Spendlove

Entries: 278 Updated: Sat Aug 25 10:34:17 2001 Contact: Leslie Griffith Index | Descendancy | Register | Pedigree | Ahnentafel | Download GEDCOM | Add Post-em ID: I15 Name: Joseph Arthur SPENDLOVE Given Name: Joseph Arthur Surname: Spendlove Sex: M Birth: 11 JUN 1887 in Virgin,Washington,Utah Death: 27 FEB 1976 in Granger,Salt Lake,Utah Burial: Tooele,Tooele,Utah Endowment: 15 NOV 1907 Temple: SLAKE Note: JOSEPH ARTHUR SPENDLOVE My Life Mother's maiden name was Eleanor Jepson. She was the daughter of James Jepson, and Eleanor Nightingale Jepson. When she reached marriageable age, Mother fell in love with a young man by the name of Estelvin Owens. From this union two sons and one daughter were born. When Mother was pregnant with her little girl, Estelvin passed away leaving her alone to support their two sons, Horace and Miles, and as a new, young widow, Mother gave birth to her little daughter, whom she named Nellie. Sadly, Nellie died at the age of only three. Mother supported herself and the children by operating a post office in her own home. Six years after the death of her husband, Estelvin, Mother married John Alfred Spendlove. I was born about a year later, on June 11, 1887. I was born in a large, twostory rock house in Virgin, Utah, on the west bank of the Virgin River. Three more sons were born to my parents while we lived in this rock house. Their names were James, Janus and John. When I was five years old, my parents moved to Tropic in Garfield County, Utah. We were among the first settlers there. Here father found such work as farming, shearing sheep and carpentry. We carried our drinking water, in fact all our water, from a ditch nearby. In winter it was necessary to break the thick ice to get to the water. Our fourroom house was built of boards standing upright, with adobe between the studding of the walls. Inside, the walls were plastered with mud and then white-washed with lime. The furniture was plain and consisted of a homemade table and chairs with raw-hide backs and seats. The beds were, no doubt, made by father, and the mattresses were made by

mother of stripped material filled with straw and later with feathers. Bed springs were a luxury unknown to us at that time. Ropes, crisscrossed, were attached to the bed frames to hold the mattress and act as springs. Our one family treasure, which we all cherished, was an organ. Many evenings were spent singing at home while mother or father would play. Both mother and father played chords as accompaniment to the fiddle and other simple musical instruments for dances which were held in the church amusement hall. Because of their playing the organ, our entire family was admitted to the dances without cost. It seems to me, as I remember back to my youth in Tropic, I would very often go to the dances bare-footed rather than wear a worn-out and disreputable pair of shoes. Many times I was stepped on, but I was only around nine or ten years old then, and bruised feet mended rapidly. My first schoolhouse was a plain, one-room frame building with a pot-bellied stove in the center of the room in order to provide equal heat throughout the building. Tropic was a little settlement nestled at the foot of Bryce Canyon. To father and mother, life must have been rugged, but we, children, felt we were living in a wonderful playground. None of us could possibly imagine how famous Bryce Canyon would become in later years. It was while living in Tropic, that my first sister was born. She was the sweetest and most beautiful little baby girl in all the world. Her hair was black and silky and her two dark eyes captivated our hearts. She was christened Mary Eleanor. For some unknown reason, she cried for months. Perhaps she felt resentful at being born among so many rough and noisy brothers. When Mary was two years old, another baby came to our already crowded home; but somehow each one was welcome and loved. Again we moved over, squeezed a little and sacrificed a little more and space was provided. This baby was a boy whom my parents christened Leonard. He, too, was cute and cuddly with dark eyes and hair. Leonard didn't cry very much and seemed quite content to move in with our thundering herd. As he grew up, many thought Leonard to be the handsomest of the brothers. While we lived in Tropic Father struggled to improve family conditions by going into a shingle mill project with my Uncle Will. The two of them leased the mill which was located on the east rim of the now famous Bryce Canyon. Here father took his family during the spring and summer months, and we remained there until late fall. This meant that those of us who were attending school were taken from classes before school was out in the spring and then we were late entering in the fall. Because of these interruptions in class work, school lost much of its incentive for me. I lost enthusiasm and studying lost its inspiration. However, this just might be rationalization on my part for my own short comings. My brother, Jim, also experienced the same difficulties, but he managed to get an education "come hell or high water." It was hard for him but he tenaciously held fast to his goal and eventually made it through college and then earned a master's degree. My oldest half-brother also made it to college for one year before he married Miss Willamette Sperry, of Provo, Utah.

