A Uintah Basin Story

By Candice Jeanette Brown Hunt

This is a true story of the experiences incident to pioneering the Uintah Basin from 1906 when the former Ute Indian Reservation was thrown open for white settlement.

Also something of the background of my parents who did their share in helping to tame the wild, arid region.

Something too, must be said of my husband, Edward M. Hunt, son of Moroni Hunt and Emily Casto Hunt, born 23 Sept, 1880 at Monroe, Utah, who never lost faith in the eventual development and success of the country.

I must also include and give credit to our ten living children (two having died young), all born in this vicinity called Montwel. They shared in the privation, poverty and hard work of creating a happy home by persistence, determination and cooperation.

To present the material in a more concise form, I have divided it into eight parts.

Candice J. Brown Hunt

The Uintah Basin Story

Part 1

I was born in Monroe, Utah, 1^st Oct. 1888, 10^th in line of a family of 14, 4 of whom had died in infancy before I came along. My father, David Emanuel Brown was born in Georgia 4 April 1851. His father Emanuel Brown served in the Civil War and lost his life 22 June 1864 in the battle of the Kennesaw Mountain which was fought only a few miles from his home and family - wife and 7 sons. My grandmother has told of how she sat up all that night listening to the roar of the guns and cannon. Her eldest son John, still in his teens, was also in that battle but survived. My mother, Mary Ann Miranda Hyatt Was born in Alabama 22 March 1852. Her father, Daniel Franklin Hyatt also served in the Southern Cause and was captured and sent to a Northern prison where he was held a few years after Lee's surrender to care for other sick and wounded fellow prisoners. She was third in a family of 14.

Nothing is known of the how or when their love romance or how they came to meet, but they were married, both under 20 years of age. Father had lived a town life. Mother was born and reared on a cotton Plantation. For a time after their marriage they built a home of their own. So far as is known this was near the Tallapoosa River in Alabama. About this time the Matter of religion came up for consideration. My father and his family belonged to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

My mother's family, on the other hand, were confirmed and dedicated members of the Baptist Church. Her brother Sam being a Baptist Minister who objected to her joining the L.D.S. (Mormon) Church and which incident resulted in her being disowned by her family.

A few years later, L.D.S. Missionaries from Utah visited them and they were persuaded to join a caravan of saints that was going to Utah the next spring. So in the fall of 1869 they packed their few belongings including their two small girls into a covered wagon and with an ox team and very little cash to go on they left their home and beaded toward Dias, Arkansas from where the caravan was to leave for the long trek to the west. Along the way father did what work he could find to do - Splitting rails or working for the owners of farms and plantations. At one place they considered buying some land and settling there but they were persuaded to go on with the caravan of saints and according to plans when spring came they were headed west. When crossing Indian Territory in Oklahoma their 3^rd child was born 19^th of June 1870, a son named Emanuel. It happened that father became the official shoemaker for the company. For material he used the hides of buffalo killed along the way. While he was sitting in the back of the wagon making shoes my mother was obliged to drive the oxen which she did most of the way. She told of the pouring rain the night Emanuel was born, of how both she and the baby got soaked through and got dried out in the hot Oklahoma sunshine the next day as they resumed their travel with the caravan with no bad results.

The company stopped in Southern Arizona for the winter where smallpox got into the camp when one of the company disobeyed orders and went into a Mexican town, contracted the disease and rejoining the camp exposed others. As a result of this several died. One of these was a choice friend of mothers. She left a young infant child which my mother took and nursed along with her own baby - there was no bottle feeding of babies at that time.

When the camp broke up the next spring, my parents along with a few other families went on to southern Utah and settled at Monroe, Utah, a small town about 200 miles south of Salt Lake City where my grandmother Brown and 4 of her sons soon joined them. Father obtained a large town lot and built a 2 room house for his fammily and one for his mother.

Father was a most unusually clever man - artesian, musician and natural psychologist. Carpenter by trade, he build a shop on the same lot, equipped it with tools of his own making where he designed and made fancy furniture for his home and for neighbors. He constructed most of the larger homes, churches and public houses of the town. He was also the maker and trimmer of elaborate caskets for the town dead. In his later years he made a violin which he played at country dances and entertainments. I remember that when he sat down at our organ he played with such vim that any object on it would be shaken off. I remember too, that he always went to bed early and would ask my sister, May to play the organ while we sang him to sleep. I thought then, that we were playing him but now I am sure that was one of his tricks to get us to learn to sing. After the incident he would thank us kindly (usually an hour).

As for his psychology, it is said that one night when my sister's boyfriends at up with her in the front room past reasonable hours, my father got up and dressed in his Sunday cloths and offered to sit up the rest of the night or until time to go home so that his daughter could get some sleep (the fellow decided the time was now). His voice was low, his words few but meaningful. He never seemed to get angry or upset no matter what the provocation and had an uncanny way of exacting obedience without punishment or threat. The twinkle in his eye and his warm understanding smile could take care of any situation,

furthermore, he would not tolerate tattle-tailing or bickering and insisted on the rights of all. He loved people and recreation and had an amusing sense of humor. Proof of this was when he made a pond on part of the lot with an island and made a boat that could be paddled around it. Around the edge of the pond he planted a circle of lombardy trees, some of the stumps still marking the spot. On the island he planted a variety of trees, shrubs and flowers. I still remember the dainty pink and white tamarack frongs that dipped down into the water. On the island too, he put up a tall swing that swung over the water. And besides this he made a large croquet ground where the men of the town met weekend for a battle royal by teams to determine the championship. It is no wonder that ours was the gathering place of the town or that what few survivors there are, still talk of Dave Brown and his home. He died in Ontario, Oregon, 1 January, 1929. He was buried in Monroe cemetery where his children mother and brothers are.

My mother was, kind, devoted and industrious. She took life seriously and wasted no time. It was her belief that each member of the family should share the responsibilities and the work of the home. She also believed in discipline and didn't hesitate to use it when she felt it necessary to develop industry and honesty. She retained some of the plantation idea of producing the necessary family food so she had her garden and her fruit orchard, her pigs and chickens, her turkeys, ducks and geese, and sometimes a few game hens and a cow to milk if possible.

Father made a spinning wheel to go with her bats with which to card wool on which she spun yarn no make stockings and socks. Furthermore, she was to it that her daughters down to the smallest learned to card, to spin and to knit her own stockings - long knee length and dyed in various colors. Father also made a weaving loom on which she wove cloth, blankets, shawls and rag rugs and carpets for our home and many for the neighbors. Much of our evening time was spent sewing the ends of rag strips together to wind into balls for the next day's weaving. She was always true to her church attendance and tithe offering, went Relief Society teaching and visited the sick. Although she had no opportunity to attend school because of an accident in her early childhood when her clothing caught fire and so severely burned her right leg that her knee muscles stiffened causing her to walk with a slight limp, she learned to read her Bible and to write letters to her mother when after 15 years of silence family differences were eliminated and peace established.

Later in her life, she took advantage of a course in Mid-wivery being offered, driving in her little one horse buggy 6 miles to attend the classes and came out with high honors. This training stood her well in hand when she began pioneering in the Uintah Basin in 1907. Here, still driving her little buggy she went day or night, rain or shine, sleet or snow and often over bad or dangerous roads ( I know because I went with her on some of these missions of mercy) over 100 babies through the ears were delivered by her and not a loss of a mother or child. Her fee was $5.00 per case which included first help and 2 trips later to make sure that everything was O.K. (In those days the mother was kept in bed 10 full days after delivery). Since cash was hard to come by she often accepted as her pay some produce. A few chickens a Weiner pig or a sack of grain. Often she received no pay at all if the family was too destitute to pay.

Her last daws was a tragedy. She was alone on the farm, father having gone to Oregon where my sister Delila lived, with the intention of buying a home there. During the night dozen or more wild cattle broke in to her haystack. When she attempted to drive them out she was attacked by a long horned bull. He pinned her against the stable wall with a horn on either side and crushed her chest. (Incidentally, her big black dog heeled the animal else she would have been killed on the spot.) She managed to get into the house were she was found a few hours later by a grandson sent to check on her. He quickly gave the word and soon all of her family was at her side. Nothing could be done. She refused the last minute to have a doctor in called, saying "There has never been a doctor in my house, and I don't want one now." Nevertheless we called the doctor but to no avail. In a few days she was gone from internal injuries. She died 27 February, 1919 and is buried in the Cedarview cemetery a few miles East of Montwel, Utah.

New surroundings

Part II

I was 6 years old when the home at Monroe was sold and a ranch about 5 miles south of Marysvale, Utah was leased. This move brought a new way of life for our family. There was no school or church to attend except by traveling the distance by team and wagon, which was not practical, besides there was no law that required children to attend school. Under these circumstances we children were left much to our own by way of amusement, etc. Our family then - brother Emanuel, sisters, Molly (Mary), Martha, Delila, myself, and brother John 2 years younger than I, and sisters Bell and Neta, both very young. Sister May who was teaching school at Kanosh, Utah in winter tried to teach us something of the 3 R's and father, from his old spelling book, helped us in spelling. Since John and I were so near the same age we had a natural affinity for each other so that all of my memories include him because we were so much together. We could ride "Bud" old gray horse if we could keep him going. Bud had one bad habit. When he came to a mudhole, a ditch or a bridge, he would stop then try to jump over and always he lit in the middle. If we fell off we could lead him to a rock or fence or tree stump and crawl on again. Then in spring when the river was high we could watch the log-men floating logs from the camp on the mountain to the sawmill below. It was interesting to see them jump from log to log with their long handled and hooked poles to break up a threatened log jam. Then there was the foot bridge across the river, the terror of our lives. It was the usual responsibility of John and I to cross this bridge almost every evening to bring the milk cows from their pasture. To do this we would cross the bridge, round them up and get them started to ford the river toward home, then cross the bridge and drive them to be milked. this dreaded bridge was made up of 6 inch wooden slats about 4 feet long, tied at each end to a strong wire cable which allowed it to dip and sway. However, it had a handwire to which one could hold which helped. In the middle there was a cradle built of logs, rocks filled the cradle to which the first lap of the bridge was anchored and from this the other span stretched to the opposite bank. Quite often, on these rocks water snakes stretched out in the sun and we had to step over, around or on them to cross the cradle as they slithered off into holes between the rocks.

