up a one-room building of lumber, when they used as a kitchen and dining room.
The first great problem was to get water on the land. The head of the ditch was just even off with the grape farm, about 1 2 miles from the head of the land. There were eight men and they had the ditch done in 18 days. The eight men were: Thomas D. Leavitt, the overseer of the crew, Stephen Bunker, Orange D. Leavitt, Dudley Leavitt Jr., Edward Leavitt, Lemuel Leavitt Jr., Samuel O. Crosby , George Lee, Edward Bunker Jr.
Some of the boys returned to their home in Dixie to attend school but because of weak eyes, Thomas never got very much schooling. So it was his job to stay on the job of clearing land.
The second winter the Young Mens' Mutual was organized and Thomas was chosen as first counselor. He served in this capacity for several years.
More people come and they began to build. Two or three miles lower on where the town of Bunkerville now stands. Up until 1880 we had just held our gatherings in private homes and in bowerys. It was decided that we were strong enough to build an adobe house for school and church, dances and all gatherings. Thomas was put in charge, and molded all the adobes for this house. How happy we were when it was completed.
(I have connected my life, that is my married life to this on page 313. From there on until Pa's death, our lives ran together.)
A Sketch Of My Life
Bunkerville, Clark County Nevada, January 21, 1938
I will now take up my life and then join them together at the time our lives were joined.
Mary Luella Abbott was born December 2, 1865 in Ogden City, Utah.
Daughter of Myron and Laura Josephine Allen Abbott.
My children wishes me to write a brief history of my life, and as it is only my memory, although very good, it will be quite brief.
I am now 72 years old. My eyes and hand is not as steady as it once was. My parents were both born in Illinois, and crossed the plains when they were both young. My father was 10 years old, and my mother was 5. Their parnets settled in Ogden City, Utah. They had never met before they were young people. They were married April 23, 1859. They were called to Dixie 1860, and settled in St. George, Utah, where my oldest brother, Myron Alma, was born February 14, 1861. They then moved to Toquerville and my second brother, Stephen Orvil, was born. Owing to the climate, that did not agree with my mother, she had very poor health.
They moved back to Ogden, where I was born. We then moved to Echo Canyon, where my father and his brother-in-law took care of the stage-coach horses. James was born here 23 January, 1867.
Here is where my memory begins. Although I was only two and a half year old, there is a number of things happened there that I can remember very distinctly. I will mention a few of them.
One day it was snowing and we all stay in the house. My brothers and a cousin, Loretta Squires, were playing cards and I wanted to play too. They said AOh go away, you can't play cards. I can remember going to mother crying and saying, AMa, can't I play cards? I can play cards. I can say high, low jack in the game, black spades is hearts. I had heard them make these remarks while playing different games.
One evening my father took the ax and went up the side of the mountain for wood for the night. We lived in a very narrow canyon, not any wider than half a block. The canyon was named Echo Canyon because of the echoing sound and I am my brother, Jim, stood in the door listening to the sound of the ax. I was trying to get him to see where the sound came from. He was only a baby, creeping on the floor, but I called to father and said, ACall Jimmie, which he did, and he finally saw him. I can hear the echo of the chopping, and see the tree rolling down, to this day.
Another time, my brother Stevey, as we called him, went to Aunt Lydia's just a short distance and found Uncle Edwin Squires sick in bed. Stephen could not talk plain and every body would get him to talk, just to hear him. He walked up to the bed and said, AUncle Twires, is you sick? He said AYes Steve, can you tell me what to do? Steve said, AWell I dess so. You put a red hot rock at your head and at y our back and take a dose of alum powder. Well that tickled Uncle Edwin so. He said, AWhy Stephey, do you want to blow me up? ANo, but I want you to det well. Uncle Edwin called Steve Adoctor, until he died.
One day, Mind, Steve and Loretta Squires took a little wagon up on a hill back of the house. They got me and my cousin Theress in the wagon. (We two were born the same day.) They started down the hill with us and struck a rock, tipped us over and I was on the under side. My arms went through the crusted snow plum to my shoulders. And that was all the ride I wanted. I can just feel it to this day. Now Mina used to say, AOh you can't remember that. You were too young. But I can remember it, and when mother came home the last time I told her about it and told her just how eveything was place in the house and she said I was right about it.
We moved from here to a place on the Weber River. Here is where my brother Will was born. My grandmother Abbot stayed with us for some time. She was always teaching the boys some lessons in the Bible. One day they got in the water and come home all wet. She tied them to a bed post with carpet rags, sewed together, and sat by them knitting and among other things she told them that obedience is better than sacrifice and to hearken than the fat of rams. The next day Steve came around the house on a long willow horse. The horse was bucking with he and he was yelling Awhoa, whoa. But the horse didn't pay any attention. Stevey finally gave the horse a good whipping, brought him to a stand still and said, ANow then, I learn you obedience is better than sacrifice!
Stevey once asked mother if she didn't wish it would rain the sky down. She said, ANo would you like that? He said, AWell, no, but I would like to see the Lord. When he was six years old and still couldn't talk plain. The freighters passing through would camp near our home, and Steve would come home with sometimes as high as a dollar in dimes and nickels. Mother would ask what he did for the money and he would always say, ANothing, I just talked. They would pay him to talk to them.
About this time my mother fell down a flight of stairs and cut her leg very bad. It caused a running sore for 5 years and doctors couldn't cure it. Finally it healed up and broke out on the other leg and was for six years on this leg. It was very hard for her to do her work. But Father was always good and kind to her and helped all he could.
We moved from here to a new place called Square Town. For sometime here we began anew in a new place. We, as children, had lots of enjoyment in the Spring, digging segos, gathering wild flowers. The wild roses were so pretty. We would go fishing in the Malad River and when choke cherries, haws, and sarvisberries were ripe, we gathered them. Only a child knows how much fun there is in such times as we had. I often wish we could go again on such a trip.
When we got settled, the principle of Polygamy was preached quite strong, and Father took another wife, a widow with three boys. She was a school teacher, but she took care of the older boys for three moths and stayed with Father, while mother came down to Beaver City to see her mother and sister. I and Will come with her. I think we stayed about a month.
The next summer, one Sunday afternoon, Father and his two wives strolled up the road and I was with them. I thought AOh how nice it is to see Father with two wives. I was not a bit jealous then. But later in life I sure was. Some of the happiest times and some of the saddest times of my life came to me in this little town.
We had two rooms. Mother had one and Aunt Emily had one. I used to sleep with Mother one night and with Aunt Emily the next, as I was the only girl and seven boys in the family. Aunt Emily liked me and wanted me to sleep with her.
This summer there were enough people there that they was going to have a post office and were trying to find a name for the town. Some wanted to name it Zarahemla, but on the day of our walk they all sat down on a rock beside the road and Aunt Emily said, AWhy this looks like the Plymouth Rock...say, that's what we can call the town. So it was named Plymouth. I am the only living person that knows how it got its name.