At the shingle mill, it was my job to catch the shingles as the big knife cut them. Jim helped too. In fact, the members of the family were expected to help if they were old enough and able to do any type of work. My younger brother, Janus, got his thumb almost taken off above the first joint while at the mill. Doctors were scarce in them there days and of necessity folks did their own doctoring, surgery and dentistry. Our nearest doctor was about 30 miles away which, on horseback, would mean a good half-day ride one way. Janus' thumb was hanging on by a thin piece of skin and Uncle Will put the thumb back in place, wrapped it up and there it grew, although it was rather twisted and became a "conversation piece." During the shingle mill venture, the shingles were taken by wagon and team to places sometimes one hundred miles distant. These were long and arduous trips which took about three to four days. The east rim of Bryce Canyon, where father operated his shingle mill was an enchanted place to spend our springs and summers. The scenery was beyond description! Rolling hills and meadow lands were lush with emerald green, velvety grass. Here the tallest pines grew. Bryce Canyon's rocks and pinnacles range in colors from pastels to the deepest and most flamboyant hues. One could stand and gaze with imagination and envision almost anything from angels with trumpets to Gothic temples and great cathedrals, yet folks at that time made little fuss about the unique beauty. Perhaps it was because there were more serious subjects to talk about. However, I do recall, one time, hearing my paternal grandfather say, as we stood on the rim of Bryce, "One day this will attract the peoples of the world, and they will come here by the thousands." Of course, I have lived to see the fulfillment of this prediction. When I returned to Bryce many years later there were tourists from the far parts of the world and my eyes grew misty as I remembered the words of my grandfather. There were many cattle on the range where we had our shingle mill. As father had no cows of his own, he got permission from the ranchers to break in a few of these cows for milk for our own consumption. It required strength and more than a little skill for Father and my older brother to round up the cows and tie them up for milking. One day as Father was milking a cow, she broke loose from her ropes. She kicked and raced Father around the correl and through the barnyard. Nevertheless we had all the milk we could drink and that was a lot of milk! We were still living in Tropic when Father tried another venture. He went into the Saw Mill business with Mr. Roundy. Probably the shingle mill wasn't sufficiently productive to care for our many needs, or perhaps Father felt that a saw mill would result in richer rewards, or it could be that Father was a restless man, as later years seemed to evidence. Father always appeared to be quite venturesome, remaining in one place only a short time. This saw mill was six miles west of Bryce Canyon, near the Blue Fly Ranch. While we were living on the mountain near the saw mill, another dark-eyed baby girl was born, assisted by a midwife who lived some 14 miles distant. Her name was Wealthy which was appropriate for she brought a wealth of happiness to our home. However, since she was the baby of the family we all affectionately called her Babe. Now our household was

increased to eleven souls. It seemed that mother baked millions of loaves of bread for her hungry family. Our diet was of the pioneer variety. Desserts and rich foods were very scarce, but Mother made a "minute pudding," which she prepared with hot sweet milk, thickened by water and flour paste which we ate with much gusto. While on the Bryce mountain Father would hunt deer for much of our meat supply, and from the sheep herders on the mountain we got lamb and mutton. Young appetites were healthy and every meal was a delicious treat. I haven't the faintest idea whether or not Father reaped any significant benefits from the saw mill. I do know our family was never hungry for want of food or cold from lack of warm clothes. Our clothes were few. They were of the home spun variety with not the least bit of style or tailoring. They were plain and sometimes patched but never dirty for long. An incident took place prior to leaving the saw mill that remains clear in my memory. I was eleven years old at the time, when I was the only boy among a group of ten men who made a tedious trip to an old abandoned mine in Arizona. My uncle, Will Spendlove, and my father's partner in the saw mill business, Mr. Roundy, were among the men in the group. My duties were to round up the horses after the night grazing, to gather fire wood, and many other odd jobs. We slept on the ground, beneath the stars. It was pleasant to be lulled to sleep by the the wild noises of the night: the breezes, the grazing of the horses as they foraged for food, and the crackling, dying embers in the fire. At Anderson's ranch, between Virgin and St. George, we picked up Uncle Wren, another of Father's brothers. This ranch lay between Virgin, and St. George. The roads were narrow and extremely steep, throwing our wagons from side to side. My hair stood on end with fear of being thrown against the mountain side. The last six miles were over solid rock and as we jolted and jerked along I was afraid that the wagons would break apart. Finally we arrived at the abandon mine and began to dig, blast and shovel the ore into the wagons, which numbered ten, or there about. The men worked here for about one month, and then, with wagons loaded, we began our return homeward. The ore was taken to Milford, in Beaver County, where it was shipped by rail to a smelter, but I do not recall just where. I was paid $6.00 for my labors. With this fortune I purchased my first suit of clothes with long trousers. I had been away from home about six weeks and I was a happy lad to reunite with my parents and brothers and sisters. I felt mighty proud too, that I had accumulated such a vast sum of money. After living seven years in Tropic, Father again began to hunger for greener fields and riper harvests; so he hitched up his team to a light wagon, and with me to sitting beside him we bade goodbye to mother and the family. We headed north to a place called Abraham, in Millard County, where my father's sister and her husband, John Ed Wright, lived. It took us five days to make the trip, as Abraham was 2 or 3 hundred miles north of Tropic. We were very glad to be welcomed in a nice comfortable home and to eat good home cooking again. We remained with Uncle John Ed for a month. Father helped on the farm and I helped out as chore boy. It was while we were here that Father, decided to break all connections in Tropic and try his hand at farming in Abraham, so he borrowed a