Another incident I can't well forget was when my sister Delila contracted Typhoid Fever and lost much of her hair. That what was left had to be cut. Father was the barber and when there was nothing left to cut, I asked him to do mine like hers. He obliged. Incidently I had long honey colored hair, mothers pride and joy. She kept it in two long braids that hung below my waist. When I went into the house holding up my two braids for her to see, (ribbons still attached) I thought she was going to drop down dead. When I went into the other room and looked in the mirror I wished that I could drop dead. Above my crying I couldn't hear all of the tongue lashing mother was giving father but I know that it was hot because I knew my mother; it was one of fathers jokes that was not so practical.

All was not play on the ranch. We had our work to do. Father planted a lot of corn and sugar cane from which to make molasses and there was the hay to be cut and hauled to the barn and all else that goes with ranch life. My parents, I think were sometimes hard put to keep us on the job. For instance, I remember when we had come to the end of a long hoed row of corn there would be a little surprise waiting for us like a drink of lemonade, a dish of home made ice cream, or just maybe a piece of apple pie and a glass of cold milk from the cellar. This didn't happen every day bud just when we least expected it. Father was always working along side of us and acted just as surprised as we although we knew he had bargained with mother to have the surprise waiting for us. He often whistled or sang little snatches of songs while he worked. In the fall of the year after the corn was ripe the ears would have to be stripped off the stalks and piled near the corn cob window, to be husked and thrown in. When we started the pile looked like a little mountain and the job had to be done before winter set in. It was not pleasant to sit there on the ground day after day- Husk and throw- Husk and throw. One morning when we went to work we found a little painted wooden clown standing in the corn crib window. Father had made him and fastened him in the window on a spring. The game was to see who could hit the clown and knock him down the most times, with a prize awaiting the winner. It was remarkable how those husked ears of corn hit that clown and he always came up grinning at us. Space will not allow mention of the many schemes used to make joy out of otherwise unpleasant tasks.

The making of the molasses late in the fall was a pleasure we looked forward to. There was the grinder with its crushing rollers run by a horse tied to a long arm from the machine, going in a large circle, to keep the rollers squeezing out the juice that was caught in a bucket and carried to the big boiling vat that sat over a fire pit made of bricks and stones put together by molter of mud. There was the hours of boiling, skimming, and stirring with a long wood paddle until there was a few gallons of golden molasses to be put into the barrels father had made for it. This would be our winter's supply and some to sell to people who came to buy it.

In 1898, when the Kimberly Gold Rush was on our ranch was on the main route to the discovery of gold int eh mountains south. Many hopeful prospectors passed our place, some horseback leading a pack animal, some in buckboards, and some in wagons. Some stopped to have a horse shod or a vehicle repaired, and some stayed a few days to rest from a long journey. One of these last was a man from Uintah County. He owned a ranch about 6 miles north of Vernal Utah on the Dry Fork River. Adjoining his ranch was another that was for sale and another under his management. My parents were persuaded to buy this ranch and so preparations began for about a 500 mile move to a new location.

The long Journey and the New Home.

Part III

September 1898 we left the Marysvale ranch 10 in number because my sister may had married so she stayed but in her place we had a Swedish immigrant, a friend of Emanuel's who asked to go with us which offer my father gladly accepted because to have an extra man along would be helpful, which he proved in many ways to be. His name was Fred Fredrickson. We left with 2 wagons, one covered to accommodate the family with as much comfort as possible, and to hold household necessities such as bedding and clothing and some food. The second was loaded with tools and other items thought useful for ranch activity. Also a wood crate with a dozen hens and a red rooster. Another crate held two Weiner pigs, the old wooden barrel churn was tied in the front of the wagon, it's lid fastened securely, it served for the drivers seat with a quilt spread over it for comfort. This made up the load except for a few sacks of grain thrown on for horse feed, and a 40 gallon water barrel tied on the outside of the wagon. Of course there was the two teams and an extra riding pony besides the 3 milk cows which were to be driven to provide milk to supplement the food supply and they did this very well. It didn't turn out to be the pleasant journey we had anticipated. The roads over the high pass that separated the two valleys were unfinished. There were long, narrow and steep dugways where teams had to be doubled up to make the grade and the wheels locked to hld the wagons back when going down the other side. There were times when jutting rocks broke the wheel spokes, and other annoying and delaying incidents. But I being a child thrilled with the adventure, was not too interested or worried about stripped harnesses or clamoring over the hills while repairs were being made so we could go on again. I loved the sleeping out under the stars at night and of eating our meals sitting around a blanket spread on the ground. I can still smell the campfire smoke and taste the hot bake oven scones and the fresh butter taken from the churn every evening made from the milk my mother had strained into it that morning and a result of the days jolting of the wagon. Sometimes I think of the cup of acorns left on a big rock when the "All Aboard" was sounded. Also of the names we carved in the bark of Quakenasp trees and of those we painted on rocks with black grease from the wagon wheel Axel and hubs.

At last, after three weeks on the road we arrived at our new home 1, October 1898, which was my 10^th birthday. As we had traveled along the narrow canyon that lifted perpendicularly more than 100 feet. About middle way up "Remember the Main" had been painted in large black letters. We were told that the man who did the work sat in a swinging chair at the end of a rope, anchored on the top of a ledge. It had been done in memory of our U.S. Battleship Main that was destroyed by the Spanish in the Harbor of Havanah 15 February 1898, costing 250 lives. This incident precipitated the Spanish-American War.

About a mile further on we pulled into our home yard weary of travel and glad to be home. What we saw wasn't too much less than expected but it was home. The house was a 2 room log affair densely shaded by huge cottonwood trees and almost wrapped in snake vines. There was a horse barn in weatherbeaten condition, a rock hen-house, a stockyard and a large coral circled by a pole fence. Off a little way was a clump of shaggy apple and plum trees and a prospective garden plot over-run with tall weeds and bright yellow sunflowers nodding a welcome to us.

We were told that many wild animals lived in the densely wooded and vine wrapped bottom land that lay along the Ashley River that twisted and turned around giant boulders on its way to the valley below. Most of the year it was only a rather small mountain stream but in spring with the high runoff of snow from the mountain it was a raging and dangerous torrent. We soon learned that the story of the wild animals was true when attempted raids on the hen house occurred every night, and when sometimes in broad daylight a chicken would be made off with. My mother, true to her plantation training, would take her 3 dogs and her gun and go wildcat hunting. The dogs would tree the animals and she would shoot them for the dogs to finish. Sometimes the job was about too much for the dogs and a second shot would be necessary.

My brother John had an experience with a wildcat that cured him from sneaking through the brush, as was his habit, to scare us girls when we ventured out into the timber. He was running along, his pup at his heels to bring the calves from the pasture. A wildcat was eating on a chicken in the trail ahead. The pup true to nature, ran to the cat and it took after the pup which naturally ran back to John who was knocked down and was one of the three in the tumble. Luckily he got out but well scratched up and his shirt all but torn off. He was a scared boy and he had learned what it was like to be jumped on unexpectedly.

The river abounded in fish and quite often we would wake to see mother coming in with a nice string of mountain trout for our breakfast. Father said fishing was too dull a job for him; my brother Emanuel's second life and first love was fishing. At Monroe he crawled out of the window and went fishing in Monroe canyon instead of going to school. He had fished in the Marysvale river and here in Ashley River he found his paradise. He was so proficient that when people came from the valley to fish he promised them the desired number at a price and so was able to keep an adequate amount of cash on hand, especially fortunate when there was little or no other opportunity to earn a dime.

Here life for us children wasn't much as it had no church or school available except that here we had hills to climb and in the summer we dabbled in the river and skated in the winter. Reminded of hill climbing we sometimes went up a ravine back of the cliff where the main was painted and lying belly down with the others holding to our feet we would look over the edge into the road below where the passing teams and wagons looked like big black ants crawling along. Once the boys threw a big dead Cedar tree over the edge and Mr. Merrit seeing it thought it was one of us, ran to the spot and nearly suffered a heart attack. Our coming increased the population of the vicinity enough so that the L.D.S. Church came from Vernal or Maser and held a meeting every Sunday in the Merrit home. Later a Sunday school was organized.

That year also the county school board held a short session of school in the Merrit home which was about a mile from our place. It was in nearly a central location and served the half dozen or so families living up and down the canyon.= some of whom came from 2 or 3 miles away. Our teacher for this school was Miss Ada Rich from Vernal and we all loved her very much. She later married a Mr. Clarence Johnson of Vernal, and later of Roosevelt, Utah and became the mother of Loraine Day the movie actress.

The next year the school board of the county consented to furnish a teacher for us if the parents would provide a house and furnish all the necessary equipment which was agreed. Father was appointed chairman of the three trustees to oversee the job and to be responsible for the school. So logs were cut from the cotton wood trees on the river bottoms, hauled to a site donated by Mr. Merrit, the cracks left by notching the logs to make about a 12x14 room was chicked and filled with mud and whitewashed inside. The floor was of rough odds and ends of lumber brought by the builders and the roof was of logs to support the thatch of cut tree limbs and covered with dirt. Father painted a strip of canvas for a blackboard and made some seats and small tables. If I remember correctly our first teacher there was a miss Eva Bently from Vernal. I am quite sure that her wage was $30.00 a month and she boarded with some of the patrons. The next year the school board brought some real school desks discarded by some other school and brought us a real blackboard and a set of large wall maps. Our school term was 5 months. The school was maintained for about 4 years in which we had a new teacher each year, all 8^th grade graduates from Maser or Vernal, Utah.

