Memories of Henry Green, Part 4 of 4

A Tribute to Grandpa

By Marilyn Green Lund

It is a great pleasure to reflect back upon my early childhood days, and my visits to Grandpa’s home, seeing his ready smile and loving welcome. They are very pleasant memories to recall.

Many times in later life I have thought how very grateful I am for having known Grandpa, as not many children are blessed with “living” grandparents. I’ll always remember the love and concern he had for his family as well as for others. As young as I was, this was most evident to me.

I can still see everyone around the dining room table for special family dinners, and the laughter in the living room where all the cousins were gathered playing, or singing around the player piano, and the fun we had in the attic playing dress-up and games. This seemed to make Grandpa happy too.

All in all, they were and still are most pleasant memories of my days at Grandpa’s.

———

My Remembrances of Henry Green

By Lucy Green

One of my very nicest remembrances of Harry’s father (I called him father always) is that whenever he greeted me he always put his arms around me and kissed me on the cheek and said, “Lucy we love you!”

As the English are noted for their “cup of tea” Father came to our house on Emerson Avenue on several occasions unannounced at lunch time and if I wasn’t prepared for anything special he would say it would be nice to have just a piece of toast and a cup of tea which we had together in our very small breakfast room and he would reminisce about old times.

Memories of Henry Green, Part 3 of 4

My Grandfather Henry Green

By Marjorie Ann Glade Dalgleish

I think of Grandfather being very tall with silver hair. He always wore suspenders and shined his shoes every day, his shiny black shoes.

I can see him now slicing the Thanksgiving turkey as we all sat close by with mouths watering in anticipation of the scrumptious meal. I associate him with good food and treats. Of course Grandma was right at his side making goodies, especially hot rolls and those delicious salted beans. I even got to help Grandma slice the beans for the crock on one occasion. Grandfather would give us nickels and dimes to buy candy at the nearby store.

One trip that was extra special was the hike we took from Fourth Avenue to Ensign Peak. We went around the back of the peak to climb to the top. I thought it would save time to just run up from the front. It was hot and dusty, but we finally reached the flag pole on top. I learned that Grandpa had been to the top many times because he had built the first flag pole.

Whenever I entered Grandpa’s house he gave me a big kiss (kinda juicy).

In 1937, Grandpa went to California with us. I thought sitting next to him was the treat of the whole trip, even better than the San Francisco World’s Fair.

One day when I visited the home on 4th Avenue, I say me Grandpa sitting in the big leather rocker. He seemed sad. I asked Grandma why Grandfather was so sad. She told me that Uncle Bert was in Bolivia and Grandfather didn’t think he would ever see him again.

I always had respect for Grandfather. He was really a Grand Man!

Memories of Henry Green, Part 2 of 4

Memories of Grandpa Henry Green

By Lucille Davidson

When I think of Grandpa I think of a tall, handsome man with gray hair and deep-set brown eyes. The first words that come to mind are kind and loving for he always put his arms around me for a kiss. When I was very small he always had a nickel or dime for me as I was leaving to go home.

My earliest memories of him were in the home they had on “F” Street which seemed a very large home to me with many rooms and an upstairs. There was a library with what seemed to me to be many books. A living room with sliding doors opened to the dining room which had a large oak table. I remember dusting the fat legs of the table. On the walls were two small paintings of fruit. There was a sort of day bed upholstered in leather with one end raised. There was a heavy velvet coverlet. The living room had a large leather rocker and a red cherry wooden upright player piano with a twisting stool. In the hall was a large painting of Adam and Eve leaving the Garden of Eden in a storm. All pictures had heavy gilded frames.

For several years Grandpa’s brothers and sisters had a surprise birthday party for him. What fun it was to turn off the lights and hide when someone announced he was coming and then to call our “Surprise, Surprise!” At these parties his sister. May Green Hinckley would give a reading of an English seamstress and then Grandpa would give his rendition of the patent medicine salesman and always there was laughter and fun. We would play a game of everyone sitting in a circle and passing a ring on a large circle of string around and the person in the middle would try to guess where the ring was.

It seemed to me that Grandpa was always dressed up in a white or good shirt. He was always neat and clean.

When my father, Howard Layton, married my mother, Leone, Grandpa made sort of stipulation that he always bring her back home for Christmas, so on Christmas we always went to Grandpa Green’s for Christmas dinner until his home was too small to accommodate the family and then Grandpa and Grandma and all the aunts and uncles and cousins came to our home for dinner. But there was love and closeness between the family members and the cousins.

It seemed that Grandpa’s Christmas trees were always the tallest I had ever seen. They always reached the ceiling and underneath he created a Christmas village with small houses and tiny people. Somehow I remember a girl with geese. There was a mirror lake and ducks. What a special treat when we children were allowed to play with the figures. The dinner table was never quite large enough and the young children sat at a small table at the side of the room. But I loved to listen to the grown-ups talking around the table long after dinner was finished. Sometimes the cloth would be removed and we would play the game of Knucks-Up. A fifty-cent piece or silver dollar would be passed under the table and the opposite side would have to say “Knucks Up” whereupon everyone would place his hands flat on the table and the opponents would guess where the dollar was.

My sister, Jean, and I would sometimes get to spend the night with May, all three of us in the same bed. She would tell the most delightful stories. In one bedroom there was a very deep closet that had a small window that jutted out onto the roof. This closet was both a delightful and a scary place. May was always a dramatic person and we spent many happy hours playing dress-up and putting on plays. There was an old barn in the back of the house that we sometimes got to play in.