heavy wagon and a team of horses from a cousin, Ted Spendlove, who lived in Hinckley, a town five miles south of Abraham. Equipped with four horses and a heavy wagon we made our way back to Tropic to make preparations for another move. Back in Tropic, Father sold our home and property for one team of horses and five hundred head of sheep, and perhaps some cash in addition. Father left his herd of sheep behind with the man he purchased them from until further arrangements could be made. I never did learn if he properly disposed of them or what arrangements were made for them, except he might have traded them for the land in Abraham. The furniture and all our belongings were loaded into three wagons, the family got in with all the belongings, and merrily we started out to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It was a hot summer day when we said goodbye to Tropic and all our old friends. Was mother happy about it? I don't know. But it was a lark for us kids-at least for a while. Traveling was slow and tedious but the first day and night were uneventful. However this serenity didn't last long. The second night out trouble began. We bedded down that night near a sheep camp and turned the horses out to seek food. When we awakened at dawn, the horses were nowhere in sight, but we soon found all the horses except one and unfortunately it was a borrowed horse. We hunted all day long and at the end of the day were weary and discouraged. The following morning we left one wagon at the sheep camp and started out with two wagons and tied the odd horse to follow behind. That day we made it to Beaver City, a distance of 15 miles, and here we camped. Again our cup of trouble began to run over for the mate to the missing horse took sick and died. This too was a borrowed horse, and I do not recall Father making recompense for the dead and missing horses. We stopped in Beaver long enough for father to go back to the sheep camp and get the wagon he left behind. Poor Mother must have suffered much inconvenience and fatigue. However, in time Father did return with the wagon and we all settled down for a much needed rest before starting out on our journey again. Once again we left one wagon behind, this time in Beaver, and headed for Abraham. We traveled on until we came to Hinckley, the town just five miles from our destination. We found a vacant cabin on the outskirts of Hinckley and here we took possession and moved in until better arrangements could be made. While we were crowded in this one-room shack, Father went back to Beaver for the stranded wagon. At long last we had our three wagons and four horses all together again. Could crossing the plains be harder, I wonder? Soon father went to Abraham and purchased an 80-acre farm with a two-room house on it. He must have traded the sheep as part payment on it for I never heard anymore of the sheep. The house was much too small for our big family and the culinary water had to be hauled in barrels from a nearby neighbor. The horses had to be hitched to Father's light wagon to bring the water back to the house. My brother, Jim, didn't go with us to Abraham (lucky rascal), but remained with Mr. Alex Wright, helping him on his farm. But the ten remaining members of our family tried to exist in that tiny house. Things didn't go well in Abraham. Father planted 40 acres of the land into wheat and harvested only 45 bushels. He planted a few apple trees near the house, and I'll wager they were sour ones. Discouraged, Father threw in the sponge, and set out for Eli Nevada, where he worked at carpentry for two months. Mother and her brood were left behind to run the farm. While Father was in Eli, the family contracted

small pox. Father came home to find a yellow flag tacked to the house as a warning of quarantine. As he approached the house, Mother stood at the window and motioned him to keep his distance. He hesitated a moment of two, then rushed into the house and into the arms of Mother. Caution was thrown to the wind and love took over. Mother and Father were deeply in love and to my memory there was no quarreling of bickering between them. She must have worshiped him and been utterly blind to any short comings he may have had. She followed him through thick and thin and never made a murmur to my knowledge. The small pox passed through the entire family. Even Father contracted the disease. Except for my half brother Horace, who was quite ill, we all had light cases. The next fall, Father went to Mercur, a gold mining camp, where he got a job in the Golden Gate Mill. He was destined to go to Mercur, for it was there, some years later, that I met the girl of my dreams who became my wife, and the mother of my children. Father lost everything he had in Abraham, except the team and wagon which he sold for enough to purchase or partly pay for a home in Mercur. I think it was in the fall that father went to Mercur and lost little time in sending for mother and part of the family. I was left with my aunt, Mary Jane, in Abraham, Miles was left with the Charles Stratton family, and Jim remained with Alex Wright in Hinckley until the spring of 1900 when he went back to Virgin to live with Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Nephi Workman. In the fall of that same year, he too, went to Mercur, where he attended school for a full term. A few months after my parents moved to Mercur, my half brother, Miles, and I sold a pig and a mare for $13, and decided to join the family in the new home in Mercur. It was quite a pilgrimage! The nearest railway stop was six miles out in the desert, at place called Oasis, and to make bad matters worse, the train passed through in the middle of the night. We knew we had insufficient funds to pay for two fares to Mercur, so we kept out of sight while Mr. Martindale, who was kind enough to take us out there, purchased two one-half fares for us to Fairfield where it was necessary to change trains for Mercur. We boarded the train and nervously waited for the conductor to come around for the tickets. We tried to look real small but somehow I never felt so big as I did at that moment when the conductor looked at the tickets, then at us, and angrily stormed, "These are only half fare tickets and you are adults!" He threatened to put us off the train but he didn't have the heart to put two lonely, young, homesick boys out in the dark dreary waste. Silently we traveled on to Fairfield, and left the train with just one dollar in our jeans. Here we purchased two more one-half tickets at fifty cents a piece. The adult ticket would have cost one dollar, but we couldn't be half hearted now. It was do or die. Shortly after the train started the conductor came around. He took the tickets, looked at them and then at us and with a puzzled expression shook his head and moved on. Now our worries were over and we would soon be home. It was 11:30 AM when we arrived in busy, bustling Mercur. It was February and the ground was covered with snow. Kids were sleigh-riding down the hill from the R.W. Station into town and having the time of their lives. Being strangers, with no sense of direction, we asked the first man we came to if he knew where John Spendlove lived. He shook his head and said "Never heard of him." Several others we approached knew nothing of John Spendlove. Finally we found a young man who knew the Spendloves and directed us to the Geysor Gulch, where my parents had rented a

