John Alma Gardner and Ella Eldora Pike

Funny story...I was in FamilySearch last night, looking at one of my ancestors, when I noticed that a couple of his wives weren't attached to him. So I went and attached the wives, feeling all proud of myself, and then I realized...I'd attached them to the wrong guy. *Sigh*...so I unattached them and felt silly. So, learn from my mistake: don't try to do family history when you should be sleeping instead.

Anyway, onto John Alma Gardner and Ella Eldora Pike.

Ella Eldora Pike

I had a hard time getting records for John and Ella. Part of that is probably because there just aren't a lot of records available online right now from the Uintah Reservation. So if anyone has other records or information on these two, I'd love to hear about it and post them here!

John Alma Gardner was born December 20, 1880. He is the son of Martha Timothy Gardner Rudy and Charles Alma Gardner; he is also the grandson of Charles Gardner. The first record I have for John is the 1900 census, where he appears in Uintah County, Utah, in the home of his step-father, Josiah Rudy, and his mother, Martha Rudy. He married Ella Eldora Pike on April 12, 1904, according to this transcription from the Western States Marriage Index.

Ella Eldora Pike was born July 21, 1884. She is the daughter of Lydia Jane Taylor Pike Jones Workman (Lydia was married three times) and Lucius Aaron Pike; she is also the granddaughter of Henry Taylor and Annie Copperfield. The first record that I have for Ella is this 1900 census, where she appears at the Haskell Institute in Kansas. (This copy of the census is very hard to read; she appears on the 17th line down.) The Haskell Institute was a non-reservation Indian boarding school that had students from several western states; Ella's uncle, John, died there in 1901.

The next record I have is this 1908 Indian Roll census from 1908. The Indian Rolls seem to have been taken every year, so if you have access to Ancestry.com (it can be accessed for free from some public libraries and any LDS Family History Library), you can search through and find this family in any year you want. It wasn't until the later years, however, that white members of a household were included on the Indian Rolls, so John Alma Gardner doesn't appear here.

Ella Eldora Pike died on June 8, 1909 (according to this transcription from the Utah Death Registers), from complications of the birth of her youngest son. After that, John was called to the Eastern States Mission for a time, but I haven't found him in the 1910 census yet.

I don't have a personal history for John Alma Gardner, so I can only piece together his life after that from the documents I've found. John married Alice Jane Payne Long in 1912, and they had twin sons in 1913. You can see their family in these censuses from 1920, 1930, and 1940.

Alice died in 1954, and John married a woman named Myrtle Parker sometime after that. John Alma Gardner died March 8, 1969. You can see his obituary and gravestone here. Alice and Ella are buried with John in the Vernal Memorial Park Cemetery, and Myrtle is buried next to them.

History of Charles Gardner

This is a history of Charles Gardner from my files. It was written by his daughter, Janet Gardner Duke Watson:

Charles Gardner was the son of Moses Isaac Gardner and Polly Ann Pierson; he was born in Huntsburg, Geauga County, Ohio, on January 19, 1833.

He married Rhoda E. Kellogg on August 12, 1855. Five children were born to them. Three died in their youth, and two of them were raised by his second wife, Susanna Rigby. These children were Charles Alma Gardner and Laura Naomi Gardner Nutall. His first wife died when she accidentally drank from a cup in which they had mixed some poison to either kill rats or doctor a sick dog. Charles had had lunch with his family and then gone to work. He had just been gone from home a short while when they came and told him his beloved wife was dead. He grieved over her death very much.

In 1864, Charles went to Salt Lake City with a friend named Joe Thompson, and they went to the home of Barnett Rigby. Here he met Susanna and decided to call again to see her. They were married by Heber C. Kimball in the Salt Lake Endowment House on 11 January 1864. Susanna had worked for Elder Kimball in his home for quite a while, and at one time he had asked her to marry him, but she declined, telling him he had enough wives already.

To this marriage was born seven children, four girls and three boys. Seth died when he was five years old with diphtheria. The other six lived to get married and raise families. The oldest boy, George, died on 4 July 1946 at the age of 74 years. Ira died 21 October 1921, and Anne died 16 August 1930. Janet, Jane, and Susanna are living today (1955).