George and Ann Prior Jarvis Family Reunion, 2011

Today was the reunion of the George and Ann Prior Jarvis Family. It was a lovely event and well-attended and it took a lot of effort on the part of the committee and many others. Thanks to all of them!

I was so busy talking to people that I did not get any pictures. It was a pleasure to visit with the many different descendants of George and Ann and make connections and figure out where people fit into the family tree.

Here are some of the resources I mentioned in my presentation. I will also put a copy of the presentation on the myfamily family group.

Kleinman, Mary Miles. The Essence of Faith. Springville, Utah: Art City Publishing Co., 1973.

Overson, Margaret Godfrey Jarvis. George Jarvis And Joseph George De Friez Genealogy. Mesa, Arizona: M.J. Overson, 1957.

Ancestry family trees: ancestry.com

New Family Search family tree: new.familysearch.org

Jarvis Family Website: www.george-and-ann-prior-jarvis.org

AncestorFiles: theancestorfiles.blogspot.com

Histories and pictures of Ann and George Jarvis in various repositories, including the Daughters of Utah Pioneers Museum (SLC), BYU Special Collections (Provo), and the Church History Library (SLC).

Mormon Migration Website: lib.byu.edu/mormonmigration/

Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel Database: lds.org/churchhistory/library/pioneercompanysearch/

Seen at the DUP Museum

The Daughters of Utah Pioneers has a rather amazing museum, stuffed with pioneer artifacts and pictures and histories, next to the Utah State Capitol. During a visit yesterday, while in the basement display room, my eye fell on a green tin, about 6" wide by 6" high (plus a handle) by about 4" deep.

The typed display note said, "Tea canister bought in Farmington, Canada in 1840 by Isabella Hood. She died in Winter Quarters in 1847. Donor Edwin Pettit."

The tin is a green color, much used, and what is of the most interest was a paper pasted to the front of the tin. It said, in beautiful lettering,

This tin Canister [sic] was Bought by my wife Isabella Hood in Farmington 27 Miles North of the [unreadable] in Toronto Canada Just before we were married [unreadable] February 27th 1840. She died in Winter Quarters 20. March 1847 A. N. Hill

What an interesting and unusual primary source!

Picture of the Daughters of Utah Pioneers Museum from www.flickr.com/photos/katieelaine/1785518052/.

Memories of Henry Green, Part 1 of 4

My Father Henry Green

By Jack Green 

February 14, 1977

His were the dreams of the self-made rich, the Hearsts, Sinclairs, Fremonts, and others who won riches from the West. He often said that, “New wealth comes from the ground,” and entered into mining and agricultural projects with vigor and determination. Most of this effort resulted in frustration and few funds.

But there was another side to this man, a side that was most practical and successful. This was the visionary. The man who could look at his church, in which to worship in the fullest he left his native England, and its precepts, and see that here his faith would truly be fulfilled. He married twice under its holy covenants and today his numerous descendants attest to the truth of this vision. His examples of hard work, thrift, thoughtfulness, and devotion have endeared him to me and all his children and their descendants.

I must tell one story. While Dad was a Master Plumber, the Master Plumbers were all taken on a tour to Ironton, Utah, to visit the Pacific States Cast Iron Pipe Company foundry. This company had developed a new pre-inserted lead joint for its pipe that required only caulking on the job. It was to publicize this product that an excursion train ride, lunch, and plant tour, all free, was provided. I was dad’s companion on this trip. The only child, and I was only ten years old! We marveled in unison at the ice-coated willows sparkling in the sunshine and made even more dazzling by the speeding electric train, at the foundry processes, and the hard-working men stripped to the waist in the drafty building, hot as molten iron and cold as ice. It was my Dad, out of perhaps one hundred, who had his son beside him! Yes, I’m proud of him, proud to be one of his sons, and so strive to follow his lead in the visionary life.

Henry Green: 1929 to 1941, Part 2 of 2

For the Christmas of 1935 the family was altogether for dinner at their home. When Howard had asked for Leone’s hand in marriage, Harry had said, “Yes, if you’ll always bring her home for Christmas.” He must have told others that, for whenever possible, the family was together for Christmas. He was a great family man and showed each member much interest and love. At these family gatherings, Christmases and birthdays, there would always be a program. Harry could still remember a humorous reading that he always gave. He kept the family laughing as he told of the patent medicine salesman selling his elixir. May had taken elocution lessons and had a great talent for dramatic reading (she often gave readings for programs and also taught it). She later acted in many plays as a member of the Salt Lake Theater group. They had a nice, cherry wood player piano that the grandchildren would perform on; the little ones loved the winding piano stool.

The grandchildren all remember their grandpa giving them dimes and quarters, just as he used to give his own children, more than they asked. He was such a generous person! Leone tells as he boarded a bus, he would pay the fare for those waiting with him. He was always helping someone—friends and relatives. When anyone needed help—his brothers and sisters, even strangers—he opened his home and heart to them. In later years, he took his sister Lizzie, alone and her memory gone, to live with them. Earlier, when she lived across the street (on “F” Street), he set [her] up in business selling food products. It wasn’t successful and for years Eliza was selling the remains, mainly vanilla.

Harry and Eliza had a strong testimony of tithing. Even when they had so little during their later years, they paid tithing on gifts and money received to help them out. Tithing was always the first consideration.