four-room house. We climbed the few steps that led to the narrow porch on the front part of the house. We opened the door and quietly walked in. Mother looked as thought she were seeing ghosts. It wasn't the type of welcome we had anticipated. She wasn't at all happy about seeing us, but after she composed herself, she hugged and kissed us and welcomed us home. Poor mother. Once again her household numbered ten souls. Jim had not found his way to Mercur, as yet. No wonder Mother was disturbed and bewildered. She thought she had us fed and bedded down for the winter and here we were soiled and hungry and in need of attention. Now there was one more bed to buy, and then there was the task of finding a place to put an extra bed. More bedding would need to be supplied, for winter was bitter in the mountains of Mercur. And with our arrival, there needed to be loads more food purchased. Mother's life had not been a bed of roses. She was a child of pioneer parents who crossed the plains and settled down in Sugar House, in Salt Lake County. Her father had taken up land there and built a house and was doing well when he received a call from Brigham Young to go, with around one hundred others, to Southern Utah, to pioneer that part of God's kingdom. Obedient to the call, Grandfather sold all his belongings except teams and wagons and what other things they could take on a move such as that.. This colony of people were sent to Virgin, Washington County, and Grandfather Jepson was elected captain over fifty wagons. Although Mother was young when she left Salt Lake, she grew to womanhood in this new country where everything was hard and wild. She, with many others, suffered all the trials and tribulations of pioneer life in an unconquered land where conveniences were as yet unknown. It was February when Miles and I arrived in Mercur, and soon after I started to school in the sixth grade, Mr. Wells was the name of my teacher, a man I liked very much. To my great surprise, I found that school here in Mercur, was much different than in the south. Our classes in Tropic and Abraham were called 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th Readers. Here they were known as 1st, 2nd and 3rd Grades. The lessons seemed much more difficult and required hard study and much preparation. I continued in school until spring, but because of need in the family, I got me a part-time job working for Mr. Steinman, who owned and operated a man's clothing store. It was my job to arrive at the store early, build a fire, and clean up in general. After school, I would return to the store where occasionally I would make a sale, put articles back in place, tidy up the place and see that everything was left in order and that the fire in the stove was safe to leave. It was quite a responsible job for a young boy who was trying to adjust himself to a new school, new home, and work so entirely different than I had ever done. No doubt my lessons suffered because of my work, but it was necessary for me to be self-supporting. The following summer I did poll tax work because it paid better money than I was getting from Mr. Steinman. I made $1.50 per day working poll tax. Most all the money I made went to Mother to supplement Dad's earnings. The next fall, I began school, back in the sixth grade for I hadn't been in school long enough to get a full promotion. I had been in school only three months, from the last of February to the middle or last of May. Mr. Steinman had paid me 50 cents on week days and $1.00 on Saturdays. I began school with brand new clothes and felt that I was one

with the other boys and girls. It was good to have that feeling of belonging. Father had suffered many years with Hernia, and although it troubled him some, he continued working and saying little about it. While I was attending school during my first year in Mercur, Father went to Salt Lake to try and borrow some money, what for I don't know, but it was necessary to have a physical examination in order to borrow the money., His condition was such that the loan was refused. The doctors advised him against doing any hard work, so he returned home and tried to sell insurance and Union Savings, but made little or nothing. He wasn't a salesman, but he was a good talker. Our resources were dwindling down to nothing, so in the late winter, I quit school and began working in the Golden Gate Mill. I was 14 years old when I began working this 8-hour-a-day job, regulating the ore on the conveyor belt. This was a dangerous job and required strict attention on my part to keep from being caught in the fast moving belt. I worked for six months and developed such a bad and continuous cough that the company doctor advised me to change work and get out in the pure air. I quit work for a few weeks and then found work from Mr. Alma Swenson, who owned and operated a grocery, clothing and millinery store. It was my job to go each morning from house to house, taking orders from the patrons, and this I did on foot. Then in the afternoon, I would deliver the goods in a light wagon drawn by one horse. Later, when business increased, two horses were supplied. I got much less money on this job but I did quit coughing. Mr. Swenson paid me $30 a month, whereas in the mill I got $45. One day I was driving up main street when a young friend driving another team and wagon, much heavier than mine, was slowly going in the same direction. I tried to pass him when he hit his horses and made them gallop along. Not to be outdone, I hit my horses and the race was on. We raced through main street side by side for a few minutes, when my team lurched ahead and I drove up to the store and went inside. My friend went on up the street where he was nabbed by a policeman, Mr. Abe Crowford. Soon Abe Crowford came into the store leading my friend, Dick Daniels, by the arm and asked for Joe Spendlove. I nervously followed the two to the City Hall where we received a good lecture but were let off because it was our first offense. This is the first and last traffic ticket I ever received. By this time I had quite a few good friends, and a nice sweetheart who sang in the church choir. Her name was Thurza Williams, and I dated her for almost a year. Thurza and I attended church parties and dances, and I'd often treat her to ice cream and other sweets.. With a sweetheart, I wasn't making enough money working for Alma Swenson, so I quit my job and went back to the mill and worked on the junior bullgang. This was a clean-up job, keeping certain portions of the mill tidy, picking up waste, sweeping, and putting things in order after the senior bullgang had finished a dirty job. There were always tools, rags and grease strewn about and general disorder wherever they worked. At the mill I made a higher salary and was able, after paying my board and room, to get me some nice clothes. I took great pains with my hair, which was curly and bought clothes equal to the other young men of the camp. I kept a little spending money in my pocket so that I would never need be embarrassed by being broke. When this job at the mill panned out, I did pole tax work for a while; then, with four other boys of the town, I went to Faust, a