That summer, August 12, my brother John Austin, was born and Aunt Emily moved to Ogden for the winter, fifty miles away. On Christmas Eve, she gave birth to a little girl, her first and only girl. She was named Emily Pauline.
Aunt Emily decided to stay in Ogden and toward Spring, she got a chance to teach school, against Father's wishes. They become estranged and parted. She never came home again.
Mother had two more little girls. The oldest was named Josepha Jane, a beautiful child. The other was named Abigail Josephine. She was also very pretty and these two little girls were loved by all of us.. I was always the ugly duckling of the family. We were always happy, i.e. we children were.
The Cloud
But soon a very dark cloud come over us, which darkened the rest of our lives. I don't know just how it happened, but my father and mother had a quarrel and drifted apart. This just nearly killed me. I never have gotten over it. I never did know what the cause was, but I think jealousy was the beginning. (Oh that green-eyed monster.) The root of so much sorrow, so many heart aches. I nearly cried my heart out. I love them both and knew I could only have one of them. It nearly killed me. We went to court and it was decided to wait until Spring for the trial. So myself, Will, John and the two girls would stay with Mother. The three older boys went to Ogden with Father until Spring.
Just before Christmas, Father, Mina and two of our cousins came home to haul and chop our winter's wood, kill a beef and a pig. They bought our flour. We had potatoes, carrots, turnips and beets for the winter. While Father and the boys were doing this, Mother was busy making the three older boys a suit of clothes, some shirts and Father some under clothes and shirts and also some pants. She had been knitting for months getting them all some good woolen socks and Father, some gloves.
I was quite happy while this was going on . I thought, AHow can they go apart and seem so friendly and both working so hard for each other. Father wrote often and Mother answered all the rest of the winter. And often Mother would cry when she read his letters. He sent us all a Valentine, and Mother cried like her heart would break, when she read the verses in it. The Valentine had a beautiful woman with a wreath of roses around her head. I can't remember the verses but it must have been very touching and showing his love to her, for he loved her dearly.
One night a man come to our home and told Mother he had a letter froom her cousin Will Allen in Montana, and wanted her to come and bring us children up ther and he would help her to care for us. He stayed until it was late. It made me so mad. I told him to go, that he had no right to stay there and I mocked him, every word he would say. Mother told me several times to keep still and sent me to bed. But that did not help matters any, for I put my foot against the baby, Abbie we called her, and kept lifting her up until she cried. Mother took her up and got her to sleep, and in a few minutes I did the same thing to Sepha. I was in the foot of the bed and them in the head. When Sepha began to cry, Mother said, AWhat is the matter, Sepha? She said, AElla keeps kicking me.
Well, I got the hardest whipping I've ever got in my life, but that didn't stop me. I just told him to go. He had no business there. And he went. I guess he thought it would not do him any good to stay.
When he left, Mother talked to me and asked why I had acted that way. I said, AYou are my Mother and you still belong to my Father. You are not divorced and maybe you won't be anyway. She began to cry. I showed her my legs, the welts made by the green currant limb. She took me in her arms and cried and said she had no intentions of going with the man, although he was trying to get her to. She kissed me and said she whipped me for being impudent and not minding her. That was the last whipping she ever gave me.v
The last day of April, 1876, we went to Brigham City, Utah to the trial, which came on the first day of May. Oh how long that was to me and my brother Mina. There was to be a May Day celebration, but it rained all night the night before and the grove was too wet. They always had a swing and the trees were full of water. In the afternoon, we walked around the town with a girl, Eliza Sprague, and listened to the Brass Band play. I just loved music and especially band music. It just hurt me, so I cried like my heart would break. So they took me back where we were staying. Father and Mother had partly made up, and Father was to buy her a home in Brigham City and support her and the children, and she was to take care of us. The next morning they went to see the place and it was just a little shack and Mother would not consent to live in it. Father didn't think it was worth what they asked for it and after much talking and thinking, they decided to go through with the divorce. They knew they would not be able to go through life that way.
Early next morning Father come in and said, AWell, come on children. We will have to go. We were to go to Ogden, Utah, where he had been working all winter. He took Will and John and the clothes and bedding and put them in the wagon. Then he came after me. I was kneeling on the floor with both my arms around my mother's waist. He said, ACome on Ella, and took hold of me. Well, I just screamed and said , I can't go. If I can't have both of you, I will kill myself. My heart was just bursting. I loved them both and I could not stand to lose either of them. He finally took me in his arms and put me in the wagon. By this time quite a crowd had gathered around, hearing my screams. I jumped out of the wagon once and they put me in again. Mina was at one side of me and a man by the name of Lee Taylor. The two little girls wer both crying for me and reaching their little arms for me. I said, AOh Pa, let me have them. Let me go to them. He said, AI can't. I can't spare you. It is too hard. I can't lose you all. All of us were crying, everybody in the crowd, although they were strangers to us. Father told the men to drive on. As he started I turned back to see my mother falling in a faint. That was the last sight I had of her for many years, and I never saw my baby sister again, for she died when she was 8 years old.v
Well, I screamed and fought to get out of the wagon for 5 miles. As we drove through the city, people came to the doors to see what was the matter. When we stopped at Willard City for dinner, I started back to Brigham. I was going to stop the divorce if I could. But my two brothers, Mina and Steve came after me and coaxed me to go back with them. Stephen and James were not with us at the trial. They had stayed at Willard City and Ogden City, during the winter.
We went on to Ogden and stayed there that summer. Grandmother Abbott lived with us and kept house, with what help we children could give her. We children went to summer school there.
Of Girlhood Things
Now I will go back a little and tell about my beaux. All children have their boy friends and girl friends, and I had mine. The first one was named Ed Milb [not legible]. He used to sing AThat Pretty Little Girl I Love So Well, Is Called The Rainbow Willow. Then he would say, AThat's you, of course. I like that. Ha Ha.
One night he stayed in town to a dance and was going to sleep with Mina. After the dance was out we made a big fire in the stove and warmed our feet, me on one side of the stove and him on the other. Mina, with his feet on the hearth in front of the stove, and ours in the oven. We talked for some time and Mina said, AYou kids can sit here if you want to, I'm going to bed. And he went. But we sat there and talked and finally we both fell asleep. Mother woke up and told Father to go see why I hadn't come to bed. He nearly scared us stiff when he came in and called to us. It was one o'clock, and our fire had gone out, in the dead of winter. Well, we were not beaux any more, because they teased us too much about our holding wake and going to sleep.
