From Norma Gutke Ellis:
We always called her Bea. The thing that I know is that (Clyde and Gladys) were married in 1934, and see, I was born in 1924, so I was 10 years old when they married. I was really quite young when Bea died; that's what makes me think that there were a lot of years in there before he remarried. And Bea must have died around Valentine's Day.
In fact, I talked about it when we went there for Johnny's (Bea's brother-in-law) funeral, there at the cemetery, and told her (Bonnie, Bea's sister) the thing that I remember clearly... and there again, they had Bea, the viewing, in the home; they lived on State Street, I think. They were just living in a little apartment, so it was at the Olsen home that they had the viewing. And what impressed me so much, now, Bonnie was three years older (than me), you know, and what I remember is that she had made this special valentine for her sister. To me it was a gorgeous, gorgeous valentine, and she put it in the casket with Bea. And I can just see that in my mind, you know how some things in your life as you go along they're just there? I can just see that casket there with Bea, and I can see this beautiful valentine... red, kind of doily-like. It's one that she had made. But I thought how sweet, just being a little kid I thought that was really nice to do that.
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
History of Mark Jones
A PIONEER HISTORY OF MARK JONES
GIVEN TO HIS DAUGHTER ELEANOR BY HER REQUEST
SHE BEING A MEMBER OF SEGO LILY NO. 2.
Note: Mark Jones was born at Elley Green, England, December 5,1837. His father's name was Thomas Jones, and his mother's maiden name was Martha Rauth.
So far as is known Mark Jones was the only member of the family to join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, He embraced the faith in the year 1864. He was convinced of the truthfulness of the gospel by Brother William Willis, President of the Land's End branch of the church, and was baptized by Alexander Gibson November 4, 1864.
He was united in marriage to E11en Herridge in Salt Lake City on the twenty ninth of July, 1872. The ceremony was performed by Daniel H. Wells.
List of Children as entered in the Bible of Mark Jones:
Eleanor Louisa Jones born December 31, 1874.
Arthur Jones Jr. ..............May 1, 1876.
Mark Jones Jr. ...............April 7, 1879.
Laura May..................... July 28, 1881.
Edith Maud...................· December 1, 1883.
John Henry .................... September 26, 1885.
Charles William .............. January 24, 1890.
Ethel Irene .....................March 14, 1892.
I, Mark Jones joined the church in 1864 at Plymouth, England. In 1866 I sailed out of the London docks in the old ship Caroline for New York.
We were six weeks in crossing the Atlantic Ocean. One little girl was buried at sea. We arrived in New York safely.
Sailed up the river to Wyoming. Laid around there for some time getting ready to cross the plains.[1]
We buried one of the sisters before we got to Laramie. She was sick when we left Wyoming.
When we got to Fort Steele the soldiers told Captain Chipman to keep a good lookout for the Indians as they were bad. He laughed and snickered at the officers and told them he wasn't
afraid of Indians. Two or three days after this as the teamsters unhitched the cattle, after corralling the wagons, they went into a creek to drink, There was a hedge on both sides of the ditch and as fast as the cattle drank and went out on the other side of the ditch the Indians were there and drove them off.[2]on the plains. Extract from Church Chronology by A. Jenson.
They got ninety head before the teamsters found out what was going on, and that smart aleck of a Captain was asleep in his wagon all the time, Instead of doing as the soldiers and officers told him. Then instead of' having three yoke of cattle to each wagon we had two yoke, After that the crazy fool made us walk alongside of the wagons and pack·our guns.
We arrived in Salt Lake City all right. I think it was the latter part of October. There were no railroads in Utah at that time. I worked at anything I could get to do.
That winter I built five rods of a levee to carry water across a low piece of land. This I did over Jordan where I met the girl who later became my wife.
In the spring of ‘67 I ran a sawmill up in the North Mill Creek Canyon. In the following summer I sawed all the lumber that's in the tabernacle.
The spring of '68 there was a mule train going down to Laramie after freight. I asked the boss if he would let me go down to meet the Union Pacific, for I felt sure of getting employment with the company. He said I could go if I packed wood and water for the cooks, The trip was a very rough one.
When we got to Fort Steele the old emigration road was quite a little way from the railroad. I left the train and walked across to the railroad. The boys there told me I would have to
go to Laramie. That was a hundred miles farther. I went back to the mule train again. This was in an Indian country. How many times I looked behind me to see if they were after me!
got to Laramie all right. About noon I saw a man sitting beside a small tent, I told him where I was from and that I was looking for a job. When I told him I was a locomotive engineer
he said, "You are just the man I've been looking for. Do You see those engines over there on the siding? Go over there and take charge of them. See that they are coaled up and enough wood put on the tender to fire them up." I followed this a little while. Soon I was sent out on the road as they wanted more engineers. I ran two years on freight and two years on passenger trains.
I worked out at Ophir, Tooele mines all one summer with Wm. Bath prospecting. We struck a good mine. Then I got a letter from my M. M. at Laramie. He told me if I was prepared to take an engine to inform him and he would forward me a pass.
I walked from the mines to S.L. City, forty miles that day. The city clock struck twelve, midnight as I got to the City. I sent for the pass and went back to Laramie running again.
I sold my interest in the mines to Brother Pugsley of the 19th ward. I gave a hundred dollars for a new wagon to take us out to the mines.
This is a wonderful part of my life's history to look back over. I was the oldest engineer on the Utah and Northern railway. Worked for John W. Young. We got the road constructed as far as Logan and then it was blockaded with snow. I walked back to Brigham City. Later went down to Salt Lake and got a job to run a narrow gauge engine on the Wasatch and Jordan Valley Railway. Hauled passengers up to the Emma mine and hauled granite rock down for the Temple to Sandy where it was transferred to the wider gauge cars.
We moved down to Sandy to live.
Then, when the Northern road got started, I went back up there and ran on it for years.
I can't tell you on paper half of my life's history. I ran on the Utah Central and Southern and was foreman at Juab. I ran on the D.&R.G.W..
Here I am today 92 years old, alive and well, while lots of my railroad chums are dead and gone.
Well, Nellie, this is a little of my life's history but not one half of it. You may perhaps be able to glean a little out of it.
I have quit cutting lawns - going to take life easy from now on.
Note: Mark Jones was 93 years old December 5th, 1930.
He was killed by an automobile December fourteenth
1930. The accident occurred while he was on his way
to church in the Hawthorne ward, Salt Lake City.
wpd 05-11-98 by Robert C. Gutke from typed copy of Eleanor Louise Jones
[1] May 5, 1866 The ship Caroline sailed from London, England,with 389 Saints, under the presidency of Samuel Hill. It arrivedin New York June 11th, and the company continued the journey bysteamboats and railroads to Wyoming: from Church Chronology.The Caroline was evidently a sailing vessel.
[2] Sept. 15, 1866. Capt. Wm. Henry Chipman's train of immigrants,
which left Wyoming July 13th, arrived at Great Salt Lake City. About one
hundred head of cattle were stolen from this company by Indians
Eleanor Crutchfield Herridge
This is Laura Jones Gutke's grandmother, Eleanor Crutchfield Herridge (1828-1907).