desert place where the Oregon Short Line Rail passed over. There was one large building which housed the boss and supplied a dinning room where the workers ate. There were several bunk houses where we slept. We worked for Mr. Will Wright. Our jobs were working as Sexton hands. After working one month in that desolate place we longed for the bright lights of home, so my friend, Jack Peterson, and I got a burro and a horse from a rancher and took turns riding the horse and the burro. It required so much energy to make the burro move! After a few miles of kicking, lashing and coaxing, we were exasperated and exhausted, and glad for our turn on the horse. Approaching Mercur, we stopped at a certain home in the mouth of the canyon where the Jones' lived. We were thirsty, of course, and also were pleased to see that the sweet, young girl named Jane had returned. She met us at the door and smilingly bade us come in while she drew water for us to drink. She was a lovely sight to my young eyes and my friend was sweet on her too. We went in and when our thirst was quenched neither of us could think of an excuse for remaining longer, so we said good bye and went on up into town and to our respective homes. Later that evening I went to see my sweetheart, Thersa. Then Jack and I made our way back to Faust, where we worked for two more months before we were laid off and a crew of Japanese took our jobs. So we went back to Mercur, where I got a job in the Sacramento Mine, working for Evan Jones, who was superintendent of the mine and mill and who just happened to be Jane Jones' brother. During this time my brother Horace had worked in the Mill and my brother Jim had come to Mercur and attended school for a time and during the summer of 1901 he worked in Salt Lake. Later Jim went back to live with Uncle Nephi and remained with him until 1906 when he again returned to Mercur to work for a few months. During these years I had worked in Mercur, sometimes in the mine, sometimes in the mill and sometimes for Alma Swenson in his store. Working for Mr. Swenson, it was my privilege to call at the Jones home each day for orders form the store and deliver the groceries in the afternoon. One time Jane fell ill to what doctors feared to be Smallpox, so I was the privileged one and could see her because I'd previously had Smallpox. . Another time she was quarantined for diphtheria and again I was the one who could peek into her room and say brief words of comfort. However, the diphtheria turned out to be only a bad sore throat which would reoccur several times each winter. I had met Jane Jones one Sunday evening some time prior to this, when my sweetheart, Thersa Williams and I were out strolling. We were on our way to an ice cream parlor and Jane was on her way to church. She had just returned from Bountiful where she had lived for some time. Faintly, I remembered noticing a girl named Jane's brown eyes and rosy cheeks at a house party, but her father whisked her away to Bountiful before I really got acquainted with her, and I had almost forgotten she existed. Now it was necessary for us to be introduced again, for both of us had grown and changed so much. We asked Jane to go with us for ice cream. She declined, however, but after some pressure, she consented and the three of us had ice cream. She smiled her approval of me and I kept thinking of her beauty. Her eyes were brown and friendly, her complexion like apple blossoms and she was gay and vivacious. After ice cream, we went to church and there we parted. She was back with the old gang and other fellows seemed to think she was a bit of alright. After that, Jane Jones and I were thrown together in every church meeting, in church socials, town dances and house parties; but we never went together until I was 17 years

old and she was 15. Our family was getting along quite well financially. Father, my half-brother Horace and I were working and bringing home a regular salary which took care of the needs and entertainment of our family. When Jim was home, he also worked and the younger brothers and sisters attended school. When Horace was called on a two-year mission to the Southern States, I helped to keep him on his mission. Father was often a speaker in church and Mother was appointed First Counselor in the Relief Society Presidency. We had made many warm-hearted friends in this gold camp. All were active in church work. Good will and a strong feeling of brotherhood existing among the people in Mercur with very little class distinction. Mercur was truly a melting pot, for people from all over the world came here to seek their fortune. Among the many nationalities we had in Mercur, there was just one Negro family. The name of this colored family was Leslie. George, the husband and father, was a 6 foot 2 man, who danced with skill and dressed like a millionaire. George Leslie was very popular at town entertainment. We were also entertained by traveling plays which found their way to Mercur at least once a month and were patronized by most all of the English speaking people. There were at least a dozen saloons and three houses of prostitution in our noisy, busy city. But to my knowledge, no woman or girl was molested or insulted by the rough and tough miners. During the Christmas holidays, when I was 17 years old, I decided to go back to Virgin in Southern Utah to visit friends and relatives and my brother, Jim, who was still living with Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Nephi. I had left Mercur buried in snow, and escaped to a vacation with no cold and no snow. I traveled by train to Lund in Iron County, then by stage coach 35 miles to Cedar City. Here my Uncle Jim and cousins, Rose and Lucy Jepson, met me at the stage terminal. Then it was on to Virgin by team and wagon. I stayed with Uncle Jim for most of my visit but also spent a while with my paternal grandparents. While there I engaged in many of the pioneer entertainments such as molasses candy pulling and banquets at the home of various relatives. There was hay riding, horseback riding and dancing. The dance floor was so small that tickets were issued in numbers from 1 to 25. Each man punched a ticket and he danced only when his number was called. I was financially rich so I purchased two tickets so I could dance each dance. In comparison to the straight condition of our family while living in the south, I truly did feel comparatively rich now. One lovely day Jim and I, along with a few cousins and friends started on horseback to Hurricane, a distance of 8 or 10 miles. Between Virgin and Hurricane there was a hot mineral spring, with a board shack over it. It was totally enclosed and the door was locked, but the gang decided to take a mineral bath. I was never fond of water at depths above my knees, so I refused to go in, but the others stubbornly went ahead. They climbed to the roof, lifted a couple of boards, and dropped in. I sat on the roof and watched for owners. The owner came along and saw me sitting there and said "That's a funny place for a door." The kids crowded out, dressed and we returned home. The boys had to collect for widows as punishment for going swimming on private property. The vacation ended and I returned to Mercur and employment at Sacramento Mine, mucking for Evan Jones for $2.50 a day. Jack Peterson and I took our girlfriends for