My next one was called Willie Coal. We used to dance together lots, and could we dance! For kids. I was only 11 years old, but had gone to the dances and danced for two or three years. He moved to Ogden and then when we moved there the next 4th of July we met at the grove. We hadn't seen each other until then, and he came after me to dance. We were the center of attraction. Everybody was watching us, and smiling. I don't think they knew who we were, but we didn't care. But that was the last time we saw each other.
While going to school I had two of them. John L. Herrick, a cousin to Martin Bunker. He would stand and let us girls comb his hair all recess and noon hours. We all thought he was just it. The other one was Homer Brown. We were in the same class and we helped each other with our lessons. He was sick for a few days and when he come to school, he wrote on his slate and asked me what the next lesson was. I opened my book and said this, and motioned to it. I didn't speak, but the teacher saw me and called, ALuella Abbott and Homer Brown, come to the front. We went, but oh my face, how it did burn. She said, ALuella, you sit in that corner. Homer you sit in that corner. Well did the tears flow. I put my book in front of my eyes and cried. Our next class come in a few minutes and we were released. That was the only time I was ever called down in school in my life, and it sure hurt.
I was always a favorite with my teachers. One winter I had very poor shoes and I had to walk two blocks in the snow. My feet would be as wet and cold as could be. My teacher passed by our home night and morning and when he saw Mina packing me on his back, he took me in his sleigh. And after that he would stop in the morning and whistle for me to come and ride. He did this until I got some shoes. I don't know how long, but it seemed a long time.
The Southward Trek
We left Ogden City, about the tenth of October 1877, to come to join the United Order, that was started the January before. We arrived here about two o'clock in the morning, November 2, 1877, just 10 months after the first company come.
We had a very heavy load and, as I have stated before, we had an ox team and a mule team. Aunt Sarah Bunker, second wife of E. Bunker Sr., owned the mule team and had made the trip with us. She sent word by some men who were on horseback, hunting for cattle, to her son-in-law, Edward Leavitt, to come u p the Virgin River to meet us, as were were afraid of the quicksand, and both teams were afraid too. We came as far as we could from noon until dark, from Littlefield, or I should say the point, or the head of the Littlefield farms now. We camped just before dark, above Big Bend. About eleven o'clock, we were awakened by someone singing. We could tell it was a crowd of men, and as they came near, Father got up and made a big fire and we all got up and dressed. Then we could hear the words of the song, which were, AHelp one another boys and do it with a will, and never push a man when he is going down the hill. This was the chorus.
Then they saw our fire and gave a yell and the whip to the horses, and was soon there. Our family had never seen them before, but they almost knew us brom what they had heard of us through the Bunker family, being related to us, by marriage.
The boys that come to meet us were, Edward Leavitt, Thomas Leavitt, Josiah Leavitt, William Bunker, Aunt Sarah's oldest son. This was my introduction to my future husband, although he was 8 years older than I was.
We loaded the livestock on Tom's wagon. He had a good team and Edward drove Aunt Sarah's team and Father drove ours. We got to the camp on the hill. It was on the hill by Cabin Wash, that is scraped away now above the bridge.
It was just two in the morning and nearly everyone got up and met us. They built a big Mesquite stump bonfire and all gathered around for a good time, until nearly morning. Then Uncle Edward Bunker, the bishop, said, ACome boys, hard day tomorrow. This was Sunday, the first on we had for over three weeks. We were just one week coming from Parowan to here. We stopped at Santa Clara one day, and one day at Pinto Creek on account of snow.
Bunkerville
We found a very dry, desolate country, much different to the one we had just come from. But we were just like one large family. I attribute it to the way we were living in the United Order. We were as one, all united and interested in each other. We had good times all together, young and old.
It was very hard for me to listen to music without going off to myself and having a good crying spell. After our loss of a mother and the two little girls.
Our amusements were hay-rack riding, horseback riding, dancing and getting in crowds and singing, playing games and on holidays having town dinners all together or in groups.
We got here the second of November 1877. My father a girl he thought a lot of, and lost no time in winning. The 26th of January, 1878, only about three months after we arrived, he was married to Lovica Leavitt. This was quite a shock to me, for he had not told me a word about it.
My place had always been on his knee. When he came home at night or any other time, he always made a lot of me being the only girl. I was very jealous of him and now I had to give him up to another one and it was a hard blow to me. I had many a hard crying spells over it.
He brought me a letter from my mother from Plymouth, Utah and told of her being married and moving to California. I didn't think I would ever see them again and that made it harder for me. I felt like I had lost all I had.
Aunt Lovica was a good mother to us, and we learned to like her. You could hardly tell we were not her children. And when her children were born, we all loved them and they all loved us.
The Way It Was
I will tell a little of how we lived and about the early days of our ward. We were organized in a ward, with Edward Bunker Sr. as Bishop, Edward Jr as first and Myron Abbott as second counselor. G.W. Lee was ward clerk. We met in private homes and under the bowery for our Church services.
Our first home was built about 1 2 miles below the first place on the hill that was scraped away to build the bridge that is now between here and Mesquite.
There was three women with families, Mary M. Bunker, Aramin Bunker, and Elethera Leavitt, three grown girls, two younger girls, and about 25 men and boys, and all ate at the same table. The men and boys ate first, the women and children later. There was great order around the place. They always had prayers, morning and night. The women and girls took turns caring for the milk and butter. They milked a lot of cows and had plenty of milk and butter.
My father was a carpenter and he went down 1 2 miles to what was called the gin site and mill site. He dug back in the hill for a good sized room. He walled it up with split poles, put a dirt roof on it and put up a small lumber room and his family, Aunt Mary Bunker and the George Lee family all lived there that winter. There were 21 of us in all. We slept in wagon boxes, tents, and cotton bins that winter. A floor was built at the end of the lumber room, wagon canvas stretched on two sides. With a big log fire in the yard and a lantern furnished us a place for our Christmas and New Year's dances, and also Father's wedding dance.
That winter a water wheel was put in a burr mill and cotton gin, and my father run them both. The next summer they began to move where the town now stands. The first adobe house was the two upper and lower rooms of my fathers, by the Valley Supply. We lived there two years until the United Order broke up, and things were divided up.
Our schools were held in private homes and our meetins and gatherings were held in homes. Our adobe school building was competed with a flag roof, a floor, and doors and windows, for our Christmas dance in 1880. How proud we were to have a house. We could dance eight quadrilles. People came from Santa Clara, Gunlock and spend the holidays and had themselves and teams taken care of, free of charge.
Our next building was made of rock. It was much larger still and built with a good big stage. Many of our good times were held in it. We had dances, theaters, old folks parties and Church gatherings. By this time we thought we could get a high school, and we went to work with a good determination and succeeded by the help of S.W. Darling, our county commissioner at that time, and Bishop Edward Cox and man others who worked hard to get it. We later got a high school building, gymnasium and a good shop. We sure are proud of it. And better still, we have a good paved highway through the country, and electricity, and mountain water piped into our homes.
