Kent: Much of my early life revolved around my father's love for his parents. Each summer dad checked the oil in the car, filled the gas tank, and piled us into the green 1954 Ford Station wagon and headed toward Malta, Idaho. In the early years there was no I-15 so he took highway 91 Highway most of the way. It was a long boring ride and we often asked, "Are we were there yet?" "Don't ask!" came the reply from the front seat. One time on a stretch of the Mojave Desert my dad got fed up with me bothering my brother's and sisters and pulled the car over and demanded I get out and walk. "The exercise will do you good." He was right. I walked for quite a while and along the way I found a pocket knife with a grey and white pearl handle of which I was very proud of.
We all yelled our approval when dad finally pulled into the dirt parking area in front of the Malta home. Grandma and Grandpa greeted us with hugs and smiles. During out visit we usually slept in the loft above the five small rooms that made up the downstairs. Upstairs included a view of the stream and cows grazing in the distance as well as books, beds and comforters to keep us warm and cozy. When the weather was balmy we slept outdoors next to the gurgling stream, called Cassia Creek, which ran through their property. Before we went to sleep we gathered with our cousins and had an old-fashioned bond-fire with hot dogs. In the glow of the embers we watched in amazement as Grandpa pulled out his pocket knife, told stories, and cut willow reeds which he fashioned into whistles. Our eyes widened as we watched a plant transform into a toy. I still remember the sound of the stream and the wind blowing through the trees as we settled in for the night.
In the morning my sisters followed Grandma out to the chicken coop to feed the chickens and gather eggs. Chickens are not the smartest animals but Grandma knew how to round them up an get them back into the safety of the cage. She took the eggs, flour, salt, yeast and a bit of honey and made fluffy white rolls and white bread. The finishing touch was homemade peach jam. The fruity smell was intoxicating. The jam and bottled fruit were stored in the pump room under the house where it was cool and damp. Sometimes Grandma cooked up chicken, vegetables and potatoes. Our mouths watered as the chicken spat and sizzled in the skillet.
The next day we eagerly followed Grandpa out to the open field to round up the cows. His dog did most of the work. A whistle from Grandpa and the dog nipped at the cow's heels, heading them back to his ramshackle shed. He cleaned each teat and clamped on the milker. Soon the rich creamy milk flowed. Afterwards Grandpa shouted at the cow to move out, rapping her across the backside which encouraged her to go back to the field. The highlight of the day was watching Grandpa heft the milk cans into the back of his pickup and drive the 3 miles to town to sell the milk to the Whey Company with the big red sign. Sitting next to Grandpa as the pick-up bounced across the rutted dirt roadway with the cans banging around in the back was an adventure. On the way out of the parking area the pickup lurched and jumped. We bounced around but we weren't worried; Grandpa was driving. We hit the smooth oiled road with the sound of the pickup tires on fresh asphalt.
favorite part of the trip was staying up with my aunts and uncles and
listening to Grandpa tell stories. One night after all my siblings were
in bed Grandpa gathered us around. He leaned forward in his blue
overstuffed chair and told us that many years ago he had been praying about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.
He decided to go to General Conference in the Salt Lake City
Tabernacle. Grandpa sat with his brother Charles downstairs toward the
back. Apostle Anthony W. Ivans was speaking about the Book of Mormon and suddenly there appeared two beings on either side of the pulpit, standing in the air dressed
in Nephite clothing. Grandpa turned to his brother and said, "Do you
see that?" When he turned back the vision was gone. Grandpa looked
directly at me and said, "Kent what I have told you is true, remember
it." Note: Apostle Anthony W. Ivans spoke about the Book of Mormon in the April 1929 conference.
I don't think Grandpa ever threw anything away. It might come in useful someday. Once a tractor or a mowing machine no longer worked it sat in the yard beckoning to us to climb up and pull or twist the black knobs or see how far we could turn the tattered black steering wheel. Sometimes our cousins came over and we played on the farm equipment together. After dinner Mary and Gloria were very popular with us. We played Pit and Gin Rummy late into the night. Our laughter ran all around the room filling the house with a warm glow.
Grandpa passed away suddenly on the morning of 26 December 1960, just three months prior to his eighty-second birthday and four months after my mother, Elaine Scholl, died of cancer. Fred had myocarditis which is inflammation of the heart muscle. That led to his heart attack. The family knew years before that his ticker had problems. A while before he died the doctor told a family member that Aunt Dawn should come home from her mission if she wanted to see her Dad before he died, but he lived a few more years. He never made much fuss about his condition. He used to take a teaspoonful of sulfur (his own remedy) for his health. It was a sad time all the way around. For years afterwards I asked people what Grandpa was like:
Frank Gardiner, (Fred's son): The Hitt boys were inactive non-believing Mormons in Malta. One day they said they were going to throw Fred into the creek. "Come on, I'm ready!" said Dad, but they decided against the idea. Dad was great at handling horses although he could be a little rough on them. Every year the Hitts hired him to handle the horses which pull the machine that cuts off the wheat heads. Dad said "You can drive these horses yourself, you don't need me." The Hitt boys said, "No we like the way you do it." I think the Hitts actually had a soft spot for Fred. They enjoyed his company.
friend of Fred's named Bob Thompson (Taught school in Burley, Bishop
Henry Thompson's son) from Malta tells this story: "Fred Gardiner was
called as a Ward Teacher to the Hitts, first he would go to Jim Hitt and
then over to John Hitt. When John was on his death bed Jim was there
and here comes the home teacher. So Fred was standing there and John
says to Jim. "If there is anything to what Fred has been telling us
about this life after death I'll come back and let you know, Goodbye,"
and he died.