walks to Sunday School, but by this time I realized I had a real crush on Jane Jones and so I neglected Thursa and began spending more and more time with Jane. Jane left Mercur to go to Bountiful where her father wanted to do some prospecting, which left me alone for several months during which time I didn't date anyone. When she returned, we again resumed dating. These dates consisted of buggy rides, going to church and to dances. We fell more and more in love and decided that we would be married on Jane's nineteenth birthday which was the tenth of June, the day before my own twentyfirst birthday. We had plans of having a lovely reception and thought June was the perfect month for a marriage. Then Jane's mother became very ill, so Jane went to Bountiful to her sister Liza's home to help care for her mother. On the 7th of August 1907 Jane's mother died. I went to Bountiful to attend the funeral, and it broke my heart when I had to leave my dear, broken-hearted sweetheart behind and return to Mercur. Jane needed me now, more than ever, and we determined to be married on November 15th and forget waiting until June. I left Jane in the care of her sisters, making her promise not to go to work, as she had planned to do. I went back to Mercur to earn more money and prepare for our wedding. What little money I could scrape together, I sent to Jane. With that money she bought linens and other things to help us set up a household.. I could hardly wait until November. I quit work on the 11th, left on the 12th, and we were married on the 15th of November 1907. We were married in the Salt Lake Temple. That afternoon we caught the train for South Bountiful where we stayed for a few days with Jane's sister Mattie. As soon as we could get everything packed, we moved to Mercur where we hoped to make our home. We found a little 2-room house to rent for five dollars a month. I secured work at the mill, and we bought our own furniture and felt the pleasure and excitement of starting our life together We lived there a few months and then bought a 3-room-house across the canyon. Our son, Gordon was born there. We were so happy in Mercur, and especially happy in our beautiful little home on the hill. My mother's death in Provo led us to leave these happy circumstances. My father was left a widower at the age of 49 and had to care for a large family of children, the youngest only six years old. Father asked us to move to Provo to be closer to the family and to help out, which we did. Our son, Gordon, was a little over a year old when we moved to Provo. My father was working at that time driving horses on dumps and making $6 or $7 on contract while others were making only $2 or $3. In Provo we lived in two or three small houses as I did odd jobs such as shoveling coal, and carrying hod. Finally I got a job with B. B. Lumber Company hauling lumber and building materials all over the valley for $2 a day. After several months we moved in the Conrad place. There we had a garden, a cow and a horse. Three children, Eleanor and Beatrice and then Max, were born there. We were poor, but we had lots of food. Money was tight and jobs were few. Tragically, our baby, Eleanor, died of whooping cough when she was not quite two years of age. Our other children were critically ill, but recovered. Jane and I also suffered with illnesses while in Provo. It was a bad move for us.

After some time, Father and Jack moved to Magna to work at the mill there, and they told me they thought I could also get a job at the Magna Mill for $2.75. I had to leave my sweet wife and three children in Provo while I sought employment in Magna. Since we had no money, before I left I had to find a merchant who would give us credit for groceries while I was away. I found a man who would give us fifteen dollars credit for a month's groceries. Knowing that Jane had that little bit of security, I left to try for work in Magna. Thankfully, I got work there, and made arrangements for the family. We moved into Bishop Spivo's house which was only a one-mile walk to work. My duties included repairing fanner belts. I worked at the Magna Mill until after the war. There we had one more child, a son named Ray. We enjoyed making new friends and the children were healthier and happier. I suffered with poor health however. I had a bad ulcer, the flu and an appendix operation while living there. The whole nation was in the midst of the Depression and the mill laid all of the workers off. All the mill could offer us was two weeks a month, which wasn't enough for a family to live on. I was forced to go to Grove Creek looking for work, and found one driving a team for a coal mining company, but my family remained in Magna, and the separation was very difficult for all of us. Luckily, though, my wife's brother, Omni Jones, knew of our plight, and he was instrumental in getting me a job working in Ophir, Utah at the Ophir Power House for Clark Electric. I immediately went to Ophir ahead of the family, rooming and boarding at Fred Rice's, the other power house operator. Omni drove Jane and the children to Ophir in his car. The furniture and cow were transported in a covered truck. Unfortunately, when the truck arrived we found that the cow had let mother nature take her course leaving us with a horrible mess that had to be cleaned up before we could use any of the furniture! Jane and I had scrubbed and cleaned and finally moved into the house with nice fresh furniture and bedding. It was a very long day, and we retired to our beds exhausted. But that very first night we had another huge problem. Jane heard the children fussing in the night and when she turned on the light we found armies of bed bugs on the bed clothes and on the children, biting and stinging them in their sleep, leaving welts and sores. There was no more sleeping that night! The task of eradicating the pests began. Everything had to be scoured with Lysol. Mattresses and bed clothes were searched that night, and day after day for weeks to come. A blow torch was used to ferret out breeding places, after which the place had to have new paper hung and new paint both inside and out. Insect powder was sprayed all about and it took weeks before every last bed-bug was gone and we had restful and healthful sleep. I was 32 years old when we moved to Ophir. Jane was 30. Gordon was 11 , Beatrice was 7 , Max was 6 , and Ray was nearly two years old. This was the beginning of a very pleasant time for our family. While there we bought a used Model T. Ford which was a source of pride, even though it was box-like and ugly by today's standards. It had to be cranked to start the engine and had running boards and isinglass removable curtains. Our home in Ophir was the nicest house we'd had yet. There was more room, a huge yard, and tall trees. The house featured a large kitchen, a big pantry and clothes closet, a sink with running cold water, a living room, and a dining room. In the front of the house we had a summer porch which was divided into two rooms--one half was our room, the other half contained 2 beds for the children. Beatrice slept with her baby brother Ray until a few years later when a nice big bedroom was added for her. The sleeping porch had wood a

