I, George Henry Southam, was born in Morgan, Utah, 5 May 1866, the second child and oldest son of George Southam and Catherine Cameron Southam. My mother was the second wife, as my father had married Jane Carter in England in the fall of 1854. She came to Utah with him and they went through the Endowment House on 12 July 1862.

My grandfather, John Cameron, was running Bishop Hunter’s (the second presiding Bishop of the Church) farm in Round Valley, so my father must have met my mother up around there somewhere and they went through the Endowment House on the 29th of November 1862. Our home was in Morgan until after the Union Pacific Railroad was finished.

During my early childhood my father used to go with his oxen up into Hardscrabble Canyon and bring down railroad ties. He used to take me with him. The canyon was steep and rough so I used to hang onto the tail of the oxen going up the canyon. Father was living in Morgan when he was called to go as a teamster in an ox train that was going back to Sweetwater to get emigrants before the railroad was completed to Ogden. We got word the company was coming and we watched for them and the first thing we could see was a United States Flag that father had procured somewhere and had it hoisted above the wagon so it was the first thing we could see as he came into sight. This is one of my early childhood memories.

In those days clothes were scarce and people wore what they could get, so as a young child I recall following behind my grandfather Cameron and listened to his white canvas wagon cover pants scuffing or rubbing together and thinking how wonderful it would be to be a man and wear pants like that.

Aunt Jane, as we called father’s first wife, made willow baskets then she, my mother, my sister Mary and I took our baskets and went to the grain fields to gather heads of grain that had been dropped in the harvesting. The first whipping I remember getting was because I did not fill my basket. Grain was cut with a cradle which is similar to a sickle but had fingers above the knife that held the grain.

That winter father had white flour in sacks ricked up along side of the fireplace. A sickness came to the women who were going to have babies and they died at childbirth. One evening the Church Authorities came to Father and we children were sent out of the room. When they left we were told that we must use the coarse flour, as the sick ladies must have the white flour. Then they called on the people to fast and pray. I don’t recall how long we fasted, but I do remember, as a child, how hungry I thought I was. There was also a lot of criticism and disunity. After we fasted and prayed the scourge stopped and there was better understanding among the people.

While we were at Morgan, the Indians came and everyone was frightened and all went out to see them. One man went out and met them and even though he had not
learned it, he was able to talk with them in their own language and persuaded them to leave. He stayed out and talked to them for a long time.

Near home was a big pond to store water in to run over a water wheel to run the flour mill. I had a new pair of shoes, which was unusual. I went with the other children below the wheel to play. I took off my shoes while playing and left them. Later I went up to the shoemaker Worlton’s granary, then lay down and went to sleep. Late in the day they missed me and in searching for me they found my shoes so thinking I had fallen in the millrace got out searching parties to look for me. Late in the night I was awakened by noise and there were people out with lanterns searching for me.

My father went away to work and when his job was finished he was in Ogden so he bought some calico at 50 cents a yard for his women to make dresses. He also bought a short handled shovel for himself. I remember seeing him arrive home with his shovel in one hand and the bundle under the other arm.

In about 1874 we moved from Morgan to Evanston, Wyoming. While moving we camped at Wasatch and when we awoke in the morning saw two men that had been hung. At that time there wasn’t much that could be called law. When someone infringed on the rights of others, like stealing, cheating, etc., a group of men would make a point of calling on him when he would be in bed; they pulled the covers down and someone said, “Yes, he is the man.” The next morning his body would be found hanging in some prominent place.

Father bought a house in what is now North Evanston and moved both of his wives and children into it. He secured employment in the railroad shops as engine tender. He bought stock, mostly milk cows, with the thought in mind of securing a ranch as soon as possible and the responsibility of taking care of them was turned over to me as my father was working ten hours a day. He worked for $1.76 per 10-hour day and jobs were scarce.

I also carried the coal for the family in sacks on my back for about half a mile, for months at a time. Once in awhile we would buy a ton of coal. I gathered coal along the railroad track and gathered wood along Bear River.

Early in the spring about 1877 there was an epidemic of black small pox broke out and our family was among the first three families to get it. My brother James died and was buried on a little knoll near the house. After that they moved the rest of us into a little shack up out of town in a little ravine where two hills met and a spring of water came out. It was a pretty place and we stayed there about six weeks or two months. I was so bad and lingered along until they did not know whether I would live or not. By the time I went home I was so weak I could hardly walk. Mother did not get it and soon after we got home the doctor and sheriff came to our house and told Mother she would have to come and help take care of the sick. They said they would give her $5 a day but she would have to go. I needed my mother so bad, so I made my way back near the house where I knew she was. I had kept out of sight as much as possible and when I reached the spring I sat down in a clump of brush until my mother came to the door. When she saw me she came and talked to me and showed me that she loved me and then sent me home. The ones who died were buried just around the hill except my brother whom I said was buried near our house. The small pox took three out of five that got it.

P.T. Barnum Circus, the first big circus to come west, came in 1877. Preceding the circus in the latter part of June appeared, to the great delight of all the children, the colorful billboards consisting of fine horses, wild animals and the trapeze actress, Mollie Brown.

While the children were admiring the billboards, the older people were preparing for the Fourth of July. I don’t remember celebrating the Fourth, but the circus was on the fifth. My father had gone away from home to get a cow so the family could have milk and he returned home the morning of the fifth with the cow. He had borrowed a half-broke pony to bring her home. The horse was to be returned to a ranch about six miles distance that same day. My mother had taken ill that morning making it impossible for my father to leave her. He left the horse grazing with the saddle on. To me, like most eleven year olds, the pony was quite an attraction. I led him around for a while, then decided to try the saddle. When my father saw me he said, “I wish it were possible for you to take that horse home.” I answered him with, ”I can,” and I did.

When I reached the ranch a little old lady met me and was rather put out to think I would risk riding the horse. She said, “Take the saddle off and take care of the horse, and then you must have some dinner.” About that time we heard a wagon approaching and she said, “If I can get a ride for you, you won’t have to walk back but you will miss your dinner.” She went to the road and hailed two men in a lumber wagon. They seated me on some sacks of grain in the back of the wagon then drove like they were going to the circus, too.

They turned off just across the railroad tracks from where the circus was already set up. Up to this time I had missed the parade but I had got to ride my first bronco. I watched the fellows unload their grain waiting to thank them for the ride but hadn’t done it yet. One of the men said to other, “Where is the rest of those sacks?” The other fellow answered, “That kid must have stolen them,” and proceeded to ask where the sheriff lived. I denied taking them and proceeded to make myself scarce.