At the closing of the last year my mother made arrangements for me to finish the year living in the home of Mr. Charles Colton in Maser where I worked for board and room and finished the 7^th grade. I enjoyed this very much - my first attendance at a real school. That summer I worked for a Mrs. Taylor who owned a store in Vernal and my pay was $3.00 a week most of it to be drawn from the store. It was not a pleasant job - breakfast to cook and serve to 5 pernickety people, housework, laundry (tub and wash board) ironing for a spoiled teenager who had to have a clean white shirt at least once every day, night chores such as filling kerosene lamps and washing chimneys, floors to be scrubbed on hands and knees every night - a 12 or 15 hour day. One month of this was all I could take so I quit and went home and here began the saddest and most tragic incident of my life. I was 16 and madly in love with a neighbor boy 3 years my senior. To me he was a real prince charming but father saw differently. We intended to be married as soon as I was older. Father had other plans for me. So far as I could see the main objection was that my friend had come from Colorado where he had graduated from the 8^th grade but he liked to be in school and insisted on attending our school where all of our teachers were educated no more, if as much as he. When he thought errors were in the teaching he took exception and controversies would result and he nearly always proved himself to be right. This of course, upset the teacher who complained that his discipline was being interfered with which without doubt, the case was clearly correct. My father, being the chairman of the 3 school trustees was responsible for the school. He asked my friend not to attend any more which he refused to do. Father thought this was being too aggressive and couldn't tolerate the thought of his being a prospective son-in-law. (This is my version of the affair) This friend turned out to be editor of a weekly newspaper and was prominent in the city and state offices. That kind of life would have pleased me more than being a farmer's wife, but one can never know what is for the best.

One morning, without any warning or chance to let my friend know that I was leaving I was told that I was to go to Monroe, 500 miles away to live with my sister Carrie and her family. (I think this scheme to get me away from my friend was hatched up only the night before) All arrangements had been made. My brother Emanuel was to take me in the old buggy and mother was to go along for company. Inside of 2 hours we were on our way despite my trying to beg off. I didn't want to go and was told that I would soon be back again. My visit lasted more than a year and of course put an end to my first and only romance except for the disappointment and the heart ache. The letters I wrote to my friend trying to explain were never received. I suspect they were never mailed as promised. It must have been a family conspiracy, but father had a way of handling any situation.

To be set down in a family of 5, most of whom I had never seen and another on the way, (this had been the excuse of my going to help) was not an experience to be appreciated. However, I was treated well and came to love the children. But to say I was homesick and heartsick would be putting it too mildly. I would have done most anything to get home but no chance of that. I went to school that winter and passed the 8^th grade. My teacher was Mr. Bent Larsen who became a famous artist, having some of his paintings hung in the Art Gallery in France. I enjoyed the school as much as I could under the circumstances.

Part IV

I spent as much time as I could at the Hunt family farm a few miles south of Monroe, visiting with Maybell who was my own age and a friend of our old Monroe days. The Hunts and my family had been close friends ever since I could remember, Mr. Hunt being my father's old team mate on the croquet games at Monroe. And Mrs. Hunt treated me so well, saying I belonged to her. To be at the Hunt home was the only respite I had for my homesickness. I h=was there when one of the Hunt boys came home from the sheep herd. It was the first time I had seen him or had known that he belonged to the Hunt family. I soon learned why. He was the eldest of a family of 13 children, 5 of whom had died in infancy. IN his childhood he had suffered several attacks of Rheumatic Fever and had missed so much school that those of his own age were too far ahead of him caused his parents to take him out of school. Besides, his help at home was needed. He was still in his early teens when he was given the responsibility of taking care of his father's large sheep herd that had to be kept out on the range all the year round. Here he was isolated much of the time, not seeing anyone except once a month when his brothers would bring supplies and leave as soon as they could get away. After a few years he took over the care of two more herds belonging to his uncles, making a herd of several thousand head. To offset the monotony of the heard and liking to read history and to do arithmetic he had his brothers, who were in college bring their discarded books to him. To carry these while he watched the sheep he made a small case from slats of wood crates and attached a denim shoulder strap and got to be so proficient in these two subjects that he could often outsmart college graduates. I sympathized with him because the rest of the family seemed to treat him as being beneath them. He had learned of the opening of the Uintah Basin where on could file a number and get 160 acres of land. He had decided to be a farmer instead of being a sheep herder. He had sub-leased his fathers herd and let his uncles pull their herds out, and had sold some of his own which now numbered 1300 head which he had taken instead of cash wages he was to be paid. He was now 26 years old. He drew a number and began preparing to make the adventure. I suppose it was about this time that he realized he would need a wife to hep make a homestead into a home. He soon began to pay attention to me, took me to shows in town, took me riding with Maybell along for company, in the old whitetop buggy with the old old Hunt mules jogging along. After about 3 weeks he proposed to me and I gladly accepted. It would be one way of getting home because the reservation was only less than 50 miles form Vernal. Besides, I knew he was a reliable fellow, that the Hunt family was highly respected and old friends of whom my father would be sure to approve. So I wouldn't say it was exactly a love affair but rather one of convenience.

The next week we were on our way to be married in Vernal, in the whitetop and the old mules to make the long trip. Mrs. Hunt went along as chaperon. The next day wen we had told of our plans everybody was pleased and happy and Ed and Father left for the Basin to locate and survey stakes and numbers on a homestead Father had filed on which was located in what is now the Montwel area. Ed's was near Duchesne but he decided to cancel that and apply for one that was still open across the section line from that father was filing on.

While they were gone preparations for the wedding were going on. My sister Delila, being an expert designer and seamstress made my wedding dress and it was beautiful made of white viole and trimmed with yards and yards of lace insertion threaded with narrow pink baby ribbon.

We were married 8^th of August in the Court house in Vernal. There was no celebration, but only chicken noodle soup for supper. The next morning we started for Monroe to prepare for our adventure of homesteading. How I hated to leave home again knowing that it would never be my home anymore. I had hoped to see my old friend and explain but he had left and gone back to Colorado.

And so the preparations began. Ed brought the sheep wagon from the herd and two horses one of which was determined to be too old to be of use, so a younger one was bought and broke to go with the other one. She proved to be a flighty and hard to break being of hamiltonian blood and caused some trouble on the road. I remember at Price, Utah, when she saw her first train pull into the station she rared up and broke the belly band underneath and slipped from under the harness and turned her head to face the other horse. It was some time before she got back in harness and settled down.

To go back to our preparation for leaving, Ed bought the whitetop for us to ride with the team. He borrowed the old mule team to pull the sheep wagon and his brother Alvin agreed to go along to drive them.

The Hunts had large orchards of fruit -apples, prunes and peaches which they packed and shopped commercially, and a dozen or more old sheep around the place as well as a number of pigs which they fattened for market. Of all of these Ed could arrange a good supply of food. His mother helped me bottle a good supply of fruit, jams and jellies. Ed bought some farm implements new and his father gave him some. With all of this stowed on the buggy and wagon we were too much loaded for the roads ahead of us. When we left we had two water barrels tied on the outside of the wagon, a box of a dozen chickens tied on behind and a few bales of hay on top of the box to help shade the chickens and for horse feed. There were several sacks of feed grain, a freshly butchered sheep and three cured hams and a quantity of salt pork to say nothing of beans, flour and sugar. Thus prepared we were ready to start off in the middle of October 1906.

The first 100 or so miles were fared pretty well but when we reached the foothills of the mountain range that separated the two valleys trouble began. To begin with it had been a worry to me because of the horse Ed had brought from the herd. He was a god, gentle horse but quite slow and he had a very bad habit or sickness. A little while after leaving camp he would sometimes stop dead still, begin to shake all over and would drop down like he was dead, kick around like he was dying, then in a little while he would get up and go on again. The flighty horse would get excited and try to run but since she couldn't drag "Old Doc" she would have to settle down. This episode frightened me so that hoping to miss the incident I would walk behind the wagon for sometimes quite a distance until I thought it wasn't going to happen and then half the time when Ed stopped to wait for me and went on again down would go old doc. He was the trial of my life. The men-folk laughed at me but I couldn't bring myself to endure the scene. It made me tremble every time it happened. Our progress averaged about 25 miles a day, sometimes a little more and sometimes less depending on the condition of the roads in places hard if not dangerous. Going over the high mountain range there were long steep and narrow winding dugways when both teams would have to be put on the wagon going up, and the wheels locked going down to keep the mules from being pushed off the road to the deep rugged canyons below. Many times along the way we would hear the echoes of a cowbell ringing around the high mountain tops. This was a warning that a freighter on his way for a load of goods for the Vernal area from Price, Utah, the nearest rail road terminal, was nearing the bend in the road, and a signal for us to stop at any wider place in the road so we could pass. When we had left Price and got down out of the mountain we could get a view of the Uintah Basin which didn't look too promising. It was a tremendously wide valley with nothing to see but sand stone ledges and Cedar trees lodged between and tumble weeds blowing in the wind. We jogged along for seemingly endless miles of alkali flats through road ruts of alkali dust which the wind picked up and covered us with. It seemed we would never reach the end. We had crossed the Duchesne River, fording it because there was no bridge. WE were lucky that it was in the fall of the year when the water was low, even then, it was belly deep to the horses and it wasn't easy to get them to go into it. It was wide and swift and midstream our wheels wedged between the huge boulders and stopped us for a while. I was frantic with fear that Doc would take one of his spells and be drowned. He didn't/ We at last pulled up the slippery bank to go on to much the same as we had seen before. However, as we neared where Myton now is we saw a few tents of some who had proceeded us flapping in the wind on some barren hill or flat. We also saw a family of Indians going cross country with their papooses, horses and dogs. Once in a while a prairie dog would sit atop his hole and bark a welcome to us. At what came to be known as Myton, we saw more tents. In two of these a Mr. C. C. Larsen from somewhere in Central Utah has boarded two large tents. In one of these he lived with his rather large family, and in the other he operated a store. His goods were piled on long plank tables or on the ground around the walls. He had such things on the tables as staple groceries, sugar, dry beans, rice, salt bacon, etc. On the ground things useful for farm operations - plows, steel scrapers, barbed wire, nails hoes, picks and shovels, etc. There was also on the table straw hats and fur caps, denim overalls, blue chambry work shirts, socks and heavy shoes and a small amount of sewing needs - thread, needles, yard goods. And of course cooking and camping equipment and kerosene lamps and lanterns.