James Gardiner: "In 1926 Dad was ordained a High Priest by Elder Orson F. Whitney, and was soon sustained as a member of the Raft River Stake High Council. During the time we lived in the Malta Ward, Fred served as ward clerk from 1933 to 1938 while Orson S. Sanders was Bishop, and as secretary of the Malta Ward High Priest Group. He had beautiful handwriting. He got so good that he was in demand as a secretary in the church. For many years he was secretary to the High Priests Quorum. He often practiced at the table in the front room after he was done with the chores of the day. He taught classes in Sunday School, Priesthood, and M.I.A; and was a Ward Teacher for many years. At the time of his death, he was first assistant to William Barrett in the High Priest Group. He was very faithful in his Church duties and active in the positions he held. He encouraged the family to be regular in attendance for Church activities. In his earlier years he studied books in the evenings but later it was just the scriptures. His scriptures were well worn from use and marked from study. Whenever he came in the house after working in the field at lunch and dinnertime he sat at the dinner table and ate with the scriptures propped open.
"Fred had amazing strength, he could hold two fifty pounds bags of wheat straight out on either side of his body. One time after Fred got back active into the church he went down to a bar and grill to talk to someone on business. The guys in there were rude. They said some derogatory things about those Mormons. He picked up the loudest of the group and physically put him on the floor. A year later the same guy got drunk on the 4th of July and said that he and Fred would take on the entire town. The Bishop in Malta for many years, Henry Thompson, said Fred was the strongest man he ever knew.
"Well, Fred, do you want a lift?"
"No thanks. I have walked 20 miles and I will finish the trip myself."
"Sometime in the 30's, in a different location Dad was walking a mile and a half to church. A non-LDS man gave him a lift. "Now Fred, if God wanted you to go to church, he would have provided a way." Dad said, “He did."" James Gardiner May, 2004
To see the Malta home on Google Maps, go to "1700 Idaho Hwy 81"
Many more of Hope's digitized letters: https://gatheringgardiners.blogspot.com/2013/07/hope-hulet-gardiners-letters-to-james.html
|Fred, Hope 1954|
Video below: Fred owned a sawmill in the early 1900's when he lived in Meadow Creek, ID. Correction: Frank meant his father not his grandfather.
1. Fred by Kent Gardiner
2. Barbara Gardiner, daughter-in-law
3. Fred GardinerTimeline
4. Extra Notes on Fred Gardiner
5. Robert Hulet Gardiner, son
October 20. 1903 Ogden Sandard:
May 15, 1906, Salt Lake Herald:
Here is what I have found out so far. Sometime around 1912, Henry Wight bought a sawmill in Pole Canyon on Black Pine from a man by the name of George Ransom. Mr. Ransom apparently didn't have time to use it. According to the Hewitt Wight History, "Soon after arriving here, Henry found out that one of the settlers here, George Ransom, had a sawmill in Pole Canyon, but didn't have time to use it. He sold it to Henry, just what he liked to do! There was a one room house that went with the mill so they lived in it when working in the canyon." Henry Wight was from Oregon and had worked in a sawmill there. It appears that they "fixed up [the sawmill] so handy that soon they were able to saw lumber for others so they could build their shacks, and this was really a great help here. People came from as far away as Snowville and Sublett for lumber." Blaine Wight states, "We later moved the mill over on the ranch. After Dad moved to Brigham, he would come out and we would saw lumber. We could sell the lumber we didn't use for $25.00 a thousand feet. Dad was always happy when he could run the old mill. He taught me how to run it and I sawed all of the lumber for our first home."
So to date I have documented that there was a sawmill on Black Pine as early as 1912. Henry Wight bought it from George Ransom in approximately 1912. The sawmill was later moved to Wight's ranch. Blaine Wight went to the Malta Ward when I was growing up and some of his children still live in the area. I am too busy right now, but it would be easy enough to find out from Blaine Wight's descendants where the old sawmill is located, take pictures of it, etc. I doubt if it has totally rusted away.
Unfortunately, I have not yet connected Grandpa to the sawmill in Pole Canyon. Nevertheless, Grandpa certainly could have sold the sawmill to Mr. Ransom. Grandpa moved to Meadow Creek in 1910. He would have needed lumber to build a cabin. So he might have bought the sawmill in Pole Canyon or perhaps he built it. I don't know if he had that kind of knowledge, but he was very mechanically minded. Also, the fact that he filed on a Timber and Stone Act entry in 1907 demonstrates to me that he was interested in making lumber. Perhaps between 1907 and 1910 he got some experience in working in a sawmill. I plan on continuing the search for Mr. Ransom's predecessor in interest.
Note: One story I remember my dad telling is about the time Grandpa rode a mule (I don't think it was a horse) that supposedly couldn't be rode. Another story was when Grandpa was living at Meadow Creek. It seems that he had a neighbor whose firewood kept disappearing from his wood pile. So the neighbor hollowed out a stick of firewood and filled it with gun powder. A few days later it was reported that someone's stove had blown up. N.
The records of the Salt Lake City 14th Ward indicate that Frederick Gardiner was ordained a deacon by Ed Schoenfeld in 1893.
|Fred and Pud, 1920s|
| 1949 LtR Fred Gardiner, Frank Gardiner|
leaving the Malta Wardhouse
|Fred about 1952|
|Fred and Hope, 1954|
|Fred, Hope, Mark and Kent, 1954|
|Fred w dog and grandchildren, 1954|
|Fred and Cathy, 1954|
|Fred, Golden, Barbara and Cathy, 1954|
|Fred w children and grandchildren, 1957|
Thanks for the picture. I am told that this photo is part of a larger group photo that was taken in about 1952 at Rupert, Idaho. I haven't seen the group photo, but apparently Frank was in it as well. N
2010 Fred from K on Vimeo.
How would Fred Gardiner feel about his ggc doing this?
Gardiner on Violin from K on Vimeo.
Fred did receive income of $50 or more in other than wages or salary (typical for a farmer).
Malta Idaho in southern Idaho:
Frederick Gardiner was born in Salt Lake City, Utah, on 26 March 1879 in the Fourteenth Ward in Salt Lake City, Utah. His parents, Robert Gardiner and Margaret Stewart Gardiner, joined the Church in Scotland and immigrated to Utah in 1868.
(They sailed from Liverpool on 20 June 1868 on the clipper ship Emerald Isle, one of the last sailing ships to carry the Mormon immigrants. Robert and Margaret were married on the ship before it sailed. On 11 August they arrived at New York harbor. On 17 August they began their trip across the country by railway to Benton, 700 miles west of Omaha and 500 miles east of Salt Lake City. Church teams met the emigrants there, and the remainder of the journey was by ox team or mule team. There is more information about the Emerald Isle on the CD Mormon Immigration Index and in the book Saints on the Seas by Conway B. Sonne.