The first few years here, our main crops were wheat, barley, corn, cane cotton, melons and stack squash. We raised plenty of hogs and beef for our use and fattened them on the corn and squash seed and cane seed. The cows ate the cotton seed and other feed. They ate corn fodder, cane pressings and gave good rich milk and plenty of butter.
The cotton was ginned, pressed into bales like hay, and then hauled to Washington, Utah, 60 miles away, and traded for cloth, both cotton goods and woolen. We made our clothes from the home made goods, even our stockings. Many other things were things that could be got, such as cheese, beans and things to use. Our molasses we traded to Pine Valley, Pinto and other places for potatoes and fruit. Sometimes other useful things. But there were no roads, just a trail. It took a week to make the trip to Washington and St. George.
Later, the Silver Reef Mine started up near Leeds Utah and they had to have some rock salt to be able to treat the ore and Wooley, Lund, and Judd contracted to furnish the rock salt for them. Our people were glad to haul the salt for them and take store pay. It took four horses and two wagons to haul 50 hundred pound bags, and took nearly a week to go to the salt mine and back home, then another week to go to St. George and back home. But we were glad to do it. Although we would only have about 40 or 50 dollars to draw at the store. But we were glad to.
A young man, I should say a boy, composed a song titled AWe Are Hauling Salt Yet. It ran like this:
The folks in this country are light hearted and gay
They haul heavy salt to get some store pay.
But when they come to get it, they have nothing at all
And then they get mad and swear they won't haul.
Hooraw, Hooraw they are hauling salt yet,
and if they keep on they will come out in debt.
Soon after this, the Keywest Mine started up in the mountains south of here, about 12 miles, and run for about 5 years, maybe more. That gave employment for many men and boys and was a great help for us, and we were quite prosperous while it run and made a lot of improvements in this country.
About this time we decided to try seedless grapes and almonds. The largest vineyard was grown by our bishop, E Bunker Jr. They did very well, so he put in a larger one on the other side of the river, where the soil was more fitted for grapes. They did well and that gave some of the young men work, to keep them clean and irrigated.
When the grapes got ready to put out to dry, he went and told every family that he would pay so much a tray for pickers and we were all glad to get the chance. In this way we could get all we wanted for bottling and preserving and some dried raisins, or store pay for our work We would fill about 500 trays, then wait a few days for them to dry enough to pile up. This was done by putting about three trays of grapes on one tray to finish drying. Then we would fill the ones that were empty again. When they were dry, we would haul them and put them in a bin, and stir them often to keep them from spoiling. When they were all just right, they were stemmed and put into boxes, holding 25 pounds each and then there were ready for the market. The greater part of them were sent to Salt Lake City.
Soon the railroad came down the Meadow Valley Wash area, the Moapa Valley and Las Vegas began to grow and gave employment for many of our boys and men.
We have lost a good many of our people who have moved away, but we are proud to know that wherever they are, they are among the leaders in their wards where they live.
Our people have found that the dairy business is about the best thing they have tried. With beet seed and the dairy they are making pretty good and are fixing up their homes and we have some street lights in, and they are putting more in as fast as they can.
Then a good man went into the chicken business and it paid pretty well. We had a good market for chickens and eggs. Now they have returned to dairying and are doing pretty well.
1880
In the summer of 1880, I went to Toquerville, Utah, to visit my mother's father, Orvil M. Allen. I stayed there six weeks. I had a good visit and while there I dried fruit on shares. I was very proud to bring home dried and canned fruit, and some jam and preserves. It sure helped out because we had not got fruit trees to bearing yet in this valley.
While I was gone, the United Order broke up. I was very much surprised, but we had got strong enough, by this time, to keep going. I was 15 years old the following December. I had never lacked for a partner at any of our parties and had went with several at some length of time, but I was always jealous when I saw another girl with Thomas D. Leavitt, although he was eight years older and had been engaged to get married. And it made no difference, I was jealous all the same.
The night after I got home from Toquerville, there was a dance and he asked me to go with him. We were nearly steady partners until we were married April 14, 1881. I was young, but that didn't mean anything to him. I was able to work and knew how to work.
I was appointed as secretary of the Young Ladies Mutual January 1881. So I was full in the harness pretty young.
The Weddings
There were three couples married the same day. My brother Myron Alma married Mary Matilda Leavitt, my husband's sister. You see, the boys traded sisters. Mina told Thomas he was going to marry his cook and he said, AWell, you will have to give me another one. So that is why I was married so young. He couldn't wait for me to get old enough. The other couple was Weare Leavitt and Idella Hunt. They are all dead now, but me.
Our first home was at the head of the fields, three miles from town. A brush shed with brush around the sides, on top of a high hill. Our land was there, so we moved there to be near to the work. In August 1881, my husband went to Mount Trumble for lumber to build us a house. His brother, Orange, lived with us. He was going, but took the chills and fever and came home. We looked for my husband in two weeks, but he had bad luck and the lumber men got him to go down on the Colorado River with a load of lumber. He was gone six weeks and we never heard from him. We didn't know where he was for over a month. There was no way to word to us. If I was ever worried and blue, it was then. He was almost starved and necked when he got to Santa Clara.
September 28, 1882, our first baby girl was born. We all nearly loved her to death. She was just like a little doll. We named her Orilla Luella, her father's choice.
On April 6, 1884 our second girl was born, just 19 months between them. Her name was Abigail Josephine. They were lovely children. We traded for a home in town by this time and moved in.
My husband and his brother, Orange, had been in partnership all this time and Orange had got married to Ellena Leavitt, a cousin. And now they divided up and each went to themselves.
By hard work, we were getting quite a start by this time. They had got new wagons, a reaper and a mower, good teams, some cotton and were pretty well fixed, but all this was divided. My husband had lost a fine mule and that left him with one horse, but he was not long getting another one. He always was a great worker and gathered property pretty fast. He worked on threshing machines and learned all about them. He was not long in geting one. He cut grain and thrashed it for people, for a good many years, going from Beaver Dams to the Moapa Valley. For several years he also made molasses for the public.
We built a small house on the lot I now live on.9 We moved in it in March, and Laura Elzina was born April 9, 1885.
The Principle
My husband had always told me he would marry again, for he believed in the Principle. It was preached to us as strong as the Word of Wisdom and Tithing is now preached. We felt that we wanted to live as nearly right as we could, and although I was a very jealous disposition, and loved my husband nearly to distraction, when he told me his intentions of trying to live this law, and asked if I could get along with his choice, I promised to try by the help of my Father in Heaven, to do my best. But he knew how I loved him and how jealous I was of him.
No one but my Heavenly Father knows what a struggle I had. I prayed to my Father in Heaven almost unceasingly to give me strength to live that principle and live it right.