The Harmstons from Vernal had one tent which served them for living quarters and one for sort of an information place where one could enquire concerning a claim, where it was located and how best to get to it. There were a few other tents but I didn't get to know their occupants except on where Ed's cousin Hattie Hunt Pope with her husband Arlan Pope. He was doing blacksmith work under a big Cedar tree and keeping busy shoeing horses and mending broken vehicles. We camped there over night and in the morning got what information about our claim and were told to take a N. W. Direction about 10 or 12 miles. We bought a few articles we thought might be needed and which we had forgotten to bring along and were on our way to what we though would be our last camp and home.

There were no roads to follow and as directed we took a N. W. course over the brush and rocks. Sometimes gutters cut by summer storms had to be leveled and sometimes cedar trees had to be cut down and dragged off to make room to get through. It was afternoon when we came at last to the wide deep gulch which was near where Maurel Taylor now lives and it took several hours of shoveling on the banks and putting sand and rocks in the bottom before the buggy and wagon could be eased across From there we still kept our N. W. course and went over the hill a little North of where Delmer Hamblin lives and on across the more level land on top until we came to a little rocky cove under some sandstone ledges and Cedar Trees which provided some shelter from the cold wind and snow that was beginning to whiten the ground. Home at last!

The men folk unhitched the teams and hobbled them out to find a little pickings if possible. While I prepared dinner in the sheep wagon the men set the box of chickens under the wagon and unloaded some of the tools and farm equipment. The wind had quieted down a little bit the snow was coming down heavier. We had arrived in the middle of November but didn't expect winter so early.

We went to bed early hoping to get a good night's sleep but this was wishful thinking; the horses kept coming back to nuzzle the feed. Ed got up several times to drive them away. And it sounded as if there were a hundred coyotes yipping and howling form every hill. Once some wild animal disturbed the chickens and Ed got up to see what it was and thought likely it was a badger. He fired two shots into the air to frighten away any near animal then came back to bed. The horses and mules at last gave up and quit bothering around. We had gotten used to the music of the coyotes and went to sleep for a few hours. When morning came we got up to find about six inches of snow and not a horse or mule in sight nor a sing of a track to tell which way they had gone. Ed built up a fire in the little tin sheep wagon stove and without waiting to eat breakfast he and Alvin took out to try to overtake the hobbled animals thinking they had decided to go back home to greener pastures.

All day I sat huddled up in the sheep wagon listening to the coyotes expecting to be attacked any minute. The fire Ed had made burned out for lack of fuel and though I knew that a pile of chopped wood was at the end of the wagon tongue I could not make myself open the door to bring it in on the peril of my life. I wrapped myself in a heavy quilt and sat shivering with cold and fear watching the clock. It was nearly three when I heard the welcome clink of hobble chains. I rushed to the door and feasted my eyes on men and horses and mules to realize that the men were nearly frozen. Their overall legs were frozen stiff to their knees and they were blue with cold - Cold and hungry, no fire to warm them and not a bite of dinner cooked. They might have scolded me severely but they only laughed at my explanation and told me that a coyote would never attack a human being but would hide and watch and slink off it afraid of being seen. After dinner the men went out to try to locate the survey stakes or our claim and came back laughing and chagrined. We had crossed diagonally, our entire claim and camped about 200 yards over the line. But they decided to call it a day and to move camp the next morning.

Part V

When morning came the snow had stopped but a cold wind was blowing. The men reloaded what they had unloaded the day before, hitched up the teams, and we puled south to where Myron and ruth Haslem live now.

I had reasons to be proud of Ed as a husband and no regrets for my marriage to him. He never touched tea, coffee, tobacco, or liquor of any kind and seldom if ever swore and was patient and tolerant and spoke in a low voice. He was determined in his affairs but was not quarrelsome. I am sure there could never have been a more honest or conscientious person. In business he would go more than half way and was often cheated by some of our less scrupulous neighbors. If he had a fault it was having too much ambition for his own good and for that of the family. He worked 7 days a week from daylight till dark and liked to accumulate property, was always ready to help anyone in need, but asked no favors for himself. He was not socially minded but never failed to vote a strict Republican Ticket or to vote in local elections. Evenings, he liked to read ancient and modern history and was interested in what world news we got to hear about. He might have been considered a perfectionist; when he made a fence every post had to be the same length, trimmed, peeled and soaked in cresote and set deep, in a straight line with the compass and evenly spaced even if a rock or tree had to be blasted to make it so. His furrows too had to go the same regardless of the lay of the land which sloped in different ways. He was Siad to be the only the only man who made water run up hill. His dream was to level the farm by putting dams in the gulches to catch the sild that was carried down by flood waters when a storm brought a flood . This dream was never realized because each flood washed away the dam and another one was put in. The gulches are still there, but ed was the first one in the valley to make ponds for storing water for irrigation.

I was ill and worn out from the long hard trip and was expecting our first child to be born the next spring so after a week living in the sheep wagon Ed took me to be with my mother at the old home in Uintah County. Dalton Edward was born there 14 June 1907. Ed had spent part of the winter there but had built a 12 X 14 lumber shack on our claim, did some fencing and other things. When our baby was 3 weeks old, Ed came and took us home in the old whitetop which was then topless form the buffeting of the wind and heavy snow of the winter.

It was long hot journey of more than 40 miles. We stayed all night about half way at the home of Ed's Aunt Jane Evans who with her family were homesteading a claim at Bennet, Utah. An interesting thing happened there. One of her grown-up sons, Joe, who was quite a joker had some small pigs he wanted to sell at $1.50 each. Ed wanted to buy the pigs but Joe would sell only on one condition; Ed was to pay him the $3.00 for a black Curley haired pup he had and the pigs would be given as a bonus. The deal was made and the next morning the pup and pigs were put in a crate and we hauled them home, an indignity that the put never forgot or forgave. He hated pigs with a vengeance all of his life of about 15 years. But it turned out well fur us because if a pig ever got out of place Curley was always glad to help. He would pounce upon the animal, grab its jawbone and hold it down, until it could be caught and dragged back to the ben. And if a loose pig got too close to him he would lie down, quivering all over, his neck hairs raised his teeth bared and he growled. Soon as if he could bear it no longer he would be at the pig and would hold him until he was rescued.

The Shack Ed had built set up about a foot off the ground on large rocks at each corner. The material was of rough green lumber hauled from the sawmill. It had the cracks battened on the outside with thin narrow slabs. The inside was lined with red building paper, the floor was of 12 inch rough lumber and no ceiling. The roof was of lumber the same as the other parts of the house but was covered with a light weight black tar roofing. The little tin camp stove had been brought from the sheep wagon and the bunk bed had been nailed in one corner of the room. It wasn't much of a house but it was home and would serve for a long time which it did. In fact, all of my next 4 children were born there. However, before the last of the four Ed hauled more green lumber and built 2 lean-to's, one on the East and one on the North going full length of the house and the East lean-to, making 3 bedrooms, but with no way of heating them they were quite useless in cold weather. Those born here were; Elva, 1908, 8^th of September, Reita, 10 June, 1910, George 15 April, 1912, Amy December1. 1913.

Going back to the days of 1907 when I began my real pioneering, many settlers had moved in during my stay with my mother. Among the ones I remember best were the Tom Doman family who had torn down a log house in Dry fork and rebuilt it half a mile from us. His son Bill his family, George Roberts, Ed Cloward, four Labrum boys, John Will, Alva and Ralph, Willard Goff and his brother Art, the two Merrells, Jerome and Joe, the Carruths, all these with their families. There were perhaps some others I do not remember of the first years, except that my father tore down our old home in the canyon and rebuilt it across the line from our place. From then on there were new people coming in almost every day and we would see a new tent flapping in the wind or see new houses being built. This was happening all over the entire territory though there was not much communication between people because of road and living conditions. The whole area north west of Roosevelt and south west of Neola was known as Cedarview, named I suppose from the fact that there was nothing to be seen but Cedar trees scattered among sandstone ledges and hills. This territory comprising an area of about 15 miles north and south, and about 6 miles east and west was soon divided up into small communities separated by strips of unusable land. Our particular vicinity came t be called Montwel named this because of artesian wells near the mountain. If I remember correctly, it was my mother who suggested this name at our meeting held in their home to determine the name of our community. That year Father had hired a well drilling company to drill a well on his place and most farms around then had flowing wells. Prior to this, especially for the first years, water had to be hauled in barrels from springs creeping out of the ledges. Then hand dug wells were dug but these soon were useless because of alkali seepage. Even after water was available from the canal sometimes the water was turned off and we were back to hauling water. So these artesian wells were a great advantage to us.