I went home hoping to receive 50 cents for a ticket to the circus, but it seems all the attraction there was, was a new baby brother Will. But my big worry was how was I going to get to the circus. I remember I got to the circus that night but I’ll never forget the tortures of the day. I have seen many a circus since then, even spending some time with Bill Cody in the circus but to me that was the most important one of my life and I don’t even remember whether I got my dinner or not.

When I was living in Evanston when I was abut twelve years old, two of my friends and I were together in the street in front of a store and began tossing rocks and before we realized it we were serious and I threw a rock but instead of hitting the boy it was meant for, it went through the store window. We realized at once what had happened. The other two boys ran, but I ducked under the wooden porch of the store and watched through the cracks in the floor. The man came and looked around and I watched. This man was Dr. F.H. Harrison who took care of me when I had small pox. He soon went back into the store and I slipped out and went home. A few days afterward I came to the store to make a purchase and put my money on the counter and expected some change. He took my money, then walked down the counter. I waited and he turned around and said, “Let’s see, your purchase came to so much and that leaves so much to apply on the window. Is that all right?” I had to agree that it would be all right and I did not want my folks to find out so I began to figure ways to pay for the rest of it. I could find sale for frog legs at the saloon and I gathered wild flowers and made bouquets and sold them at the saloon at 25 cents each. After I made some payments on the window, I was passing the store one day with the bouquet in my hand. The man with the broken window came out and said he thought some flowers would look real nice in a vase he had. I told him, “No.” He told me he would like them and that would square it up for the window. I decided to let him have them and clean up an uncomfortable situation. He was very kind to me and I always respected him for his treatment of me.

Grandfather Cameron was called to Randolph, Rich County, Utah, to help settle there and live as neighbors to one of Wilford Woodruff’s families. Grandfather moved to Randolph about the time Father moved his family to Evanston. Father always had it in his mind to stay in a Latter-Day Saint settlement so he bought land at Randolph in about 1878 and tried to finish a house. He and I batched it there and tried to make a home to move the family to.

He bought a town lot and sixteen acres of field property. It was while Father and I were batching it in Randolph and working on a ditch that a messenger came and told us we were to come to a meeting. It was the custom at that time when some important news came or some special instructions were to be given, several boys were sent to the different homes to inform the settlers of a meeting. Then we all assembled at a public meeting place and the instructions were given. When we assembled this time, A Mr. West spoke to us and said the call had come for assistance in the building of the St. George Temple. Different ones got up and offered fifteen dollars in stock, meaning cattle. I knew just what my father owned and just the load he was carrying and I thought to myself. “Old Boy, where are you going to get it?” As we went back to work I asked him where it was coming from. He looked down at me for a moment and then said, “You wait and see.” A short while afterward my father and I were on our way to work on the same ditch when a man called to us from his yard and said there was a steer at the tithing yard that had been gathered in the roundup and it belonged to Father. It turned out to be one that had not showed up in the roundup the year before and he could find no trace of it and had considered it lost. After talking to the man we walked on to work and my father looked down at me again and said “Harry, you remember the steer I promised for the St. George Temple?” I answered, “Yes,” and he said, “That is it.” That was a lesson in faith I never forgot.

Father found that he could not support his family with the work he could obtain at Randolph so he sold his property there and moved to Wasatch, Utah. In those days people lived in town because of the Indians. The church authorities advised this because of greater protection; also, in church the women usually sat on the left side of the building and the men on the right so the men could get out fast if necessary. We bought a house on railroad property, also some corrals and other conveniences to take care of our cows as we had brought part of them with us. Here it was my responsibility to care for the stock. Father worked on the railroad and I also became quite familiar with the train engines of that day which later became quite an advantage to me.

In the fall there was quite a rush with the shipping, as tea was being sent from the Orient. Charlie Morgan was the fireman on one engine and during the rush season it
seems that he was keeping company with a girl and went to see her instead of resting when he should have. He could not stand the hard work and this gave me an
opportunity as a boy to take a man’s place as a fireman on an engine. I was put on as a fireman. They wanted my father but he could not leave the job he was on so I was sent as a substitute. The superintendent said to the engineer, “Can he do it?” and the engineer answered, “Well, he did do it.” After that the superintendent would say, “Where’s George?” The answer, “There’s Little George, can he do it? Well, he did do it.” I got my foot hurt on the railroad when I was about 14 years old in learning to brake.

We stayed at Wasatch nearly two years. My father in connection with my brother-in-law, Warren Leslie Allen, who married my sister Mary or Mamie as we called her, bought a ranch on the Bear River about eight miles north and a little east of Evanston. Allen got his part of the ranch pretty cheap and Father located his part, 160 acres under the timber act. The requirements of that act were that ten acres must be planted to trees before the title could be perfected from the Government. Mother had gone to Evanston again and Mamie and I had been left in Wasatch until we made the final move. I drove the cattle which consisted of about twelve head of cows and calves, from Wasatch to Evanston, a distance of about eleven and one-half miles. I was on foot and it was warm weather and I suffered because of thirst, even to the extent of trying to drink water from where the cattle had walked in swampy country and a little had oozed up into the cow tracks. Father met me at night. When they reached where I was I took the pony and drove the cattle the rest of the way out to our ranch. I stayed and worked pretty steady with my father for about a year.

At the ranch we lived in a house that had two rooms and a lean-to. In one of the rooms was a fireplace. My father, my sister Mamie, my little brother and I were staying at the ranch and the rest of the family were in Evanston at the home we kept there so the children could go to school. Father had been reading to us by the light of the fire in the fireplace and a bitch (that is a small container with some grease in it and a cloth with one end in the grease and the other hanging out and lighted). He went to bed and some time during the night my father tried to awaken me as the house was on fire. I was at the age that most young people are heavy sleepers and the smoke was so dense that he ran to the other room and roused Mamie and Will and ran out. I suddenly awoke with a start and grabbed my pants and shirt and climbed out through the window. The house was completely burned along with a new harness that we had been oiling. The train track was near our house and a train came by and the crewmen saw the fire and stopped the train. They took Mamie and Will on into Evanston. About daylight my father had me get on a horse and ride into Evanston. There were five or six inches of snow on the ground and it was about an eight mile ride and I had no coat or shoes. We got some lumber and soon had another building up to live in.

My father and grandfather Cameron decided that my school education had been neglected badly so I was sent to live with my grandfather in Randolph, Rich County, to attend school. This was in 1880 and 1881 and I attended school about two and a half months and the school closed because of a diphtheria epidemic.

My grandfather paid for my schooling each month. My teacher’s name was Zeke Lee. I sawed wood during my spare time and in the spring some representatives of the Union Pacific Railroad came to see my grandfather and uncle Jim (James) Cameron. The outcome was that the wood I had sawed was split into surveying stakes to be used in staking the branch of the Oregon Short Line railroad that connects from Granger, Wyoming, and going through Twin Creeks to the Idaho line. We worked all railroads, as two companies were trying to secure rights.

For the next year or two I drifted around on different jobs and going back to Evanston occasionally between jobs. Then I heard of an outfit that was buying cattle to trail from Evanston, Wyoming, to the White River country in Moffatt County, Colorado. That was my opportunity to see the Uintah Basin. I had heard that Indians there could raise 60 bushel of grain to the acre and every man owned his own coal mine. I hired out to this company as a horse wrangler and went with them part way. I got along fine with the cowboys and boss but not with the Englishman who owned the cattle. In going through Evanston with the cattle we picked up three calves that belonged to people there. That being my home town, I knew the calves were not his and told the Englishman they were not his. He said, “Smart boy we got here. He can pick out stray calves in this big herd.” This incident put me in bad with the Englishman but I was on friendly terms with the foreman so stayed with them and got rich experience in trailing big herds of cattle as they did in the early days. I stayed with them till we passed Young Springs in Utah. There I got a fine chance to bid my English friend good-bye and took it. I ended up back on the ranch with Father.

I still had an urge to see the Uintah Basin. In the meantime I made the acquaintance of Sam Jacobson, a man who had done considerable traveling and put in quite a lot of his time in Texas. We talked of Texas, Oregon and lots of other western places. We decided that with a saddle horse, a horse, a mule, and a narrow tracked wagon that we could visit the Uintah Basin. On the 21st day of September 1884 we stood at the head of the dug way on Taylor Mountain with Red Mountain at our feet and viewed the street going north and south where the Hackings and Merkleys lived. We saw the Green River, the biggest stream in the state, winding like a silver thread through the bad lands going south and southwest. It looked like a checker board as the grain had just been gathered and the Lucerne showed up green. A few trees along the streets made an outline and the grand scenery of the bad lands inspired me to make my home in one of the beauty spots of Utah. As I met up with the people, I fitted in and became one of them. At this time I spent about ten days in the basin exploring and looking over the country and meeting some very fine people. I returned to my father and made a general report and it met with his approval and he advised me to go back to the Basin. He would make preparation to come later.

I had been baptized while I was staying with my Grandfather Cameron at Randolph when I was attending school. The water was real cold and after I was baptized I had to walk about a quarter of a mile in my wet clothes. I was baptized by John South and confirmed by Grandpa Cameron. Later President John Taylor called a Reformation and my father sent for me to come and be baptized into the Evanston Branch and I was from then on identified with them. Most of the members of the church were rebaptized at that time. I was soon ordained a Deacon and served as president of the Deacons’ Quorum. Phillip Williams was one of my counselors. I was active in the church as I grew up to the extent that I did what I was called on to do.

When I went to the Uintah Basin my father thought I had better have my recommend along with me as it might come in handy. Two days after I got here they held a stake conference in a bowery and I attended it. I met Apostle John Henry Smith and Abraham Hatch, president of the Wasatch Stake. The Uintah Basin belonged to the Wasatch Stake at that time and I was acquainted with Apostle Smith. I gave my recommend to Uncle Jerry Hatch as he was the Presiding Bishop of this part of the district.

After I came back from Evanston, Sam Jacobson and I located on Brush Creek and made and lived in a dug-out. When we came into town I met Uncle Jerry Hatch (as I always called him) again. He talked to me and asked if I had any relatives here. He said he had some work that his boys didn’t do, that I could do if I would go to his house to live and work. He would pay me what he could.

My father wanted to bring his family to the Basin but fate intervened. Early in January 1886 I received a letter informing me that my father had met his death on Christmas Eve and was buried in Randolph, Rich County, Utah. Just a short time later I received a letter that came over on snowshoes stating that my baby brother John had died of pneumonia and was buried at Randolph about ten days after my father. I was here alone with lots of friends but no relatives. My mother was at Evanston with all of her relatives and friends and I was not to see her until June 1886.

I worked for Uncle Jerry Hatch till after I heard of my father’s death. I went on the mountain and worked with a crew of men sawing lumber. On the 22nd of February 1886 I went to herd sheep for Al Hatch and Tom Karren at $25 a month. There were 900 head of sheep ranging in age from lambs to any old age. My camp consisted of a real good 10 by 12 foot tent, a cast iron stove that looked as if a woman had discarded it and so heavy two men must move it, my bed built on a frame of cedar posts and filled with cedar boughs, an oat straw tick, three home-made quilts, also a tarpaulin cover for the bed. My sourdough jar was some kind of a tin affair that held about a gallon. I also had the necessary equipment to cook with, not the first class. I was camped near the Indian trail that ran between Ouray and Old Ashley Town. Other than that the only white people I would see were the mail carrier that passed twice a week. There was only one other small herd of sheep in the Uintah Basin at that time. I stayed with the job until we sheared over on Brush Creek. We also made a vat and dipped the sheep. I left them then and received a $20 gold piece for my work. The rest of my wages stood until I brought my mother and family here in the fall and drew it out in flour, grain and other necessities that they had that we needed.

I returned to Evanston with a party that was going to the Logan Temple. Two couples were going; they had lived at Bear Lake and I went with them. We sold out for what we could get. There were about nine families had heard I was home planning on returning to the Basin and asked if I would pilot them as I knew the way. They came and camped in our yard until we were ready to start. We started four or five days before my sister Mamie, her husband, Lorenzo Warren Allen, and their family. My mother and family were with them. I had charge of about 200 head of cattle and also showed them the road and the best places to camp. I led them into Ashley Valley and down on Brush Creek, then the families located from there. When Mother, Warren Allen and family came they came to our dug-out on Brush Creek and spent the winter there.

Shortly after our arrival I went to work for Jim McKee helping him with his cattle, a herd of about 2000 head. I stayed with him till the next summer when I quit and went back to Evanston to see a rodeo, the first I had ever heard of. I was pleased to visit with a lot of friends I had left in Evanston. I picked up all the loose ends that had been left there and went back to the Basin with Bruce Wilson who had been to the Temple. The family had left Brush Creek and located on Ashley Creek. I went to work for McKee again and stayed with him all winter. While working for McKee I helped with the roundup and helped trail the cattle to Green River and ship them by railroad to Omaha. Next I went to work for Jim (James) Hacking.

After we settled on Ashley Creek I began working in the Ward. I was put in the presidency of the Mutual.

I began working for Jim in March of 1888 and in May or June Jim’s sister, Jane, came to help Jim’s family when a new baby was expected. I met her and it wasn’t long until we began to think seriously of each other and decided to be married in October. Jim arranged for her to go home and a short while after she left Grandpa and Grandma Hacking arrived. They had missed each other somewhere between Vernal and Ft. Duchesne.

In early October I left Vernal in a two and three quarter wagon, a light team, grain enough for my horses and thirty dollars in my pocket to go to Cedar Fort. I reached there one afternoon and I went in the blacksmith shop where Grandpa Hacking was at work. When I came out of the shop Jane was at the gate to meet me. I stayed in Cedar Fort three or four days then we started for Logan. We camped near the Point of the Mountain the first night, then stayed with my aunt in Salt Lake the second night. When we reached Logan I went to a friend’s home, an ex-bishop who had lived in Evanston, and told him the situation and that we were looking for a place to stay. They took us in and treated us well and accepted a little for us staying there. We were married the next day (10th October 1888) and when we reached their place the women folk had planned a party for us for that night, but we started home and camped on the way.

We spent two nights and one day in Salt Lake visiting and looking around. We returned to Cedar Fort and prepared to leave for Vernal which we did the following Monday. We broke our wagon about the mouth of Provo Canyon. Grandpa Hacking had given us a cow so we put her in a pasture and went to Provo to get the wagon fixed. Had to put a slide under it to get there. I met a blacksmith by the name of Carter who took us into his home and he and his wife when they learned we were newly married, treated us accordingly. In the morning Mr. Carter and I went to a shop to get a new axel, but there wasn’t one in the shop. There was a second hand Bain wagon there and Mr. Carter asked how much it would cost to get the axel out of that one. The proprietor answered that $90 would buy the whole wagon. Mr. Carter explained our circumstances and said we were in a hurry and asked what was the best he could do for us. The outcome was that he had an axel there late in the afternoon by wiring Salt Lake and Mr. Carter and I worked late to repair the wagon. We stayed the second night with the Carters then returned for our cow but found her missing. We woke the people who owned the pasture where we left her, in the early dawn, but they said they saw her the next day after we left her but thought we had come and got her as she wasn’t in the pasture at night. She had got in a ditch on her back and the owner of the pasture found her later. He met Grandpa Hacking in Stake Priesthood Meeting and told him about the cow and also gave him the rope that was left with her. Thinking she had broke out and returned home, we went back to Cedar Fort but she was not there. Grandpa Hacking was not home but we could not find her, so started for Vernal again. There was a toll bridge in Provo Canyon and I had paid $1.25 toll for my wagon and team in going down but when the gate keeper heard of our trouble, he said we had trouble enough so did not charge the toll as we went up the canyon.

When we reached Fort Duchesne there was four inches of snow. We had been sleeping in the wagon but I met some men I had worked with and one of them gave us his bed and he went somewhere else. That wasn’t too good, but was much better than what we had, and we appreciated it. The next day we went on to Vernal and found that Jane’s brother Jim, was beginning to worry about us as he knew when we first left Cedar Fort to go to Vernal, but did not know what had caused our delay. My sister, Alice, and her husband, Josh Haslam, lived down on Ashley Creek in a one room, 14 by 16 foot, log house. We lived with them until I could get logs out and build a house on some ground I had homesteaded on the Creek. We were as happy as young people could be under those circumstances. As I remember it, we moved into our house just before Christmas and were invited up to Uncle Jim Hackings for Christmas dinner.

Our house was a one room log house 12 by 16 feet with a dirt roof and board floor. I had put inch lumber on the roof and battened the cracks and put dirt on that. George Merkley gave us a window for the house as a wedding present. It was a six pane 10 x 12 inch double window. The door was home made with a boughten lock and hinges. Jane had quite a few things like preserves, candies, some quilts, pillow cases, sheets and I believe one pair of blankets. I traded for a second hand cook stove. John Chivers lived next to us and helped a lot on our house.

Following our marriage I worked at different jobs, a lot of the time for Louis Kabell caring for sheep. Also worked for Jim Hacking on his ranch. From Kabell I received money but from Jim I received produce which always came in handy. Kabell was a good man but was not a member of our church.

We were as well off as most of our neighbors and had some things that others did not have, as we had fruit other then buffalo berries, wild currants and choke cherries, which was the main fruit here. We had good neighbors and enjoyed a reasonable amount of sociability. Nathan C. Hunting was our bishop and was a good one as he had the interest of the people at heart. John Chiivers and Moroni Meacham were his counselors and were good men and looked out for the interest of the members to the extent if a man was sick they would go around and say, “Let’s put in his crop.” and the men turned out to work while the women prepared the dinner. At about this time Bishop Hunting call on Joshua Haslam, my sister Alice’s husband., Edward (Ted) Longhurst and me to come and see him. He said, “I have been authorized by the Stake President to call you brethren to go to the Burns Bench District as missionaries. We have been down and looked over the district and it consists of many people moving in from settlements throughout Utah and other places and there are some good church members and the other element too. The area reaches along the mouth of Ashley Creek up along Green River to Brush Creek. Go among the people, live with them, if necessary, but bring us a report of conditions, membership and also do some preaching and instructing.

We did as we were told and found some members. Some have been members who were dead branches who came to life afterward and were very active members; others who could not see it and never did. We had some wonderful experiences and made some lasting friendships. Did a lot of blessing babies and blessed some larger children where it had been neglected and the Lord blessed our efforts when we were called in to administer to the sick. I was not always at home but wherever I went I felt the responsibility, and when I met people of that district I tried to talk to them and fulfill my calling. Ted Longhurst and I traveled together most during our missionary service. We were not released until the Riverdale Ward was discontinued and Jensen Ward was created with George Billings as bishop. The members living up along Ashley Creek who had belonged to the Riverdale Ward were transferred to the Merrill Ward with James M. Shaffer as bishop. I was immediately called as a Ward Teacher in my new ward, then as a counselor in the Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Association. Then I was called on a three month mission in the Merrill Ward and Jensen Ward. Merrill Ward consisted of what later was Naples and Davis Wards.

Our first child, Alice Adaline, was born 20th July 1889 when we lived down on the Creek. We had no doctor, but my Mother, Aunt Laura Hunting, Bishop Hunting’s twin brother’s wife, and Carry Chivers helped us out. The summer following was a pretty dry year. I had planted a garden but we were having quite a struggle and I got a chance to go to work out at Fort Duchesne, a military camp about thirty miles southwest of Vernal. They were building the chimneys, plastering and building the drippers on the officers building at the Fort. Later I worked in what was called the Settlers Store at what I called a roustabout man as I did unpacking, filling orders and anything that was to be done. I had left Jane and the baby at home but later sent for her and we lived in a large government tent just north of the Fort and near the river.

Joseph and Lizzie Harron, another couple from Vernal, lived near us and were very good neighbors, especially Lizzie who did what she could to make things easier for Jane. My wife wasn’t well and the exertion of moving seemed to make her worse so I went to get the doctor to come and see her. I could not get him but Stewart, who had good training in medical things, came and looked her over and asked that she be brought to the office the next day. I took her there and she was put through some tests and then told that her condition was serious. Said they had no facilities to handle her case and that there was none at Vernal. Said the only thing was to give her good care which Lizzie said she would get. A man and his wife were going to Vernal and I sent word to Jim Hacking, my brother-in-law to come over. He and Phebe Merkley, a sister of Jane, came over immediately and reached there in the late afternoon and helped get her ready to go to Vernal. We only got a mile or so on the road and realized she was getting worse so turned back and just got to the river and took her in the first house we came to where she died a few minutes later on 12 July 1890. The doctor came down from the Post and bandaged her and helped pack her in the white top to take to Vernal. We rolled quilts and placed one on each side of her to hold her steady and I sat in the back by Jane with Alice in my arms and started for Vernal about eleven o’ clock at night and reached Phebe’s just as the sun came up in the morning. She was buried in the Vernal Cemetery. My mother took Alice and wanted me to stay with her, too, but I could not content myself any place for very long at a time. I could have gone back to the Post to work but just could not bring myself to do it, so I think the first job I took was at the saw mill; could not be satisfied with that work so worked at different jobs, mostly tending sheep.

Soon after Alice’s third birthday, Jane’s mother and father came to Vernal to visit their children James, John, Phebe and Eleanor. My mother had given Alice the best of care she could but she nursed the sick and her work took her all over the valley. She often took Alice with her but sometimes left her with my sister Mamie Allen and sometimes with my sister Alice Haslam. When they came she was staying with Jane’s sister Eleanor Anderson. When Grandma Hacking saw how conditions were she asked if she could take Alice home with her. I knew she had raised one good woman, meaning my wife Jane, and thought she could give her more advantages than I could, so after thinking it over carefully, gave my consent.

I was on friendly terms with the Herbert family and called there occasionally and visited an hour or so, and sometimes had dinner with them. I was attracted to Isabelle, the second daughter of the family. She was always busy and it seemed to be doing something for someone else. So as I knew her, her life has been spent in service for others. She went to Salt Lake to take care of her grandmother and I asked about her from her mother. She was gone nearly two years. When she returned home Mrs.Charles Carter hired her to come to her home once a week and wash and clean her home. Isabelle worked pretty hard and would be tired when her long day’s work was through so I would sometimes take her home in a two-wheeled cart that belonged to Mr. Carter. When she reached home she would promptly hand over her 50 cents she had earned to her father. This seemed pretty hard to me but was necessary as her father was crippled and they were having a hard time to get along. Isabelle was attractive, industrious and considered a right good girl and I began thinking very seriously of her. She must have thought the same of me as on November 8, 1893, we were married in the Salt Lake Temple.

I left Isabelle at Millcreek visiting relatives and made a trip to Cedar Fort to see Alice. I would have liked to have brought her home with me but I still felt that Grandma Hacking could give her advantages that I could not and Grandma, Grandpa Hacking and Aunt Hattie had become attached to her.

Isabelle and I went to the home I had built when I married Jane, and I was glad to get there as I had wandered around quite a bit and had been so restless since I lost Jane and now I had something to anchor to. We had the same good neighbors and friends with a few additions and they accepted Isabelle and made her very welcome and she did her share to cement the friendship.

Shortly after our return home after our marriage I was riding a horse up to Vernal and was accompanied by John Chivers. On the way I called at a man’s place where I had bought some hay and had arranged to have it left in the stack until I could get around to hauling it. When we arrived at the place there were horses in the hay. I asked the man if I hadn’t made arrangements to leave the hay there and he said, “Yes.” I then asked why the horses were in there. He answered that he had agreed to me leaving the hay but hadn’t said he would keep the horses out. We went on to town and as we were returning home John Chivers said he had to call at Charley Holmes’ place. Later Charley married my sister Emma. When we were there he said he wanted a team, wagon and driver for the next day, and told him of the horses in the hay that I had bought. John Chivers being one of the bishop’s counselors, spread the word around. Our neighbor, Ted Longhurst had a team and offered to help. This made four teams and wagons : Ted’s, Charley’s, John’s, and my own. The next morning we all turned out and hauled the hay. Shortly after noon we had the hay hauled and unloaded. Brother Longhurst’s wife and mine, fixed lunch and we had plenty to eat and a sociable afternoon. After we were through eating we were talking and one of them asked me how we were getting along. I told him we were doing fine then jokingly I remarked, “But we have just ate the last bread we have in the house.” I did not inform him though, that we had bread raising to be baked that day. Will Holmes, Charley’s brother who had driven Charley’s team, heard me say that we had eaten all our bread but failed to get the joke of it. Afterward Isabelle’s mother, knowing that he had been down to our place, asked how we were getting along. He answered, “All right, I guess, but I heard him say they had used up the last of the bread they have in the house.” Grandma Herbert took this pretty serious and was real sorry for us because of our supposed poverty stricken condition.

I had to be away from home some during the winter and I encouraged my wife to attend school under Mrs. Thorne as teacher. She did not attend very much as we started raising a family and it took up all of her time.

I worked in the church all I could when I was home and my wife did too, till her time got taken up so much at home. She had it rather hard when I was away as she had to be father and mother both. Our first child, Elizabeth, known as Lizzie, was born 14 August 1894 and George was born 15 December 1895. They were both born while we lived down on the creek. We then moved onto the bench to be nearer to Mother and to get where we could get canal water easier.

We had three children born while we lived there; Wallace William born 25 July 1897, John James born 17 November 1899. In September 1900 Isabelle came down with measles and later John James came down with them, later pneumonia developed. He died 25 November 1900. Fredrick was born 7 February 1901 and only lived 16 days. He died with the measles.

I was in charge of two bands of sheep that belonged to French and Wooley, and during late fall and winter had quite a lot of sickness and trouble at home, therefore, my mind was divided and I was needed in both places. I was camped about 30 miles south of Vernal on Dead-Man Bench in the month of February and the weather had turned rather mild. The ice was breaking up on the Green River and we had just got word that they were trying to clear a channel for the ferry boat to operate. That in doing so they had left a horse with a saddle on standing on the ice and he broke through and was drowned.

A little while later my brother-in-law, Warren Allen, came to one of my camps to tell me that our baby Fredrick had died the evening before; he got there just at noon. The problem then was my best way to get home. By the time I could get to the river the people working there would be gone and there was no way to get help as the boat was not yet operating. Allen, a sheepherder and myself talked about waiting until morning, but after thinking seriously I couldn’t withstand the urge to come. I saddled my good horse and reached the river between nine and ten o’ clock at night. I thought I knew the river pretty well and about a mile below the ferry the river took a turn. It was much wider and would likely be the best place. When I got there it was a pale moonlight night. As far as I could see the ice was good. So I took down my rope, took my coat and overshoes off and tied them on my saddle, then I got me a heavy willow about six feet long and with my horse ten or twelve feet behind me I would reach out with the stick and sound the ice before I would go ahead. I did this until I got nearly to the north bank then I could hear the water swishing against the bank. The water was running over the ice for about six or eight feet from the bank. I took my stick and my rope in my left hand and grabbed a willow on the bank, therefore I was able to get on across. When I got out I was wet above my knees. I fixed a place the best I could for my horse to come out through the willows and with my help and the rope, I landed my horse alright. Now we were both wet and about five miles left to go. I’d lead my horse for while then ride. I got home about midnight quite cold but safe. My father-in-law was sitting by the baby with a dim coal oil light. I was home with my family and thankful for that.

It was a struggle to get along where we were living as the gardens were never certain and several other things contributed to our decision to move to another location. So I bought 12 acres of ground from Isabelle’s father. Gave him a cow, paid $40 on a debt he owed and gave him the rest in money amounting to around $200.

We moved into a white house and ran the place belonging to George Law. We thought while we were living there we might improve the place we bought from Grandpa Herbert. Ethel was born 20 May 1902 while we lived in the white house. Then we bought a place from Alma Rasmussen, ten acres with a three room log house with a dirt roof. This land was north and adjoining the twelve acres we bought from Grandpa Herbert. It cost me a new wagon and a good horse. We moved into it and here Merle 6 February 1904, Jennie 23 December 1905, Clair 21 May 1908, Ralph Edwin 23 April 1911, and Rodabell 13 March 1913 were born.

Rodabell only stayed with us a little over two years as she died 20 April 1915 from whopping cough. This was a great sorrow for us as she was such a bright, happy little girl and we all loved her.

When Isabelle’s sister, Eliza Stevens (Aunt Lide, as we called her), married John Cook I bought her twelve acres adjoining me on the south and west. Her house was moved off from the property. Later Lewis Lind and I bought 20 acres adjoining my property on the north and Lind gave me my choice of the south half of the twenty acres so my land would be all together. That is where Ralph’s house stands. I built the house where we now live and moved into it and our last two children were born here. Grant was born 10 February 1919 and Niles was born 1 June 1920. We have also had several grandchildren born here, some great grandchildren also. It took me about 1½ years to build the house.

I spent a lot of time out taking care of the sheep , some of the time as herder and in later years in charge of the herds and had a lot of responsibility. I began at $30 a
month and was building up a herd of my own and improving financially, but the time came when my boys needed a father’s direction and Isabelle’s health got so she could not take it. I never worked for a man that wasn’t my friend when I quit. One man told me that John Hacking said he would rather have Harry Southam with his sheep than half the herders he ever had.

When our Ward Chapel was built, I was working for $35 a month when I worked, and raised a family on it. I was trying to farm in summer and catch up on cash in winter. We bought a sewing machine and paid $60 for it. We made our down payment by letting go of three calves from four to six months old for $15 for all three.

This is to show values at that time. I took our only cow with her calf and donated toward the chapel and did what else I could besides. I did this because there was one man who was willing to work on the chapel who said he could not work any more as they did not have a cow to give milk for his children. They gave him the cow and he went on working. This left my family without milk but I thought this other family was harder run than we were and the Lord blessed us for our sacrifices. In July of 1919 Wallace, our second son, was set apart to go on a mission to the Southern States and served two years under Charles A. Callis.

In March of 1920, our 14 year old daughter, Jennie, rode a horse home from school during a severe snow storm and at a time when she shouldn’t have been exposed to the cold. She was chilled through when she reached home and became seriously ill immediately. Her mother did all she could then called the doctor but he said there was little he could do. She grew worse until 11 August 1920 when she was released from her suffering. During this time our youngest son, Niles, was born. I was staying down on the creek taking care of my cattle when word was brought to me of Jennie’s illness and I left the cattle in the care of my boys, Clair who was 12 and Ralph who was 9. I went back and forth when I could leave the house. The boys did the best they could but feed was scarce and the mud was bad.

A cow would get stuck in the mud and they could not get it out and would send me word. I could not leave and the next word I would get would be that that cow was dead and another stuck in the mud. This happened till I had lost about a third of what I owned and as I remember it I had owned about 60 head. I had used up all the feed I had and I met Will Siddoway uptown. I had bought a saw and he remarked about it then asked how I was off for feed. I told him that I was just going to see Will Siddoway to see if I could get some hay from a stack that I knew he had down on the creek on his place adjoining mine. He said he had been asked about that hay that morning by five different people but he said, ”They haven’t sickness and haven’t a son in the mission field so you go get some hay. Keep track of how much hay you get and don’t take a fork full more than you need.” I did as he told me and got my cattle by on that and he refused to accept pay for it till the following hay cutting time when Wallace had returned home and we had leased some hay ground from Will Siddoway.

John Hacking also sold me corn at five cents a pound, the same as he had paid for it. I wasn’t alone in my loss as it hit everyone on account of the hard winter. Some men were wiped out completely but I saved some and could have saved more if I hadn’t been tied up with Jennie’s sickness.

After I quit the sheep and came home I tried to settle down but I was usually called on at sheep dipping time and again when the sheep came in from the range I was hired to pick out the strays. I got pretty good pay and was away from home from a week to a month at a time. I was State Sheep Inspector in this district for nine years. This took me over a wide territory as I had to inspect all of the sheep coming from Colorado and Southwestern Wyoming for winter grazing into this country and was subject to call anywhere. They still wanted me to keep the job when I decided it was time to quit and stay home.

When the flu epidemic struck the country in 1918 and thousands of people died all over the world, we were not spared. Whole families would be down sick and one might die in a bed and the other in the bed not know it because they were so sick. Sometimes several in a family were taken. We were all sick except Wallace who was away from home. When he heard we were sick he came home but did not come in the house but lived in the cellar and did the chores. Johnny Neilson brought us soup, that his sister had prepared, almost every day. Our neighbors who were not sick came to the outside and helped what they could. One day some of the family told me that John Hacking was outside. I went to the window and he was sitting on his horse. When he saw me he said, “Are your taxes paid?” At the time Wallace was up in town to see about selling some cattle to pay the taxes but I appreciated John’s interest as much as if he had paid our taxes. We appreciated the kindness of our neighbors and the kindness of God in restoring us all to health without loss. There was a dozen of us here in the house and we were all sick.

I was chairman of the Republican Party for 15 years and was asked why I did not run for office but I never did run for a political office but felt I wanted to be a middle of the road man.

I worked in the church whenever I was at home. I was a Ward Teacher for over 50 years and had a steady unbroken record of never missing a month teaching with Johnny Neilson in nine years.

I feel that I have had a wonderful life. It has not been an easy one as it has been filled with joys and sorrows, disappointments and successes and what we have my wife and I have had to work for.

I’ve had two very good women and I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for them.

Jane was a wonderful woman and helped me to understand a lot of things in life that are realities and we learned together. When I lost her I was very unsettled and did a lot of reading good books as I was in my tent while out with the sheep.

When Isabelle came into my life she gave me contentment again. I started out anew and she stood by my side through thick and thin and has really done more than her share. She accepted Alice and treated her and her children as her own. And Alice has often remarked that, “She is one in a million, as a large framed picture of my mother hangs in her bedroom and she always seems to proud of it.”

Isabelle has made a wonderful wife and mother and I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for his blessings to me and mine. I feel it is all in answer to prayer as I never made a big decision without praying for guidance.

This is written Sunday, 22 March 1953, and was told from memory by G.H. Southam after a lapse of approximately 52 years. Any mistakes made are from the head and not from the heart.
 

Alice Southam Cook writes:

I wrote this far on Father’s life sketch eight or nine years before he passed away and will try and finish it now. He had always had a longing to go back again to the place where he was born and to the different places where he had lived and worked as he grew up. In June of 1953 he arranged to have my sister Lizzie stay with Aunt Isabelle while he made a trip up over his old stomping grounds. He invited me along with other members of his family to accompany him. So at noon of 19 June 1953, I met Daddy Southam, Niles, Frances and family, Victor, Merle, Ralph, Clair, Grant and LaPreal at the Moxum Hotel in Salt Lake City, Utah.

After dinner we drove up to the Warm Springs north of Salt Lake and Father showed us where Wilson R. Pratt lived. He was a son of Orson Pratt and married Kate Anderson’s daughter, Jemina. They were parents to Glen and Ethel Pratt. I met Ethel when I visited Grandma Catherine Southam when she was living in part of Shepherd’s home. Esther Allen was living with her and she and Shepherd had separated.

The above mentioned Kate Anderson was sealed to Grandpa Cameron so Father said they always called her Aunt Kate. She had been married twice before and her children were by her other husbands.

At Wilson R. Pratt’s home up by the Warm Springs in North Salt Lake is where he and my mother spent one night as they were going to the Logan Temple to be married and spent two nights as they came back.

We then drove by the State Capitol Building and he showed us about where William Southam, his father’s brother, lived in a dugout with his family. The dugout was about a block northwest of where the Capitol Building stands. William Southam was lamp lighter in Salt Lake when all the street lights had to be lit individually, before they had electricity.

We then drove down the Canyon through Memory Grove, then up to the “This is the Place” monument, then up Emigration Canyon. We went by the East Canyon Reservoir on a dirt road then struck the highway at Henefer. Passed through Round Valley and Father showed us about where Grandpa Cameron lived on Bishop Hunter’s (the second Presiding Bishop of the Church) farm. Round Valley is a very short distance from Laketown, Utah. He lived there during three years of a bad grasshopper scourge.

Drove into Morgan, the town where Father was born and took cabins at the Como Springs. Grant, Ralph, Father and I went downtown to the Williams Store where we met two men by that name. Aunt Jane Carter Southam, Grandpa Southam’s first wife, married Daniel Williams after she separated from grandfather. She left him while they were living in Evanston and came back to Morgan to live. She later married Mr. Williams and raised his family of motherless children. We called on a Mrs. William Chadwick, a woman who had compiled a history of Morgan County and we read what she had written about Round Valley where Grandpa Cameron lived. We went to the cemetery where Aunt Jane was buried. We saw the marker for “Jane Williams, beloved wife of Daniel Williams, born at Wardington, Oxfordshire, England, April 20, 1838. Died at Morgan, Utah 3 June 1896.” (We have her birth date as 29 November 1834.)

Also saw the marker for “Daniel Williams, born 22 May 1824, died 11 June 1907.”

We all went to the mill where there was a large stream of water where Father played when he was a small boy and took his shoes off then went into a building nearby and went to sleep. When his shoes were found they thought he was drowned and most of the night was spent hunting him.

We talked to a Mr. Carter, a son of Jane Carter Southam’s brother. His wife told us of a Mrs. Spendlove whose maiden name was Emma Southam. Her father was
Benjamin Southam, son of Grandfather’s brother, William. Her husband was Bishop Spendlove.

She had a son living in Brigham City who was working on the Southam genealogy.

We then went up Echo Canyon and Father showed us where he got his first job as Fireman helper on the railroad between Echo and Wasatch. Went on up the canyon past Wasatch and just before we reached the head of the canyon, Father pointed to the left and showed us about where he lived in North Evanston. Told how he had to take cows out southwest over Yellow Creek and told how Sheriff Pepper met him one morning and said, “I hate to do it but here is my gun. Get under that bridge and as that man comes along, you keep him covered. If he gets me you get him.” As the fellow came up the sheriff called to him and said, “It’s no use, we have you covered. If you don’t give up you will get what Willis Wade got.” The man surrendered his gun then asked, “How am I covered?” When he saw it was only a 12 year old boy, he cussed.

We went to a corner where Father said there used to be a saloon. He told of being dressed up one Sunday afternoon when he was a young man. He met a young girl he knew as they were passing the saloon. They stood talking to each other and then they could hear that there was trouble inside. All at once a shot came through the wall and grazed his toe and they decided to leave in a hurry.

He then showed us where the store was that he threw the rock through the window when he was a little boy and told about in the first part of his life sketch.

We then drove out about where the old home was and we saw about where his little brother, James Southam, was buried. He died of black small pox and was buried in the side of a little hill in front of their home.

The men folk went to Priesthood Meeting in Evanston Third Ward, Woodruff Stake, and they all went to their priesthood groups and were all called on to talk. At about 1:30 p.m. we started for Woodruff and passed a mine near Alma and Father said he helped recover the bodies of 63 Chinamen from the No. 3 coal mine that had caved in. He also helped bury them. They dug six feet or over wide and every three feet they placed a body then covered them with dirt. Two years later they were dug up and sent to China. There were no laws for safety in mines at that time. Some were heard to remark that men were cheaper than timber. We went to the Wm. J. Rex home as he was custodian of the cemetery and he showed us the graves of Grandpa and Grandma Cameron, also their son, John, who was a hunch back.

He also showed us Grandfather George Southam’s grave and also his son, John, the baby who died a week or two after he was drowned. Did not locate Ruth and Eliza Southam’s graves.

We called on Mrs. Della McKinnon whose father was Ward Clerk and had some old church records. Found where John Cameron was released from laboring as a High Priest on account of poor health.

Della McKinnon said she heard Grandpa Cameron speak in tongues on one occasion and her son, Arthur McKinnon, said he heard him speak in tongues twice. He also had a nail for every one of tools and kept them there.

We drove out of Randolph about 3½ miles north to the Jackson Ranch. Nola Jackson is Eva Corina’s daughter and Eva Corina is a daughter of James Alexander Cameron, Jr.

We went back to Evanston and visited with another daughter of Eva Corina, Mrs. Delcena Hazen Atkinson. Her husband is a shoemaker and she helped him. She also lived with Grandpa Cameron about three years.

We had stayed in cabins at the Woods Motel. When we left there, the wife (who was a Murdock) of the proprietor shook hands with Father and wished him a good journey home and left a $5 bill in his hand for he and his wife to have a treat.

As we rode along he showed us where Pest House was located where they were taken when they had black small pox and where his mother was taken by the Doctor and Sheriff to nurse other patients. At that time there was no way of controlling small pox so it was the custom to place all who got it in a house some distance from other homes and have them stay till they were entirely over it, then they must bathe and put on clean clothes and the place where they had stayed was fumigated. This was called a Pest House and a number of communities had places for that purpose.

He showed us the canal where he was ditch rider but gave up that job because there were too many women who wanted the water.

He pointed out the Jesse Knight Ranch that he worked on. Then we drove down a gulch and he showed us where he and a girl herded cattle when they were children. She later became Mrs. Glascock.

A little farther on he pointed to the railroad bridge that crossed Bear River where his father was drowned.

We drove on toward Bear Town across Stone Creek and he showed us to the left where there was a gang fight and when it was over five Irishmen lay dead, also two others. It was a group of settlers who had differences and got together along the railroad to have it out. It cost seven lives and they called it Bear Town.

We passed through Hillard and saw the remains of seven charcoal kilns. Two looked pretty well preserved, one the top was half gone and four without tops. Hillard was once a thriving town. There was a large flume where they floated the logs down to burn in the kiln. At a turn sometimes they jumped over and dug holes three feet deep in the ground.

We went along the dirt road that followed the old railroad grade from Myres Ranch. Passed the Peidmont Tunnel at the head of the divide. The way it was a tunnel is that they built a covering over it. It was at the end of the Brigham Young project. He took a contract to build 125 miles of Union Pacific Railroad from this point to Ogden. He took it to furnish work for ones who needed it. Passed through Peidmont and saw four more charcoal kilns, three looked in good condition and one was half gone.

Just before we got to the divide Father pointed out where he worked on a ranch for a squaw man or a man who had married a squaw. “His oldest boy and I had differences. One was that his father let me take a horse when the son thought he should have it. He was the biggest and one day when we were in Evanston we got to quarreling and he gave me one of the worst lickings I ever got. I was winded from a little difficulty with another fellow or I don’t believe he could have done such a good job.”

We stopped at Fort Bridger and went in where it said, ”Original Post Commissary Building built by Soldiers Army here 1857-1890.” We went through the museum and also saw a lot of the old buildings that were built and used by the army in the early days.

We stopped for a little while at Little America. To me it was like an oasis in a desert as we had been traveling through some dry unsettled country for quite a few miles. It was a very fine Coffee Shop, a place to buy souvenirs, 115 modern cabins, a service station, a store and everything up-to-date and a very busy place.

We came to Green River City and Father told us that this is where people from Ashley Valley had come for relief in 1880 when the settlers were close to starvation. They loaded up 50 sacks of flour, also other necessities on the 1st of May and headed back to the Valley.

We left Highway 30 at Green River City, crossed the State Line and drove through Linwood and on through Manila. On through Sheep Creek Canyon which is steep and winding with high walls on each side, crossed Sheep Creek and passed Whiskey Creek; crossed Carter Creek then Deep Creek. We stopped a few minutes at the Deep Creek Forest Camp. The elevation is 7643 feet. Passed a sign that said Elias Park; passed Little Elk Creek, Cub Creek, Center Eagle Creek and East Eagle Creek, Skull Creek and the Red Gorge Green Lake Forest. Went through the McKee Draw, crossed Francis Creek. Saw a number of deer as we traveled along, also beautiful pine trees and lots of timber. Passed Bassett Spring, then down into brush Creek. Saw more deer as we traveled down Brush Creek Gorge. We saw what they call the Big Rock on Brush Creek near the Ruple ranch. It forms a deer shelter back under it and Ralph said that Father had spent many a night sleeping there while he was out with the sheep. We saw the Old Lady on Brush Creek , a rock formation. Went through Steinaker Draw and reached the center of Vernal at exact 8:00 p.m. Monday 22 June 1953.

I’ve written about this trip with Father because of his pleasure of going over so much country that was associated with his early life and also where he was with the sheep so much. He enjoyed every minute of the time spent and so did we. We traveled 622 miles with no car trouble, not even a flat.

Father bought a Ford Car about 1916 and when the Ford Company celebrated their 50th Anniversary in 1953 the company presented him with a “Ford Times,” a little book published to commemorate the occasion, also eight glass tumblers with red, blue, and gold design on the side also “Ford 50th Anniversary 1903-1953” in gold. This was because he was one of the first Ford customers in Ashley Valley. He drove this car and Aunt Isabelle also learned to drive. He started to drive when he was about 50 years old and drove for about 24 or 25 years. In the meantime they bought a Chevrolet also.

It was a habit with him to get even the babies up to see the New Year in.
 
 
 
 

George Henry Southam, Sr. died 30 January 1959 in the Uintah County Hospital, Vernal, Utah. He was buried 2 February 1959 in the Vernal Memorial Park Cemetery,
Vernal, Utah.

Isabelle Herbert Southam died 24 October 1959 at home. She was buried 28 October 1959 in the Vernal Memorial Park Cemetery, Vernal, Utah.
 

Thanks to Margie Martin for this history of George Henry Southam.