They arrived in New York on August 11. On August 17 they began the journey west by train and arriving in Benton, Nebraska, seven hundred miles west of Omaha on August 17. From there they traveled by ox and mule teams to Salt Lake Valley.
The transcontinental railroad was being completed at this time, and Robert Gardiner found employment with them to help pay for expenses, so he and Margaret arrived in Salt Lake later than most of the rest of their company.)
He had learned the trade of baker and confectioner in his homeland, and brought his candy making equipment with him from Scotland, and carried it on his back from one camping place to another along the journey across the plains. He was the first candy maker in Salt Lake City, but later sold his business to others.
The family first lived in the Twentieth Ward, but lived in the Fourteenth Ward when Fred was born and until he had attended school for a few years, then moved into the Brighton Ward, and later moved back to the Fourteenth Ward, and finally to the Eleventh Ward.
After finishing grade school, he worked for several years for a sheep owner. He then returned to Salt Lake and attended the L.D.S. Business College for a time, then went to work in a bank for awhile. He found office work wasn’t fascinating to him, so he went to work at the Street Railway shops and repaired the electric cars. Then he worked for a while for the railroad.
All this time he had a longing to get out in the wide open spaces, so went to work for livestock owners, and finally came to Idaho to work for Keogh Brothers on the land near Malta, now called the Keogh Ranch. He worked as a foreman for them until he bought some sheep and land of his own.
The summer of 1919 I went to Meadow Creek, Idaho, to teach summer school for the few families who lived in that area. It was at his home ranch that I boarded with a family by the name of Welch. Mrs. Welch’s mother and sister lived there with them. Fred was away with his sheep most of the time, so I didn’t see him many times that summer, but we became good friends, and our friendship grew because we were the only L.D.S. member in that area except the small branch several miles away at Sublett. By spring we had set the date to be married for 2 June 1920. Fred was ordained an Elder by his brother, Clarence, who was then a bishop in one of the Salt Lake City wards.
In 1926 he was ordained a High Priest by Elder Orson F. Whitney, and was soon sustained as a member of the Raft River Stake High Council.
During the time we have lived the Malta Ward he served as ward clerk from 1933 to 1938 while Orson S. Sanders was bishop, and as secretary of the Malta Ward High Priest Group. He taught classes in Sunday School, Priesthood, and M.I.A; and was a Ward Teacher for many years. At the time of his death, he was first assistant to William Barrett in the High Priest Group. He was very faithful in his Church duties and active in the positions he held. He encouraged the family to be regular in attendance for Church activities. He loved to read and study the Scriptures, and was very well versed. Whenever he came in the house he had a book in his hands to study.
Bob on Frederick's home teaching:
Frederick Gardiner, the subject of this brief sketch, was born in Salt Lake City, Utah, 26 March 1879; the son of Robert and Margaret Stewart Gardiner, who emigrated from Dundee, Scotland, leaving Liverpool on a sailing vessel 20 June 1868 and arriving in Salt Lake City in the late fall of that year.
Robert Gardiner, having perfected himself in the craft of confectioner and baker, began his early life in the valley, at the age of twenty three, by establishing himself in his chosen profession. The first home was at about 5th Avenue and F Street, and later moving into the center of the city, he built a home and candy factory adjoining, and in the rear of the store then known as S. P. Teasdel’s, quite an emporium of those early days. The location of the home and factory was directly back of what is now known as the Kearns Building (136 South Main). It was in the home at this location that Frederick was born, the fifth child in what later grew to ten members---five boys and five girls. Sometime about 1883, the family moved to a farm west of the city at about 2500 West and 3rd South. There were, of course, no regularly surveyed streets or numbers at that early date. However, there was a regularly organized and active Church unit, comprising “all those members living on the west side of the Jordan River,” known as the Brighton Ward.
Fred, as he was always known by his associates, was early enrolled in the somewhat primitive Elementary School, where classes were all held in one room with one teacher, and the instruction confined to about the third grade. However, the teachers were dedicated to their profession, and gave freely of their own learning in a variety of fields of practical knowledge and besides, which was of inestimable value to the students, instilled in them an insatiable thirst for knowledge and a determination to devote their lives to the pursuit of those higher branches of science which lay in the vast and unexplored regions of Eternal Truth. It was not an uncommon procedure, at the opening of classwork, for the teacher to “address himself to the Throne of Grace,” and implore the favor and blessing of the Lord upon their humble efforts to impress the boys and girls with the desire to make the acquisition of Truth the dominating concern of their future lives. The more or less elementary beginnings in learning the value of the “Three R’s” were to be considered but the first stepping stones in their adventure into that illimitable field of universal knowledge, the exploration of which should end only when their life’s journey should terminate.
The social life of the rural community was centered principally in the “Meeting House,” where the members came from far and wide to enjoy their religious and social gatherings; where young and old met together to participate in their religious and recreational activities with a frank and free interchange of genuine good-will that seemed to carry over into their daily lives, and give them an optimistic outlook on the future. Deep and lasting were the friendships formed, the affections awakened, in this congenial atmosphere.
The young people spent their artless days in whatever form of activity they could create, and when not engaged at chores around the farm, or bringing in hay from the field, played games and participated in such other forms of amusements as were common among the boys and girls of the community. In the winter the canals and lakes were frozen over, and the lucky boy who had a pair of skates could skim for miles over the surface of the ice. Among the most amusing activities of those early days were the dances held in the Meeting House, by the older members. We younger children were often taken there by our parents or older brothers and sisters. Blankets and robes were taken along for the youngsters to sleep on, if too tired or drowsy to follow the dancers as they performed the intricate and more or less graceful measures of the Virginia Reel, the Plain Quadrille, the Paul Jones, and the other dance music of that time; the music being accented by the heavy tapping of the foot of Joe Schoenfeld, the one-piece orchestra, who “fiddled” until the wee, small hours of the morning. He was usually seated on a chair atop a table which stood on the elevated part of the podium, and this exalted him in the sight of the throng to a point almost as high as he felt in the “inner man.” As the opening strains of “Old Dan Tucker,” or some other of the familiar tunes of the day, floated out over the animated scene, the “caller” proclaimed in stentorian voice the measures of the dance. The thrill awakened as the sturdy farmer boys escorted their partners onto the floor, and the rhythm of the movement filled the room, will live while memory lasts! Such were the “short and simple annals” of the rural populace of Brighton Ward during the boyhood days of Fred Gardiner.