I recall an incident that might have been very serous if not fatal when we were digging our hand well. To begin, a hole about 5 feet deep is dug by hand, then when it gets too deep for the dirt to be thrown out a frame is built above ground to support a windlass which is a big roller wound with along strong rope with a large heavy bucket attached to the end. The roller was a long handle to act as a lever to lower the empty bucket down to be filled up with dirt and rocks etc,. And to bring it up to be dumped and let down again. This day Alvin was in the hole and Ed was operating the windlass. The well was almost finished; water was beginning to seep in and the bucket was extra heavy being filled with mud. It happened that day that a 9 year old neighbor boy who had been there every day begging to go down in the bucket. He wouldn't vie up so Ed let him go down. When the last bucket was almost to the top the handle of the windlass broke and part of it was gong around rapidly letting the bucket hit the bottom with a crushing thud. The broken handle hit end and knocked him down cutting a gash across his face. But it happened that both Alvin and Ed were in a corner of the hole and the bucket lit between them not touching either one which was a miracle. It was a few hours before the windlass was repaired enough to get them and the bucket up again. Father seeing the accident came running over and helped Ed with the repairs. The first two years were really hard. The wind was blowing constantly and threatened to low our little shack over as it did some such as ours. It was a comfort to me to have my folks living across the orad in a sturdy log house. I could wrap my baby up and dash over there. One day the wind seemed more fierce than usual so away I ran but when I was opening the door a big black dog mother had grabbed my leg and held me there until he got pulled loose. He had sunk his teeth half through the calf of my leg. Mother got me inside then rant o call Ed to know what to do. There was no doctor closer than 25 miles away at Whiterocks, an Indian doctor, who was not suppose to treat white people, or at Vernal 40 miles away. Ed went out and got a quite large bunch of wild sagebrush leaves and stems which he put in a large kettle to make a strong tea. When it was cooked he put the tea into a 5 gallon honey can and got my foot and leg nearly up to my knee in the hot, almost scalding brew. This he repeated several times a day and in a week the wound was healed without any swelling occurring or any other trouble. I still carry the scar. We found, in pioneering to rely on sage for many things. It would break a fever, relieve colds and do many other things for which we had no medical assistance.

Though there was no water for irrigation, some farmers anxious to get started broke up their land and learned off the cedars and brush and weeds which gave a clean sweep for the incessant wind to pick up the alkali dust and the dead prickly pear slivers and swirl across the country in a dense cloud of dust. This dust and slivers would penetrate everything. It came up thru the floor of our shack and through the cracks in the walls and settled over everything making it necessary to cover the baby's face when I put him down to sleep. Every few hours I would undress him to look for slivers making him cross because his light fuzzy, cotton clothing caught and held the tiny slivers whether they were in the house or out on the clothesline. Another menace was the wood Ticks that infested trees and brush.. They would be carried into the house and if not watched for would attack anyone, getting hold of any vulnerable spot like underarms, groins, behind or in ears, in the hair or anywhere they might not be found so it required a constant search. One got into the ear of a neighbors child and not being found in time caused permanent deafness in her ear. Heir habit was to get hold and hang on sucking blood until they sometimes got as large as a garden pea and then burst leaving a host of tiny ones to torture the victim. To break one of them would take the flesh with but we learned that a drop of turpentine or kerosene would make them let go and would kill them.

The first great need was to get irrigation water into the country so that crops could be grown to offset the expensive necessities such as hay and grain to keep the teams able to do the work required of them. It took three days at least to make a trip to Vernal, buy a few bales of hay at $40.00 a ton and a few sacks of grain at about 10 cents a pound and back again. So water for growing something was a must.

Companies for irrigation were organized in various areas. Covering our vicinity and some other places the Dry Gulch Irrigation Company was organized. Farmers could purchase shares in the company by paying an assessment levied twice a year which could be paid in cash or in labor working on a canal. The canal serving us was brought from the Uintah River a distance of perhaps 25 miles. My father assisted in its survey using a pan of water set on a teasel to get the level and the grade. It was a long and hard struggle; only team and steal scrapers, picks and shovels to work with except when powder had to be used to last out a ledge that stood in the way. Both men and teams were poorly fed for the heavy work day after day, week in and out and month until the job was done in a little over a year. But when the water was turned in it was so thick with the debris and dirt that it rolled rather than ran. Father had been canal boss on much of the construction and was appointed the first ditch rider which was in itself a hard job. I have seen him crawl onto his old gray hose with his shovel, pitchfork, and long pointed pole and ride off at the break of day and be gone most of the day because the canal required most constant watch. If there was a low spot mud would settle and back the water up until it would go over the loose bank dirt and wash a hole and go tearing down the valley leaving a deep gulch as it went and the canal would be shut off at the river until the break was mended. Which might require a week or more time while the farms burned in the hot winds. Sometimes the same thing happened when the wind carried tumbleweeds along and left them in a bend of the canal and to untangle them and get them required almost super human strength and determination. Indeed those were hard and discouraging years. Most of the people trying at make a home had brought very little with them not expecting what they were having to face and those who had brought more had used most of what they had.

Here, much credit should be given to Mr. C. C. Larsen, Roosevelt's first merchant. Had it not been for him I very much doubt if the Uintah Basin would have been developed. He gave people credit in his store for their necessities wither it was for food, clothing, horsefeed, fencing or farm equipment. A man could haul freight from Price, 100 miles away, the nearest railroad goods for his store, cut and haul Cedar Posts which he sold, chop loads of firewood and deliver to him or get lumber he bought at the sawmill, or work in Roosevelt building the many houses he put in the town. He believed in Charity but also that a man should pay for what he asked for. The Roosevelt people and city should erect a monument to his memory and for what he did in development of the Uintah Basin.

After we had irrigation water, and later the LDS Church had organized the first religions meeting - Sunday school - North or Roosevelt, held in the home of my parents with Gilbert Richardson as Superintendent and I as secretary, the next question was to get a school going. It was now 1913. A large tent was set in one corner of father's lot and a big pot-bellied stove set up in the middle. The students, about 15 in number and all ages came to attend, some of several miles. A miss Effie Davis was the teacher. The pupils brought material used from home and some parents supplied a chair or box for their own to sit on but these were little used because to keep from freezing the boys and girls crowded around the stove. This was unfair to the smaller ones not able to crowd in. Dalton was one of these so he stood around with his coat on and his cap in his hands and the material, a book we had on hand and a note book under his arm until he was told he could go home. Nevertheless, with this poor start he managed to get himself a degree in Dairy Chemistry at the Agricultural College in Logan, Utah. In t he tent school there could be no discipline and then noise could be heard over at our place across the orad. I never could understand how Miss Davis could ever keep her sense, nothing to do with, no kind of blackboard, and the only way she could teach would be to get one student in a corner and try to let him read or spell or do some kind of problem while the others were dong anything they close to do. T his school of course, was very unsatisfactory and lasted only a few months. Then began the clamor for a more Central location where a school house could be built. Naturally, everybody wanted it to be as close to them as possible. Since a lot of people had settled in what they called monarch, about 5 miles north of Montwel, and Cedarview only 4 mils South East, we at Montwel thought this would be as central as any except for those east of Cedarview and they could go to Roosevelt. But the people at Cedarview wanted that to be build into a townsite to serve central Montwel and Monarch. WE objected to that. Elections were held but Montwel and Monarch hanging together always outvoted and the elections would be called void because they said someone not qualified had voted, or the ballot box would get lost, or any other scheme thought up to discount the outcome. Since all three of the trustees were in favor of the Cedarview project we were hard put to keep from being forced to where we didn't want to go. Much animosity and antagonism developed. Finally a quite large house was moved in from somewhere and 2 miles east of Montwel on a rocky ridge across the gulch near the George Roberts farm.. This was about 1 ½ miles from Cedarview. We at Montwel didn't like that because it cut Monarch off entirely and made the distance for many Montwel people too far to be traveled in winter. But the LDS Church authorities organized a branch of the church to be held there with Jim Russell As Presiding and soon a full ward was organized with him as Bishop. He was for the Cedarview townsite idea and the clamor began again to put everything on Cedarview townsite. This building was used for school and church but was not too well accepted. The first teachers there were Ed's brother Alvin and my sister Mattie. Cedarview couldn't be satisfied until the church and school were located on the townsite. Church authorities stood for this and advised all LDS to vote to have it put there, so rather than oppose the church we voted for it on the promise that if it proved not to be the right place that it would fail, which it did as anyone crossing over the townsite now can plainly see - nothing. My father was asked to oversee the building and Montwel did their share of helping to build it. Often we women would prepare hot dinners for our men working there and after driving 4 or 5 miles would serve them. Many of we women also worked driving nails and doing anything we could to help. This building was used for both school and church for a few years but being so large and separated for classes by curtains strung on wires stretched across soon was to be used for church and recreation only, which it was for several years, but what about the school? Tired of going all that distance, especially in winter time people of monarch and Montwel objected to a school to be built there for us. We wanted ta school of our won closer to us. So the squabble began all over again. More elections were held with the same results as before and with more schemes to negate the results. Finally the proposition came up to build a school house in each of the three places - Cedarview townsite, Montwel and Monarch. This was easily carried when monarch and Montwel hung together and the three were built. But the ironic thing of it was that each one turned out to only half a house and the rumor was that sometime in the near future the three would-be joined together on the Cedarview townsite. There was nothing we could about it so each of us had a school of our own which worked out very well but we had to join Cedarview for church and recreation. However, prior to the building of the three half houses Crescent, which was a few miles east of Cedarview decided to sell the community house they had for $500 and join Cedarview. Montwel jumped at this offer. About half of the amount was offered but little cash. Ed, having money in the bank paid in the amount taking promissory notes of $25.00 each in exchange (very few of these were ever redeemed). Father was asked to oversee the project of tearing down the Quite large frame building and hauling it across the Townsite to Montwel and to rebuild it. Joseph Merrill donated a corner of his land to put it. This greatly increased the animosity between Cedarview and Montwel and now our own school and church which was granted after a lot of persuasion. Of course we had the same disadvantage then as at Cedarview, a large room divided by curtains. So began the move for the three houses which were built the next year. Ours was built across the orad from the community house we had and both were used for school for a few years and for the LDS ward we had and for recreation. An interesting thing happened about that time - it got rumored around that the three schools were to be joined at Cedarview which created quite a stir because we stubbornly objected to such a move. Because of the contention, I suppose , if there was any truth to the matter was denied and dropped. Later the rumor got out that the three were to join at Montwel. I think it was not only a joke but a few took it seriously and decided that the Cedarview house should be moved first so went with teams and equipment to do the job. Needless to say the people of Cedarview were ready for outright war so the men gave up and left. That was the last we ever heard of joining the three half houses together. But peace was never restored between the Montwel and Cedarview communities, this I learned several years later.