little over half the height of the wall, and the rest was screen. Heavy printed canvas protected the upper half of the ends of the rooms, but the front was open screen both summer and winter. In summer it was a total delight to sleep out there. A small, gurgling brook ran past the porch and tree branches rustled with night breezes while buzzing, humming or chirping insects lulled us to sleep. In winter, heavy home-made tied wool quilts were piled on the occupants of the beds. Heavy flannel night shirts were worn and flannel night caps with chin-ties were a must. We'd cuddle and snuggle and sometimes take into bed hot water bottles or hot rocks warmed in the oven and then wrapped in cloths. But every winter morning there would be hoor-frost along the upper edges of the quilts where we had held them close to our faces and breathed on them. I worked a 12 hour shift, which meant that for two weeks I'd go on shift at 1 PM and work until 1 AM when Fred would come on. Then we'd switch and he'd go on at 1 PM and I'd go on at 1 AM. The hours were very awkward and unpleasant on the shift which necessitated getting up at 1 AM in the morning to go to work. However, it did give us alternate day or night hours off and it was during the day time off hours that I was able to do yard work which I enjoyed very much. I planted lawns, worked to make garden beds and built arches for climbing roses. Rustic seats encircled the trunks of the trees, and I laid out neat, rock pathways leading through the rose-covered arches. Slowly a Garden of Eden bloomed with large beds of asters, sweet peas, gladiolas, sweet williams, and marigolds. Climbing vines covered nearly every wall of the house as well as the fences. Visitors and friends were always complimentary when they saw the garden and the beautiful lawns, and we were proud to have show them around. The work at the power house was not physically hard. It was a matter of keeping the plant swept and clean, keeping a close eye on the big generator, the "governor" which controlled motor speed. I had to make sure that the water coming in the hatchway was steady and clean of debris which might injure the motors and that the exit hatchway was also unobstructed in any way. The rush of water entering the plant turned the big generator which made the power. The rush of water leaving the plant went first into a fairly good-sized pond, over a small fall, and into the creek which took the water down the valley to irrigate the several farms below where we lived. The year we took Beatrice to Salt Lake to enroll in the University of Utah, I learned that the Ophir powerhouse was going to be dismantled. I was laid off and anxiously began yet another job search. I looked everywhere for work. I combed Salt Lake City, and when nothing materialized, I decided I would again have to go to work in the Bauer Mill and Mine. Just days before I took the job with Bauer, I was called back to work at the Ophir powerhouse, on a temporary basis, which they thought would not last more than six months to a year. So I was pleased when George Bihler came to us from the Bingham power station, and asked me to take a job in Bingham. Although I had to take a pay cut of $30, it was even more difficult having to say goodbye to all the people we loved in Ophir. But when I went to look things over, .I liked Bingham right away and so I took Jane to see it. The prospect of being closer to the City where we could visit with our college children more often was very appealing. We liked the set up in Bingham, and both of us felt right about the decision and moved to Bingham Canyon, Utah on November 15,

1929. My youngest son, Ray, was 12 years old. He and 16-year-old Max were able to come home from school for lunch each day. It was just a short walk up the mountain path from the school to our home. This house provided Jane with conveniences which we had never before enjoyed: both hot and cold running water, a bathroom, and an electric range and refrigerator. I set to work to make the grounds in Bingham as beautiful as the garden we left behind in Ophir. Soon I had the steep hillside planted in grass and decorated with flowers and trees. A rock garden led to a fish pond which I surrounded with lighted castles made of cement. Picnic tables tucked away in the trees behind the house, provided a shady retreat from summer heat. The Bingham Years brought seasons of change to our family as our children became educated and began their careers and their families. Living in Bingham brought opportunities for the boys to obtain employment with Kennecott Copper during the summers which helped to finance their educations. Gordon went to college and then on to medical school in Louisville Kentucky, graduating as a doctor of medicine. In 1933 he married Elizabeth Ring. Beatrice continued at the University of Utah where she earned a master's degree in history. Her master's thesis was on Bingham Canyon so she became quite an expert on our little town. Max and Ray both graduated from Bingham High School and then went on to college at the University of Utah. Max earned a degree in engineering and Ray followed his brother, Gordon, to Louisville, Kentucky to medical school where he, too, became a doctor. I, of course, was a very proud father. I think we were destined to come to Bingham Canyon because the first day of school Ray met a cute young girl by the name of Helen Johnson, who caught his attention immediately and soon snagged his heart forever. They courted through high school and were married in the Salt Lake Temple on October 21, 1938. For the Spendlove family it was a season of love that year, beginning with Max, who married Mary Louise Prisk on May 9, 1938, and including Beatrice, who married Jack Bates on September 10, 1938. Following their marriages, our nest was empty and our hearts were heavy for a time, as World War II darkened our lives. All our sons helped in the war effort. Max served as a civilian using his skills in mechanical engineering in the state of Michigan. Gordon joined the military and served as an army doctor in the southern states. Ray enlisted in the paratroopers and was shipped overseas, and Jack was in the Navy. It was a time for prayer and waiting. To ease the heartache of the war, the Lord blessed us with four grandchildren who were a source of pride and happiness for us. There was one grandson, Gordon, and three little granddaughters, Linda, Mary Lou, and Leslie Rae. When Jack shipped out to sea, Beatrice could no longer follow him and she returned to our home on the hill in Bingham. And with Ray overseas, Helen came back to her parent's home in Bingham Canyon to live and while she waited for Ray and gave birth to their first child, Leslie Rae. For the next two years, we had Helen and the baby in our home often. For some reason, little Leslie wanted to hold my finger for security and comfort until she fell asleep. I indulged her, willingly standing over her bed, for hours, while she contentedly held my finger. I liked to put the grandchildren on my leg and give them a horsy ride as I had done for my own children when they were younger. These