Carl F. Gutke and second wife, Ella
Ella is a cousin of Laura's (Carl's first wife) - but I haven't connected the details yet to know her full name, parents, etc.
The following is from her stepdaughter, Norma Gutke Ellis:
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
Norma: Dad married Ella, it was just about a year after Mother died, and it might seem like that was awfully soon, but it was the best thing in the world, cause I was in school at that time, I was going up to Utah State, and I didn't dare stay up there on the weekends and go to any of the dances or anything like that because I knew that Dad would be here alone. So I'd come down and spend the weekend, and every time I would leave, Dad would be sitting in that same chair and he would be crying as I left. It was just awful, and I just almost everytime thought, "Well, I'll just quit. You know, I just won't go back to school." But the thing that kept me going, was I knew that Mother wanted me to go to school, so I just had to make that choice. I kept going to school. And Ella, the one that he married, was Mother's cousin. Did you know that?
Dennis: No.
Norma: She was a Herridge, I think, originally, and she was Mother's cousin, and she was a lot like Mother. And she was so sweet, and she was just a talented person. And I had said, and I mean it, that she was the person that made "stepmother" a beautiful word. It really is. She was so nice. And she was the only grandma that you kids ever knew.
Deniane: Was she married before, and did she have her own children and everything?
Norma: Yeah. She had several children, but they were all married.
Dennis: And I remember going to Grandma's after school every day before Mom got home, and she'd always feed us soft ice cream. But she's the only grandma, well, I knew Grandma Monson, but I had a personal situation with her, because she was just so sweet and so kind to go visit. She was lovely.
Norma: And she was just ... she treated me so nice, you just can't imagine how nice she treated me. She couldn't have treated her own child any better than she did me. She was always just lovely.
Deniane: So did that bring about new relationships with her children, then? I mean, did you do things together?
Norma: No, because her children were all married - they were older and married and had children, and see, I was just, I was so much younger than the others, I was such an afterthought (laughs).
Deniane: You were like an only child in a lot of ways, weren't you!
Norma: Yes. Really. And so, I really didn't... I knew them, and we used to visit them, and none of them lived in town, in Salt Lake. One of them lived up in Morgan, and that's where eventually Ella went to live after Dad died.
Christina Gutke death certificate
I don't know if her official name is Maria Christina shown elsewhere or Christina Maria as written here on the death certificate, but I assume she went by Christina. She was born 17 Dec 1858 and died of "old age" at age 87.
Mark Jones accident
"Grandpa was going to church and he was crossing 9th East, just there were his house was. It must have been fast day because he had his tithing in his pocket and he was off to church. And the fellow who hit him, I don't know if he was in the bishopric of that ward, or if he was in the bishopric of some ward, he'd been skiing, (chuckles) and I guess he was rushing home to get to sacrament meeting... Oh, he (Grandpa) was 93 years old."
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
Viola and Violet Shoenfeld
This photo was among Gladys Gutke's things. I never knew how these cute twins fit until I stumbled across the relationship through LDS Family Search. If I got it all sorted right they are Carl F. Gutke's nieces on his wife Laura Jones' side. Their parents are John E. Schoenfeld and Eleanor Louisa Jones (who is Laura Jones' sister). Their info is Viola Schoenfeld Smith (1907-1992) and Violet Schoenfeld Ludlow (1907-1987) according to LDS Family Search info (not personally verified).
Laura Jones Gutke and sister Ethel
I have in my records that this is Laura Jones Gutke (in the back) with her sister Ethel Irene Mills (1892-1971).
Christina Gutke emigration
Here is a possibility for our Christina Gutke coming to the U.S.
First name: CHRISTINE
Last name: GUTKE
Age: 21 Gender: K (kvinna = woman)
Parish: BÄCKEFORS (where she lived before she emigrated) County: P (Älvsborg)
Port: GÖTEBORG
Date: 1881 07 01 (date of registering with the police to leave Sweden)
Destination: NEW YORK
Fellows: NEJ (Nej = no. She traveled alone on her ticket.)
Source: 18:20:13856
Emihamn database of CD Emigranten (the Emigrant CD) referred to on this site:
http://boards.ancestry.com/localities.scan-balt.sweden.general/10744.1/mb.ashx
http://boards.ancestry.com/localities.scan-balt.sweden.general/10744.1/mb.ashx
Carl F. Gutke - school and work
"Because Dad was the oldest in his family, he had to go to work at a very early age. I think he went through the eighth grade. I think that was all that Mother did, too was went through the eighth grade, and that's just the way it was then. After that you went to work. And since Dad was the oldest, he had to go to work to help take care of the rest of the family.
I think he just started at the railroad and just stayed there and worked his way up. He was a boilermaker, a boilermaker foreman, I think."
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
I think he just started at the railroad and just stayed there and worked his way up. He was a boilermaker, a boilermaker foreman, I think."
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
"I'll tell you something about Grandma (Jones). I just loved Grandma. And in all the pictures we have of her, she looked very stern. But that's because that's the way they always took the pictures! (They had to hold still for so long) and they couldn't smile, you know, and they always looked stern. But she was not that way at all. She was just a darling person.
When she died, it was at the time they used to always, instead of going to a funeral home, they always had the deceased at the home. And I can remember it so clearly, because she was the first one that I had ever seen in my life, you know. I was little. I think I was probably four years old when she died. This is my very first memory in my life, was of them going there to the viewing of Grandma. And I could not see in the casket, because it was a lot higher than I was.
So, Dad wanted me to see Grandma, and I didn't know what was going on, so he picked me up and he held me over the casket, and I just have such a memory of that, and it just frightened me to death. It just absolutely scared me to death, and I cried and cried, and Mother said that I couldn't sleep at night, I'd wake up crying and uh, it was just the trauma of it, you know, of the whole thing.
A few days after Grandma had died, and I'll cry when I tell you this, but Mother and I went in to the house, and Mother was cleaning the house for Grandpa. And uh, there was a little pantry that was just off of the ... well, it was a kind of a sitting room and where they ate and everything, you know, it was kind of all-in-one with a little pot-bellied stove there. And Mother was in this pantry, and she was standing up on a chair, and she was cleaning out the pantry. And I was sitting there in this room, and uh, I was sitting on the floor on a braided rug with this leather chair—I had my paper dolls all out in the chair,
I looked up, and Grandma was sitting there at the table. And she just smiled at me, you know. And I didn't -- I thought that was fine, and I said, "Mama, Grandma's here."
Well, poor Mother, she just about fell off her chair. But to me it was fine! I mean, Grandma was there, and she was alright, and she was smiling at me! And uh, so, Mother of course, came rushing into the room, and by then Grandma had gone. But that was just Grandma's way of telling me, it's okay, you know. "I'm still alive, there's life after death." And I'm sure that's why she did it.
Mother said after that I never had any problems sleeping.
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
Blown glass paper weights
Every time that we would go to Grandma's (Maria Christina Andersson Gutke), she had this fireplace and the mantel on top. And she had these paper weights on there, and I just loved them from the time I was little. And of course, I couldn't touch them, so when I got a little bit older Dad would sit me on a rug in front of the fireplace, and then he would reach up and get one and put it in my lap so I could look at it. And so, when the time came with Grandma, she ended up giving them to me. And the rest of the family have hated me forever. (chuckle)
I'm not positive, but I have always felt that ... assumed that ... they came from Sweden. It's a paperweight. They're heavy.