The regular schooling of Fred in his early boyhood may be said to have ended when these early “grades” were completed, as the fortunes of the family became involved in the disturbed economic conditions of the country which assumed serious proportions in the early 1890’s, when a great depression caused widespread suffering and loss of property throughout the United States, and was particularly severe in Utah. The farm proved unproductive, and Robert Gardiner became involved in financial difficulties. Some of the near neighbors of Fred were “sheepmen” owning large herds, which were taken during the summer months to the mountains and valleys on the upper Bear River, and wintered in and about Skull Valley in the western part of the State. Two of these neighbors, Henry Sutton and James W. Marsh, were engaged in this enterprise, and at an early age, Fred was engaged as a herder and camp-tender in their employ, and in his earlier years spent many months on the “sheep range.” He also engaged in the same activity with Bishop James Wrathall of Grantsville, and was held in high esteem by those keen and careful sheepmen, because of his intimate understanding of the characteristics of the flocks entrusted to his keeping. His associates on the range had him in great esteem because of his rather profound ability, carefully planning the movements of the sheep to the best advantage. The interests of his employers were always uppermost in his mind, and he treated their property, both of livestock and camp equipage, with the feeling that it was a sacred trust imposed on him, and that it had to be fulfilled with the best ability he had.
About the year 1893, the family moved from the farm into the city, locating in the Fourteenth Ward, but Fred continued for some years following his vocation with the sheep. About 1900, deciding to spend more time at home, he was enrolled for two winters in the L.D.S. Business College, and also worked for some time in the shops of the streetcar company as repair man, and took up the study of electrical mechanics. But the “call of the wild” seemed always to be beckoning him back to the life and friendships of his earlier associations and he seemed to feel, in the confinement of the city, like a prisoner waiting for the day of his liberation, or an apprentice counting the days of his servitude and, not long afterward, he had accepted the responsible employment as foreman for a large sheep and cattle company in southern Idaho.
It would seem like the “call of destiny” that Fred should determine on this change in his earlier region of activity and employment; for it was here, in the region in and about Sublett, Idaho, that he formed the acquaintance, fell in love with, and later married Hope Hulet, a beautiful and intellectual young schoolteacher in that somewhat rural community. Life in this semi-barren region was hard at best, but Fred’s companion met all the changing vicissitudes of life with a stoical courage and fortitude filled with faith and optimism that overcame all obstacles, and brought to their union a happy home of eight wonderful, ambitious children. A more gifted pen must record the life and labors of this family in the town of Malta, Idaho, where a lasting impress has been established in the life of the community, both in a religious and civic capacity.
Fred Gardiner, the father, has now passed on to his reward, a well-earned rest from the toils and concerns of this life; joined in the holy bonds of matrimony, sealed by the authority of the holy Priesthood in the Temple of our God for time and eternity; leaving a rich heritage of honesty and integrity to principles of eternal truth to his ever increasing posterity. There is occasion for rejoicing that “he finished his course, he fought the good fight, and kept the faith.”
On the morning of 26 December 1960, Fred Gardiner passed away at his home in Malta, Idaho, just three months prior to his eighty-second birthday. Funeral services were held on the 29th, at the Malta Ward Chapel. A large congregation assembled there, and also at the cemetery. The floral offerings were numerous, and the tributes by the speakers were sincere and appropriate.
The family, some of them having traveled long distances, was all together in the humble home, to mourn the loss of their father, and to contribute their love, aid, and comfort to their mother. It was a touching and lovely scene.
It isn’t the soil alone can grow
A golden crop from the seed we sow;
But there is a “Something” in the How
And the heart of the one who holds the plow!
Who can appraise the worth of a human soul? The philosophers of the ages have attempted the task, with a multitude of varying conclusions. Let us presume that in the life and character of Fred Gardiner, there were elements of true greatness. A great American had this to say of Abraham Lincoln:
“The love of Justice and fair play, and that respect for order and the law, which must underlie every nation that would endure, were deeply imbedded in his nature. These are qualities destitute of show and whose names are never set to music…These are qualities that stand the test when hurricanes sweep by. These are the joints of oak that ride the storm, and when the clouds are melted and the waves are still, move on serenely in their course…His strength arose from that preservation through all his life of that fondness for his early home, and of the tender recollections of his family and their struggles never so far away but that he could still hear the note of the evening bird in the groves of his nativity. He was never so great but that the ties of his youth still bound him.”
Fred Gardiner, in his early manhood, was deprived of many of the tender associations of home and family, and the guiding influence of parents, in his determination to help to alleviate, to some extent, the struggles through which they were forced to face; but from boyhood and throughout his life, he manifested a deep and abiding strength of character, under many and varied forms, and kept himself free from the besetting vices and follies that were common among the vulgar classes of society with which he was often forced to mingle. Though deprived of the many and admirable facilities of the Church in training the young men to lead lives of righteousness, yet there seemed to be inborn in his very nature, a deep and profound faith in the Gospel of our Lord, which sustained him in all the changing vicissitudes of life, and ennobled all his later years. And it may truthfully be said that, in choosing a marvelous woman as his life’s companion, he found the one who could awaken and develop those more or less latent qualities which, merged together, enriched their lives, which qualities they have transmitted to their posterity, worthy of emulation, and a precious heritage “of golden memories that are good and sweet!”
This brief narrative and tribute may add somewhat to your already intimate knowledge of the life, ideals and achievements of your husband and father, dear Hope and family. Imperfect as this contribution may be, it has been a pleasure for me to recall and indite it, as a simple tribute to one whose life has touched my own. I cherish his memory!