rides were referred to as Leedle lees. They'd beg, "Grandpa, give me a Leedle lee," and I'd oblige. Whenever all the family got together Beatrice would play the piano while we all gathered around to sing. At those times, I preferred to mostly listen. But at quiet times, unaccompanied, I did have a small repertoire of solos that I'd sing, upon request. "The Bumblebee Stepped on the Elephant's Toe" and "Woe Mule Woe" were most often requested. It was a happy day when the war was over and our boys came home. . Jack and Beatrice were off to Connecticut (and later Denver) where Jack had a jobs first with Consolidated Edison and then with the Department of the Interior. Max settled in Silver Springs, Maryland where he worked as head of the Bureau of Mines. And Gordon located in Washington State where he was the administrator for the VA Hospital. Ray took Helen and Leslie and moved to a new home in Vernal, Utah where he began his medical practice Three more grandchildren were born: Kim, Brian, and Valynne, which brought our posterity to seven. . Jane and I lived in Bingham until 1957, when I retired from Utah Power with 35 years of service. We then bought a cozy, little red brick home located at 3485 South Marigold Street in Magna, Utah, where we planned to spend the rest of our lives together. Beatrice and her husband bought a home just a few blocks away, which made us very happy. We quickly got to know our neighbors and made many friends at church. Again, I set about planting the yard and garden. We were happy here in Magna for three years, although Jane suffered, as she had for years, with her bad heart. In 1960, she had a bad gall bladder attack which required surgery. In the hospital, following the surgery, Jane unexpectedly, and very suddenly died. My little doll house no longer had a doll. My heart was broken. My lips quivered. The only part of my body that worked was my tear ducts as I fought to be brave. I learned the meaning of the word lonely. I missed my Jane! Beatrice came often, and brought a bit of her mother each time she visited. I tried to keep up the garden, but there was no joy in it. Days passed into years. As they did, I began to suffer from Parkinsons Disease. Initially, I was troubled with slight trembling in my fingers, but as the disease progressed, I became more shaky in my legs and feet as well, and eventually, unable to care for myself, I had no other choice than to leave my little home and enter a nursing home. In 1965 I entered the Golden Manor Nursing Home located on 33rd South in Granger, Utah. This became my home for the next eleven years. I had entered, full of hope that I would be able to recover enough to return to my home, but that hope was never realized. Eleven years is a long time to live in a weakened condition, unable to care for oneself, and longing for someone you love. Days are filled with memories, and nights are only dreams. Beatrice who came to visit me every day. She was my joy. When she wasn't teaching school, she brought me lunch. During the school year, when she had been teaching all day, she would come in the evening. During her visits Beatrice would push me in my wheelchair and we became acquainted with the other patients as well as the

staff. She brought me my favorite foods and special treats. She rubbed my aching limbs, brought me pillows, pads and lotions and always worried about my care. Beatrice was my Florence Nightingale and my guardian angel. Every Sunday she came to attend church services with me. Daily, for eleven years she nursed me as I waited at death's door, until finally, on February 27, 1976, she kissed me good-by for the last time. {{{{{{{ Surely Paradise is even more beautiful now, as Joe Spendlove is busy there, working in the gardens, tending the flowers. Jane must be admiring his handiwork, as she always has. Patiently, they're looking forward to the day when all their family will be together again to live "happily ever after." Change Date: 21 NOV 1999 at 00:00:00 Father: John Alfred SPENDLOVE b: 16 DEC 1864 in Virgin,Washington,Utah Mother: Eleanor JEPSON b: 1 SEP 1858 in Sugar House,Salt Lake,Utah Marriage 1 Sarah Jane JONES b: 10 JUN 1889 in Bountiful,Davis,Utah

Married: 15 NOV 1907 in Salt Lake City,Salt Lake,Utah Sealing Spouse: 15 NOV 1907 in SLAKE

Children 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Joseph Gordon SPENDLOVE Cynthia Eleanor SPENDLOVE b: 5 AUG 1910 in Provo,Utah,Utah Sarah Beatrice SPENDLOVE Max Jones SPENDLOVE Ray Elwood SPENDLOVE