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
Swedish influences
Grandma was cute. She was really interesting. Grandpa, was ... dapper, very dapper. I think he went on several missions, and he evidently spoke English very well, but Grandma, she couldn't lose that Swedish "touch" and she said a lot of really interesting things. People didn't "eat," they "ett" was one of them. And "wind-der", she said. And my dad always said "Wind-der" instead of window. There were a lot of these little things that were passed down.
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
Norma Gutke's birth
Mother was at home in labor with me, and Dad and the five boys were all dressed to go to Grandpa's funeral. My dad didn't have all the patience in the world (Norma laughs), and I can remember Mother saying that Dad was pacing up and down, you know, "Let's get this over with, let's get this kid here." Evidently, I was, you know, just taking my time about the whole thing. And finally--Dr. Sheraniun was the doctor there, taking care of things--finally I was born, so Dad and the five boys whoosh, went off to the funeral. But you know, I always felt close to Grandpa. And I think our spirits passed in the night as we were going.
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
Dorothy Gutke
What happened to Dorothy and how old was she?
From an interview with Norma Gutke Ellis at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah on 9/25/2005. Interviewed by Dennis Gutke, Norma's nephew, and Dennis's daughter, Deniane Gutke Kartchner.
Laura Gutke, RS presidency
Jack and Kate Gutke marriage announcement
"Mr and Mrs. Charles Davis announce the marriage of their daughter Kate and Jack Gutke son of Mr and Mrs. C. F Gutke Thursday in the Salt Lake Temple"
Laura Gutke captain of Twin Peaks Camp, D.U.P.
1939-11-09
"Members of Twin Peaks Camp, Daughters of the Pioneers, met Thursday afternoon at the home
of Mrs. Carl Gutke on Holladay Boulevard. A very interesting lesson on Denmark was given by Gerda Bejer of Copenhagen who has been visiting in Salt Lake recently. Assisting hostesses included Mrs. Jane Bowers, Mrs. Carolyn Neff and Mrs. Mary ?owlton."
"Mrs. Clyde Gutke entertained Thursday afternoon for members of her Five Hundred club."
"Twin Peaks Camp, D. U. P., entertained forty-five guests at their old fashioned Christmas party last Thursday. Mrs. Josephine Driggs, Mrs. Laura Gutke, and Mrs. Bertha Newman are captains."
History of the
CARL F. GUTKE and
LAURA JONES GUTKE
family
MEMORIES RECALLED BY THEIR SON,
WILLARD E. GUTKE
INTRODUCTION
By Norma Gutke Ellis
I have transcribed the following memories from tapes my brother, Willard Gutke, recorded
at different times. Wid doesn't give the dates of the various recordings, but in one he indicates I was the Relief Society President at the time, which would make it between 1978 and 1981. Another tape must have been recorded in 1984, close to the time of his death, because he mentions celebrating his and Lucile's 50' wedding anniversary. Their anniversary was on April 18, 1984 and Wid died a few months later on September 27th of that year. I received these tapes from my sister‑in‑law, Lucile Carlisle Gutke, when she was going through her things in preparation to selling their family home on Holladay Blvd.
A few days before Wid died, I sat by his bedside and he repeated this Arizona history to me in great detail. I know it is something he would like to have passed down to future generations Wid had a terrific memory‑‑and is the only one who could pass on these wonderful happenings. Through my tears I have typed it just as he spoke (it is wonderful to hear his voice again!) ‑‑however, in spots where I could give an update or fill in dates from my genealogy records‑‑Wid was doing it all from memory‑‑I have sometimes added a date or a note in parenthesis, sometimes with my initials "Nge" following it
Signed/Norma Gutke Ellis
[Note: This information was converted to a “Word Perfect Document” (wpg) by Robert C. Gutke in April, 2001 with additional notes or corrections followed by Rcg].
Chapter 1
I am recording this for my daughter Joyce, my son Harvey, my grandchildren, and for all other members of the Gutke family who are interested in their heritage. On the Gutke side, Dad's[1]father was Anders Fredrik Gutke. He was born in Sweden[2], and he married a girl from Sweden.[3] They came to Salt Lake City in the 1800's.[4] They came here because of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter‑day Saints.[5]
Mother's[6] parents were Mark Jones and Ellen Herridge Jones and they were both born in England.[7] Grandpa Jones was an engineer on the railroad in England, and they, too, came to Salt Lake because of the Church in the 1800's. Grandpa Jones crossed the plains as a pioneer [and arrived in Salt Lake City in 1866]. How long this trip from the east to Salt Lake City took I don't know, but they were on the road crossing the plains for many months.[8]
Dad's parents and Mother's parents both lived in Center Ward[9], here in Salt Lake City. They were both raised out there. They grew up together and both went to the same school. They married one another in the LDS Temple in Salt Lake City [June 5, 1901. Dad was twenty‑two and Mother was nineteen].
Douglas, Arizona
Dad served his time at the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad and soon after he was out of his time as a boiler maker he was called to Douglas, Arizona to be the foreman at the C&A Smelter.[10] A man by the name of Conroy was the superintendent at that time and there was also another man by the name of Stalker that I have heard Dad talk about, and both of these men were in Douglas.
So Dad went down to Douglas, Arizona to be foreman of the C & A Smelter and as I remember it he worked there for three or four months to try out the job before he sent for Mother He lived in the Gatson[11] Hotel. I remember him saying that‑‑and then he sent for Mother. At that time they had two children, Thelma and Clyde. They were both born in Salt Lake City before they went to Arizona. Soon after they arrived in Douglas, Arizona my brother, Carl, was born [Carl was born on February 17, 1906]. I don't remember just exactly where he was born there, but I do remember that he was born in Douglas. I, Willard, was born there in Douglas, too, and so was Harold, Jack and Dorothy.
I remember the old home we lived in on 15'" Street and "A" Avenue right across from the school house. The first house we lived in when I was born was on 15" Street and "C" Avenue, right across from the school house, but a little later on Dad bought this home up by the schoolhouse. It was a nice home in those days and we enjoyed living there very much.
Dad's father, Frederick [Fredrik Rcg] Gutke, worked there for Dad, or in the same shop. He was a blacksmith and he was down in Douglas because he lived with us for a while, then Dad built a little home in back of ours, just a little two room shack. I remember that, and Grandpa stayed out there.
Uncle Frank [Dad's brother] also worked down there at the smelter. I don't know how long Uncle Frank was down there, but I've heard him tell many things that happened when he was there. Down in Douglas they would have lots of cars and circuses. He was telling how on a payday when the Mexicans would get their checks they would cash them and they would go to these carnivals and play those gambling devices where they could win blankets and dolls and things like that, and I've heard Dad tell that they would spend their whole checks on that kind of junk and Dad would go down there and try to stop them. I've heard Uncle Frank tell the same thing, how the Mexicans would buy all of those trinkets and play all of those games trying to win different things and end up with no money to live on.
I remember many things that happened in Douglas while we were there. We had three burros for Clyde, Carl, myself and Harold. Clyde and Carl would ride one and myself and Harold another one. Jack was just a baby. The army camp was about a mile and a half from where we lived.