I will close with a selection from the poems of Scotland’s Immortal Bard, Robert Burns, written nearly two hundred years ago, somewhat in the nature of a prayer:
The Hoary sire—the mortal stroke
Long, long, be pleased to spare!
To bless his little filial flock,
And show what good men are.
She, who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
Oh, bless her with a mother’s joys,
But spare a mother’s tears!
Their hope, their stay, their darling youth,
In manhood’s dawning blush;
Bless him, Thou God of love and truth,
Up to a parent’s wish!
The beauteous, seraph sister-band
With Earnest tears I pray,
Thou know’st the snares on ev’ry hand—
Guide Thou their steps away!
When, soon or late, they reach that coast,
O’er life’s rough ocean driven,
May they rejoice, no wand’rer lost,
A FAMILY IN HEAVEN!
Clarence L. Gardiner
928 Hollywood Avenue
Salt Lake City, Utah
Gardiner home probably 1936:
According to Mary, Hope raised turkeys most of the time she had children in the home ( 1920s - 1950s). James reported that during the time he lived in the home until he left in the early 1940s, they didn't have running water. They used a hand pump to get water from a well just outside the house. They also didn't have indoor plumbing.
They used an outhouse. James Gardiner told me that his mother would pay him 10 cents to fill in the old outhouse, dig a new one and move the structure over the hole. Carol said that Hope and Fred slept downstairs, the girls slept upstairs and the boys slept out in the shed on the hay. Carol remembers a rattlesnake being accidently thrown up onto a wagon as the girls were stamping the hay down. As James said, they were poor in terms of money but not opportunity.
In those days, smoking Bull Durham tobacco was the in thing to do. The cigarettes were not the neat cylinders we see today, but the smoker rolled his own, and many were anything but a neat cylinder. Bull Durham cigarette tobacco came in a small cotton bag with a yellow draw string at the top. The drawstring went through a three- fourths inch round cardboard Bull Durham tag that dangled at the end of the string. The whole package was compressed into a firm oblong shape that fit neatly into a shirt's breast pocket or the pocket of bib overalls. On the side of the package was a pack of cigarette papers to be peeled off and used one at a time. The package cost 5 cents.
To make a cigarette required loosening the drawstring, deftly using three fingers to hold paper in a little channel and pouring in just the right amount of tobacco, then tongue moistening one edge of the paper and rolling the paper into a cylinder around the tobacco. The moistened paper stuck to make a useable cigarette.
When Dad met Mother and she insisted on a temple marriage, he had to quit smoking. However, when Mother was cleaning clothes in Declo that fall, she found some Bull Durham in my dad’s clothes. She was probably shocked to realize he had gone back to smoking, but likely understanding, since the trauma of losing his property. But that was beside the point. She immediately scavenged the place for any more tobacco, and threw the works into the fire.
When Dad came home that night, she confronted him with the facts and issued an ultimatum: “You have your choice. It is either Bull Durham or me!”
She bore seven more children to the ex-smoker.
Under the influence of that good woman, Dad started studying the Gospel and taking an active part in the Church. He had the habit of taking a few minutes after the noon meal to relax and read his Scriptures. He insisted on regular family prayer and encouraged and supported all the children in Church activity. He never got to the point of enjoying speaking in public, but did it anyway and served on the High Council. He had many wonderful experiences in Church service.
My father told me many times that he felt very fortunate and greatly blessed with the companionship of my mother, a wonderful woman.
James H. Gardiner
In the midst of the great depression of the 1930’s, many of us were delighted and fascinated by the marvels of radio. For our family, scratching out an existence from the dusty, alkali flats of southern Idaho, owning a real operating radio seemed impossible. We did not have electric power nor could we afford a battery operated set. On General Conference Sundays, some of us walked the mile and a half to town to listen to the radio a local storekeeper provided for KSL radio conference coverage. We enjoyed hearing President Grant and the other authorities. For some of the Joe Louis fights, we walked about a mile south, to the checking station, to listen to the radio report of these matches. We loved the contact radio brought.
I read about crystal sets. No batteries were required; they operated from power picked up by an antenna. Their low operating cost, and possibility of home construction appealed to me. The nearest radio station was 90 miles away. I wondered if a crystal set would work. From some of my dollar-a-day, “derrick-boy” earn¬ings, I saved enough to order some earphones and a few parts from Allied Radio in Chicago. From that order and salvaged parts, I made a crystal set, ran out about 200 feet of antenna, put on the earphones, adjusted the tuning and cat whisker and listened. During the day almost nothing, but at night, wonderful. I heard stations from Salt Lake City, Pocatello, Los Angeles, Denver, San Francisco, Del Rio, Texas, and many other places. One night I picked up a scrap of conversation from an airplane.
From a single headset, a crystal radio leaves a lot to be desired for family listening. We were delighted when Grandpa Hulet sent us a battery operated “Airline” radio, complete with gooseneck speaker. We dipped into our savings and mail ordered “B” and “C” batteries. We pulled the 6-volt battery from our 1926 Chevy to power the filaments. It worked. We had a celebration and were soon fans of the great radio programs of the 30’s. That radio brought a new world to us.
We were very frugal radio listeners. Only important listening was allowed. But the batteries were a problem, especially the “A” battery from the car. We seldom ran the car because we could not afford the gasoline. As a result, the battery seldom got charged. After we ran the battery down on the radio, starting the car was a chore. We had to crank the car or pull it with a horse to start it. That can be a problem on an icy morning.
For all my life, I had seen my parents toil to exhaustion trying to keep up with farm and family needs. Washing clothes had always been a difficult task for my mother, who insisted on cleanliness. I recall her boiling the clothes, then scrubbing them on a washboard, then rinsing and wringing. Even with the help of children, it was a tedious, never-ending burden. But once washed and wrung, clothes were hung out to dry in the ever present south Idaho wind. They were gathered in dry, fresh and wonderfully clean.