About 1912 Ed decided to go to Monroe to bring the last 30o head that were left from the 1000 original heard(the others had been sold to pay farm expenses) to Montwel. He made the trip alone and on horseback, which was an almost impossible thing to do. It meant 500 miles each way and driving sheep is no easy job. When coming back, on e night in Nine Mile canyon some wild animals got into the heard and besides killing a few scattered the others up and down the canyon. After rounding up as many as he could he was sure he had lost at least 25 head. He couldn't look for the lost one s but had to go on with the others. He made the trip in about 3 weeks and came home almost completely worn out. He had walked most of the way and his horse was so lame and tender footed that he could hardly stand up.

In 1915 Ed's brother Alvin decided to sell his place a mile west of our place and go to Salt Lake to a law school. We bought the place and mortgaged our farm to pay for ti. There was a house of two rooms on it, an artesian well and several outbuildings. WE moved at the place that summer and our 6^th child, Jean was born 4 September 1915. Soon after we were settled in the new home Ed, with his faith in the building up of the country decided to build a large house that would serve as a hotel when the country filled up as he was sure it soon would do. "We have the girls to take care of it," he said. So the building began. A two story frame was joined onto the two rooms we had in front. There was one large room and a small one and a front and back porch on the ground floor and a stairway up to the 2^nd floor with 6 bedrooms and a hall. Nearly all of our income was spent on material and the time of the work interfered with the farm income. Much of this material was hauled from the sawmill and the hauling done by neighbors was paid mostly from selling some of the sheep. As soon as the ground floor rooms were closed in I decided to try operating a store to help provide food and clothing for the family because something had to be done to increase our income. A man at Myton was selling is stock of a small store. I went to Myton and made a deal with him to take all of his stock and resell it for 10% profit. By putting in a supply of staple goods groceries, etc., I soon had him paid and had a good business, being the only merchant in all of the surrounding area. The trouble was, that the material and its delivery was paid from the store in trade which made it hard to keep stock on hand. Besides this I gave credit some and unfortunately most of it was never paid. After a few years my brother Emanuel wanted to buy my stock so I sold it to him. I was sorry to let it go because I had enjoyed it and it helped out. The family remembers many pleasant incidents pertaining to those years when we had the store. Our 7^th child Mary, was born 19 July 1917. We remembered about jean who was small enough to slip under the counter to the candy bucket, fill her hands with candy and slip out to the others who were waiting for the treat. Many Indians came by on their way to Whiterocks where they held their tribal Dances. One old grey haired Indian was quite a regular customer and I learned to have great respect for him and all the Indians. However I learned that they love jokes. One day he bought a dozen donuts. He looked in the sack. "Holes in" he said, "No Want" so saying he gave the sack of donuts to the children and laughed to see them glad for the gift. One other day when he had finished his buying as he went out of the door he grabbed the baby, then about six months old and ran to his horses the children screaming after him. It was not until he was on his horse that he handed the baby down and went off laughing.

When the goods were gone we tore out counters and shelves and made a living room to enjoy. We began to have house parties and the young folks came from miles around to enjoy the games and refreshments because there was no other recreation they could enjoy anywhere in the vicinity. Many were non-morons and we made them welcome along with the others. I felt that something more than fun should be offered, so for about half an hour each evening I have a lesson on right living and on principles of the Gospel. The rest of the evening was for games, etc. (I had traded a cow for a piano and though none new much about playing it we made use of it.) I am sorry to report that the church people at Cedarview decided we were competing with them and asked that the parties be stopped and they were which I'm sure was a mistake because many who had attended did not got to Cedarview and some became rather lawless characters. Some, however, remembered the lessons taught and years later thanked me for the good they had received.

It was about this time that I had occasion to learn of the animosity between Montwel and Cedarview people.

All of my life I had wanted to be a school teacher but did not have the credentials. To this end I had taken Correspondence courses from BYU and the State College from Logan. Besides this, Mr. Charles Schwenkie, of the Roosevelt high school had helped me by giving me a weekly assignment which I would work out at home and present them to him each Friday night. For the exams I had to take them at the school along with other students, finally now being rid of the store, I went to Duchesne and passed the teacher's examination which was the only requirement then to teach. The School Board gave me a contract but unfortunately, it was for a class in the Cedarview school and as soon as the word got around that I was to teach there a petition was gotten up against me. The school Board gave me another contract but it was for the school in Bluebell about 20 miles away. To teach there, I would have to either move the family to Bluebell or leave them on the farm without me. I couldn't bring myself to do with er so I returned the contract with thanks and gave up the idea of teaching school. I couldn't say that I blamed the Cedarview people too much h because for ten years I had been in the thick of every battle against them.

Soon after this a cream station was opened at Myton where we could deliver our cream twice a week. Before this I handmade cheese from the milk of several cows we were milking then. The night milk we would strain into 5 gallon cans and set them under the cool artesian water. The next morning's milk was strained into a #2 new washtub and the night milk added to it. The nearly full tub was put on the stove and warmed to a certain temperature, a rennet tablet added which caused the curd to separate from the whey which was dipped out. Then the curd was salted and put into a coth lined wooden hoop and put under a press for 12 hours, then taken out, waxed and sewed into a cheese cloth jacket, waxed and up in the cellar to ripen. I had sold many cheeses to customers at the store and to neighbors. Quite a few went to help pay for house building material. Now with a market for the cream it would save time and tet it to my ton and be more profitable. Mrs. Allred a neighbor and I went in together on these necessary trips to Myton, she taking her team and buggy once and I the next time. We had bought a cream separator. These trips to Myton were not too pleasant. To get home before dark we would have to leave home before sunup because it was at least a 30 mile trip there and back over dusty, unfinished roads with horseflies and mosquitoes to contend with. But we became good friends; she was so sweet and dependable and never got upset if something went wrong.

Financially, things got worse, with Ed's faith in the country we had acquired 600 acres of land and 500 shares of water stock and with these some mortgages. Taxes, interest payments and water assessments were much too high to be paid. When foreclosure of the mortgage on the original farm was due and about to be foreclosed we sold the sheep and 50 head of cattle to save it to find that through a tricky deal of a neighbor it was already gone, but we didn't get back the money. Ed's health began to decline, farm income less. At last, after 25 years of struggle there was nothing left but dry land and to be sold for delinquent taxes. To leave and try to make a living elsewhere was all that could be done. Ed never lost his faith in the country and was the last to give up. He died 20 April 2945, age 65, buried at Monroe, Utah.

Part VII

In the meantime many changes had come to our home; four more children had been added to our family, Ardell B. 11 Nov. 1919, Joseph who died the day of birth 22 Feb, 1922, Dortha, Born 6 Dec. 1923, Richard, 27 march, 1926, Ruth 14 April 1928 who died 25 June, 1934 after we left the Basin at Richfield Utah.

Eventually, all of the ten living, married well and have homes of their own and are financially independent. Two of them, Reita and Jean who married two Hamblin brothers, James, and Marley, who came with their parents from Idaho about 1915 still live in the Basin, together with their offspring of children and grandchildren. I also find myself glad to be back here after my years of wandering around.

Looking back over my 25 years of pioneering in the Uintah Basin many incidents, important them, and still of interest come back to me. As could be expected, with people coming in from almost every state in the U.S. A. we had a great variety of ideas and habits and personalities to make up a segment of communal life and to work together to build a new civilized society in an untamed territory. And we had a few characters not so good among the great majority of good, honest, sincere and dedicated people. For instance, in our neighborhood we had two would-be outlaws who rode up and down yelling and shooting their guns into the air. So far as I k own they never did any real harm but liked to harass and bully people for the fun of it like riding their horses into a church meeting or a dance hall and ride out again. I recall one incident when they got set down, claiming a grudge to be settled with a man whom they Siad talked too much, they rode up to his door and called for him to come out which he was reluctant to do. He was a small man with a limp from a broken hip. His wife, my sister Lila went to the door and was told to bring her husband out. She went inside but came out with a loaded shotgun and told them to leave, which they did. Some hen houses and supply cellars got looted, and we found after Ed brought the sheep that some families enjoyed a nice fat mutton about every week.

For the first few years we picked our mail up at Roosevelt twice a week. Later an office was opened at Cedarview with twice a week mail from Roosevelt, in a private home. This year all of the area decided to celebrate the 4^th of July and to prepare for the celebration my sister Lila ordered material for dresses from Montgomery catalogue. Two days before the celebration and time for the parcel to arrive she hitched up her team to pick it up. She stopped to pick me up on her way and we arrived at the office about 10 minutes after closing time. Although we could see the package on a table by the window the post man refused to give it to her. He said he would have to come back next mail day. She had driven 4 miles to get it and said it would be too late for the celebration but he wouldn't budge to oblige her. While they were arguing a loud clap of thunder came with a streak of lighting. We looked toward home and saw heavy black clouds. This meant a flash flood in the gulch we would have to cross to get home. So without the parcel we got into the wagon and she larruped up the horses hoping to beat the flood to the low narrow bridge across the gulch. We didn't make it. Already the water was a few inches over the bridge. She yelled at the horses and laid on her whip and we splashed across to learn that a few minutes after we crossed that the water cut under the bridge and carried it downstream.

I recall vividly the day the water was first turned into the canal. It was very exciting but to our dismay we found that our lateral ditch from the canal was not deep enough or with enough slope to carry the water onto our land. Consequently we had muddy water spreading out in all direction. I was trying to help Ed to handle it and had put Dalton, who could not yet walk on a blanket on a higher knoll of sand. All at once he decided to come to me. I yelled for him to stop but he kept coming and plunged headfirst into the main ditch. He managed to paddle across but came up looking like a half drowned muskrat. He didn't get excited or cry a whimper but when I got the mud out of his eyes he smiled up at me as though it had been a pleasant adventure.

Some things were of a more serious nature as when Elva, our 2^nd child was born 8 sept. 1908. I had been in severe pain for three days and nights and no hope of delivery. The Indian doctor at Whiterocks who was supposed to treat Indians refused to come the twenty miles and doctors at Vernal 40 miles away couldn't be expected to come so there was nothing to be done but hope. Many of the neighbors had come to offer help. My mother suggested that two of the Elders there administer to me. No sooner than they had began I felt the baby turn over and in a few minutes she was born. A lady, Mrs. Huff who had been there all the time said, "If I am in the country this will not happen again." When she learned that another baby was on the way for us she came with a little handful of herbs wrapped in a piece of newspaper and told me to make a tea of it and drink it once in a while which I did. It really worked. She said an Indian woman had given it to her with the promise not to tell what it was or who gave it to her and she never would. She left the country soon after that to go back to her home in the south. Anyway, when Reita was born 10^th of June 1910, I had planted corn all day as Ed plowed the furrows and went to bed very tired. A few hours later I was awakened by a slight pain and told ed to call mother quick. He yelled form our door because he wasn't dressed. She came running across the road to me but just as she got in the door, the baby was born without another pain.

As I think back other incidents came to mind. I recall with pleasure the Uintah Basin Industrial Conventions held at Fort Duchesne when we would have a 3 day camp-out attending lectures from Utah State College people. There would be as many Indians as whites putting on exhibits of handicrafts, music, dancing, etc. One time we took a wagon load of melons to sell and they were all gone inside half an hour, mostly to the Indians.

About 1912 we had a serious situation at threshing time. We had 2 stacks of hay, 2 stack of wheat and 1 stack of oats. The thresher crew with 5 or 6 teams and 7 or 8 men traveled around the country going from farm to farm in turn, boarding wherever they happened to be. They began setting up the power machine, that was kept in motion to run the part of the outfit that threshed and separated the grain from the chaff and straw and funneled the grain into sacks to be carried to the grain bins. These operations required several extra men to be fed along with the regular crew. The tragedy was that as soon as the teams hitched to the power machine onto long poles reaching out into a circle, the power machine would pull up the stakes couldn't hold in the loose sand. This happened 2 or 3 times a day for a week. The teams were consuming more hay and more grain that was threshed out. And I in my little 12 X 14 room with 4 small children was hard put to keep the men fed. We killed and cooked nearly all the chickens, butchered two sheep and raided the garden. My father as well as we were really exasperated. At last he decided to come over and take charge. He ordered the power machine to be moved out of the way and the men to start digging trenches. In these he put heavy cedar logs with barb wires sticking up, had them covered with rocks and tied the horses to the machine and hitched the horses on. It worked. Then he said, "Now get going and don't stop till this job is done. It was a relief to see them pull out.

Part VIII

One would assume from the foregoing that pioneering the Uintah Basin was a dull and drab life with only hard work and disappointments, but it had its good times and many pleasures. Though people came from far away places they soon became friends and good neighbors, helpful and concerned in the welfare of others.

I remember once in the middle of the night with a food of snow on the ground two small children knocked on our door and asked if I would come to their home. They explained that their mother was sick and that their father was on the mountain for a load of lumber form the sawmill. Without horses to ride they had walked a mile to get some help. Our horses were somewhere loose in the field so the quickest way would be to cut across the fields on foot. We went a little out of the way to get Mrs. Dave Carruth, knowing that a new baby was on the way somewhat ahead of schedule. When we arrived we found we had no time to lose and in about half an hour the ordeal was over and mother and child doing well. Mrs. Carruth and I both had young children at home so we drudged back through the snow just as the last stars in the sky faded out.

There was some kind of activity for everyone. Many bands of wild horses roamed the country, often destroying crops and much precious feed from farm yards. Often a stallion with his harem of mares enticed female work horses to join them. These animals were tough and speedy and it was not easy to re-capture the run away because the farm animals, thin and overworked were not equal to the job. Often neighbors would join in and help. Sometimes these stallions, if cornered would fight to keep his mares from being re-captured. Besides this it was sport to bring some of the band in for riding or for work on the farms. There were rodeos when some of these were caught, or perhaps maybe a stray head or two of wild Indian cattle would be found coming in off the range or a few animals from the farms would furnish entertainments. We happened to own a bay mare that made it a question to be able to stay aboard no matter how many times she was rode, and as long as she lived she could be counted on to make things interesting for any rider. (I might be mistaken, but I think her mother was the flighty mare Ed bought to make the team when we left Monroe to come to the Uintah Basin in 1906.) Anyway I know she was born when Elva was a baby and Ed gave her to Elva. When Molly was 20 years old she still bucked and Emron, Elva's husband, traded her off to a horse trader.

There were the rabbit hunts in winter (big white hares). These pests were destructive in gardens and fields and so numerous that they had to be gotten rid of. Besides destroying gardens they peeled the bark from young fruit trees causing them to die. They also raided haystacks and wasted valuable feed. These rabbit hunts were usually a contest between unmarried and married to see which group could bring in the most rabbit heads on a certain day. The losers were to furnish a rabbit supper with all the trimmings to all who came for the fun. The suppers were held out of doors with a blazing cedar tree furnishing light. The evening was spent in games, Etc. For the small children there would be "Drop the handkerchief, Ring around the rosy". The older ones would broadjump or pitch horseshoe while the women sat around on blankets and chatted on household matters while the babies slept on pallets close by or on beds made up in the wagons. The food was put on wide pine boards laid on the ground and when the call "come and get it" was sounded everybody brought out their tin dishes and enjoyed the barbequed rabbit (delicious) the blueberry pie or some kind of cake with a generous serving of homemade ice cream. It was always past midnight when the families would be rounded up and the wagons begin to leave for home sometimes several miles away.

There were house parties when a few friends would be invited to an evening of "high Five" or chess or checkers with a serving of some kind of goodies to follow.

And the young folk had what they called "cedar parties". For these someone would go in the hills and set a dry Cedar tree afire. This was the invitation that a party was in progress and soon boys and girls coming on foot, horseback or in wagons would make up a crowd ready for the fun, playing "run, my sheep run", beary is out tonight" etc. It was near the Wee small hours before the parties broke up. Sometimes a hen-house or a melon patch would be raided but no one minded so much It was only in fun and nothing was destroyed, besides one never knew but that your own led the pack.

There were other activities, church or for recreation. For instance, we had a girl's basketball team that could outplay any others who dared to challenge them. And we put on 1-2-3 act plays which we presented in other communities. It was really surprising what remarkable talent showed up or how interested the young folk were in it. One time, I remember was when I was president of the YWMIA when we had a 3 act play which we were going t put on at Neola about 10 miles away. We got two horses that had never been in harness together before and a wagon with a bed. WE put a layer of straw in the wagon and put quilts over the straw. We presented the play (s-act comedy) and received an enthusiastic applause with an invitation to come back again. But quite a surprise had awaited us-we needed a black baby in the show. Two showed up ready for the part. Who obliging mothers of Neola, through a misunderstanding had blacked the faces of their six-month-old babies to accommodate us. To take care of the dilemma so as to not hurt anyone's feelings, we changed the script to use twins and found that wit worked out even better than the original and no one was ever the wise for the switch. We thanked the mothers kindly and everyone was happy. But when we went out to go home it was raining the proverbial cats and dogs. The quilts and the straw were wringing wet but we had to go home despite this and the still pouring rain. About half way home we got stuck in a mudhole and one of the horses balked, refusing to so much as tighten his tugs and since the other one couldn't drag him and the load we were really up against a problem. After several of the boys tried their ideas of persuasion but to no avail two of them crawled out into the mud and went sloshing off to a farm house we had passed about a mile back to try to get help. While they were gone we huddled up together and told stories and sang songs and joked about the funny things that had happened putting on the play and I was grateful that there was not a word of complaint from any of the eight players who were waiting for a rescue. At last, with a farmer who had brought his team and a heavy chain to pul us out which he did. It was nearly morning when the last of us were delivered home none the worse form our night's experience.

I recall once when we needed money for supplies my two primary councilors and I made up a large quantity of ice cream and peddled it from farm to farm all round the country. It took us all day with team and wagon to get most of it sold, and we didn't try that scheme anymore.