In the summer of 1936, Harry took a trip to California, staying first in Bishop Creek with Jack and then for two weeks with Harry and Lucy. The next summer (June 1937) Howard and Leone took their parents to Yellowstone for four days. This was probably their first trip there.

They were yet to move another time. Howard built a nice white frame home for them on the north-east corner of 6th Avenue and “G” Street. That summer, Harry, true-to-form, was working hard to help, moving large rocks as they were excavating. Apparently, this strained him physically. They moved November 1, 1940. Just barely settled in their new home, another tragedy hit. On December 10, Mildred’s husband, Ray, shot himself. She brought her family back to Salt Lake in January to start life over. Mildred said, “Father never got over it. He kept it on his mind, he felt so bad.”

In January of 1941, he contracted the flu and then pneumonia. He was taken to the hospital. Jack came home as it was very serious (he had taken a job with American Smelting and Refining Co.). In February they brought Harry back home. He wasted away and got so weak and thin that he could hardly be recognized. At 9:15 a.m., on Saturday, May 10, 1941, he passed away. A beautiful funeral service was held for him in the 20th Ward. Leone wrote, “Father’s services today were very impressive. He had many friends. We loved him so much, we hate to give him up.” All who knew him loved him—he was truly a great man.

Eliza lived eight years longer in this home with May. A year after his father died, Jack married Barbara Biesinger (on April 7, 1942) and lived in Salt Lake. Eliza enjoyed her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren coming to see her often. They have many fond memories of her. She passed away on the 24th of July, 1949, and all who knew her missed this wonderful woman. May married Clifton Davis the following year, February 1, 1950, and they carried on the family tradition of getting together on Christmas and going on summer outings. The great-grandchildren remember Santa’s visits and wonderful Christmas dinners especially for them. Summer camping, river trips, parties and canyon picnics have made enjoyable times with the families all together. One year the whole big (43) family rented a bus to Southern California where they “took over” a motel on the beach and had a wonderful vacation together.

This great family love and unity, instilled in us by Harry Green, has carried on through each generation. The posterity of Henry Green—ten children, eleven grandchildren, and many great- and great-great-grandchildren—is something he can be proud of.

Henry Green: 1929 to 1941, Part 1 of 2

The year 1929 brought with it the Great Crash. The Greens had to sell their home on “F” Street and move to an apartment on “I” Street, on the top floor. They moved the piano up on the outside. Times were difficult. May had to go to work (housework and cooking) to earn money to help support the family and to pay for her tuition at the University of Utah. It was ironical that Harry couldn’t help his own children with tuition when he had helped his nieces and nephews through the “U.”

He made some investments in mines in Idaho. In 1932, he, Walter Spencer, Jack, and his son-in-law, Howard (who also had lost everything in the Depression), worked a mine at Bennett (near Mt. Home), Idaho. Unfortunately, it wasn’t successful.

Harry went on a sales trip to New York in April 1931, to raise money for his mining ventures, especially the “Daley” mine at Bennett. Other of his ventures included the Manning Dump and Peruvian in Little Cottonwood Canyon. In a letter to his grandchildren, written en route to New York, he contrasted the conveniences of the beautiful Pullman train to the freight-train-like vehicle he had come on as a boy, “When you live as long as I, the trains won’t have wheels and travel on iron rails. You will be on a beautiful airship and instead of taking 40 or 50 hours to make this trip, you will make it in five hours.”

In a letter to Leone, he tells of going to a play with Mel Freebairn and his wife and seeing “the skyscrapers, this forest of beautiful buildings, thousands of cars and people on Riverside Drive.”

In a letter to his grandson Jay, he tells of tunnels under the river, the bridge across the Hudson River being built and escalators or “Moving Stairs.” He tells him to “read this in 1981.” He evidently was selling, as he said, “I have had a big-sized job getting the other fellow to see my view point. How well I shall succeed remains to be seen.”

He remained optimistic, writing, “I feel the Faith and Prayers of the good people that are ascending to the great Master of all in my behalf, I cannot see anything but good coming to me. And I am reconciled no matter what it is that it will all be for the best.” In spite of setbacks and disappointments, he remained cheerful. He was always concerned about his family. In the same letter he said, “I, too, pray for you and when I think how wonderful you boys and girls are progressing, not only in the perishable things, but those that are enduring throughout all time and the Eternities. Praying for your happiness and the health and continued blessings of the association of husband and children. Affectionately, Dad.”

A move from “I” Street to 4th Avenue and “E” Street came in June, 1934, and seemed to give them a “lift on life.” They were moving back to 20th Ward and old friends. A few quotes from a letter he wrote: “When I returned from work about 5:00 to my surprise, all that remained in the apartment was the piano.” His daughters and sons-in-law had moved for him. “Mother seems like another person, back to the old days. Talk about a change, well you will know more from mother when the rush is over.…I have just 27¢ left out of $25.00 after taking care of telephone $5.00, light $5.00, gas $2.87, moving piano $5.00. Although we have but the 27¢ for ‘grub’ we feel a lot more like taking on new life.”

Harry was more-or-less retired now at sixty-seven. This gave Eliza and him a lot of time to spend with their children and grandchildren. They loved to have them visit. They also spent many hours serving in the temple. They were devoted grandparents to their 11 grandchildren. Harry had always shown an interest in them, writing letters to them, and talking specially to them in letters. The grandchildren loved to come and stay all night. Eliza was a fantastic storyteller, telling many stories of pioneers and Indians. She would also tell their fortunes. Harry took them on excursions to the museum on Temple Square, to the capitol building, and to Memory Grove. One time he took Gwen, Marjorie Ann, and Bob to the top of Ensign Peak and told them to remember this hike, when their Grandpa Green was 72.