At the end of a summer, my brother, Golden, and I were looking at washing machines in a Sears catalog. We knew our mother needed to be spared from some of her burden. We checked the prices on washers driven, not by an electric motor, but by a one-cylinder gasoline engine. Remember, we did not have electric power. As I recall, the price was about $43. We pooled our savings and found we could handle that much. But hold on! The catalog showed a gasoline driven washing machine that came with a generator to charge a 6-volt battery! How much more to include the generator? About $5. With that feature, we could do the washing and charge the battery at the same time. No question, we decided to order the machine with the generator. We would have only a few cents left.
Then our mother got involved. How about your tithing? The bubble burst. We paid our tithing and ordered the washer without the gen¬erator. We were disappointed, but were pleased that our mother and the family would benefit.
As delivery time approached, we were excited by the difference this machine would make. Each day after school, we dropped by the post office/freight depot to check on the arrival. Finally it came. We checked the sturdy, wooden shipping crate and noted the address. It was ours. We peered between the case slats and admired the shiny new machine---complete with a small gasoline engine and a coiled, flexible exhaust pipe. But alas, there was something extra connected to the engine. Could that be a generator? It looked like a generator to me. What a cruel twist of fate! Sears had sent the wrong machine. Obviously the washer would have to be exchanged for the one we had ordered and paid for. We were out of money and discouraged — another long wait for the matter to be corrected.
Our father picked up the mail, including a letter from Sears. They said, “We are sorry we could not supply the unit you ordered. We hope the unit shipped will be satisfactory.” It was.
Money for us was almost unknown, but we were praying for help. My father had an idea. He said he knew where we could get all the pipe we needed, and it would only cost a few gallons of gasoline. That sounded good to me.
Early one morning, we loaded our old ‘25 Chevy with all the gear Dad thought we would need, including five gallons of water to replenish the water that boiled out of the radiator going uphill. Dad drove and my brother, Golden, and I were pleased to see new country.
As we neared our destination, Dad drove through the sagebrush over what was an abandoned dry farm. The sagebrush had grown up since the homesteader had given up. We found the old well site-- -there was a 6-inch steel casing protruding about a foot above the ground and coming out of that a good looking 2-inch, galvanized steel pipe. My dad was pleased that it was still there and gave it a good test pull, and it was obvious why it was still there. He was a very strong man, but could not raise it at all.
We rigged up a tripod with poles we had brought from home, tied our wire stretchers (block and tackle, to you) to the apex of the tripod, and Dad took a couple half-hitches around the protruding pipe, using a chain with 1-inch links, and then hooked the chain to the extended wire stretcher. Dad told me to take up the slack with the wire stretchers while he held the half-hitches snug on the pipe. I took up the slack and soon the wire stretchers were groaning and squeaking under great pressure. I hoped the tripod would hold. Suddenly, the pipe was swinging on the chain and Dad was grinning.
We pulled the pipe to the limit of the stretchers and Dad took a clamp he had made out of a couple of pieces of Douglas Fir 2 x 4’s and clamped the pipe so it could not go down the well while we took a new bite with the chain and extended the stretchers. Each pull was about 5 feet. We slowly repeated these steps until the first pipe coupling came into sight, then uncoupled the pipe above the pipe clamp.
We had a couple of sections out of the well and were very pleased. I was holding the stretcher and as Dad loosened the clamp to put it further down the pipe, suddenly there was a screech, some sparks and a reverberating crash and the earth trembled beneath our feet. The remaining pipe was back down the well.
We were dismayed. My Dad sat down. I could tell he was thinking. Suddenly, I had a brilliant thought, which I expressed. "We have plenty of pipe for our well. There is no easy way to get the rest of the pipe---it is gone forever. Let's load up what we have and go home.” Don't you think that is brilliant? Well, at least logical. How about practical?
My father did not buy any of the above. He said that if we did not get the pipe out, it would be gone forever. No one would ever know that it was down in that black hole. Much to my dismay, he said we were going to get it out.
We reassembled the system, doubled up on the clamps, and gingerly lowered the pipe back down the well casing. My dad retrieved the rear view mirror from the old Chevy and my brother held it to reflect the bright sunlight down the casing shaft---no longer a black hole.
By some miracle of good eyesight, steady hands, patience and some extra help, Dad screwed the retrieved pipe sections onto the one down the well, and we proceeded to pull, with an extra set of clamps for safety. We got the entire pipe out, and my father was very pleased with its beautiful condition. We loaded all our gear and pipe and going home the car boiled a lot with the heavy load.
Almost seventy years have passed and some of that pipe is still in use.
Written by James H. Gardiner
When my son, Jeffrey and I made a seventy-mile hike around the Raft River Valley (the home of my youth), we had completed the trip on foot, and were waiting for the family car to take us home. It was about 10:00 a.m. on a clear, fresh, lovely day. As we waited beside the road, one of the older natives of the valley, Frank Olson, stopped to investigate a man and a teenage boy sitting alone, ten miles from habitation. I told him I was one of Fred Gardiner’s boys, and Jeff was a grandson to Fred.
He told of passing by Fred's homestead when Fred was still single and just getting a start on improving the property. Fred lived a long way from any neighbor. He noticed a team of horses hooked to a plow and just standing alone in a partly plowed field. He said to himself, “I wonder if Fred is in trouble?" He proceeded to Fred's cabin and was astonished to hear music coming forth. Fred was giving the horses a break and was playing his violin.
Roadside repair, miles from any town or service station was a way of life. On many trips I helped my dad make an emergency repair to a knocking engine. We would drain the oil, (save it of course) drop the engine oil pan, take a few shims from a loose piston connecting rod bearing, check for bearing play, restore the pan and oil and we were on our way.
Coming home from Burley, Idaho, more than a forty-mile trip, my dad's Model T quit and he could not get it going again. So he decided to walk the remaining twenty-five miles home. After several hours of trudging, he was surprised when another Model T. stopped beside him, in a cloud of dust.
"Well, Fred, do you want a lift?"
"No thanks. I have walked 20 miles and I will finish the trip myself."
Sometime in the 30's, now in a different location: Dad was walking the mile and a half to church. A non-LDS man gave him a lift. "Now Fred, if God wanted you to go to church, He would have provided a way." Dad said, “He did."