The old Edison phonograph was a pleasant source of amusement and entertainment in those first early days. As soon as my father learned that he could buy canned music he lost no time in having the old phonograph in our home and hundreds of the cylinder records that went with it. He loved good, worthwhile music and if one didn't measure up to his standards it was immediately done way with. The many songs of Kate Smith and other singers like her were his favorites. One song I remember was "Snow Deer," an Indian love song which was, I think, my own favorite as well as of the public judging from the many times I was asked to sing it at dances and other entertainments. Incidently, at that time I did a lot of public singing, as in L.D.S. Conference in Roosevelt and in our local gathering and at funeral services. At one time I knew the words and the melodies of over 100 songs, most of which I learned from the old phonograph as I rocked my babies to sleep or went about my household work, because we soon had a machine of our won and I could borrow records from father.

In case there are some who do not know what a phonograph looked like, I might try to describe it, briefly. Its base was a wooden box about six inches and about 12 inches square and was set on a table. It was wound up lie a spring on a clock with a small handle attached on one outside surface. The inside spring held or released a projecting arm upon which the cylinder record was slipped and a push of a switch would start the arm rotating to turn te record and a recording needle would record the human voice load and clear. Without boasting, I might for the benefit of my family who may want to know more of my activities when I was younger, mention some of these that bring pleasant memories to me. There were the times our community usually combined with surrounding communities, for our 4^th of July celebration, requested me to sing the Star Spangled Banner to begin the program, and for many years. I also sang in duets with Mrs. May Labrum who was a beautiful alto singer, and many times in a trio with she and her brother Fred Reynolds who sang a most perfect tenor. How I would love to have a record of some of these song renditions! I want to say, here, that though we were only pioneers living and working under adverse circumstances, there was with us an element of high standards and much dedication to the finer and higher things of life.

It was with humiliation that I remember the Sunday morning when my brother in law, Alva Labrum, superintendent of the Sunday school, told of reading about a newly invented machine that had carried a message form U.S.A. to England without wires. I almost laughed and said, "It sounds like a Grit Magazine story, and I don't believe it." It wasn't long until I knew how wrong I was. I soon learned that my sister, May scogging, who lived in Salt Lake worked for a Mr. Baldwin who was manufacturing them.

In my description of the old phonograph I forgot to tell of the big bell shaped horn that was attached to the top of the machine to amplify the sound, also that on this horn was a picture of a dog sitting up listening to the sound of "his master's voice." Before this machine came out, if I remember correctly, there had been some kind of earphone invention in use before the radio which enabled only one listener with the attachment in his ear to enjoy the transmitted sounds. I read in the encyclopedia that September 25, 1946, it was estimated that 60,000,000 radio sets were in use in the U.S., with 2,052 Radio Broadcasting Stations.

Going back to the earlier times, in fact for twenty years, when it was time to do the laundry, water from melted snow, hauled from the springs or from artesian wells as each was the only available source, as time progressed, was put on the stove in a large wash boiler and with lye and homemade soap added would be heated and in some cases a load of cloths would be dirt boiled to ease the job of scrubbing on the washboard, a small wood frame covered with corrugated tin, over the steaming wash tub. For our large family this occupied most of a long day before the cloths were out on the clothesline to dry.

Then came the task of getting the cloths in. Those not requiring ironing were put away, the others dampened and rolled in a sheet or blanket ready to be ironed. The ironing was the hardest and most unpleasant job of all. We had a set of five flat irons. These were shaped much like the electric irons of today but were made of solid cast iron, very heavy, with an iron handle on top making it nec3ssary to use a heavy pad to use them to protect the hands from burning. These irons were put on the hot cook stove and were alternated as they became too cooled to do the job on the dampened cloths. This was in winter when a fire was necessary, not so unpleasant, but tiresome. But in the sweltering heat of summer to work for hours over a red-hot stove was anything but pleasant. About 1925 we bought a washing machine which was a little better than the scrub, scrub method except that more of the family could assist. It was a round dub that was on a metal frame and inside was a dolly that went up and down on cogs from the top and operated by turning a large wheel attached on the outside. The hot soapy water was dipped into it and a small batch of cloths added. It required about thirty minutes turning before the cloths were considered clean and then, some usually had to have extra scrubbing. T he family took turns at the wheel, and I remember most of Ardell, then about eight years old turning and turning with an eye on the clock and wondering I suppose when someone would come to take the wheel. I want to give credit to all of the family for their willingness to help without any pressure applied. They were always a kind and cooperative family and I never could have accomplished what little I have without their help and encouragement. I am very proud of all of them.

As mentioned before, when we voted for and helped to build the large public house on the Cedarview Townsite it was necessary for the people of our community to go there for all church and school activities for a few years or until a school and other activities were established in what is Montwel. Dalton finished the 8^th grade there and was ready for high school, the first in the community to do so. To do this his only transportation to and from Roosevelt was on horseback riding more than ten miles every day through good weather or bad. He had two saddle horses which he used alternately. I can't remember whether Dalton rode one or two years before James began driving a truck he could ride with him, but I know that Elva rode double with Dalton some of the time. Both finished high school in Richfield, Utah while living with my sister Mattie and her family. In the meantime the younger children attended school in Cedarview until I rented an apartment in Roosevelt for them and both Dalton and Elva were with them some of the time. It was hard to recall just what did occur during those few years. It was about this time that I made my first adventure to Sevier County, Utah to try to get some kind of work to support the family which I secured and which helped with food and clothing, after which I came back to the farm were things were worse if anything, financially making it necessary for me to go back again to obtain work (1930) One by one the older ones were married and in homes of their won and I was fortunate enough, after attending high school at Richfield and getting my high school certificate, I got some of my old time of teaching fulfilled. I was privileged to teach the Adult Education classes in Richfield which I really enjoyed and was asked to go to Logan and BYU to represent the southern part of the state at courses (three weeks) sponsored by the U.S. government.

Another recreation the young folk of the day while they were growing up was riding the wide open spaces horseback exploring the mountains that surrounded us on all sides, discovering caves and old Indian camps where Indian arrows of every size and kind could be found. Around these old camp grounds colored beads could be picked up from the sand. One of these old camps were found on our south forty across the road east of where Glen and Jeannie Wilson now live. Some of the wilder and inconsiderate boys and men began to look for Indian grave sites where they found some valuable treasures which as is the bait of Indians to bury treasures with their dead. However, this despicable activity was soon found out and after the perpetrators had been badly scarred and threatened with death by the enraged Indians te incidents stopped and none could say but that the Indians were absolutely justified in what they did.

A few days ago while we remembered a few things of the past my daughter Jean asked me if I remembered a 4^th of July we celebrated in somebody's pasture (don't know whose). But we had a bowery made of poles covered with tree limbs to make shade. Someone in Uncle Sam's get up, sold candy, homemade Ice cream and popcorn balls at a plank table, and a mock Indian war was staged where in a man was scalped of his rope hair, and that red beet juice was used to indicate the lost blood. Many could be the stories told, some pleasant, and some not, of happenings along that pioneer trail of colonizing the Uintah Basin.

At one time when I was president of YLMIA Theo Carruth and Mrs. Louisa Campbell, wife of Leroy Campbell were my counselors and two more trustworthy dependable and helpful assistants could never be found. Theo was one of our players on the girls basketball team that scooped every team that dared tackle them.

Looking back over the twenty five years in the Basin so many incidents come to mind that it would be impossible to recount even a small part of them. I have tired to present enough material to give a general background and view of what pioneering the Uintah Basin was like. It is true that things could have been easier and more necessary today such as electricity, better means of transportation, or household helps. But all in all, despite the lack of these I am grateful for having the opportunity of living among such admirable people where honesty, hard work and neighborly concern was the mainspring that made a measure of success of what was not an easy accomplishment.

--Candace J. Hunt

---A Necessary Explanation-

A question has been raised which would tend to discredit my report concerning the naming of Montwel. It was said that this name only came into being when the Montwel L.D.S. Ward of the church was organized much later. The truth is that form the time that the very first settlers who were then living in our vicinity met at a meeting soon after the artesian wells were producing to determine a name to designate us from Cedarview. Alvin Hunt suggested "MOODY" but the people didn't go for that name. As reported, my mother suggested Montwel meaning Wells near the mountain which was adopted. But since we were officially a part of Cedarview there was nothing to identify us with the name we had chosen. The vital statistics were under Cedarview as well as our first post office. The name Wells and basin were our only identification until a ward was organized and our old original name of Montwel was revived and it had no reference, originally to Monarch which came into being later when a Post Office was established there. Through out this story I have used the tree names-Cedarview, Montwel and Monarch as they are now used to describe the territories as they were then even though they were not designated by name. I hope this explains the situation because otherwise it throws a discrepancy on my story. Incidentally the questioner was not born (1908) when Montwel was chosen and perhaps had never heard of the meeting or of the decision made.

Supplementary explanations concerning Vital statistics covered the entire territory which included Cedarview, Montwel, and Monarch areas, from about 1910 for several years I was the state appointed registrar of births and deaths occurring within this area. The attending physician or midwife signed the records and I compiled them and mailed them to the Department of Vital Statistics in Salt Lake. Should anyone doubt this or be interested, I'm sure that the records could be found in the State archives to prove the truth of this. These records were filed under the district of Cedarview and as being in Wasatch County until around 1913 when the county name was changed to be Cedarview, Duchesne county, Utah.

This too, explains why the name of Montwel was not generally known except by the old timers who were among the first settlers and again adopted by them when the LDS ward was organized.

It is possible that the younger ones had not known of this or ever heard about the name because some think that the first syllable, Mont, was for Monarch, which in the first original meaning was "Wells near the mountain." This perhaps explains the names, Basin and wells as given to schools and church activities and organizations up to the time of naming the Ward Montwel.

P.S. My signature was on every record sheet sent into the office in Salt Lake City.