The Old Ford

1919: L-R: John P. Lind, Lynn Clark, Philbert, Oscar & Laurence

On the ranch, in the shed below the road was an old 1916 (?) Ford Touring car, which used to belong to Grandma (Emma) Lind.  I think that it was the one that Uncle Oscar bought and after his death became the property of Grandma.  I don’t know if she ever drove it, but none the less it belonged to her.  Anyway many a happy hour was spent as a young boy as Doug and I pretended to drive the dusty old car.  It had a fold down top on it, four doors and two leather seats, the top was never put down.  I don’t remember if we were ever bank robbers, but we would chase the bank robbers and try to catch them.  Sometimes I would even get to pretend drive and that was very exciting.  We would get to go to many different places on exotic vacations, anyplace that our minds could think of to go.  It was a wonderful old car.

When Oscar was about 16, Dad told the boys they could have the old car if they could get it running.  Oscar and Dwain were the chief mechanics, Doug figured he was as good of help as they could find and Me, I was a good shade tree mechanic, most of my ideas went by unheeded.  After all I was only eight or nine and to older brothers didn’t know much.

The car was pulled out of the shed and work on it started in earnest.  First we got the motor running, because if the motor doesn’t run you can’t go very far.  After the motor was running and bands in the transmission were going, then we decided what to do with the body of the car.  It was decided to strip it down and make it into a pickup type vehicle.  The body was cut off behind the front seat, the back seat and the top were discarded.  A wooden platform was built on the back behind the seat that we could sit or stand on, so now we were ready to try it out.  The tires were no good as they had rotted while sitting in the shed, so the maiden voyage was made on the rims.

One of the interesting things about our “hotrod”, was that it had a Ruxstell gear in the differential.  This was kind of a low speed gear when you pulled on the floor mounted shift lever, giving it a two speed effect, high and low.

After we got tires on our auto, we were able to drive it all over on the roads at the ranch.  Oscar even taught me how to drive it, which I really appreciated.  We took it fishing, coyote hunting and one time we even decided to drive it to Grouse Creek to the 4th of July celebration.  There were about six of us that piled on to it and we were off.  Dwain was the chauffeur for us on that eventful day.  We putted down the road and up the mountain, as we started down the other side everything was going fine.  We came around Lower’s Curve and down to Poison Creek, as we were going down the grade by the creek, it started to pick up speed.  Dwain pushed on the brake and nothing happened, he tried everything he could think of, nothing worked.  We might make it around the gentle curve 1/4 of a mile ahead, but there was no way we could make it around Scott’s curve on ahead and we would go off the grade and down the hill.  The only alternative at this point, was to try and go up over the bank on the left and up the mountain.  Dwain grabbed the Ruxstell gear lever and gave it a hard pull, as he did this, every thing on the car seemed to work.  The sudden jerk almost threw us off, but we had been saved from serious injury or worse.

We went on to Grouse Creek and spent the day visiting with our cousins and friends.  The rest of the day was relatively uneventful.  The trip home was made in good order.

Oscar and Dwain went into the Army in World War II, Dad, felt sorry for a family with several boys in Moulton and gave our car to them.  They got it running and had lots of fun with it.  Us boys were really not very happy campers over the situation, but all turned out well in the end.

The Phonograph Motor

When I was about three years of age, we went to Emerson, Idaho one day to visit Uncle Frank and Aunt Annie Morgan.  Uncle Frank gave us an old phonograph motor.  It was a wonderful thing.  We would put string around all the glass knobs on the kitchen cupboards and then around the phonograph motor, this would turn all the knobs on the cupboard.  This was our factory.  You could wind it up, tip it up on it's side and it would crawl along the floor.  I felt that I was just as able as any one else when it came to running this wonderful machine.  One day, Mother and I were upstairs in the East bedroom.  She was quilting, I was playing with the motor.  I had it turned up on it's side, as one of the big wheels would turn around, there was a hole that would come appear.  As this hole would come around, I would stick my finger in the hole and jerk it out.  I had done it several times, before Mother saw me.  She told me that I had better not do it any more, as it would grab my finger.  I waited and watched and when she wasn't watching, I stuck in my finger again and it grabbed me.  I immediately began to scream and cry and holler.  Mother came running, she couldn't back the motor up, so she left me crying and ran down the stairs, outside to the shop, got a hammer, ran back to her screaming child and proceeded to break the motor to pieces so she could get my finger out.  When the older boys came home from school, they were really upset with me, because I was the one who caused the motor to be broken.  In thinking about the situation, I think that one of the older boys must have showed me how to do this wonderful daring thing.  Nevertheless, I still have the scar to remind me of that wintery day.

Our Pet Deer

Having grown up in Junction Valley on the ranch, we were surrounded by the high mountains with the large reservoir, mountain streams and broad blue skies.  We enjoyed a country lifestyle with our cousins close by.  We had many adventures with wild animals, many varieties of birds, and fishing was a favorite pastime.  We liked to catch the crawdads at the creek and make willow whistles.  We had trap lines in the winter and in the spring we waited for the eggs in the magpie nests to hatch, for the bounty was better on the little birds.  It was a great childhood.

The folks first home was a little three room house near Grandma Lind at the Lind homestead.  The joy of having a pet deer began early in life, probably even with Dad and his brothers and sisters.  When Oscar was only about two years old, he liked to feed the bottle of milk to his pet fawn and walk around holding on to it’s tail.  They were friends.  Mother said that she always knew when Tom Sherry was in the neighborhood, because the hair on the pet deer’s back would stand straight up and then the dog would start barking.  For some reason the deer didn’t like Tom.

I remember us having several pet deer that we loved, one about every year.  Dad would go out riding and find a little spotted fawn laying under the bushes and bring it home. We would feed them on the bottle and they would follow us around and live around in the yard and pastures.  As they grew up they would take off to live in the wild of the hills.

One Sunday in the fall when I was about seven years old, we were on our way home from church at the school house and as we got up by Uncle Alex’s place we spied a buck deer with horns standing in the pasture by the side of the road.  We called for Dad to stop the car so we could get out to see him.  We were sure he was one of our pets.  Dad stopped, but warned us to stay back away from him because he was a wild animal and not one of ours.  But we were sure he was as we all hurried out of the car in our Sunday clothes and started toward him.  He stood still watching us and we were able to walked right up to him and pet him.  He remembered us!  We were so excited to see him all grown up.  We didn’t want to leave, but the folks finally convinced us to go home for dinner.

We always worried that our pet deer would get shot with the wild deer at deer season time.  We had one that we raised that had four prongs on each side of his horns and we wanted to protect him.  When deer season came along that fall, Dad got a big piece of red cotton cloth and tied around his horns so he had a big red bonnet.  It saved his live for that year, at least.

The habit of having a pet deer continued down through Virgene’s teen age years as well.

Some memories of World War II

I remember coming home from Church on December 7, 1941 and listening to the radio coverage of the attack on Pearl Harbor that morning by the Japanese forces. That event forced the United States to enter World War II.

Life at home went on mostly the same, but we had friends and family who left for military service. Gerald Lind went into the Navy. Keith Nelson married Ila in the Logan Temple just before he was drafted and she lived with her parents while he went into the service. My cousins, Verl Toyn and Rulon Kimber were both killed during the war.

You can imagine the fear and concern my parents felt when Oscar and Dwain were drafted into the Army. Dwain wanted to sign up for the Navy, but Dad said no. Before reporting for duty, Oscar and Dwain attended the Logan Temple with Mother and Dad. They left within a few months of each other. Oscar went to basic training at Fort Ord in California and Dwain went to Fort Hood in Texas. We posted our gold stars in the window and prayed we wouldn’t have to exchange them for black stars. Both ended up serving as cooks, Oscar in Japan and Dwain in Italy.

I remember being lonely and concerned when they left. We waited anxiously for their letters. Doug and I found ourselves busier around the place, especially after Dad got sick. Dad got really sick for a while with Inflamatory Rheumatism. It started out with stiff joints and swelled feet, but got worse and worse. For most of the summer and all winter, Dad couldn’t do much work. He spent a lot of time with his feet propped up in front of the fireplace. Doug was attending Bear River High School in Tremonton and came home as often as possible. Dad gave approval for me to take 8th grade again, so I could be at home and help that winter. We couldn’t have done it without the help of our extended family, friends and neighbors.

In 2001, Brigham Young University requested information from WW II veterans about their wartime experiences. My daughter, Paula, heard about the request and had information sent to Oscar and Dwain. Dwain mailed his information directly to BYU, but Oscar sent his information to Paula for her to forward on. I spoke with Kathryn last week and received permission to post Oscar’s experiences. You can read them by clicking here.

The Porcupine - "our best pet"

The porcupine was probably the best pet we ever had.  I don't remember that he had a name, maybe "Porky."  My older brother, Oscar, brought a gunny sack to school one day.  After school he was going to Buck Hollow (on the East Mountain) to see Heb (Heber) Simpson.  Heb kept his sheep in Buck Hollow and Oscar was going to go see if Heb had any leppy lambs he could have.  Leppy lambs have been abandoned by their mother and need to be bottle-fed to survive.  The sheepherders don't often have time or supplies to bottle feed the lambs and so will give them away.  Oscar was riding his horse toward Buck Hollow and noticed a mother porcupine walking with two baby porcupines following her along.  Oscar got off his horse, picked up one of the baby porcupines and put it in his gunny sack to bring home - but didn't go to get any lambs.  I remember that night when Oscar pulled a little black ball about two inches long out of the gunny sack.  We could hardly believe what it was.  I think my parents were tickled about having a porcupine to raise.

My sister Ellen was about four years old and she donated her "Betsy Wetsy" baby bottle to the cause and we fed him with cows milk.  When we first got him, he had black coarse hair - kind of like horse hair.  As the porcupine got older, his hair grew to about one inch long and then the quills started growing up through the hair.  After the quills grew in, we couldn't pet him like we had before.  He liked to be petted on his head.  We would hold out our index fingers a few inches apart and the porcupine would come over and put his hands on your fingers.  Then we could lift him onto our laps and pet his head.  He was a very good pet and never tried to strike us.

I don't think Uncle Raymond was "tickled" we had him.  Uncle Raymond had just planted a row of pine trees and our porcupine liked them.  He'd climb up in the trees and nibble on the bark.  Uncle Raymond would bring him back to us in a bucket every now and then.

Laurel Hill was our school teacher and she began planning a pet show at school.  Our porcupine was about a year old and we wanted to take him to the show.  After school, we decided we didn't want to take the porcupine home and we'd play with him the next day.  So we walked around the school yard checking the fence.  We plugged any holes in the fence, so he would be safe and stay put.

The next morning we found him laying dead in the road.  He was in the middle of the road where there is the main road through the valley and then it branches off and goes over the mountain to Grouse Creek.  We were so sad.  We'd left him at school and he'd been trying to come home when he got hit.  Before school started that morning, we held a little funeral and buried him in the school yard.  We found out later that Curtis Nelson had been in Burley that day and was on his way home that evening and ran over our porcupine in an unfortunate accident.

Through the years, we had lots of wild animals as pets: coyotes, bobcats, owls, deer, and lots of lambs - but the porcupine was our favorite.  I think we tried more kinds of wild animals as pets than anyone else did.  The Baker's had deer pets.  Uncle Raymond's family didn't have wild animal pets, but one year he had the Brownies write us a note at Christmas time asking us not to chase Uncle Raymond's geese.