I estimate that about 1910, my father was hired as foreman of the big spread called the Keogh Ranch. He had a variety of roughnecks working for him. One of his favorite stories was of a cocky, young broncobuster who prided himself in his skill at staying on anything that bucked. Dad gave him a spirited young mustang to tame. The young man got set on the horse and then the helpers let the horse free to do his best. The young bronco rider soon found he had more than he anticipated, but was ready to do or die. In a skillful and violent maneuver, the horse tossed the rider into the irrigation ditch, which happened to be full of water. Sputtering and swearing, the broncobuster climbed out of the ditch, clenched his fist and shook it at the sky and shouted, "Come down and fight."
My father liked to tell about the time he lost his hearing. He was yet a young man, not ready for any hearing problem. He had been herding sheep during the summer and fall and when his duties were completed, he decided he must go to a doctor in Salt Lake City to determine if anything could be done to help his failing hearing. With some difficulty he communicated with the doctor's nurse. She said she would have a look. She proceeded to look and probe. Suddenly my father said he heard the streetcars outside ---clearly---and then after a look and probe into the other ear, he was astounded---he could hear! Both ears gave up a collection of wool and wax. (Earache prevention!)
By James H. Gardiner
From a letter written to James Gardiner from his mother Hope Hulet Gardiner:
Note: Yes, we knew his ticker wasn't up to par for quite awhile. I think the Doctor told someone that Dawn should come home from her mission if she wanted to see her Dad before he died
She didn't and---as I recall--he lived quite a while (years) after that. He never made much fuss about his condition. Used to take a teaspoonful of sulfur (his own remedy) for his health. Don't know where he came up with that idea. I don't recall him taking nitroglycerin, although he must have done. He had a life of hardship, although he probably could have avoided some problems had he made different choices.
Fred Gardiner's death certificate lists the causes in a different order than his son JH. 1. myocarditis 3 or 4 years 2. sudden occlusion, instant or put another way the myocarditis led to the sudden occlusion of the heart. FG
Myocarditis or inflammatory cardiomyopathy is inflammation of heart muscle (myocardium).
Myocarditis is most often due to infection by common viruses, such as parvovirus B19, less commonly nonviral pathogens such as Borrelia burgdorferi (Lyme disease) or Trypanosoma cruzi, or as a hypersensitivity response to drugs.
The definition of myocarditis varies, but the central feature is an infection of the heart, with an inflammatory infiltrate, and damage to the heart muscle, without the blockage of coronary arteries that define a heart attack (myocardial infarction) or other common noninfectious causes. Myocarditis may or may not include death (necrosis) of heart tissue. It may include dilated cardiomyopathy.
I have been trying to find out some more about the sawmills on Black Pine. The U.S. Forest Service has some information on two sawmills, one is up Sweetzer canyon and the other is up Pole Canyon. Does anyone know if Grandpa's sawmill was up Sweetzer canyon or Pole Canyon? If you know it will save me having to look through both files. N.
Kent, I do remember quite well the incident about the rattlesnake
being tossed onto the hay wagon. I was on the wagon. I had
forgotten that it happened while Carol was with us. That being the
case, it was a hot afternoon in August 1936. Dad and the boys, J.H.
and Golden, were in the process of putting up the hay crop.
Alfalfa, a deep rooted perennial plant, had been planted in the big
field south of the house. When mature it has a small purple
blossom. It makes good feed for horses and cows. At this time the
alfalfa had been cut down using a horse drawn mower which was in
common use at that time and then raked into small heaps using a big
rake drawn by one horse.The alfalfa was now dry enough that it could
be added to the stack already in the stackyard.
Dad had a big wagon for hauling hay. It had 2X4's positioned along
the sides close enough to contain the hay that would be tossed into
it. The wagon was pulled by two steady old work horses. They would
stand unattended and not move a foot while the menfolk with their
pitchforks tossed hay onto the wagon. Then Dad or one of the boys
would lead them forward to a new spot.
On this particular day someone suggested that it would be a good
idea if some of us kids were to be on the wagon and tramp down the
hay as it was tossed into the wagon. If it was packed down , more
hay could be loaded.
So Dawn and I were helped up into the big wagon. I was eleven years
and Dawn was nine years old. We were having a pretty good time
tramping hay and probably had about half a load when I looked down
and right close in front of me I saw a section of a snake's body--
not moving. It's head and tail were covered with hay. (Lucky for
me). It was apparently immobilized. I told Dawn we had a snake.
She did not see it. She was on the other side of the wagon. We
really didnot get excited about it. Anyway I did not know that it
was a rattlesnake.
We did the only thing that could be done at that point. We just
stacked more hay over it and tramped it down good.
When we had a full load, the horses pulled the wagon down to the
stackyard and parked it alongside the haystack. Then with the aid
of the derrick horse, derrick and huge Jackson Fork, the hay was
lifted up from the wagon and dropped over onto the haystack. Then
someone, I think it was J.H.,saw a good sized rattlesnake in the
stackyard and disposed of it. As I recall, we were not invited to
tramp hay again.
I will add a bit more about our use of alfalfa. It was part of the
menu for the little turkeys along with oatmeal. Three times a day
we would go out to the nearby field and grab off or cut off some
alfalfa, take it into the house and cut it up and then we would
distribute it along woth oatmeal and water to each of the turkey
pens. Each mother turkey hen had her own little pen. The pen was
opened in the morning and she and her little ones were allowed to
roam freely in the yard during the day. Then in the evening she
would go back to her own pen and we woould board it up for the night
so that skunks and weasels could not get at the little turkeys.
I learned to read by the light of a coal-oil lamp, but think we got electricity shortly thereafter. No refrigerator: had an ice-box. They would store ice from the winter --- covering the ice above and beneath with a thick amount of sawdust; it kept well into the summer as I recall--but I could be wrong about that. Our stoves burned wood and coal. I used to sit in the wood box (for storing the wood fuel) next to the stove and "steal" the browning potatoes, as mom turned them over in the frying pan (with her unstated approvall).