On October 6th, 1887, my husband took me in his arms and told me he was marrying another girl. But he told me if I would be brave and stand true to him, h e would be true to me. Imagine me seeing him drive off with another.10 I knew it would never be the same. His love and time would be divided. I thought my heart would break. My throat swelled until I thought I would choke to death. But I prayed as I had never prayed before.
They were gone a week and came home about 12 o'clock at night. My three little girls in bed and asleep. I went out in the moonlight. I wandered up on the hill overlooking town. I sat in the moon lite and thought it out, and knelt down and poured my feelings our. I asked my Father in Heaven to give me courage and strength to do His will and live the Law acceptable to Him.
It was getting late, and I come home to see if my babies were all right. I couldn't go to bed. I was restless. After a while I heard them coming. He took her home and then came to our home. As he came in the door and found me crying, he stood and looked at me. I never saw him look more beautiful in his life. He was just handsome. He took me in his arms and talked to me for some time.
I was so convinced the principle was from God, and I was so much relieved of my weight I had been carrying. And while I knew the Lord had given it to his people, and I did the best I could to live it correctly. It was a sore trial. My own heart only knows of the heartaches and sorrows I passed through. But now I am happy and proud to know we stood firm and true. I feel there will be a great blessing for living it through.
I hope not one of the children will ever speak lightly of it, nor say they do not believe in the Principle, because I feel it was one of God's greatest commandments given to his people.
It took courage and faith, prayer, determination and the help of the Lord to do this, with much more trust in the Lord.
The Family Grows
My husband used to tell the little girls that this Ma was too lazy to have a little bother. I told him I would have all boys until he would be glad for a girl. And I was as good as my word. I had six boys in succession, and when the next little girl come, he was very proud of her.
August 11, 1888, my oldest son, Thomas Dudley Leavitt was born. He was so tiny and only weighed 6 2 pounds. But he was as bright and strong as he could be, and of how proud we were of him. Then in four more days, his brother, William Noble, was born in the same room. He was a little fellow too. A man asked how my husband got two boys and he said he just gave the women Quinine. We had the chills and he gave us quinine to kill the chills, and it brought the babies before their time. They always passed off to strangers as twins.
We all lived together, ate the same table, until there was 16 of us. Then we built the brick house I am living in now. We intended to live together still, but there were too many of us. We bought Aunt Adah a home on the same block. We never lived any further apart than that. We never had more trouble than any one family with our children. I had twelve children, 7 boys and 5 girls. Lost one girl. Aunt Adah had 7 girls and 4 boys. All 22 living, 11 girls and 11 boys.
Home Healing and Priesthood Power
In February of 1890, my husband had a very serious sick spell. He took sick very suddenly and grew worse very rapidly. It turned out to be pneumonia. We got it checked and he was feeling quite well, but was very weak. He asked me for some water. I lifted his head with a pillow. He sank back and said, AElla, I am going. I haven't a bit of feeling. I am numb all over. I called some help and did everything I could. There was no doctor in the country we could get, so we steamed him for about 12 hours with hot rocks and irons, wrapped with wet blanket and quilts, until his fever broke and the numbness was all gone. He was so weak he couldn't raise his arms. His voice was so weak, you could hardly hear him speak. I hadn't eaten a meal for three days and needed nourishment, but dared not leave him a minute. Aunt Leona Leavitt helped what she could. She did most of the sweating, as I was exhausted.
She come and wanted me to go and eat some dinner. It was Sunday and Church was just out. Aunt Minty Bunker and Lety Jones came and insisted I go. They would stay with him and Aaron Leavitt, his cousin, stayed so the men who were staying with me and I could go across the street to eat dinner with aunt Leona. I would not go until my husband insisted. I was so worried about him, I couldn't leave him a minute. We had only got seated to the table, when Aaron came running and said, ACome quick. Tom is getting out of bed and they couldn't hold him in bed. I don't know how I did it, but I was the furthest one from the door, and I was out and in my own home, the first of anyone. Aunt Minty was hold of his hands, trying to hold him down. I threw my arms around his heck and pulled him back down. I was under him with my hands locked around his neck, when the men came in and got hold of him and let me up.
The evil powers had been waiting for the chance to take hold of him and had took the chance, as weak and low as he was. It took six men to hold him in bed. He would push them around like they were children. And such screeches and yells, I never heard before. He would sing and yell till he could be heard three blocks. The Priesthood were here. He was administered to several times, but to no effect. I was the only one he didn't try to hit or kick.
After a while, they gave him some consecrated oil. He held it in h is mouth and spurted it back in their faces. At last they got his name and commanded him to swallow the oil, which he did and then he said, AOh that oil, and shuddered, A they have got me now.
He was at once relieved and so weak and worn out, he dropped off to sleep. We all stood around the bed and held to him and watched him. I had succeeded to get mustard poultice on his hands, feet, and the back of his neck. He slept about 5 minutes. I was standing by his head. He woke up and said, AElla(that sounded the best to me of anything I about every heard.). I said, AWhat is it Tom? He said, AMy neck burns awfully. I took the plaster off and put some salve on to draw the fire out of it. He was just completely worn out and so weak. We didn't leave his bed alone for one minute for over a week. There were three elders in the room every minute at a time, and often more. My meals were brought to me. I would not leave him again. If ever the power of the Priesthood was exercised, in my memory, it was then.
He had great faith in the gospel and especially in administration. It was six weeks before he was out of the house. Aunt Adah was with her mother all this time. She was down with pneumonia and Adah took care of her.
If Tom had not had a constitution like iron, he would not be been able to pull through. This gave me added strength and faith in the power of the Lord.
I had several times in my life where it seemed I would be called on to give up a member of my family. But through the goodness and power of the Lord, they were made whole.
Elzina had one spell of pneumonia when she was two years old. They thought she was gone. I told them I knew she was not. The Elders came and they thought she was gone. They couldn't see her breathing or hear her. But to please me she was administered to, and in a very few minutes she awoke and took a little milk and from that time on, she mended, and soon was well.
Again when she was 11 years old, she woke up in the night and told me her eyes hurt. She had very poor eyes and I doctored them and then I thought Orilla had not come home. I had let her got to the first dance alone. I went to see where she was, and found she had gone home. I came back and she had got in bed alone, in the other room. Tom said, ASee what is the matter with Elzina. She is fussing. I went to her and found her in a fit. We worked with her and could not bring her out of it. We sent for Uncle Cull and Aunt Leana. They came and we did everything we could, but to no effect. They administered to her twice. We sent for Bishop Bunker and George Bunker. They came, but by this time she had went into the lockjaw. You could hear her scream with pain for two blocks. They administered to her again and she came out of it, but she acted strange. I talked to her. She didn't seem to know any one of us and seemed to be scared of us. She finally went to sleep in her father's arms and the Bishop said, AGo to bed. She is alright now. But I didn't go to bed. I sat by the bed and held her hand in mine. She didn't wake until morning, and when she did, she knew nothing of what had happened. We was as well as could be, but I did not let her out of bed that day. Here was another testimony of the healing power of God, through his servants, by administration. Although she was perfectly well and knew nothing of the illness.