I remember once when they had a big doings out to the Army Camp there and General
Pershing was there and they were trying to put on a big show for him. Dad took all of us kids out
there. They had these big armory tanks and they had a lot of adobe houses out in the field and these big tanks would run into the house, go in one side and you could see the adobes fall and then pretty soon you'd see the roof of the house fall and the tank would come out of the other side. They had an awfully lot of power. In those days they had a lot of planes flying around there. They were the two wing type, the type they used in World War I. We spent a lot of time out to the Armory Camp. As I said, the soldiers would let us go in the swimming pool and we would swim for hours at a time and they would also feed us. Then we would get on our burrows and go back home.
But, anyway, I remember one other time we were out to the army camp‑‑Clyde, Carl and
myself. I don't think Harold was there, he might have been, but anyway we were walking from the army camp back to our home and we were walking along the sidewalk. All the cars in those days were open air cars. They didn't have windows, they had ising (sp?) glass that you could put on the sides. I don't even know if they had ising glass in those days, but anyway this fellow passed us going towards Douglas in his car. We were all chewing gum, but Clyde rolled his gum up and threw it at the fellow driving and it hit him along the side of his face. Well, he slapped on his brakes and came back after us. We all ran, but Clyde and I went on the wrong side of the house and there was a fence across the back and we couldn't get over it. We started up over the fence, but the fellow caught up with us and pulled us down and he took us to jail. I remember that. He took us right into the main part of Douglas and put us in jail. I remember sitting there in the jail and he went to try to call Dad to find out what he should do with us. But, he never did get in touch with Dad. And after we were there for a couple of hours he turned us loose. And as we got down on "G" Avenue and Main Street there was Carl standing in front of the Phelps Dodge Store. And so we went home. We never heard anything about it, so Dad must not have heard about it or he would have given us heck.
The house where I was born was on 16" Street and about "D" Avenue. I remember the morning that my mother took me over to the school house‑‑it was only a block away. Across the
street from us was a little girl that I used to play with by the name of Helen McNaulty She was the same age as I was and started school the same morning as I did. I remember Mother taking us by our hands to go to school. I remember that I was crying most of the way, and so was Helen. But, I guess we both got used to the school 'cause we both went there for a while and then Dad bought a home up on "A” Avenue and 15th Street and the new school house had been built just across the street from us, just east of us, across the street‑‑and this is where I went to school until I was 10 years old.
Arizona was a nice place. The weather was nice. I remember only once when we had snow in the winter. It lasted only about a half an hour. The kids went crazy.
I remember how the wind used to blow in Douglas. There was always wind in March‑‑well, even throughout a lot of the months-‑the wind would blow hard and we had big kites. We were just young kids at that time. I guess Harold was six and I was eight‑‑something like that. But, the kites were as tall as we were. We would fly them with top string, and lots of times we would get them so high in the air that we could hardly see them. Then we would send notes up to the kite by tearing a little hole in a piece of paper and slipping it over the string, the top string and the wind would blow and you could watch the note. It would go up as far as you could see it.
I remember thus one day we were flying kites and Harold got in a fight with a little Mexican kid. I don't know what it was all about, but he was beating the devil out of the little Mexican. We were all standing there watching and the little Mexican kid threw up his arm to protect his face and he happened to hit Hank in the nose and that was the end of the fight. Hank went home crying.
Us kids used to go to the Negro Chapel sometimes and listen to them pray and preach and holler and yell. We also used to go down to the Holy Rollers. They'd let us into the meetings.
When they say "Holy Rollers" that's just what they mean. They would roll around on the stage.
Hank can verify this. We have watched them many times on a Saturday night. We would go down to their chapel and they would let us take a back seat and we would listen to their services, the praying and yelling and the rolling around on the stage. As kids we really got a kick out of this.
I remember we used to go to shows down there. Every Saturday they would have a show and then the next week they would have a continuation of that show. They had the Lion Man and the Black Rider and several like that. They were called "serials" and we would do anything to get in the theater to watch them. I remember on many occasions I have cried and cried to try to get a dime out of Mother. She wouldn't give us a dime at first, but after we cried long enough she gave us a dime to get rid of us. I can remember many times when Clyde and Carl and myself and Harold and two or three of the Mexican boys would go down to the theater. They had a door on the outside of the theater it was a double door. They had outside doors and inside doors. The outside doors were up maybe a foot off the ground. We would get together and rake up a dime between us and we would send one of the boys in and he would sit over by these doors and when it was dark he would reach up and open the inside doors and they would swing in and then there were only the outside doors and they were up about a foot where we could crawl under, and this we did. They would go in and open the door and then we would crawl under the other doors, crawl along the aisle, and finally get up and sit in the seat and watch the show. But, I remember one day when we were doing this, I went under the door and was crawling along just ready to raise up and sit on the seat and somebody put his foot on my head and held me down, and it was the manager. He threw the whole bunch of us out that day!
Mostly it was hot in Douglas. In the summertime it was always around 100 degrees or more. In those days we didn't have air conditioning. We didn't even have electricity in the house. I remember we had to build fires to cook. I remember our old washing machine. It had a stick on top of it and us boys would take turns pushing that stick back and forth to rotate the washing machine so the clothes could be washed. We would carry the water from the tap and put it into the washing machine for Mother, and she would wash the clothes and hang them outside on the line. Now, this was the way we lived in those days. I remember Dad sent to Sears & Roebuck, or Montgomery Ward, I can't remember which, and he bought a phonograph player about five feet high that played records. He had maybe 10 or 15 records. We would sit by the hour and play those records. You would have to wind the phonograph up. I believe even today my brother, Jack, has that phonograph. I remember, too, that we didn't have much fruit down in that country and Dad used to send to Oregon and buy a whole bushel of apples in a box. I can remember the day that they would come‑‑they were all wrapped in paper and we thought that we were millionaires when we got these apples.
When it would storm in Arizona the rain would come down by the buckets-full. I have never seen rain come down like that in all my life. About a half hour after the rainstorm the water from the mountains, just little foothills about 20 miles from our place, would come down in ditches and it would come so fast that we could sit in a wash tub out in the gutter and it would take us down for two or three blocks and then we would get out of the tub, bring the tub back and get in the stream and float down again.
I remember once during an electrical storm, when my brother, Harold and Glen Golding, wanted to go out to the pump house and play. There was sort of a merry‑go‑round out there. You
could get on the merry‑go‑round and hold onto a pipe and kind of run and the merry‑go‑round would turn and you could ride on it. When we visited Douglas sixty years later the pump house and the merry‑go‑round were still there and looked the same to me . Well, as I was saying, Harold and Glen wanted to go out to the pump house and Mother wouldn't let Harold go because it looked like it was going to storm. Mother was always afraid of lightning in that country, and with good reason. It used to scare me too. Right after the storm started and Glen was still out at the pump house, Harold and I were sitting on Mother's lap looking out the window and it was raining pretty hard. We saw Glen Golding coming from the pump house. He was on the run and I think Harold will remember this. He got almost to our house across the street and the lightning hit the pole, went down the pole and it knocked him down and it knocked me and Harold off Mother's lap. There was a loud clap of thunder that scared the devil out of us. We ran across the road to where Glen was, he didn't get up. When we got there I remember his eyes were flickering and he was unconscious. Mother called someone, I don't know who it was, but they came and picked him up and took him home, but he never regained consciousness‑‑he died on the way home. And so, Harold was a lucky guy that day for not going with him out to the pump house.
I remember when Dad used to go out by the Slaughters Ranch hunting. There were three or four fellows from the C & A Smelter that would go hunting on the weekend. They would usually stay one night and come back the next day, and I think Harold will remember this. They would bring back apple boxes full of cottontail rabbits and quail and I can remember helping to clean these rabbits when I was just a little kid.
I remember the little ward house that was out there in the sage brush. How we used to go
there on Sunday to Sunday School and then go to Sacrament Meeting and come home and have
lunch. I can remember the missionaries coming to our home and I remember the good times that we had in those days.
Now, Dad and Mother both held positions in the Church. Dad was the Presiding Elder over the Douglas Branch of the Church, Mother was Relief Society President and my sister, Thelma, was the organist after she became a teenager [Note: Thelma never had piano lessons She played by ear and everyone said she played beautifully Nge].
I can remember going with Dad many times to clean out the ward house on a Saturday afternoon. Sometimes we would move the chairs off of the stage, move the stage back and they had a font built underneath the stage where we would put water in it. It was maybe five feet square and five feet deep, and they would fill it with water, and this is where they would baptize all the new members. It was in here that I was baptized at the age of 8.
I remember when school was out in the summer time how we would go around to the houses there in Douglas, our neighbors, most of the fellows worked with Dad at the C & A Smelter, and there were eight or ten cows that I knew of, we used to go and get these cows every morning in the summer time and take them out about a mile to a pasture, and there we would stay all day with these cows and I believe the men would pay us maybe $3.00 a month‑‑it wasn't very much. We would take the cows out in the pasture and we would watch them all day long. They didn't have fences. We would have to keep our eyes on them to keep them from going home.
I remember that we would shoot the potguts there. There were lots of potguts in Douglas and lizards. Each of us had a flipper in our back pockets all the time we were in Douglas. We used to kill potguts and lizards. The lizards in Arizona would grow to be about six inches long. I have killed them by the thousands. I know Hank and I would get up in the morning early and go out by the school house, cross the street to the school house and then a; little bit north and there were a lot of mesquite bushes out there. We would shoot the lizards. We would go up to the mesquite bush, you could see the lizards. We would kind of kick the bush and the lizards would run from one bush to another and sometimes they would stop before they got to the other bush and they would kinda raise up on their front legs and that's when we would shoot. I know that I have killed them by the thousands in those days because we spent most of our time in the summer just shooting lizards and potguts.
At night, after we had herded the cows, we would take them back to their owners and put them in their corrals, and then on weekdays I can remember that we used to cut the lawns for some of the people there in Douglas. I believe they would pay us 50 cents to cut their lawns. Sometimes it would take us two or three hours. Sometimes we'd have to have two boys on the mower to push it. I can remember that.
I remember when Carl worked at Kresses Store. Carl was only 12. Well, he must have been younger than 12, because he was only 12 when he left Douglas. He did work in Kresses helping them stock the shelves. I don't know exactly what he was doing, but he did work at Kresses and us kids, Clyde and myself and Harold, would go to the back of the store and Carl would throw things out of the window to us. Mouth organs, I remember little mouth organs that would cost ten cents, a roll of tape, and flash lights and batteries, and little articles like that he would throw out the window to us. But, they caught him, and they gave him the devil, and as I remember it they fired him.
Oh, we had a good tune in Douglas, but I never will forget the way we used to go when they would have a wedding. The kids would go and shivery. We would get tubs and pans and a stick and we would go to the wedding when they were having the reception and we would stand around the house on the outside and beat these tins and holler and yell. Rather than put up with the noise they would always come out and give us two or three dollars to get rid of us, and then we would go downtown and buy candy or go in the Ice Cream Parlor and have ice cream. I can remember this and I can remember when we used to come out of the theater and in the day time we would go into the drugstore. We were mean little devils in those days. We never did anything too bad, but I remember when we used to go in the drugstore and they had girls there who would serve us. They would sit at these little ice cream tables, I think you have seen them, with the steel legs and round tops and pretty chairs. We would sit there and usually order a nut sundae and we would eat the nut sundae, and just before the girl would bring us our ticket we would sneak out the back door, and they never did catch us. We did that several times that I can remember and we never did get caught at it. Well, we grew up to be good citizens even though we were raised in Douglas.
Well, my Mother and Dad lived in Douglas for quite a few years‑‑I believe maybe 15 or 20. Mother wanted to come back to see her parents and others, and also to get out of the heat. Us kids didn't notice the heat, in fact we kinda enjoyed the hot weather. Mother had finally convinced Dad that she wanted to spend the rest of her life in Salt Lake. He didn't want to come back because he was afraid he couldn't find work. We did move back, and I remember the night Dad put us on the train. Mother, Clyde, myself, Harold, Jack and Dorothy. Dad got on the train and he kissed us all goodbye. Carl and Thelma stayed with Dad down in Douglas. They were all working down there and they were coming in one month. Thelma was promised a $150.00 bonus if she would stay a few more weeks. Dad had three homes in Douglas. He was going to stay for two or three months to settle up some of his business and then he was coming to Salt Lake. But, anyway I remember that night at the old depot in Douglas when he put us on the train and kissed us goodbye. We traveled, I believe, two days from Douglas. I remember the train stopped in Colton, California. Mother sent me over to buy some cherries. Just before we got to Salt Lake City I remember that I stuck my head out of the window to see the locomotive and I got a hot cinder in my eye and I was in misery then until we got home and we had to go to an eye specialist for him to take it out of my eye. We arrived in Salt Lake City and we rented a home on Harrison Avenue and 81" East. I remember it was right across from the ball park and just one block from Liberty Park and 1 can remember how we used to go over there and play while we lived there.
We were there just one week to the day when we received a telegram from my father in
Douglas saying that my sister Thelma [17 years of age] had been shot and killed on the street in
Douglas, right by our home [Note: I can remember in later years Mother and Aunt Ethel telling me about it. Dad had the telegram sent to Aunt Ethel. Mother's sister Aunt Ethel and Uncle Bill lived at 1357 Lincoln Street. Aunt Ethel, with telegram in hand, walked down to the home Mother was renting on Harrison to give the sad news to her Nge]. The fellow who killed Thelma worked at the Phelps Dodge Store with her. He had accompanied Thelma and her girl friend to a show after work that night. They walked the girl friend home. As they were nearing our home, Thelma turned and ran from him. He shot her in the back three times, killing her. He then shot himself. He had been upset that Thelma was moving back to Salt Lake. He was trying to talk her into staying there and marrying him. Evidently that night she had made it clear to him that she did not love him. They had Thelma's viewing at Aunt Julia's house, up on the avenues. I remember her funeral and that she was buried in the Salt Lake City cemetery. [Note: I am enclosing copies of two newspaper articles ‑‑ one from the Douglas paper and one from the Salt Lake City paper. I can remember an old trunk down the basement at our home on Holladay Blvd. As a child I would go down and open it and carefully look at the contents. The beautiful pink summery dress that Thelma was wearing, when she was killed, with the bullet holes in the back. Also her shoes and everything she was wearing at the time of the murder. I have often wondered what happened to that trunk and its contents. Thelma Laura Gutke was born on January 1, 1903 and died on June 28, 1920. She was a beautiful girl‑‑very vivacious and talented She had many friends and was loved by young and old alike. I am enclosing a copy of a letter she wrote to Mother just a few days before she died It gives a glimpse of her fun loving personality. I also have a transcript of her funeral services, if anyone is interested in reading it. Nge]
Soon after the burial‑‑maybe the next day or two‑‑my Dad and Uncle Frank (Dad's brother) got in Uncle Frank’s car‑‑and they drove down to Benjamin, Payson, Provo and all through that country looking for a farm. Well, they didn't find anything there and they drove back because Dad couldn't find what he wanted. On the way back they took the old Wasatch Blvd. Road and they came along Holladay Blvd. As they passed a home owned by Mrs. Dahl they noticed a sign out on the fence that said, "HOME FOR SALE". They stopped and Dad went in and talked to Mrs Dahl. I remember Dad telling us all about this six and a half acres of ground and the five room brick home. She wanted $6,000.00 for all this. Well, Dad thought about it for a day or so and then he came back out to Holladay and gave Mrs. Dahl $2,000 00 down on the home and he told her that he had to go back to Douglas and sell his three homes and as soon as he sold them he would pay her the remaining $4,000.00. Well, Mrs. Dahl moved in with some of her daughters and Dad came to the house we were renting on Harrison Avenue and moved us all out into this farm house on Holladay Blvd. I remember Dad telling me about coming back from Arizona with the $4,000.00 to pay Mrs Dahl. She didn't want to take it. She thought Dad wouldn't be able to get the $4,000.00 and she would get the farm back. But, he had the money, and she had to sign over the deed. Well, that's how we came to be in Holladav.
I remember coming out to the farm with Dad once while Mrs Dahl was still there. She was going to show us how to water the garden and the orchard. We turned the water into the orchard and the water went into a gopher hole. Mrs Dahl and I were standing there and a little gopher came up, almost downed. She was a German lady with quite an accent. She said, "Put him on the head mit the shovel". We killed the gopher [or he died of fright Nge].
None of the homes in Holladay had electricity at that time. We used kerosene lamps. We
didn't have water in the house and the toilet (outhouse) was down back of the barn, 150 feet from
the house. I remember on cold nights 1 would have to get up in the middle of the night and go to the bathroom back of the old barn‑‑the whole family had to. Dad built a room on the back of the house. He had windows in it, but it didn't have glass‑‑just screen. Us five boys spent the whole winter in there without glass in the windows. I remember how Mother used to heat the bricks in the old kitchen stove and she would bring them out and put them in the beds to get the beds warm and then we would run out and get in bed and we would all kick for about ten minutes to get the beds warm. Clyde and Carl slept in one bed and Harold and myself and Jack slept in the other. I remember that well. We were healthy little guys in those days. But talk about pollution in the water now. We were awfully healthy and we used to take our water out of an old ditch up by Steve McDonalds, the old canal, and bring it down the old dirty ditch and put it in a cistern. The cistern was a cement tank, maybe 10 feet square and 10 feet deep. We would fill this cistern with water. It was dirty water when it went into the cistern, but after it was in there for a few days it would settle and come down to the house clear. We would drink this water, we would use it for our baths, we would use it for our washing and everything [My brother, Jack, remembers having to go up to the cistern from time to time to clear the dead rats out of the bottom of the cistern Yuckl Nge]. That's the way we lived, without city water. We didn't have water in the house, but we got by. I remember in the winter times when it was cold and we had to put tubs on our sleighs and go up to John Baldwins on the corner of our property. We used to take the cover off the cistern and dip buckets down in to get water because the water was frozen down home and that was the only water we had to drink.
Later on, Dad built a kitchen on at the back of the house and years later built a new bathroom inside He enjoyed remodeling the house and was good at it. After buying the home in Holladay, Dad went back down to Douglas to finish up his business and sell his homes. I can't remember how long he was there‑‑probably a year or two. A year and a half after Thelma was killed, my little sister Dorothy became very ill with whooping cough and pneumonia. They sent a telegram to Dad to come home because she was very seriously ill. He had only been home a day or two when Dorothy died and was buried next to my sister, Thelma, in the Salt Lake City Cemetery. [Note: I can remember Mother and Dad telling me, when I was old enough to understand, just how devastating it was to lose their two daughters within eighteen months of one another. They said the only way they kept their sanity was though their faith in God and by having the assurance that Thelma and Dorothy were together. I only wish I had written down the experiences they passed on to me. Experiences‑several times‑‑when Thelma and Dorothy appeared to them to tell them not to grieve‑‑that all was well. At one time there was another personage with them‑‑a woman they did not recognize. I am enclosing a copy of a letter Mother wrote to her friend, Suzie Butler, after Thelma's death. She expresses her thoughts so beautifully. Dorothy Ellen Gutke was born June 17, 1917 and died on December 20, 1921 at the age of four. She was an adorable little girl with curly blonde hair. I remember Mother saying that when they realized Dorothy would probably not live until Christmas, they gave her Christmas presents early and she was buried with her teddy bear. My brother, Jack, remembers that she looked like a beautiful doll in the casket. He says he will never forget that just before the casket was closed someone from the mortuary picked her up and placed her in Mother's arms. Mother sat and cradled her in her arms about five minutes before she was placed back in the casket. Nge]
Well, that was all the girls in the family, and the doctor told Mother she would be unable to have another child. But she did have another one, three years after Dorothy died, and it was a girl. That was my sister, Norma. I guess we spoiled Norma pretty bad, five boys and one girl‑‑but she turned out to be okay [No comment. Nge]. She is now Relief Society President in her Ward here in Holladay and we see her often. She married Danny Ellis and they have three sons and one daughter. Randy, Scott, Bart and Laura‑‑named after Mother. [Note: And I have enjoyed every minute of the spoiling. No girl ever had a nicer bunch of brothers than I have had, or a nicer husband. He has continued to spoil me now for almost fifty years. Lucile recalls that the first time she went out on a date with Wid he said, "I've got to stop to get something to take home to Nooksie" She said, "Who in the world is Nooksie?" He said, "That's my little sister I always bring a present home to her". Hank's wife, Laurel, tells me that she learned how to raise her kids by mother's example with me. She says Mother would let me cry for days and then give me what I was crying for, and Laurel said she decided to give her kids what they wanted right away and save all the bawling. Nge]
Well, we lived that way for years and then the city water came along and we piped it into the house. The electricity came along and we got that into the house and we had lights. Before the lights we bought an Atwater Kent radio. We had to operate this radio with a battery and once in a while we'd take the battery over and have it charged. Later on we did get an electric radio that we could plug into the socket and we could hear everything. We'd get the news reports, the weather and all of that. We'd get radio shows at night‑‑Amos and Andy‑‑and others that we could listen to. Later on Dad did have a television‑‑this was years later. [Note: Mother died January 25, 1947, and didn't live to see television There was talk of television at that time, but none of us had seen it. I remember Mother saying that television would be the most wonderful thing in the world and how she would love to live to see it. The first television I saw was, I believe, in 1949 or 1950, after Dan and I were married. Dad thoroughly enjoyed watching television‑‑the wrestling
matches being his very favorite in the early years of television there would be a test pattern come
on television before the regular programing would begin Dad would sit with his eyes glued to the
set even though it was just the test pattern He always sat in a platform rocker to watch television
When the wresting matches were on he'd get so carried away he'd stand up, holding on to the arms of the rocker and lilt the chair up in the air with him, eventually pulling the arms off. He went through more platform rockers that way! Nge] [I was old enough to remember Grandpa’s first TV set. It was an new Stromberg Carlson set with a picture tube that was flat on the top and bottom and was round on the sides. It was about 9 inches wide. Grandpa would really get excited during the wrestling matches and it would scare my cousin Darrell and I and we would leave when they came on. TV programing only came on at night and I would go over to Grandpa’s house to watch TV because we never had one when I was young. I would watch Kukla, Fran and Ollie, a puppet show, and Flash Gordon and a few other programs. Grandpa was also the first one in our neighborhood to get a color TV set later when they were made. Rcg]
After we were grown, Dad gave each of us boys a lot on the 6 1/2 acres of ground. My home was the closest to Dad's, next to mine was Harold's, then Jack's and then Clyde's. We all built nice homes, but Harold and Jack moved out later on and they bought homes elsewhere. My brother, Carl, was married at that time and he didn't want to build in Holladay‑‑he wanted to move to California. So he and his wife, Marge, and their daughter, Bonnie, moved to California. So I bought part of Carl's property and Jack bought part. That’s why our property is a little bit wider than the rest. Dowsett and Belnap built my home almost fifty years ago. We have lived here for 50 years. Soon, in April, it will be our fiftieth wedding anniversary [Note: This tape was evidently dictated in 1984, the year Wid died. He and Lucille celebrated their 50" Wedding Anniversary in April and Wid died in September Nge]
I was going to say that when Dad came here from Douglas, Arizona, he said he was afraid he would not be able to find work. He was only here two days and they called him up from the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad and wanted him to be foreman of the boiler makers at the Rio Grande. From then on us boys, one at a time started working there until all five of us served our time at the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad. We enjoyed Holladay a lot. I remember some of the old time Holladay people. When we first moved here the first home south of us was Earl Wayman's home, a big two story home, it's still there, right across from the ward house [Note: It was just torn down last year‑‑April, 1997‑‑hated to see it go! Nge] Steve McDonald's was about two blocks east of us. George Strike was one block north, up on the hill and Ben Eldredge lived about a block and a half north of us on Holladay Blvd. He lived right where the Cottonwood Elementary School now stands. There was Rube Newman, I used to work for him and Mirandy, and there was Joe Newman and his wife, Bertha. And there was Charlie and Bertha Wright.
I remember when one of Charlie and Bertha Wright's sons (Lee) was killed in a cave‑in. Leo was just a kid (about 11 years old) and he and some others were making a club house for themselves by digging out a cave in the side of the mountain in back of Earl Waymans. The bank caved in and by the time they got him out he was dead. [Note: I also remember this I was just a little girl and was in a Relief Society meeting with Mother over at the old Holladay Ward on the Murray/Holladay Road when they announced what had happened. We immediately left and went over to the Wayman home where the family had gathered. Nge].
I remember a lot of things that happened here in Holladay. I remember the old Hi Nielsen store. That's where he used to trade from Hi Nielsen. Later on we traded with Erin Howard down on Highland Drive I remember when we were going to school we used to go up to Hi Nielsen's store and charge our lunch. We would usually buy two cinnamon rolls. Two cinnamon rolls in those days were a dime. A "horse cake" as we called it, was a nickel That's the way we lived in those days‑‑we bought our lunch most of the time. We charged it and then at the end of the month Dad paid the bill. I remember my father's new cars.[12] [13]
You could buy a new car back then for six or seven hundred dollars. I remember in the winter
time it was so cold that the motor wouldn't turn over We had to go and get the coals out of the
kitchen stove and put them under the oil pan in order to start the car. In those days we all worked
down at the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad. I served my time at the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad and so did Clyde, Carl, Harold and Jack. We were all mechanics. Clyde, Carl and Jack were boiler makers and my brother Harold and myself learned the trade of machinists. When we got out of our time as machinists we married‑‑all of us married. Clyde went out to Kennecott to work and so did Carl. Jack also went to Kennecott, but Harold and I went over to the Eimco Corporation where we got a job and that is where we worked for thirty‑five years. I remember I started working there first and Mr. Rosenblat came through one night and asked me if I knew where he could get a machinist. I told him that my brother, Harold, was going to be laid off in Reno tonight and he said, "Wid, you go right now and send him a telegram I want him". So I sent him a telegram and he came to Salt Lake with his wife, Laurel, and he worked at Eimco, too, for thirty or thirty‑five years. And that's how we got started at Eimco.
After I retired, Lucile and 1 went down to Douglas, Arizona on vacation a couple of times
The first time I believe it was with Clyde and Gladys and the second time with Harold and Laurel. The second time I think we took Hank's car and we spent a couple of days in Douglas just looking over the old home town and we went over across the border into Agua Prieta. We stayed in a motel up by where we used to live on 15th Street and “A” Avenue. I found the house where I was born on 16th and about "D" Avenue. I remember getting up early in the morning and walking over to the old home and down the alley where I used to play with all the Mexican boys. I remember there was Nona, Konko Esias and Benjamin. They were all about my age or a little bit older and then they had a sister, Angelita. And then the girl next door, I think everyone in the family gave her a name. Her name was Rita Juanitis Elnora Opal Goade.
Well, I walked around where we were staying and Harold and Laurel and Lucile got up, crossed the street to buy gasoline and there was a fellow there running a little gas station and talked to him and Harold talked to him too. We asked him about Nona. Flores was his last name and we asked him if he still lived in Douglas He asked us our names and when we told him "Gutke," he said "Hell yea, I know Carl Gutke, I worked for him at the C &A Smelter". And I said, "Well, that was Dad, he was foreman of the boiler makers He said, "Yes, I worked for your Dad for years". He told us about several incidents that happened down at the C& A Smelter.
I remember that Dad used to bring us boys home pocket knives. I don't know where he'd get them; he must have bought them at one of the stores down there.
Then he told us that Nona ran a liquor store down right close to "G" Avenue. He told us to go down there and see him. We were going out to Agua Prieta anyway so we decided to go down and see Nona. We drove down to his liquor store. Laurel and Lucille stayed in the car, but Hank and I walked in and there was a Mexican fellow sitting back of the counter. He was better than seventy, because we were over seventy when we were down there. I said to him, "Do you remember the Gutke boys?" He stood up and started to swear, "Hell yes, I'll say I do, I remember the Gut‑key boys". He named us and told us all about how he had lived there in Douglas after we left. He had worked someplace for a while and then he had started the liquor store. But, he said he could remember the night that my sister, Thelma, was killed in Douglas. He said that the next morning when he was going to work he passed that corner and the man who had shot Thelma was still lying on the sidewalk. This doesn't seem reasonable to me, but I know they had to find out all about a fellow before they could pick him up and maybe they didn't know who he was. I guess they were waiting for someone to claim the body. Now, I don't know whether or not this was true, but this is what he told us the day we talked to him.
We saw him again a year or so after that‑‑we stopped in and talked to him. He was feeling pretty good. He told us that his older brother Ben had died and I believe one of the other boys was pretty sick at that time.
We saw two of the Huish girls while we were there. One of them was Gladys Huish. She was in the hospital, and from what I heard she died soon after we were there. We also at that time walked over to Novalos, Mexico with Harold and Laurel and then we stayed in Texas one night and then we drove way down into New Mexico to see the caves down there. They are called the Carlsbad Caverns. We drove back through Los Alamos. That's in New Mexico and was a place I wanted to see because Harold and I had helped build the Atomic Bomb at Eimco and that is where we shipped all the parts was to Los Alamos, and that's where they put it together before they dropped it on the Japanese people during World War II.
**************
Right now I am retired from the Eimco Corporation and I did work for a little machine shop here in Holladay. A man by the name of Kotch. I worked for him for four years and then I started working over at the Cottonwood Elementary School right about a block northwest of me and I have been there for five or six years since I retired. Just tending the kids at noon and kind of patrolling them out on the grounds. If one gets hurt, I have to take him in and bandage him up, fix him up, and that is what I'm still doing. [Note: I believe the following was one of the last dictations Wid made on the tapes it must have been the winter of 1984 when he was ill. Nge].
Times have changed. Winters now are, I believe, worse than I have ever seen. This winter
has been terrible. The snow is 18 inches deep on my back lawn. The nights are cold‑‑it is always
down in the 20's and it has been that way for two months and I'm sick of this dang weather. I wish that spring was here. I wish that 1 could get out and do a little hoeing and enjoy my plot of ground here in the back. My mother died of cancer [January 25, 1947], my father died of cancer fourteen years later on April 16, 1961. My brother Carl, in California died of cancer on August 2, 1978. My brother, Clyde, had cancer in his lungs and he, too, died on January 25, 1980. [Note: Willard died on September 27, 1984, Harold died on February 15, 1995. At this point in time‑‑August, 1998‑‑only Jack and Norma remain of the eight children. Of the daughters‑in‑laws,
only Laurel and Kate remain. There were 23 grandchildren‑‑twenty‑one are living. I've lost track
of the number of great and great‑great‑grandchildren Nge].
[3] Maria Christina Andersson. They married on 12 March 1889. [Rcg]. Norma Ellis Gutke: “They had the following children: Carl Frederick (Carl Fredrick Rcg), Lillie Edna, Frank Edward, Glen Le Roy, George Albert, Julie Myrtle, John Earl (Earl John Rcg) and Clara Ethel.”
[4] Norma Ellis Gutke: “I believe it would have been in 1881, because I remember Dad saying he was between three and four years old when he and his mother came over here from Sweden. He could remember being on the ship. Grandpa Gutke was already here. He had left Sweden and come over when Dad was only six months old. Grandpa had worked for over three years to earn enough money to send for Dad and Grandma. Grandpa worked at unloading coal from trains—earning about $1.75 a day.”
[5] Norma Ellis Gutke: “I never knew Grandpa Gutke (Anders Fredrik Gutke Rcg). I wish I had. But, I've always felt close to him. Grandpa Gutke was buried the day I was born. Our spirits must have passed in the night. I can remember both Mother and Dad telling what a hectic day it was. I was born at the family home on Holladay Blvd. Dad was torn between leaving for his father's funeral and staying home with Mother until I was born. Evidently I finally cooperated, and with Mother's hard work and Dr Sheraniam's help, Dad was able to both welcome his eighth, and last, child into the world and say farewell to his dear father—both on the same day. My brother, Jack, recalls Dad piling all five boys into the car and having them wait there until I was born so they could dash off for Grandpa's funeral. (Anyone familiar with Dad's driving knows that "dash" is putting it mildly.)
[8] Mark Jones came to Utah in 1866 with the William H. Chipman Company. He was 28 years old. Source: Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel, 1847-1868 citing "Passenger List," Deseret News [Weekly], 26 Sep. 1866, 341. The passenger list notes “Mark (28), Ellen (25) and Henry Jones (4)”.
“375 individuals and about 60 wagons were in the company when it began its journey from the outfitting post at Wyoming, Nebraska (the west bank of the Missouri River about 40 miles south of Omaha).” They departed on 11-12 July 1866 and arrived 15-16 September 1866.
http://www.lds.org/churchhistory/library/pioneercompanysources/1,16272,4019-1-87,00.html lists 22 more sources to research including trail excerpts.
Norma Ellis Gutke: Grandpa and Grandma Jones had the following children: Eleanor Louise Jones‑‑called Nellie, Arthur James Jones, Mark Jones‑‑died when a baby, another Mark Jones‑‑died when a baby, Laura May Jones, Edith Maud Jones‑‑died as a child, John Henry Jones, Charles William Jones‑‑died as a baby, and Ethel Irene Jones.
[9] The Family History Library Catalog at www.familysearch.org states that Center Ward is now know as Rose Park Center Ward. A book titled We shall meet again: a centennial history of Center Ward, 1891-1991 is available with the following call number: 979.2258 K2La - FHL US/CAN. The main author listed is Lorna P. Landon. Notes indicate that the book includes biographical sketches of the 20 men who had served as bishop of the ward up to the time of publication.
[10] The town of Douglas was founded in 1901 and incorporated in 1905. The new town was named after Dr. James Douglas, then president of the Phelps-Dodge Company who built a smelter there. The second smelter, The Calumet and Arizona Company Smelter, where Carl F. Gutke worked, was built in 1902 and was purchased by Phelps-Dodge in 1931. Rcg.
[11] The spelling here should be Gadsen. The hotel….
[12] Note from Norma: So do I! Dad loved cars and he was very protective of them. Every time Mother and I would see Dad bringing home new car brochures we knew that there would be a new car in the garage within days. It never failed. I don’t remember Mother having anything to say about it‑‑I think it was a guy thing. I have my brother, Jack, to thank for teaching me to drive. I gave him many a scare. I remember one time on Highland Drive when I passed a car and cut in too soon‑‑I thought he was going to pass out. I don't remember borrowing Dad's car very much after I got my license because I always had to go through this long lecture of how they would take the house and everything we owned away from us if I were in an accident. I always prayed that if I wrecked Dad's car that I would be killed! The only incident I had was one day when backing out of Wid and Lucile's driveway. I turned the wheel and got the front bumper caught around Wid's pole that he had the newspaper box on. I gave it the gas and Wid had that darned thing cemented in the ground‑‑the pole held firm, but it snapped the right side off the bumper. I went home, went to bed, and cried for days. I was good at that.
[13] [I also remember Grandpa’s new cars, especially the new Pontiac he got with a huge engine in about 1952 when I was 14. He would pick Darrell and I up to go to priesthood because my Dad was inactive at the time, and he would push the gas to the floor and we would squeal out onto the pavement. He would go fast and when anyone was going slower in front of him he would glare at them and honk the horn and then glare again as he passed them up. He was like teenager at age 74. Rcg]
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