He was always proud of his family and their accomplishments. His son Harry was a prominent businessman, a sales representative for U.S. Rubber. He, Lucy, and his daughter, Marilyn (another daughter, Marjory, died at birth), lived in San Mateo, California, and later in New York. Bert (or Chuck, as they called him) had gone into mining. He and Glay lived in Bishop, California, until they moved to Bolivia in 1939. Jack and May attended the University of Utah. Jack graduated in Mining Engineering and May in Elementary Education. She taught first grade at Washington School. Mildred and Ray and their children (three of them) moved to San Jose, California.

Henry Green: 1921 to 1929

In 1921, Harry decided to surprise his family (he was often impulsive and made decisions quickly). He thought it would be nice to be on the Avenues and had the money to buy a house, so he bought a beautiful home there at 127 “F” Street. When Lucille came back from a vacation at Bear Lake, the family had moved to the new home! It was a large and comfortable home, with a big carriage house in back. By now, they had an automobile. Lucille and Mildred remember the flashy “Stutz” (racing) sports car with red seats, and later a new Ford touring sedan with window flaps which they drove on a trip to southern Utah. When Mildred was learning how to drive, she knew how to start the car, but not how to stop it, and consequently ran through the garage. Harry hardly ever lost his temper, but he did this time, and it was bad! He was usually very pleasant and mild-mannered, and had a typical English sense of humor, except when teased about his accent. His children loved him and wanted to please him. He only had to say, “I would like you to do so and so,” and they would do it.

The younger children went to Lowell School. May started there. Mildred, fifteen, had her choice of attending East or West High Schools. She started at West, but under pressure from Lucile and young Harry, she switched to the new East High School. Once Harry, Lucile and Mildred thought it would be good to have an apartment. When they told their dad, he broke down and sobbed, so they changed their minds and stayed at home.

Harry met Lucy Coleman Hart, whom he fell in love with; they were married July 19, 1922. Lucile had some good jobs as secretary. On a trip to Yellowstone, she met William Lester Glade, through her aunt May Green. They were married in the Salt Lake Temple on June 6, 1923, and had a reception at the home on “F” Street.

The married children and grandchildren often came to the home on “F” Street, always gathering for Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. There are many happy memories: delicious turkey dinners in the large dining room, after-dinner games of Pit, Touring, and Knucks-Up around the table, huge Christmas trees with a village around the bottom which got more elaborate each year. The grandchildren loved to watch Jack building his boat for Great Salt Lake.

Harry did very well with his business. He was elected president of the National Association of Master Plumbers, and traveled to New York and elsewhere for conventions. Once he went to a convention in Galveston, Texas, and brought back a book on the famous flood of 1900.

Active in the 20th Ward, he was counselor in the High Priests Quorum. Eliza worked in the Relief Society and sang in the Singing Mothers. They had many friends and were very happy there.

In 1926, Harry bought a large ranch at Widstoe, Utah, not far from Bryce Canyon, in partnership with a Mr. Kimball. They schemed to make a fortune growing lettuce, planning on the railroad going through there. He worked hard for weeks at a time at it. He wrote, “I am working harder and putting in longer hours than I have done in my life before.” In spite of his great efforts, the ranch was not successful.

On May 19, 1927, Mildred married Ray Noble. They went to get their marriage license on their lunch break and, on the spur of the moment, decided to get married then, too. When she finally told her parents, they were so shocked that they started to cry. Harry made the most of it, though, and invited the family for ice cream to celebrate.

While in high school, Bert married beautiful, auburn-haired Glacia (Glay) Squires. She was a talented pianist. They lived at home for a while.

Photo of the 1914 Stutz Bearcat from Wikipedia.

Henry Green: 1906 to 1921, Part 2 of 2

The Greens camping in Big Cottonwood Canyon, date unknown.

Another son, Jack Heber, was born to Harry and Eliza on October 14, 1912. When Jack was about two years old, he had a very serious accident—he pulled a pot of scalding cabbage over on him which burned him terribly. His skin came off with his clothes. To make things worse, the power was off at the time due to an electrical storm. For weeks he was bandaged like a mummy. Lucile and Leone stayed up at nights wheeling him in a wagon to comfort him.

The family had its share of serious illnesses. When Bert was a baby he had pneumonia and almost died. Lucile had typhoid fever, Mildred had diphtheria, and Jack had scarlet fever.

Another daughter, May, was born October 5, 1914. Two and one-half years later, a baby was stillborn (February 2, 1917). About this time, twelve-year-old Mildred was given the ultimatum that she couldn’t keep packing her trunk and going from one home to another. Papa said, “This is it, no more!” Aunt May and Aunt Lily had both wanted to adopt her. Mildred, in living with the Pettits, had a big family to spoil her. Will had a grocery store; he brought her candy and rocked her until she was five. Lily, a dressmaker, saw that she was dressed beautifully; she had hairdos and new shoes often and plenty of spending money. Everyone made a big fuss over her, but she had no one person to tie to. When she came home and had to work and baby-sit, she resented it. Especially as a teenager, when her friends were having a good time, she had to stay home and tend May while the family went to church. She said this helped make her feel resentful toward the Church. Leone, at 20, was working as a bookkeeper and would escape housework by going to shows. Lucile ended up being the one to help at home.

Henry Green prospecting.

Around 1916 or 1917, Harry went prospecting for gold in Arizona. He worked in the Joy mine near Kingman, in northwestern Arizona. To extract the gold ore from the slurry mixture, Harry used a centrifugal machine shaped like a pot-bellied stove. After his prospecting was over, his kids delighted to watch the extracting machine whir around as it sat in the barn on 2nd West. Harry had many adventures while mining in Arizona. Once he got stuck in some quicksand while getting logs. On his way home to Salt Lake, he brought back petrified wood from the Petrified Forest in north-central Arizona.

Harry kept very busy with his plumbing business, trying to support his large family. Leone remembers that the family ate alone many times in the evening while he was at work. He was also active in church work. At first he was president of the branch of the 4th Ward that met in a small building on the north side of 13th South, east of 2nd West. Later the 30th Ward building, made of white glazed brick, was built on Goltz Avenue. Here he was called as superintendent of the Sunday School; when released, he was presented with a leather rocking chair. Later, in August 1919, he became counselor to Bishop Charles Cottrell.

His daughter, Leone, married Howard J. Layton when he came home from his mission in England. They had dated before and corresponded during his mission. Lucille remembers peeking over the transom in the library to see if he kissed her while he was courting her. On October 17, 1917, they were married in the Salt Lake Temple. A reception followed at the home, which was decorated with ferns and autumn leaves. Howard and Leone built a small home on 121 Goltz Avenue in the same ward as her parents.

Harry’s son, Harry, and his son-in-law, Howard, were both in the army during World War I. Harry had been attending Utah State University where he was a big football star. He continued playing while a lieutenant in the cavalry.

Harry’s children looked to him for help and counsel. Howard wrote while in the service, “Somehow your letters seem to give a fellow something to think about and a sort of a stimulant to keep his head up and his proverbial ‘upper lip’ stiff. I am glad to think that now I have a couple of ‘dads’ to look up to and to get advice from.”

Howard asked him to use his influence to get him released two weeks before discharge to be home for the birth of his first child. He did so, and Harry’s first grandchild, Jean, was born January 19, 1919, to Leone and Howard. Harry gave her a name and a blessing. A big fuss was made over her. Mildred and Lucille used to fight to see who would get to take care of her. Being the first grandchild on both sides of the family, she received lots of attention.

To be continued...

Henry Green: 1906 to 1921, Part 1 of 2

Eliza Turner Green.

Harry, thirty-nine, and Eliza, twenty-eight, were married in the Salt Lake Temple on August 8, 1906. Taking on the task of raising five lively children, she was a remarkable woman. To add to her burden, there were always additional friends and relatives living at their home.

The children liked their new mother, but as they grew older, they rebelled at having to do so much housework as she was a hard worker. Eliza was an excellent cook. The girls remember bushels of vegetables and fruits that she canned. Every Monday, without fail, holiday or not, she boiled large loads of washing over a coal stove on the back porch. The ironing came on Tuesday. Harry’s brothers and sisters at times came to visit them. Eliza’s sisters, Sophie and Leah, lived there while they went to school and worked for Harry. Also living with them were hired girls: Hattie Breedon, Louie (Hattie’s sister who didn’t help as much as she could), and Jenny Griggs from England.

Eliza came from a strict religious home. Her father was a bishop and a polygamist. She insisted that her children go to church. They also had family prayer every morning without fail, kneeling at chairs turned outward around the table. As Harry left for work, he would go around the breakfast table and kiss the children twice, once for him and once for their mother. They called him “Papa” and dearly loved him.

Harry and Eliza’s first baby, Anna, was born May 7, 1908. She lived only a day. This loss surely was hard for them to take. Another tragedy hit when Will, the oldest son, died of rheumatic fever on September 17, 1909. He had been sick off and on. Lucille remembers him hemorrhaging from his nose at different times. He was at Uncle Jack’s ranch in Crowden, near Morgan, when he passed away. Will was buried on his seventeenth birthday.

A month later, on October 13, 1909, a son, Charles Albert, was born to them. As their family was growing, they decided to enlarge their home. Since Harry was in the plumbing and heating business, he installed indoor plumbing and central heating, unusual in those days. They had a parlor, library, sitting room, dining room, kitchen, four small bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, and a bedroom and bath downstairs. They even had a telephone. Harry’s home was considered one of the nicest homes in the ward. North of the house was a clay tennis court. In back they had a red barn for their two horses and surrey. The girls remember painting it with feathers and water as children. Will had prize chickens and pigeons in some big chicken coops. Their household animals included a dog, Maud, a pet donkey, Teddy, and two cows. Teddy used to go to the fence and bray when Harry came home from work.

 Leone and Lucile Green with family pets.

On Sundays, Harry took his family riding in the surrey up West Temple to Brigham Street and on to Liberty Park. They got ice cream sodas on the ride. Another fun thing they did for recreation was to go out to Great Salt Lake. Also, they had season tickets to the Orpheum Theater (Promised Valley Playhouse), where they went every Saturday.

Harry was meticulous in his dress, a typical English gentleman. He always wore a well-pressed suit, vest, white shirt, and tie. His children remember him always shining his shoes as he went out the door.

L to R: Henry Green, Will Green, Jack Reeves.

In the next few years, Harry did very well in his business. Jack Reeves and his brother Will were partners with him in the “Green and Reeves Plumbing Company.” He was supervisor of plumbing and heating installations for the Salt Lake Temple, LDS Hospital, Hotel Utah, and Walker Bank Building, among others. Also, he was in charge of construction of sidewalks in the city. Harry’s office was on the corner of West Temple and South Temple. May, his sister, was his bookkeeper, and Lucille was his typist and general office girl.

A mention of Green & Reeves in Domestic Engineering and the Journal of Mechanical Contracting, 1905.

Around 1912, he bought the Riverside Dairy and Stock Farm in Jordan, south of 33rd South and east of Redwood Road, by the Jordan River. Harry obtained many expensive pure-bred Guernsey cattle from the Isle of Guernsey. He had the biggest and only silo in the county. Part of the dairy was a big long barn and a milk house where milk was strained through cheese cloths. They were delivered to most of the hospitals in the city and were the first to have metal caps over their bottles. Except for Leone who didn’t like the smell and the bed bugs, the children used to spend time in the barn. Unluckily, the arsenic poisoning from the nearby Murray Smelter affected the feed which in turn killed his purebred cattle. Along with other dairies, he sued the smelter but lost the lawsuit. Eventually, he lost the business as well as much money.

To be continued...

Unnamed Lands

Among the many reasons why I do genealogy and family history are those of religious belief, personality, responsibility, the influence of good friends and family members, and the fact that it allows me to use my degree in history on a regular basis.

And now that there are so many resources available online, it is possible to do a significant amount of research in primary and secondary sources without having to travel. Many online collections, both historical and genealogical, continue to expand in marvelous ways. Just a year ago, I would have had to book a round-trip ticket on an airline, rent a car, find a place to stay in Salt Lake City, not to mention finding someone to take care of my children while I was gone, to see the resources I recently used in producing a series of guest posts on the Mormon History Blog, Keepapitchinin. (“Died in the Service of Their Fatherland”: Latter-day Saints in Germany, World War I — Part 1, Part 2, and Karl Püschel: “Far Away from My Home”: A Latter-day Saint in the German Army, 1918) (Well, either that, or hire a researcher who is familiar with German.)

All this is prologue to a poem I read recently which contains some thoughts about the continuity of history and of people and experience. It evidently reflects some of my thoughts on the subject closely enough that someone, upon reading it without attribution, asked me if I had written the poem. (What flattery!)

 
UNNAMED LANDS.

NATIONS ten thousand years before these States, and many times
          ten thousand years before these States,
Garner'd clusters of ages that men and women like us grew up and
          travel'd their course and pass'd on,
What vast-built cities, what orderly republics, what pastoral tribes
          and nomads,
What histories, rulers, heroes, perhaps transcending all others,
What laws, customs, wealth, arts, traditions,
What sort of marriage, what costumes, what physiology and
          phrenology,
What of liberty and slavery among them, what they thought of
          death and the soul,
Who were witty and wise, who beautiful and poetic, who brutish
          and undevelop'd,
Not a mark, not a record remains—and yet all remains.

O I know that those men and women were not for nothing, any
          more than we are for nothing,
I know that they belong to the scheme of the world every bit as
          much as we now belong to it.

Afar they stand, yet near to me they stand,
Some with oval countenances learn'd and calm,
Some naked and savage, some like huge collections of insects,
Some in tents, herdsmen, patriarchs, tribes, horsemen,
Some prowling through woods, some living peaceably on farms,
          laboring, reaping, filling barns,
Some traversing paved avenues, amid temples, palaces, factories,
          libraries, shows, courts, theatres, wonderful monuments.

Are those billions of men really gone?
Are those women of the old experience of the earth gone?
Do their lives, cities, arts, rest only with us?
Did they achieve nothing for good for themselves?

I believe of all those men and women that fill'd the unnamed
          lands, every one exists this hour here or elsewhere, invisible
          to us,
In exact proportion to what he or she grew from in life, and out
          of what he or she did, felt, became, loved, sinn'd, in life.

I believe that was not the end of those nations or any person of
          them, any more than this shall be the end of my nation, or
          of me;
Of their languages, governments, marriage, literature, products,
          games, wars, manners, crimes, prisons, slaves, heroes, poets,
I suspect their results curiously await in the yet unseen world,
          counterparts of what accrued to them in the seen world,
I suspect I shall meet them there,
I suspect I shall there find each old particular of those unnamed
          lands.

Walt Whitman.

Phrenology, which is mentioned in the poem, is an old-fashioned way to study personality by making intricate measurements of the head. You can see a copy of Wilford Woodruff's phrenological reading here and George A. Smith's reading here at the Church History Library Collection on Archive.org.

The picture of our galaxy, the Milky Way (to the right), and two nearby galaxies, the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds (to the left) was taken by Luis Argerich in Argentina and is available under a creative commons license with some restrictions at www.flickr.com/photos/lrargerich/4999906554/. The Norwegian Landscape is from www.flickr.com/photos/54973802@N00/273110527/.

Henry Green: 1891 to 1905

Harry was ordained an elder on December 6, 1891. Three days later, on December 9, 1891, he and his dear sweetheart, May, were sealed together for time and eternity. Since the Salt Lake Temple was not yet completed, they traveled to Logan to have the ordinance performed. At the time, he was 24 and she was a year older. Her parents honored them with a wedding reception on Friday, December 11, at their home.

On New Year’s Eve, three weeks later, he wrote, “I ever feel thankful to God, my Heavenly Father, for his goodness in permitting me to take one of His chosen daughters through the Temple and make us one through His servants laboring in the Temple. I sincerely believe that I have got one of the best of that noble sex. And to repay for what I have, I hope to be kind, honest, upright and above all others virtuous unto thee. The loss of mother has been my extreme sorrow—the gain of thee my wife has been my extreme happiness.… Had I dreamed such happiness awaited me in the old country, I should have thought it impossible to have it realized. I can look back to the time I left the old homestead and see the wonderful hand of God’s tender mercy towards me from that time to this. How he has watched over me and answered my prayers in our behalf. Truly has it been with me four years of unbroken happiness. But could I have realized or experienced the past four weeks previously I would not change and live over again the four years for the four weeks, would it be possible to do so.”

Harry, Will, Lucile and Leone Green.

For the next few years, they lived in his mother’s home at 443 West 8th South. Harry’s brother, Albert, lived with them for a while; he was a trial at times for May. A son was born to them on September 20, 1892, William Edwin, followed by another son on September 4, 1894, Harry Melvin. From a program which they saved, we can surmise that they attended the Salt Lake Temple dedicatory services on April 14, 1893.

Their family grew as two daughters were born: Mary Leone (June 5, 1896), and Lucy Lucille (April 14, 1898). A third arrived on October 1, 1899, Ethel Rebecca, but lived only a year, dying in infancy of spinal meningitis. Mary kept very busy with her small children. Like all of the Pettits, she was very frugal. When she died she had saved $300 without her husband’s knowledge. She was a very hard worker and a meticulous housekeeper. Leone, her daughter, remembers her always scrubbing. Her father, Edwin, often came and talked to her, standing in the doorway as she scrubbed the floor.

Mary wore dark skirts with tight-fitting peplum tops, usually coupled with an apron. The Pettit girls were remembered as being stylish and well-dressed. All were excellent housekeepers and great seamstresses. When they got together, which was often, they laughed and joked. They were close as sisters and even took trips together. In 1904, Mary went to San Francisco where her sisters were working as seamstresses. She took Leone along, partly because she was hard to manage and no one wanted to tend her. Lucille wasn’t old enough to go, and jealously said that the reason was that her feet hurt her. Mary also visited her half-sister, Alice, in Tooele. When she was away, Harry wrote how much he missed her.

 

Harry and May enjoyed the out-of-doors. They took many outings up Big Cottonwood Canyon with their children. Harry fished and May put up the chokecherries that they gathered. They homesteaded on some property a mile above Storm Mountain. During part of the year they paid a man, Mr. McNut, to stay on it for them; he later got the property. One summer around 1903, Leone fell off when walking on a bridge across the stream and almost drowned. Luckily, she was plucked out 75 feet downstream.

The Louisiana Purchase Exposition or 1904 St. Louis World's Fair.

In 1904, the parents went to the World’s Fair in St. Louis. They had good times together and were still very much in love.

 

 Mary Isabell Pettit Green.

A great tragedy came into Harry’s life the next year. On April 1, 1905, Mary, at age thirty-eight, died in childbirth. She had been busy putting up curtains and changing things around the house in preparation for the arrival of the baby, supposedly in June, when suddenly labor started. Mary was rushed to the new LDS Hospital, where the 2-month premature baby, the umbilical cord around her neck, was born. She was later named Mildred and had the distinction of being the very first baby to be born in that hospital. Harry went back home after being told they were all right. Shortly thereafter, he was called back and by the time he reached the hospital, Mary had passed away. She died of a hemorrhage. The family felt that the doctor was incompetent and negligent. [He may have been, but Mary's brother, William Pettit, later a medical doctor, noted that she had placenta previa, which is difficult to treat even today.] The funeral was held in the 30th Ward. Lucille and Leone remember riding in a black surrey, waving to school friends alongside the road, and later picking up the baby in the hospital on the way home from the cemetery. They also remember their mother telling them as she left to go to the hospital to be good children and not to quarrel.

Henry Green with baby Mildred and Will, Harry, Leone, and Lucile.

Rebecca Pettit, Mary’s mother, raised Mildred until she was twelve and also helped take care of the other children. It was hard on her to see the inefficient housekeepers who were hired. At times her sister, Hannah Romney helped out because they were in such need. The children disliked one housekeeper named Miss Turner. When their father told them later he was going to marry a Miss Turner, they were dismayed. It turned out to be another Miss Turner from Morgan. Harry had often gone on fishing trips to Morgan with his children. His good friend, Sam Francis whom he knew as a missionary in England, lived there. Sam’s sister, May, had a friend named Eliza Christina Turner, whom Harry became acquainted with. Lucille remembers Eliza coming over to visit her when she was sick one Sunday at the Francis’s. Harry courted Eliza, in spite of her sisters who thought it was a big mistake.

Grandmother Rebecca Hood Hill Pettit.

To be continued... 


Photo of the Logan Temple from www.flickr.com/photos/jamiedfw/4054175759/. Photo of the chokecherries from www.flickr.com/photos/86953562@N00/237179619/. Picture of the Exposition from Wikipedia.

Henry Green: Immigration, 1887, to Marriage, 1891, Part 3

Henry Green

Mary Isabell Pettit

Mary Pettit was born July 9, 1866, at 237 South 2nd West, the first child of Rebecca Hood Hill and Edwin Pettit. She was active in the Church and was baptized when 8 years old. Her service in the Church included acting as secretary in the Sunday School and being an officer in the Young Women’s Mutual Improvement Association. She graduated from the University of Deseret (they tell of her taking a lunch of bread and milk to school). May taught in the 5th Ward District School, worked as a saleswoman, and later became a cashier at Walker Brothers Department Store. Harry usually met her at work and walked her home. They went to Church together—to Sunday School and often to the tabernacle in the evening. They would sit on the porch and talk.

She tells in her diary (1890) of a camping trip week-long in August with a crowd up East Canyon—“Reached a nice place and decided to stay. Pitched the tent, had dinner and passed a very pleasant day. The boys went fishing—rain storm drove them back to camp…next day Harry and I went shooting and sang songs, more fishing…Spent remainder of day with Harry, went for long walk.…” Later she says, “I have been dreaming of the canyon and our good times we had there.” Later Harry referred to this in a letter, “Our canyon trip was one that I enjoyed and one to be ever remembered because it was the last excursion I had with May Pettit.”

Harry gave her a watch for her birthday and she bought a pin for his birthday. She tells of her first trip to Odgen in September 1890. Harry came over September 30th and fixed the well; she said, “I have taken my first lessons in pluming [plumbing] and made great success. It is beautiful and moonlight. We lingered at the gate until late.” Harry was working at Midgely Plumbing as a bookkeeper at this time. They saw each other often, taking long walks, going dancing and to the theater. On October 19 they had a “confidential chat,” she writes. On November 20, “Had conversation with mother about the temple. We were of the same mind.” Another time, “Talking over affairs that concerned ourselves alone.…” And another, “Our conversation during the walk gave us both something to think about.” The last entry on December 31 was, “Harry came and we spent the remainder of the year together and let it die peacefully. As the hour was late we thought it was best to part. He gave me a letter to read.”

The following year of 1891 was eventful in their lives. A sad happening was the death of Harry’s dear mother, Lucy, of typhoid fever on August 19. She had been in America only three years and was still fairly young (forty-five). Harry wrote in a letter to his wife later that year, “I have lost a true and tried parent and friend and one that has watched over me, prayed for me, and one that I owe everyone of my present surroundings. In losing my dear mother, it has a tendency to make me better and prepare me for that honorable and noble position of husband to thee.” This untimely death was sad too, because the family felt that if she had lived longer, their father might have joined them. He died broken-hearted ten years later, on April 11, 1902.

Henry Green: Immigration, 1887, to Marriage, 1891, Part 2

In November, he became an agent for a publishing firm. He wrote that he had been out in the country and made many acquaintances, that he ate well, and earned much more than previous work. He cleared $40 a week. “I like this work,” he said. “I am my own boss.…I keep to myself at night, read, and try to improve as much as possible to get something that will be beneficial to me.” Harry loved the out-of-doors. He wrote, “I have enjoyed myself very much. I have been fishing, shooting rabbits and birds, and riding.…I scared a wild cat—let it pass without touching. I was scared.” He described mosquitoes in one letter; apparently, he hadn’t seen them before. In another letter, “I like the county very much, pretty scenery and you can enjoy yourself to your heart’s content.”

Harry attended Church meetings when he could that year. He wrote, “I have been to the tabernacle two Sundays—a grand organ and a large choir, well-attended, too.” He also said, “Brother Taylor [President John Taylor] died on the 25th (couldn’t celebrate the 24th of July). All being well I intend going to see him. This makes three presidents that I have not had the pleasure to hear speak.” He probably heard the next four many times. His testimony grew. He wrote, “More and more I learn of Mormonism, the more I feel to press on.”

Patriarch John Smith gave him his patriarchal blessing in 1887. In it he was promised “to live to a good old age,” that “he would sit in council, to exhort the saints in faithfulness.…It will be thy lot to be a peace maker.…Shall be prospered in thy labors, spiritual and temporal.…shall find friends. Many shall seek thee for council and rejoice in thy teaching…shall heal the sick…thy name shall be handed down to posterity from generation to generation.” Looking back on his life, all of these things came to pass. He truly was a great man, loved by all who knew him.

He wrote letters to his family, instructing them on procedures and things to bring on their trip to Zion. He tried so hard to get his father to come—he told him of opportunities in his trade (“pottery would pay here—could make jam jars”) and said in his last letter before the family came, “We shall have many anxious moments for waiting and watching for the joyful news that you, Father, have left Old England to unite with those that love you with a childrens love and the love of a wife. You cannot think of not seeing us again. I you do, I hope that you will soon change your mind. The loss of a father is much.…What a rejoicing the meeting will be, but just think for one sober moment how the rejoicing would be doubled if only we were going to see your face. The love and affection we have for you is increasing and not decreasing as you might think, make up your mind that you will come out also and live together in peace and union.”

His mother, Lucy, and her five youngest children arrived in Zion on September 1, 1888—a joyful reunion. Except for William, the family was united once again. They made their home on 3rd West between 7th and 8th South on the west side of the street in an adobe house. Later, they moved to a larger place of four rooms in the rear of his sister Elizabeth’s and her husband Joe Griffiths’ home between 3rd and 4th West on 8th South.

Around the corner, at 908 2nd West (now 100 West) lived the Edwin Pettit family. Harry met their eldest daughter, Mary (or May, as he called her), probably through his mother, as he indicated in a letter. He started courting her as early as February 20, 1888, when he had written in her autograph book, “Dear friend Mary, Please accept my warmest wishes…”

To be continued...

Photograph of the temple and tabernacle in Salt Lake City from www.flickr.com/photos/theinfamousgdub/2123158951/.