Life was very basic---almost at the pioneer level, By the time I came along things had improved--just a little, but their society was so far removed from what people today view as normal, as to place them in a different frame of existence. The close interaction between man and his animals was akin to that which existed in ancient history. Not all bad---in fact the parent child relationship was probable aided somewhat by the necessity of working (hard) together. Don't know that I would wish to experience it again, but like I say---there were some positives. F.
Hi Kent, I am still waiting for information from the Forest Service. I did a Freedom of Information Act request because I thought they were giving me the run around. Hopefully within the next 60 days I will get some more information. The information that I originally received from them referred to some other sources listed as being at their office. Unfortunately, they say they can't find them. I don't think any of the sawmills on Black Pine would be powered by water. Likely they were powered by a Model T engine or something like that. When I hear anything more from the Forest Service I will share what I find out.
I also requested information on the sawmills from the Seattle office of the National Archives. They didn't find anything, but forwarded my request to the Denver office. The Denver office didn't find anything so they forwarded my request to a Washington, D.C. office. That office didn't find anything, but they have forwarded my request to another D.C. office. So it sounds like the archives are doing a thorough search.
Also, I was emailed some copies of photos by a descendent of Charles Stewart Gardiner. They were very small so I am trying to get him to send me a more detailed version that can be made larger or just a larger copy. As soon as I get that I will send them around to everyone to see if the people in the photos can be identified. N
Hi everyone, Attached is a picture of a sawmill in Pole Canyon on Black Pine (according to Forest Service). This is likely the sawmill where Frederick Gardiner acquired lumber for the structures on his homestead entry. I am still trying to find the chain of title for the sawmill to determine if this is the sawmill Frederick owned at one time. I don't know who the men are in the picture, perhaps Moroni Stone and sons (they claimed the sawmill at one time). Nathan
Also, attached is a newspaper article from the Salt Lake Tribune dated June 25, 1880. It is rather obvious that the Salt Lake Tribune was very anti-Mormon in 1880, but it does mention Robert Gardiner as one of the bakers/confectioners associated with the July 24th celebration in 1880.
Best Regards, N
Kent, I was able to go through our records and we do not have any sawmills documented in Kelsaw Canyon. This just means the Forest has not identified or recorded anything at this time. The only historic site we have recorded in the canyon is the McGill Cabin near the headwaters, which has been excavated. The former Minidoka National Forest had several small sawmill during that time. Most supported the new immigrants arriving in the area for dry land farming. One of the best know migrations was associated with the Curlew land exchange. The Forest would love to obtain any information concerning the sawmill so we can document the site. Sorry we were not able to provide you any information concerning your request.
May 20 2008:
Hi Kent, That's great! It puts me to shame. I wish I was a better
journal writer. I would definitely be interested in anything you have
or come up with. Also, you may be able to answer a couple of questions
that I have had. In the summer of 1955 your family and my family went
on a picnic with Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Frank and Gary Ottley. Does
one of the journals mention where they went, Black Pine, Elba, City of
Rocks? My mom told me it was west of Elba, but now I wonder if she was
confusing 1955 with 1957. In the summer of 1957 your family and my
family again went on a picnic. This time with Grandma and Grandpa and
Aunt Mary or Aunt Gloria. Does one of the journals mention where they
went? If you are thinking about scanning or photocopying some of the
journals. I would be willing to help with costs. Just let me know.
March 22, 2010
I was up in Malta last week. I stopped by Mary’s (left some citrus) but she didn’t answer the door or phone. I spoke with her later and she sounded good.
Dad was doing surprisingly well. Mom said the grandkids really cheer him up and he puts on his best face. Mom has been giving him lemon juice (from the Mesa citrus farm) everyday and she is convinced that has helped him a lot. He has a terrible cough that sounds like pneumonia.
I asked Dad about the little shack he lived in at USU and he said that they (JH and Dad) built it out of plywood on the back of a four-wheel wagon. He said they lived in it for 2 years and walked to school from the “trailer park” where they parked it in Logan. I asked him how they heated it and he couldn’t remember – I couldn’t imagine living in Logan without a heater. Boy did I have it good going to school when I thought I was poor!!
I guess I should say happy birthday! Thanks for all the pictures and things that you’ve sent. I especially enjoyed the information from you southern Utah trip.
I’m a little over my head lately with my new calling. M has to attend a baptism Saturday morning at about 11:00 and I have to attend the YW Broadcast at 5:00 P.M. So any time after 12:30 to about 4:00 P.M. would work for us if you want to meet somewhere.
Oh by the way. While in Malta I found out that Grandpa Fred had two violins. One of them was in Dawn’s possession and then G got it from Sid after Dawn passed away. Gloria had it fixed up and was planning on using it. Dad has another one that I’m going to have restored and return to him at our family reunion in July. Mom said it shocked her the other day to find Dad in front of the piano tuning Grandpa’s old violin. There are a lot of things I really don’t know about my Dad. Our daughter Michele brought her violin and played it for Dad while we were there.
Mary told me she never really heard her father play at a dance but she said as a girl she remembers being very sick when Grandpa came in the room and played something on his violin to cheer her up (Grandpa must have known about the healing benefits of music). I remember hearing how as a small boy Dad went to the old dance hall in Malta (or show house as we called it) and laid on a bench waiting for Grandpa to finish playing the violin. C
Kent, I was going through old emails and deleting them and came across this one. I don't think I ever responded. Fred received a patent for a homestead entry in 1914. This became part of the lower ranch at Meadow Creek. In 1917 Fred received a patent for a desert land entry. This became part of the upper ranch at Meadow Creek. In 1920 Fred purchased an "isolated tract" that became part of the lower ranch. Hope received a patent for a desert land entry in 1943 (the Bridge place). Fred had already used his right to file on a desert entry so Hope filed on the Bridge place. N
Mary said that Fred helped pay for both Charles and Clarance's missions. True? Kent 2012 Dad had a bad ticker---although I don't believe he took any legitimate medicaton to treat his condition. He did down a teaspoonful of sulfur ever day---Don't know where he got the idea that such a regimen would be beneficial. F.
Frederick and his brother Clarence both went to the LDS Business College: