History of Celestia Durfee Clawson - Orin's Mother

As Told To Her Daughter, Julia Clawson Haws
April 1954

Celestia Durfee was born 1 Apr 1878, in Aurora, Sevier Co., Utah, the second daughter and fourth child of Jabez Erastus Durfee and Sarah Elizabeth Kendall Durfee. Thirteen children were born to Sarah and Jabez. The two eldest boys died at birth. Celestia was called Lettie all her life.

Sarah was the first wife of Jabez E. Durfee. Aunt Isabelle, his second wife and Aunt Juditha his third wife.

The first I can remember was when I was three years old. We lived down on the Sevier River about a mile below the canal in Aurora. (Utah)

One time mother said to Annie (Annie was Lettie's sister, four years her elder), "I need the little two quart crock, run down to Aunt Isabell's and get it for me.”  Hearing her tell Annie, I ran too. Annie beat me there, but Aunt Isabell gave the crock to me.  I ran home with it with Annie after me.  We came to a little hill with a fence half way down it.  In going over the fence I broke the crock.

I remember Father saying, "Let's get in the wagon and go see the self binder work."  So we went to the 80 acres that father and grandfather owned that was between Aurora and Salina to watch the binder work.  It was the first self-binder on the Sevier.

When Deuvaldi was born, the midwife told us that they had found him under a bush.  I went up and down the river bank and hunted under every bush I found to see if I couldn't find another baby.  Deuvaldi was born in 1883 when I was five years old.

About this time there had been a lot of snow in the mountains and when it melted, the river started to rise about an inch a night.  The men watched it for days and one night they said it was getting close to the top of the bank.

Father told us to go to Aunt Isabell's to sleep.  In the morning the water surrounded our house and they were taking our household things out the windows to save them.  The front of the house was lower than the back.  We moved up on the canal.

The way that I learned to knit was when I went to Hobblecreek Canyon (near Springville, Utah, where the old Durfee home is located) to see Aunt Juditha at her mother's.  Aunt Catherine Mott taught me to knit.  I knit lots of doll stockings and when they shortened Deuvaldi's clothes, mother started a pair of stockings for him and taught me how to knit them.  They were the first pair of stockings that Deuvaldi had.  I was about six years old at the time.

Father was called to go on a mission to Iowa, Illinois, and Michigan.  His brothers took over the farming and we didn't ever move back to the farm.

Father's people founded Aurora (Sevier County Utah).  The Curtis and Harwoods and Masons.  Uncle Thomas Harwood was the oldest man of the group.  Times were hard and he would bring a crust of bread for his lunch when he was working in the field.  His teeth were bad and he would go to the river and wet his bread in order to be able to eat it.

They were making a dam up the river above Monroe, Utah.  It was high water and they had to have some runners in the middle of the river.  The river was so swift that a man couldn't stand in it to work.  Uncle George Holdaway said, "If you will stay on the bridge and hold me by the hair so I can stand against the current, I will make the framework to hold the brush and dirt to make the dam."

Before moving away from the river before the flood, father had a lot of large harvesting machinery and was gone away from home harvesting for other people.  I remember the big stacks of grain and hay.  They brought the stock off the range and fed them all winter.

Father had three wives at the time they sent him on his mission.  Feeling became so strong against polygamy that they sent him on his mission.  When he returned from his mission, Uncle Edmund (Sarah's brother) and mother went to Juab County (Nephi City) to meet him.  When they were getting ready we were over to Grandma Durfee's.  She was fixing them a lunch to take with them.  I was sitting on a bed in the corner of the kitchen.  Grandmother was so tired and nervous and stepped on my toe with her heel.  It was months before it healed.

They had to keep very quiet about Father coming home, as the deputies were watching so closely.  When he returned he took his wife, Aunt Juditha, and moved to Blue Valley, about 60 miles past Notom.  They lived under the ledges.  We stayed in Aurora and went to school.

They didn't even have a house until after Father came to get mother, then they put up a tent.  We went down Grand Wash.  As we went through the wash, the cliffs would be so close together that it seemed the passage was not there, but when we got closer, it always was.  After we left the wash, we had to cross the Fremont River forty eight times before we got to the place where Father lived.

We lived under the cliffs and when it rained the water came down over the edge of the cliffs in sheets.  It seemed almost a river over the cliff in front of us, but the cliffs sheltered us and we were dry and warm.

The next winter we went from Aldridge in Blue Valley to Aurora, Utah to go to school.  We lived in Aunt Isabell's house on the Sevier River.

Grandfather Durfee had the largest sleigh in the valley.  It had two seats and would hold from 6 to 12 people.  Father once told us a story about an experience he had with this sleigh when he was a young man before he was married.  One night he took it without his father's permission and took a group of young people riding.  They stopped to fix the coverings over them and the horses started up suddenly.  One of the men fell onto the back of the sleigh and broke the beautiful scrollwork.  Father was afraid to tell Grandfather he had broken the sleigh so he got some glue and glued the piece back so well that Grandfather didn't know it had been broken till father told him.

While we were going to school father would come up from Blue Valley to see us and he would hitch the horses to the beautiful sleigh and would come to the school with bells jingling on the harness and give Annie and I a ride in it.

After this years schooling, we went back to Blue Valley and didn't move for years.  About this time Father built a house, a 16' by 18' room with an 8' leanto on the back.

Soon after this Father went to Old Mexico to visit his people who had gone down there to live and to see if he liked the country well enough to move there.

We moved from Aurora to Notom in Blue Valley about 5 or 6 miles from the house Father had built. There were a few neighbors there. It was about 5 miles above Aldridge.

Our school teacher was John R. Young's daughter who lived at Notom.

We spent the winter there and went to school. Annie had the measles and Aunt Cecelia got them from her and almost died.

This winter was the first time we had seen snow in this part of the country. It snowed about three feet and stayed for weeks. What fun we had coasting on the homemade sleds belonging to John R. Young's boys. I was 11 or 12 at this time.

We walked about a mile to school. When school was out, we made snow angels by throwing ourselves down flat in the snow.

While Father was down in Old Mexico that winter, Aunt Juditha, Aunt Stella's mother died. Aunt Stella was about 15 months old when her mother died. Aunt Juditha's mother's family were all sick with Typhoid and so Grandmother Durfee took care of the little girls for several months.  Aunt Juditha died in March and Father came home about 6 months after her death. In July Father and Mother went to Aurora and brought Aunt Stella and Rosa back to Aldridge in Blue Valley.

Father sold his land to Beason Lewis for cattle that were up on Boulder Mountain. Jed, an adopted son, and LeGrande, Father's brother brought what stock they could and returned with Father to Blue Valley. We went up on Boulder Mountain to get Father's stock. We reached there on the 4th of July 1889. We stayed up there that summer to milk the cows. We lived under the trees and slept in the wagon boxes. There was a crowd of us. Jed, LeGrande, Uncle Edmund, Lizzie Crowther, Annie, Lizzie, Stella, Celia, Deuvaldi, Rosa, Aunt Isabell's boy Eddy, and myself. We didn't have a big enough table for all of us to sit down at once. The older people sat at the table first. When Eddy came back and saw there wasn't a place for him he said, "I'm mad."

We spent the summer there and it was so isolated we didn't even know what day of the week it was.

Father was supposed to have 5 cows broken to milk in the stock from Beason Lewis.  He was supposed to choose one and Mr. Lewis the next one for him.  The fifth one father chose was a large sleek red and white cow.  When they got the cows back to camp, father started to milk this red cow.  She kicked him and fought him until he couldn't milk her.  When father complained about her, Beason Lewis reminded him that he chose her.  Father licked her within an inch of her life and broke her to milk.  Annie and father always milked her.  She had some of the finest calves of any of the cows.

In the fall we brought about 18 head of cows down to Aldridge to milk them.  When we were ready to come down off the mountain they were going to put a bell on one of the cows so they wouldn't stray away and get lost.  They chose the big red cow.  They had to muffle the bell in order to get anywhere near her and when they took the rags out of the bell she started to run around the corral.  She ran all night until she would get so tired she couldn't run any farther.  All this time the bell was clanging.  She would stand still and the bell would ring and she would start to run all over again.

When we started down the Capitol Gorge the bell echoed against the sides and it was a regular stampede as it frightened all the cows.  It took almost all day to get off the Mountain.

When we got home we had a lovely garden with lots of melons.  The young people would gather at one of the houses after meeting to eat melons.  We would have a melon bust, throw the rinds at one another and then everyone would help milk the 16 or 18 head of cows.

Aunt Isabell wanted to milk one so they picked out an easy one and tied her legs so she wouldn't kick while being milked.  After getting a nice bucket of milk, she reached down and took off the leg rope.  She stroked her and said "Nice Bossy."  About that time the cow kicked her and she said, "Oh she kicked me right in the guts."  After that, whenever anyone threw a melon rind at anyone, they always said, "Oh you hit me where the cow kicked Aunt Isabell."  This was a by-word for years in our crowd.

One day after one of our melon fights that father had joined in with as much fun as anyone, he looked at the Sun and said, "Look at the time, Celestia, you and Lizzie go and get the cows."  We started out and up the river to the next ranch about 4 or 5 miles.  When we got there the river was booming in a regular flood and the cows were over the river in the man's cornfield.  We knew we couldn't cross the river to get the cows so we started to call "Sook Boss" and they came down the river and crossed over to us.  The water came up to their bellies.  We gave them a shoo and they started for home.  We went over the ridge and got to the third crossing.  It was so dark and the river so high we were afraid to cross.  At the fourth crossing there was a trail over the ridge so we could miss the third and fourth crossing.  It was so dark we couldn't find the trail.  There was a lot of brush along the river and we were afraid of the wild animals that sometimes killed our sheep.  Just then a stroke of lightening came and showed us the trail.  We followed it up the ridge and by the time we had reached the steep climb, we were almost home.  The cows had beat us home and the family was out calling for us because they were worried at us being so late.  We got down to the river, the family collected on the opposite side to try to devise a way to get us over to them.  They said, "If we could tie a box of matches to a rock and throw it over, they could make a fire and keep warm."

Frank Crowther (my old beau) said, "Tie a rope around my waist and go up the bank and hold it to steady me and I will go over and get them."  So that is what he did.  He took us one at a time on his back and carried us over.

A dear girl friend, Lizzie Smith, lived about five miles from us in Notom.  Her sister-in-law lived half way between.  Her house was made of logs with chinking in between.  We were both at her sister in law’s house and when I left the house a minute I heard her sister-in-law say, "If Letties's eyes weren't set so far back in her head and she wasn't so thin and her face so sallow, she would almost be pretty."

Another dear girl friend of mine, Ada Norse, lived about three miles south of me.  We followed a path from my house over a ridge or small hill.  It was so steep a horse really had to climb.  We would play jacks and been (bean) puzzle by the hour.  Ada and I used to sing together in Mutual.  That was what our mutual was, singing and recitations and one of the brethren would preach to us.

Perry and Charles were born in Aldridge.  We moved to Sand Creek about 8 or 10 miles below Aldridge.  Father built a large room out of lumber for a shop, but we had to live in it until we could build a house.  We lived there one or two years and there Ruth was born.  We had to walk about 3 miles to school.

Then father bought a piece of land in Kanesville about 5 miles below Sandy, and we moved down there.  We moved out of the shop and rented a little house for 4 or 5 days.  The house belonged to Pectols.  They had had sore throats for a long time, it turned out to be diphtheria.  Rosa got it and died in about 4 or 5 days and Jan. 3 Eddy, Franks brother, got it and died too.  He was Aunt Isabell's boy.  What a sad dreary winter.  The whole town was quarantined.  We couldn't hold meetings or even visit.  About 13 died.  This was in the winter of 1890.

Father bought another piece of ground with a house of one room 16' by 18'.  We moved it over by the shop, and started to use it for a shop.  We planted choice peaches and grapes.  In 1898 father decided to move to Old Mexico.  He hadn't been able to make up his mind since Aunt Juditha's death.  Father sold his place for a span of horses and a wagon, he bought lumber and made a wagon box wide enough for us to live in.  One wagon he filled with grain for the horses and provisions and flour for us.  We also had a light wagon.  We moved out on the Sevier and waited for the rainy season so that the tanks along the way and water holes would be full.  We waited about three months on the Sevier.

We all went through the Manti Temple on a guided tour.  Then father, mother, Lizzie and I went through and Lizzie and I received our endowments.  We worked in the temple for about 2 weeks.

On the 23rd of August 1898, we started on our way to old Mexico.  We traveled for two or three days then camped in order to wash the clothes and bake.  We had a bake oven.  Lizzie wrote on the wagon, "We're bound for Old Mexico" in big letters.  People all down the road stopped us to send letters to their folks in Old Mexico.  At noon before we reached Lee's ferry we were camped for lunch.  We then followed the river over rough roads to Lee's Ferry.  After crossing the river we traveled down the opposite bank until we were right across from our camp from the day before.  It was fast day so we stopped and fasted.  I was always afraid at night someone would massacre us so this day I fasted and prayed all day.

At Lee's Ferry they had a nice house, vineyard, and orchard.  We camped there and met an old school teacher we knew.

The road next to the Grand Canyon bridge was really rough and went so close to the river that it really frightened me.  Lizzie and some of the young people at Lee's Ferry took a boat up the river but I was too frightened to go.  I offered to drive the buggy but was so sorry when I found the condition of the road.  We drove the wagon, buggy, and eight horses on the ferry at the same time.  We went across with them.  As we drove them off the Ferry we got in quick sand and we worked a half a day to get across the river.  Then we got on a cliff.  It was the roughest road and we had to drive so close to the river you could see over the edge into the river.  Deuvaldi drove one of the wagons with someone to hold the brake and the rest of us walked over Lee's backbone as the ridge was called.  We took turns, Mother and I, carrying the baby and a kettle of beans, holding our breath as the wagons went around the curves.

Then we would run to keep up with them.  We then camped and ate dinner.  We traveled on to Navaho Springs and filled our barrels with water.  It had been so dry that year that many of the range stock had dropped dead almost in the spring.  The carcasses lay there in the water.  The spring came out of the rock above and we had to stand on these carcasses and catch the water as it came from the rock to fill our barrels.  We had to make ourselves drink the water even though we knew it was pure.

We camped here one night and then went to Limestone springs.  The creek was dry.  Father and Lizzie took 10 head of horses and went up the wash to water them.  We waited for them to come back with water.  We were terribly thirsty.  The next day we went to Cedar springs, but it was dry also.  We dug a hole in the creek bed about two or three feet deep and struck water.  The next water we came to had so much alkali in it we wouldn't let the horses drink it.  When we reached the little Colorado River it was very muddy and wide but quite shallow.  Father told us to water the horses.  We had to draw the water out of the barrels.  They held 50 gallon, one on each side of the wagon.  We gave the horses all they would drink but they still stopped in the river to drink and would mire down in the sand.  We had difficulty getting them across the river.  We camped on the other side that night.  A young fellow stopped and invited us to a dance.  We had mother hubbard dresses and couldn't fix up enough to go and father wouldn't let us.

We went through some trees and grass.  This was almost to Flagstaff (Arizona).  We reached there the next day.  We stopped here two or three days to wash and bake.  We stopped at Salt River where the Gila and Salt River meet and took the road through the Gila valley following the river.  When we got to Demming, father had ordered a large order of tools and household goods from Montgomery Wards.  We got these and in it there was a clock.  Father took a board and smoothed the ground and put the clock on the board.  Father wound the clock and the alarm.  When it went off, Ruth really backed away from it.  It was really funny!  The next morning father bought a cook stove and we set it up in the wagon to use instead of the campfire.  We went on a day or two more.  Food for the horses was getting scarce.  We came to a place where a nice pasture was fenced.  They wanted $2.50 a head to pasture our horses.  We bought baled hay and fed them cheaper.  The next day we reached El Paso, the 4th of October, 1898.  We drove into the camp corral.  We had finished supper when the man who owned the pasture drove into the camp with a load of produce.  Father drew our attention to it.  He wanted to borrow our dishpan.  Father let him take it and the next thing we saw was this man washing his head in our dishpan.  Then proceeded to also wash his feet in it!

We stayed in El Paso for two weeks before we got our things weighed up on the American side.  One of the clerks asked father how many wives he had and father answered, "Just enough to leave other men's wives alone."  We had to wait until we were cleared on the Mexican side.  We got so tired of waiting and being on the road so long.  We chartered a boxcar and put the horses in one end and took the wagons apart and put them in the other end and we traveled in the passenger cars the rest of the way to Mexico.

October 28, 1898, we reached Dublan.  Mariah Van Lueven, Father's sister lived there, and they met us.  We stayed all night with them.  Joseph Spencer had met us at El Paso and went on in to Old Mexico with us.  We had to let the car go on up to Casas Grandes.  Joseph Spencer got a Mexican to guard the car all night.  We left our dog, Old Nick, to help him guard.  The next day we went on to Galeana where Aunt Chloe Spencer lived and helped them make molasses, gather corn, and put up tomatoes.  We stayed until the 1st of December, 1898.  We went back to Dublan and lived in a tent.  Father traded a span of horses and the little fruit wagon for enough bricks to build us a house.

When the house was about half built, father went to the sawmill to get some lumber to finish the house.  While he was gone a terrible windstorm came up and blew our tent down.  Mother and the little children went to the neighbors, but we older ones gathered every scrap of lumber we could find and laid it on the sleepers to walk on.  We put the springs down in each corner to make our beds on.  That evening, Marlan Cox, Uncle Philemon's brother, put the tent over the rafters to shelter us and nailed quilts over the windows.  Father and Frederick G. Williams, who had a blacksmith shop, went in together and operated the shop for several years.  This is how we came to know Josie Johnson.

We became acquainted with everyone in Dublan. About two years later (9 Aug 1900) I married Joseph Inkley Clawson, in Calico, on the prairie.  We lived in the same house with his first wife, Catherine Cordon, seven years.  Joe, Carl and Orin were born here.  Then we got a little house of our own where Sarah was born.  We traded for a little house up by father, and Leslie and Celia were born there.

Before the war we used to go to El Paso to shop and had to pay duty on a lot of things we bought.

Uncle Lewis Cordon bought an alarm clock and put it in his pocket to bring it across the line about the time he got to the guards it began to ring.  He grabbed it and tried to shut it off.  It surely was funny!  Aunt Fanny Merrill was a big woman.  She tied a string around her waist and looped a dress length of cloth over this and brought it back without paying duty.  She was expecting a child at the time.

Joe James was out at El Paso and bought a guitar.  When he got to the customs house they asked him if it was his and he said, "Yes, do you want me to play it?"  They laughed and said, "No."

When the Mexican Revolution broke out there were battles all over, even in Cases Grande.  They got up on the house tops in Dublan and watched the battle in Cases Grande.  During this time the Mexicans, under Villa, would come and steal the riding horses or the stock out on the range.

I have stood on my door step and watched the town herds come in and see the Mexicans lasso one of the fat heifers and kill and set up a tripod and dress it.  This was done by the rebel forces.

I was so upset that I couldn't stay at home.  You would see a group of ten or twelve Mexicans ride just as hard as they could ride and I would grab the children and run for Mother's.

One day, quite a bunch came into the dooryard and demanded that we give them the peaches off the orchard.  I told them that they were green.  They got off their horses and went to see.  They said they would be back, but we moved away before they came back.

For a few months before we left, we lived in terror.  One day we saw them pass by with carloads of cannons.  The Mexicans told us that they had them placed on the south of us and also on the north.  If we didn't give up our guns they would turn the cannon on us.

Junius Romney, our Stake President, sent a proclamation for all the people to be ready at a certain time that night, about the 14th of August 1912.  We sat in readiness before dark and waited until 10 p.m.  Then someone came and told us to go to the store where everyone was to meet.  Our bedding rolls and trunks were stacked on top of each other and we sat in the rain and waited for the train to come back from Madera.  Charles and Perry were operating the telephone and would tell at what station they were.

Aunt Lizzie Cox sewed all night to make a little dress for her little girls to wear.

When the train came in we started to load our belongings on to the train.  Some of the people got in the boxcars and had their bedding to sit on and even lay on.  We got in the passenger car that had long benches going lengthwise of the cars.  They told us to get as close together as we could sit.  Then they told us to stand and to sit again.  Even then there wasn't room enough and all the boys 12 years old or older had to go to the baggage car.

Joe helped me all he could, taking care of the little ones.  It was surely a help because Celia was so unstrung that she wouldn't sleep unless I nursed her constantly.  We got so terribly tired that we couldn't hardly stand it.

Some of the men had spy glasses and could see a train of rebel soldiers following us almost to the border.  They must have gone back because we didn't see anymore of them.

We didn't encounter any opposition when we reached the river.  On the other side, or American side, they started to unload and there were automobiles waiting, and they told us to get in.  The older children had scattered among the crowd and I felt like I couldn't leave without finding them.  The men said never mind because they would end up the same place.  They took us to the lumber yard.  The city had ten gallon cans of milk and some bread and helped us for a few days.  At this time there were six children and we were given a 6 foot square in this lumberyard per family to sleep in.  We did slip out even for the convenience of a toilet.  Finally they built some toilets and necessities for us.  We were locked in this lumberyard.

The government gave us tents according to the number of the families.  We had two tents, a kitchen, and a bedroom.  Several families used the same kitchen tent.  There were long boards and benches along them for tables.

Each day the milk wagon would bring in the milk for us, and other provisions were brought to the commissary.  Thus the Government fed us in a tent city for about three months.  The Government gave them (each family) an affidavit that would take them wherever they wanted to go to build a new home.

Each morning our bedding was hung out to dry and sometimes photographers came to take pictures of tent city.  One morning when they had their cameras all set up on main street of tent city, Celia, my sister came out and hung a couple of quilts on the line and obstructed the view.  Many such funny incidents happened.  About this time they closed down tent city and we rented rooms closer to town for about two weeks.  There were fourteen of us living together.  We went over to Brother and Sister Riggs and stayed two or three weeks.  This was about November.  We decided to settle in Tucson, Arizona.  Aunt Kate lived in a room in town.  Then she went to Thatcher and stayed with Aunt Annie Clawson, (Charles Clawson's wife).

When we got ready to leave El Paso, they were colonizing a place near Tucson.  For clearing land they got half money and half went to pay for the land.  We were supposed to start early in the morning, Daddy Joe (Joseph Inkley Clawson) had sent for us to come.  Brother Riggs said "I'll go over and help Irene Cardon on the train."  Benny Riggs was to help us.  The busses usually came every twenty minutes, but on Sunday morning it only came every hour.  We missed our train.  Celia was so cross I had to hold her in my arms every minute.  We found that the next train would be a couple of hours late so we went back to Brother Riggs and ate dinner.  Daddy Joe waited for us and had a room rented for us and something to eat.  I don't know what I would have done on the train if I hadn't met a kind lady that helped with the older children because Celia wouldn't let anyone take her out of my arms.

Daddy borrowed a wagon and team and got a tent and stove and some springs and mattresses and we moved into a twelve by fourteen foot tent.  We put the springs on the floor and we lived here for almost a year.  We then moved up by Aunt Annie Price and here Helen was born.  Daddy worked on this land until they gave up the idea of making a colony there.  Christmas came and Daddy got quite a few things for us.  The next Christmas we weren't so lucky, Daddy didn't get the money he was expecting.  I had been in the store picking out a few things I wanted for the children.  The floor walker followed me all over the store so I finally went out in the buggy.  My oldest boy came by as a messenger boy and didn't speak to me.  I finally wound up crying.  Daddy delivered some eggs to a woman and she offered him a piece of pie.  He said, "Give me two pieces, I have someone out in the wagon."  She gave him a half a pie and it sure tasted good.  I was so hungry I was faint.

The next day Daddy got the money and gave me $3.00.  I had six children to buy for.  Sarah Camphouse took me to town and I got some little trinket for each of the kids.  When I got home Daddy asked me for the change.  I'm still trying to figure out whether he was joking or not.

Helen was born in October before this Christmas.  Soon after we moved over by the foothill and made a farm.

One summer while we lived there a storm came up and flooded some of the fields and homes.  It brought down many big rattlesnakes.  Some of them were six foot long.  Daddy used to go out and shoot rabbits for our meat.

One time we were all going to have Thanksgiving dinner at the church, I took Rabbit Stew.

Julia and Lola were born by the foothills.

Etta Williams took care of me when Julia was born and Elizabeth Done took care of me when Lola was born.

While we lived on the hill Aunt Stella came to visit us.  She had a mare with a colt and she left the colt home.  The horse was so anxious to get home to the colt she went so fast she threw Julia out of the back and cut her head.  Julia also pulled a pan of dishes on her head and the granite (enamel) dishpan cut open her head.  She got it infected and she was real sick.

We had lots of experiences with the rattlesnakes.  They would get in the house and everywhere.

That fall we moved over the river.  I got a loom and wove carpets and rugs to help get a little money.  The kids got more fun out of the loom room, as they called it.  Dressing up in all the old finery the city people gave me to weave into rugs.

Daddy traded some land in Mexico for some in Tucson and we farmed it.  An old Mexican planted and raised food for shares.  We raised melons, corn, sweet potatoes, and chili, which we would string and hang around the house to dry.  Big long strings of red chili.

The family lived in Tucson until about 1925. They went to school and church, worked the farm as well as other jobs in town.  They played and had picnics and other get togethers. It was a pleasant time for them. They helped build the irrigation system, as well as other community projects.

Orin writes, "One of our activities on the farm was to haul wood from the hills, saw it into firewood, and sell it. One day Father was sawing a piece of wood. It got caught in the saw and was thrown into my father's chest. This caused him to have a stroke from which he never recovered. The date he died was 20 December 1924.

After Father died, Mother wanted to go to Utah where her folks were. She took all the children who were not married to Salt Lake, except me (Orin). I stayed in Tucson to pay the debts we owed.

Part of the time, I lived with Aunt Stella Evans. The rest of the time I stayed in a room back of the ice cream plant. This was a lonely time for me."

When Lettie first moved to Salt Lake, she stayed with her sister Cecelia Durfee Tolman, wife of Judson A. Tolman. Later on she moved into a home of her own. Her later years were spent at 139 West Stratford Ave. where Erminie Clawson West (a granddaughter) remembers visiting her. She baked a wonderful rice pudding in a wood and coal burning stove. She did beautiful handwork, especially crochet. She won many blue ribbons at the state fair for her lovely tablecloths, bedspreads, curtains and doilies. Erminie remembers her enjoying a game of dominoes with her grandchildren and other visitors.

She died 9 Oct 1960 in Salt Lake City, from cancer. She is buried in Tucson beside her husband Joseph Inkley Clawson.

Italics added by Erminie West.