Another time my husband went after a load of lumber. On top of the mountains east of here, called Elbow, with about a dozen other men. At night in preparing his supper, he was taken very suddenly ill. He took to cramping and vomiting. They did everything they could for him but he grew worse. They fixed his bedding on the running gears and sent his cousin Lister Leavitt home with him. The road was very rough down the mountain, but he crowded the horses on the lope most of the way home. When they would slack up he tell Lister to hurry them up. They were both afraid he would die before he got home. He was nearly gone. His eyes were glassy, a scum over them. He looked like he would die any minute. We hurried and got the elders and Aunt Mary Bunker. His jaws were locked, with his under jaw turned around on the side. We worked with him and got all the help we could. The Elders repeatedly administered to him. There were no doctors in reach of us, as a person would have to ride St. George after one, which would take from 12 to 15 hours, then that long to come back, if they got help. And it wasn't always that they got help when they got there, for some time.
He eased up a little the next forenoon. A Brother Pace said it was the cholery. It was several days before he was able to be out. Aunt Adah was sick. He went to her, only just a few steps to the old house. Lawrence was born about 12 o'clock and he come in and went to bed. Next morning his was taken again. His father was at Santa Clara and my father was camped up the Beaver Dam slope on his way home from Santa Clara. He was awakened by a voice saying, AGo home, Tom needs you. He woke Aunt Lovica and told her. She said, oh just a dream, but he could not see it that way. So he came on home. Grandfather Leavitt had the same experience. The voice told him Tommy needed him. So he came too. There was a man who was a surgeon in the Johnston Army staying with my brother Will. They brought him to see if he could do anything. After he had tried everything, he said AThere is only one more thing I can do. It may mean death, but I think it will help him. He can't stand this much longer. He will die. He was then doubled up with the cramps. He asked me if he should try it. It is the only change for him. I consented and he told me a half hour would tell if it would help him or not. And if ever you saw eager watchers it was us. He soon fell to sleep and rested a little. When he awoke, he was better in about an hour. A melon seed passed him in his stomach all this time. He said there, that's the trouble. He was soon well again. We had to take some awful chances, but by trying everything we sometimes find some remedy.
He was on his way once to Milford, Utah, after freight for Sam Crosby's store. He had to put a shoe on one of his horses. The horse jumped and run the nail in his knee. He went on to Milford, was gone 10 days. When he got home he could hardly step on his foot. His leg was swollen and just black. I couldn't persuade him to go to a doctor. Uncle Dudley Leavitt come and saw him and talked him into going. By this time his leg was swollen to his hip and just black, plum to his toes. His father and Adah went with him, before they were married. He got to Beaver Dams. Brother Alger told him to get sugar of lead and mix with cold water and keep changing and he will be all right in a day or two. When he got to Congers, Brother Conger told him the same thing. When he got to the Clara, he sent Lon Leavitt, his cousin, to St. George, after the sugar of lead. He sat up all night and kept the cloths wet and about day break he went to sleep. His leg had gone down considerable, and had quit paining. He was able to come home the next day. I am telling you all these things to show you the courage and power of resistence he had. He never gave up and the same remedy cured Uncle Ed and Vince Horsley, both of blood poison. It has been a household remedy, ever since.
Orilla had a serious sick spell, just before she was married, of inflammatory rheumatism. We pulled her through without a doctor. She was down about two months. The next year I nearly lost my life. Daddy and Josephine never undressed at night for three weeks. My health was usually pretty good. But this was a spell that nearly got me. But I never had a doctor through all the sick spells I ever had, until 1932. I went to Mc Gregor. I had malaria fever and got some medicine. I have had to see two since. We only had two broken arms, Tom and Vincen. Lorin had 1 cracked. Joelma had one broken, but poor little Ferel had enough for all. His leg and jaw were broken. He was over a year under doctor's care. 11 months in the hospital, and made a cripple for life. He sure had his share.
Travels
In 1918, Tommy got him a Ford car and come took Daddy, Aunt Adah and me to Salt Lake City to a fourth of July celebration, where the Soldier boys were going to take part. Myron and Eldon had both got home from the war11 and Eldon was on his way going on a mission. We all went to Delta where we enjoyed a family reunion of the Abbotts. We then went on to Salt Lake City. While in the Temple grounds a crowd of tourists were there. They asked about Polygamy and said, A Is it true the children are cripples and weak minded and sickly ? The lecturer asked if there were any polygamists on the grounds. Aunt Adah stepped out and said, AYes, I am the second wife of a polygamist. This is my husband, his first wife is here on the grounds and her oldest son is with her and his family. Laura then said, A This is my father and mother, and my sister. Do I look like a cripple, sickly, weak-minded girl? We are a fair sample of our family. They said the were sure surprised, as they had heard that was the case. But it sure was not true in this case.
The next day Eldon and Milton Earl were in the Assembly Hall to a meeting of tourists. They both had on their uniforms. They were surprised when the guide asked if they were going on a mission. They told them they were. AWell, you are sure fine looking men, and the boys were proud to tell them they were polygamist children and were going on a mission and paying their own way. The world can't help to respect such men and women, boys and girls.
Myron was drafted about a month ahead of Eldon. He left on the mail, early in the morning. It was almost like burying them, because we didn't know whether we would ever see them again, or not. But we had great faith in the promise President Ivins gave them, that they would not have to fight, and they didn't. But after Myron had gone, I went into my room to make my bed. There laid his clothes, just as he had got off them to take a bath. Oh it was just like he was dead. I gave out a cry and almost fell to the floor. I will never forget how I felt.
And when Eldon went, Pa took the white top and took Eldons' girl and me with them. We waited for the train and when it come, it seemed like a monster of some kind was going to take him from me. I clung to him as long as I could. Pa went on the train with him, and cheered him as long as he could. Eldon put his head out the window and waved his handkerchief as long as we could see each other. Pa tried to be brave but non of us could sleep. Vera and I sat upon the bed and cried until nearly morning. Oh, I hope I will never see anything like that again.
Service
I was chosen as secretary of the Relief Society and did my work faithfully and well. I also got out a history of our organization, of all who held office in our Relief Society from the time it was organized in April, 1879, until when I was released with honors and a program and refreshments, and 45 of my friends in attendance. I was on the Burial Committee for many years. I think I would be safe in saying I had helped to lay away two thirds of the dead in this grave yard. Most of my own loved ones, I have helped to lay away.
This is the first time in my life that I haven't held some office, and sometimes two or three at a time. Now, 56 years I have worked. I have worked a long time on the Old Folks committee. One of the very first committees, and I worked a number of years, was the Genealogy Committee. At the same time I was assistant secretary, I was counselor in the Primary too.
Besides raising my family and doing the duties of wife and mother, I have been in the harness now 56 years. And I am still helping with the dead. The last one was Brother Jessie Waite. Now I am not working in any of the offices, I am still doing other work. I can't keep still and do nothing. I feel I have done some good in the world, and have not rusted out.
Celebration
On April 14, 1931, we held our golden wedding, being 50 years of our married life and 44 years of Daddy and Aunt Adah. We had a good time and made it a big affair, as Daddy and Aunt Adah's health was very poor. We held it all day and had a dance at night. This was the first one to be held in town by members married here. There were three couples married the same day. One of them was my brother, Myron Alma, who married Daddy's sister Mary. The two boys traded sisters. Myron was here, but Mary was gone to her rest. The other couple was Weire Leavitt and Idella Hunt, and she was dead. Weire was invited but did not come. But many friends and relatives come. We had whole two year old cow barbequed, and was it good ! We ate, greeted friends, had singing and took pictures, and had a good time in general.
There was 21 of our 23 living children present. We had lost one little girl and Zelma was quarantined with Scarlet Fever. There was 21 children, 75 grandchildren, 6 great grandchildren present of the two families. This was held the 14th of April and Aunt Adah died the 30 of May, 1931. She did not live long after that day of rejoicing. Daddy's health was badly broken too.
Departures
April 20, 1933, Lorin left for a mission to the Northern States Mission. His father was almost confined to his bed, but he wouldn't listen to Lorin not going, and was always anxious to get his letters and would always say, AI know he will make good. He has got it in him.
The day before he died we got Lorin's first monthly report. And Pa said, ATommy, is that a good report ? and he said, AYes Pa, it is a splendid report. He was very proud, and said, AIf anything happens, don' t let him come home, because he couldn't go back. I want him to go on and fill his mission. Which he did.
Thomas Dudley Leavitt died, 25 August, 1933. Myron called Lorin on long distance and told him of his father's death, and told him his father wanted him to stay. He did a good job as a missionary. He lectured in the church section at the World's Fair and had wonderful success.
Travels
I am alone now and doing all the good I can. I am taking all the trips I get a chance to take, enjoying life all I can. When Lorin come home, Myron took me and Estella and Sonny to Salt Lake to meet him. We went to Brigham City and spent the day with Estella's folks and started for home.
In August, 1936, Myron and Estella went to Brigham City to bury her mother. I went with them, and Myron took me to visit my old home in Plymouth, Utah. I met two of my old friends, and looked over the old home country. I did not see all I wanted to see and I want to go again.
In October 1937, I went to my first General Conference and had a wonderful time.
In April, 1937, Tommy and Rhoda took me to Los Angeles with them. In June Marvin and Glenna took me to the M.I.A. Conference to Salt Lake City. We had one week of good times. We went by way of Manti and saw all of that country for the first time and went through the Salt Lake Temple one session.
They tell me I am getting to be an awful gadder, but I don’t care what they call me, just so they will take me. I can go just as long as any of them. Lorin asked me last night if I would go to New York with him next summer. I told him yes I would. So if you hear about me going, don’t be surprised.
Well, I did not surprise you, for I did not go, or either he go. But I did go to Salt Lake City to the General Conference, October 1940 and April Conference 1941. Met some of my relatives and friends, I had not seen for years and sure enjoyed my trip.
(Note: The following paragraphs were separated from the rest of the journal, with no date, but I will include them here, as they refer to travel and include some other sweet perceptions.)
This was our first pleasure trip in a car. Up to this time our trips had been on a heavy load of salt or cotton or grain for the mill. But we always enjoyed it. I think we got along fine with such a large family and all so close together nearly always. We always had something to eat and wear. Sometimes a little short, but never without. We were just as well dressed and had as much to eat as most anyone in the country, with much smaller families than we had.
Orphans
My girls all married and moved away, so I did not have the pleasure of having them near me, until when Elmer Robison died, January 1931. When Elmer died, we brought Elzina home from Kanosh, Utah. She stayed that winter with us and then later, she sold out and moved here, built her home and was comfortable, close by me. We enjoyed each other and we took 5 orphans to care for.12 We did our best in my home for two years, until she moved in her new home. Then she took them. Their names were Lund. They had no relatives that they knew of to care for them. So the County Commission got us to take them. We were quite attached to them. But her health failed. She had five of her own children. She had worked so hard to care for them, as a widow for so many years. She completely went down with heart trouble and dropsy. She died, 24th of June, 1939. She left three unmarried children. And no one knows how I missed her, after having her near me that long. Myself and all her brothers and sisters went to her funeral to Kanosh, and her children and three of the orphans went.
Her death was the second of the 22 children, both girls, both mine, as I lost a little girl in infancy, my eleventh child. There is now twenty one of the children living. All of them are married and have children of their own.
August 25, 1933
Just ten years today since two events in my life happened. At 7:30 a.m., the Lord gave us a sweet spirit to enter the body of a sweet little girl. We were very pleased and happy to own and keep. She was the first daughter of Vincen and Erma. I told Daddy they had a baby girl. He only said, AA girl. That is nice. He was very ill and unconscious most of the time, but he knew what I had said.
Then at 2 o'clock a.m., we were called to give the spirit of our dear husband and father. How hard this was. Only one can tell who have passed through this ordeal. 20 of the 22 children were heat at the home when he passed. His daughter, Lovica, was in California and we did not know where to find her. And my youngest child, Lorin, was on a mission in the Central States. His father told us to tell him not to come home, for he couldn't get here in time. So we called him up and told him of his father's death, and his wishes, so he finished his mission before he come home.
On that day all of the children were home. How different today. I haven't seen one of them. Some of them have moved away and other are very busy with the summer work.
Aging
I am 77 years old on December 2, 1942. My health is pretty good. I am able to care for myself and help others. I am the mother of 12 children, 7 boys and 5 girls, and sixty grandchildren. Seventy four great grandchildren, and out of the 146, there has been six die, leaving 140 living.
I have spent quite a lot of time working for the dead in the Temple., both endowing and sealing.
I haven’t wrote in this book for over one year and there has been a great many changes in the last year. The war has made a big haul on my grand and great grandsons. 14 of my grandsons went into the service. One of them killed in an accident with a train at Kingman, Arizona. Arlo Quinton Leavitt, a very beautiful young man. The truck was bringing the boys from the training field at about 11 o’clock at night and as they were crossing the track, this train struck them and killed about 30 of them. He was a very good, intelligent, fine man. His body was brought home for a military burial. He left his wife and a little girl. They are all near neighbors to me, and I love them very much.
The other 13 are in various training camps. Four of them are overseas and I have four great grandsons in service, one now in battle with the Japanese. Dilwork S. Strasser. One on the Pacific heavy duty transport. Jay Marion Leavitt, only 17 years old, and Grant J. Leavitt, Jack Keith Leavitt, Reed Leavitt, Francis Hughes, all in training over seas. Max is in San Francisco. Bert Jr. Leavitt, Bud Curtis Waite, in Southern California. Elwin Leavitt is in Georgia, Wilford Robison in Tucson, Arizona, Max A. Leavitt in San Francisco, California. Owen Hughes leaving soon for over seas. 12 Step Grandsons and one step son all in various training camps. Wendell Leavitt on Catalina Island, Boyd Leavitt in Portland Oregon, Vearl Leavitt San Francisco. Vann Leavitt, Lloyd Truman, Lloyd Harter, Arthur Strasser, Horace Lund, stepgrandson.
I am now 79 years old. It is December 2, 1944.
March 2, 1945
It has been a long time since I have done any writing in my book and many things have taken place in that time. There has been so many of the boys and men called to the training camps. 17 of my grandsons have gone, and one of them was killed and 5 great grandsons have gone. 3 grand sons-in law and 12 step grandsons. 29 already gone in all.
I try to write to most of them, but I don't get at all of them. But the ones are get letters from are very kind and loving, calling me very tender names like, My dearest Grandma, or To my very best girl, or To my Sweetheart. Somehow I kinda like to be made over in that way. It makes me feel like I am some good anyway. But I don’t thing there is anyone that loves their children and grandchildren more than I do.
And they are all doing pretty well. They are getting good homes and property. We never had better times financially than we are having now. The whole valley has gone into the dairy business, and doing well.
Lorin has bought the Valley Supply Store and moved in part of the building, and is doing very well, and that leaves me alone in the this big house. It is quite lonesome here, but my granddaughter, Rhea Ann stays with me at night, so I am not all alone. But my health isn't the best and I don’t want to be alone. I have some kind of spells. I can’t explain them, but I feel like I am just sinking and go weak and trembly. Some of the children wants me to go stay with them, but I tell them my life, the biggest part of it, has been spent on this lot, and it is very dear to me. I have lived on this lot, over 50 years and raised all of my children here and one by one they have all left me and gone to live by themselves and are all doing well, and I am very proud of my family.
In the year of 1881, my husband took a young wife as a second wife and we lived in polygamy. We lived in the same house for about 12 years and from then on we lived on the same block, until she died in 1930. I am still here, and I can't make up my mind to leave this old home, so I’ll just stay.
May 30, 1945
I have been very careless with my writing in this book. But I have not been idle. I have been writing to all the boys that are in the army, that have written to me. And nearly all of them have sent me a few letters and others have written often. I am going to make a list of them who are in now.
• Orilla has two sons in: Francis E. Hughes and Owen Hughes. Three grandsons: Dilworth Strasser, Arthur Strasser and Odeane Barnum
• Jospehine has one grandson in: Deloy Iverson and one son-in-law Jack
• Elzina has one son: Wilford E. Robison and one son in law, Don Danielson
• Thomas D. Leavitt Jr. has three sons: Lem R. Leavitt, Max Abbott Leavitt and Grant J. Leavitt.
• John has two sons: Reed Leavitt and Jack Weldon Leavitt. Jack was killed.13 And one son in law, Stuart Pulsipher.
• Lemuel has three now. His son Arlo Quentin is dead. Wendell Leavitt, Boyd Leavitt and on son in law.
• Vincen has one son, Bert J. Leavitt
• Myron has two sons, Elwin Colby Leavitt and Jack Keith Leavitt
• Eldon has one son, Jay Marion Leavitt
• Glenna has two sons, Curtis Bud Waite and Marvin Laverne Waite
May 27, 1945
More very sad news. We got a telegram from the government that John’s son, Jack was killed by the Japanese, on March 20, 1945. It is now just two months after. We just can’t believe that he is dead. But there will be a memorial service for him, June 3, 1945, here at home. He was a wonderful boy. He had a wife and little boy. He had a good trade and plenty of work. He worked at plumbing. Everyone loved him and he always had a smile on his face.
I had some orphans by the name of Lund. Elzina and I had them for some time. Then she moved in her new home and took them and I helped her what I could with them, until she died. The older boy was drafted and went to Germany, and was taken prisoner by the Germans and we haven’t heard from him for six months, so he may be dead.
No. He is not dead. He surprised us and came in on the 5 o’clock bus. He looks well and seems very happy. He has a 90 day furlough and is spending it visiting with his wife and son and friends.
Now we got word from Jack's chaplain that Jack ran to pick up a buddy that was wounded and was struck by a missile and instantly killed. So we have given up hope of him being alive. The chaplain said his body could be sent home, so it may be sent.
October 1945
Well, the war is over now and some of the boys are coming home. Two of my grandsons have come home and got married, but they both have to go back for awhile. Francis E. Highes come and was married in the Manti Temple to Maurine Abbott, one of my nieces. And Reed, who was married in the Salt Lake Temple to a girl named Frances Hawkins. They are both very nice girls, but the boys have got to go back to the camp, to be mustered out or released from the army. The have been overseas.
I had quite a surprise on Sunday. My son, Vincen Elias was chosen as Bishop of this ward. It made me very happy, and I think he will be a very good bishop. He is a likeable man, good natured and friendly.
My children come home on Labor Day and put in a bathroom set, and cleaned my house and fixed up my fence. And we had a good visit. Each one brought food and we had a very good dinner together and a good time in general.
My children are scattered, living in different towns. John, Lemuel, Vincen, and Lorin lives here in town. Orilla Hughes in Mesquite, Josephine Truman in Enterprise. Thomas and Glenna are in Logandale and Myron and Eldon in Las Vegas.
I will be 80 years old on December 2, 1945. So I am getting along in years and find I am not as young as I used to be. I have a very large posterity and I am very proud of them. They are all trying to live good, true, religious lives.
March 10, 1946
I am very anxious to finish my story while I can, so I will bring it to an end. I am past 80 years old and find I am getting forgetful. I can’t tell how much time I have here. I feel as though I have done about all the work I can do, although I am well and do my own work and help others. Besides raising a large family and working in all the organizations all my live, I have done ordinance work for nearly 300 women, in the Temple at St. George, Utah, and want to do more yet.14 I feel that I have had quite a busy life, so far, and hope and pray my labors are acceptable to all, and that my children and all my family will appreciate what I have done to set them an example.
Mary Luella Abbott Leavitt died 23 July, 1955 in Logandale, Clark County, Nevada
She was buried 26 July, 1955 in Bunkerville Cemetary.