Charles made several trips across the plains to help bring the Saints to Utah. He lived in Provo at the time he married Susanna. Their first child, Anne, was born there. George was born just as they moved into the house they built, and they lived in that home all the rest of their lives, until the children married and made homes all their own. Charles and Susanna spent the rest of their lives in that home they built. It was a very nice home when they built it, and it still stands today and is owned by Elmo Ford (1955).

Charles was a very good friend of Robert and John Duke, and I have heard them say Charles was honest. He was quick-spoken and never beat around the bush when he wanted to tell you something. I can remember my mother telling about my sister, Sue, doing something, and she was going to give her a spanking, and Father said, “No, you mustn’t do that. She is too little to be spanked.” So mother didn’t give her the spanking. His word was law in the household, and his children knew when he told them to do a thing, he meant what he said.

He was a great hunter. Whenever he had a few hours to spend, he would go hunting. I can remember Mother taking us children and driving the team and wagon along, while he would hunt rabbits and chickens. He nearly always had dried venison hanging upstairs. I can just taste it now when I think about it. We would toast it on a stick in the fireplace, and I can see the ducks that he used to bring home and hang on the north side of our house and freeze them, and when we wanted a duck to eat, it was ready. My mother made a feather bed from the feathers that we picked from the ducks, and I have that feather bed today. She also made many pillows.

Charles died of infection resulting from a bad tooth on August 24, 1884 and was buried in Provo City Cemetery next to his first wife. Later, Mother was buried there, too. Mother lived 50 years longer than he did. They had a posterity of seven children, 48 grandchildren, and 75 great-grandchildren. They had 43 grandchildren and great-grandchildren in the armed forces in World War II, and all returned home safely. 

Autobiography of Martha Timothy Gardner Rudy, Part 6

Here's the very last part of Martha Timothy Gardner Rudy's history:

Without any conscious courtship, we were married in my father’s house by “Uncle” Jerry Hatch, the president of the Uintah Stake. Mr. Rudy was a consistent student of the principles of  the gospel from the time he arrived in the valley, mostly for the purpose of proving them untrue as taught be the Latter-day Saints. Up to this time, he had neither read nor heard anything but matter that was highly derogatory to the cult. He now applied himself vigorously to reading the standard church works and current writers and biographers in the hope of finding flaws or discrepancies, faithfully accepting what appealed to him as true. To help him in his researches was my brother, Alma, Who had recently returned from a two-year mission.

Having had all his fears allayed, his questions answered, and shown into the realms of the true religion, he applied for and was baptized by Alma N. Timothy on April 26, 1891. Since that time, he has been secretary of ward mutual, ward clerk, a counselor and later Stake Superintendent of Sunday Schools, Superintendent of stake religion classes, bishop, high councilor, a short-term missionary in Arizona, and today is stake clerk, stake storehouse keeper, and a stake patriarch. Today, December 13, 1950, he is a traveling patriarch and has been on a short-term mission in Pennsylvania.

Three sons and seven daughters was the issue of this marriage: Cornelia, Lloyd, Czar, Gala, Owen, Olive, Thelma and Delma (twins), Larue, and Wanda. All were born near Vernal, Utah. All are married and live either in Utah or California, one in Washington, D.C., and one is in Rhode Island. All are living but Gala Caldwell who died March 17, 1932 at LaPoint, Utah, the mother of six children.

I am a mother of seventeen children, three of whom have passed away. I had 91 grandchildren, four of whom are dead, and 30 great-grandchildren, one dead, totaling 138 descendants; five have passed away.

Together, my husband and I have endured many hardships and reverses, but have remained faithful to each other and weathered every storm and partaken freely of the good things of the earth. We are now, October 26, 1939, living simply but comfortably by the blessings of a beneficent Father in Heaven and the love and benedictions of our beloved children and friends. This includes, emphatically, the children of both families who have ever been as one.

Autobiography of Martha Timothy Gardner Rudy, Part 5

This part of Martha's history is REALLY interesting:

Nevertheless, despite all this kindness, there were days, weeks, and months of worry for the present needs. It was in the time of one of these moods that I prayed most sincerely for Alma to come back and tell me what to do. The loom provided more of a time killer than a profit-making device. One night, feeling especially helpless, I sat up in bed and cried bitterly, realizing that the loom could never buy flour and nine dollars per cut. It was early morning, the door stood open, and Al walked in dressed in the same clothes he had worn when we were logging. He walked up to the loom and passed his hand over a strip of carpet. “Yes,” he said, “you are worrying over flour. Well, I promise you in the name of the Lord, if you lead a good life, you will never buy a pound of flour with your own earnings. Brig and Bebe Timothy (my brothers) are raising a good crop of wheat, and you have never been up to see it. Go up and see it. It is so high (indicating with his hand) and show appreciation to the boy.” I said, “Oh, Al, come over here and let me see if it is really you.” “Oh, no, I cannot do that. The sun is coming up, and I must go. They tell me that you are crying all the time now, Martha. I don’t want to hear tell of that anymore, and I cannot come back.” Then he turned and went out. I jumped up to see where he had gone, but never saw him again.

The following is a prophetic vision I had. One early morning, about 2:00 a.m., I stood by a tree in front of the house bemoaning my loneliness, and a young man appeared and stood before me. That same voice I had heard before spoke these words. “Martha, be comforted. This man will come and help you raise your children, and he will be a great comfort to you.”

Wearily, the days passed. The summer was gone. In looking for further means of support, I had let it be known that I was going to board the teacher of Gline’s ward school. The teacher was to have been a dear friend, Ella Reynolds. A few weeks before school was scheduled to open, a young man from the East appeared upon the scene, and the trustees contracted with him to teach this school. To say the least, I was sadly disappointed. I never had a thought that he was to become my future husband. Mr. Josiah Phillip Rudy came, found a boarding place, and formally opened school in a one-room log house, receiving all grades (but that is another story). Becoming dissatisfied with his accommodations, he asked the pupils if anyone knew of a place. A little girl of eight, La Prele spoke up with, “Mama said she was going to board the teacher. Under unusual circumstances, we arranged to board him and keep his team of wild colts, which he had acquired together with a new harness and buckboard with which to leave the coming spring. This happened in December 1890.

Our boarder proved himself congenial and spent many happy hours breaking his team. Toward spring, when he considered it safe, I had many trips around the valley with him, calling on my friends and relatives, attending church and an occasional party.

It was not until school had closed in the spring that I had any inkling of his intentions or desire to stay with us permanently, and that I was to see in him the fulfillment of the vision that I had had of the man who was to come and help me raise the children. It happened this way: Considerable interest had been aroused in the community over some mineral prospects in the Blue Mountains, east of Vernal about 50 miles. Mr. Rudy was persuaded by a party of neighbors to accompany them to the scene of the activities. In preparation for the trip, he bought suitable clothes, among them a cowboy hat with a leather band. When he appeared in the doorway with it on, I was stunned. Presently, I made the connection of the vision. Here before me stood the man I had seen that memorable night, hat and all!

(Click here to continue to Part 6.)

The Autobiography of Martha Timothy Gardner Rudy, Part 4

In February 1890, my husband went on the mountain to work in the Dyer Mine, and was brought home dead from heart trouble. He intended to be gone seventeen days, but on the fifteenth day when I awoke in the morning, a voice said to me, “Alma will be home today, prepare for him.” I told my son, John, that his daddy would be home today, and he asked how I knew, but I didn’t tell him. I felt very depressed and tried to understand why, but just had to finish my ironing. We were out of flour, and I had to make hot cakes, but I felt assured Al would be home that day to get more flour. We were very poor, and Alice was sent home from school for not having shoes and a book. I thought over the many things that had happened since he had gone. The children had had the croup, and neighbors and come in and helped me with them two nights; it seemed they would choke to death.

Two or three days before Al was brought home, I dreamed that I had to go on a long journey with the children before he would come back. It seemed awfully dark and dreary; we had to cross a levy so narrow, I had to carry the children over one by one. On the other side, the water ran everywhere through the grass, the children’s shoes were so badly worn that the water ran right through them. In crossing the levy, the children were so delighted with the silvery, green, and golden pebbles that could be seen at the bottom of the unusually clear water of the lake formed by the levy. I hurried to an old worn fence in a dry corner, took off their shoes, fearing they would have the croup, and to my surprise, dust fell out of them instead of water. The sun had come out and made everything brighter than I had ever seen it before, and I was filled with joy. I had never been so happy; everything seemed all right.

Al died of heart failure at the mine, and Cal Duke and Bill Haws brought him down on snow shoes. I learned later on that the whole community knew about it, but it was left to my good old friend and midwife, Aunt Abbey Oaks, to break the news to me.

I can never forget how tenderly she conveyed the sad news. She and her husband, Martin, who had joined her by now. Then, as if by magic, the whole community gathered around, expressing their heartfelt sympathies. Presently, the white top pulled up with the body—you can imagine how utterly helpless I felt when I saw his frozen body. I screamed and cried, “Oh God, what will I do now, what will I do when the children get the croup?” It was then that a voice, the same I heard before, said, “Martha, be comforted, I promise you will never have a child with croup again.” I never worried about it again.

About three weeks after the burial, Mrs. William Ashton and daughter, Mrs. Sam Brownie, came and tried to persuade me to let each of them adopt a little girl. Alice and Rhoda were chosen, flattering promises were made for their future. I was stunned by the proposal, and I cried, “It is enough that I had to part with my husband, I can never part with any of the children!” I have not words to express the kindness and helpfulness and sweetness of the people in my distress.

To help support my family, dear old Grandma Mack gave me a new loom for carpet weaving and taught me how to weave. Lyeurgens Johnson had a neighborhood store, and whenever I went for anything myself, he or his clerks never failed to give good measure and something besides for the children. It was the same when I went to Vernal. I was embarrassed by the things that were given to me; the neighbors came in with their teams, ploughed the ground and planted seventeen acres of wheat, from which we had a bumper crop, which was cut, shocked, and all thrashed gratis. One day, when the weather grew cold, a string of teams seemingly miles long brought us dry cedar wood, which lasted for two years. Their wives (Relief Society women) came about the same time, each brought pots and kettles of food. After feeding all the men, there was enough food left for my family the remainder of the week.

(Click to continue to Part 5.)

Autobiography of Martha Timothy Gardner Rudy, Part 3

We arrived [in Vernal] on July 24^th, and on September 12, a baby girl, Mabel, was born. We were unable to locate a midwife when I took sick, and I was so sure that my time wasn’t up that I just would not give up. At the time, we were living in Dick Blakey’s house, for they had gone to work in the temple. The next day, I had made up my mind to send for a midwife, when Brother Blakey returned to occupy the house. The old lady, Mack the Grandmother, was so tired that she remarked how good it was to sit in a chair. The neighbors were so glad to see them, they all came to welcome them home. Alma hitched the team to the wagon and took me to my mother’s, a mile away. She had a bed ready for my sister-in-law, so she said she could not take me. I cannot tell how badly I felt. When we started back, a dear old lady named Carroll asked to ride, and she stood up behind the spring seat. I was shedding bitter tears, and she wished to know why. After telling her, she laid her hands on my head and prayed for me and offered to come and help me. I felt much better. Brother Blakey met us returning, and he insisted on our coming and staying as long as we wished, and went for a midwife (Sister Adelia French). I got along better than ever before.

When the baby was fourteen days old, we moved to a one-room house with two families (Bell Shirts and Mrs. Rawlings), there being ten children. My husband chopped and hauled logs from the canyon and built a house for us, which we moved into on Christmas Eve at twelve o’clock. We had just daubed the house and had rough boards on the floor, which caused dampness and the house to fill with steam. We slept on straw mattresses on the floor, and the Lord no doubt blessed us, for not one of us took cold, and we lived on very little food that winter. I had a seamless grain sack full of dried squash, which I dried while at Brother Blakey’s. I stewed it, and it just seemed to save our lives. We did not seem to tire of it, and we enjoyed it a great deal. That summer, we lived on dry bread, salt-risen bread, and always seemed to manage to obtain bread and tea.

May 5, 1888, my baby girl, Janette, was born. I was awfully weak, and I washed on the board and would have to stop three or four times to have tea in order to continue on.

An old man came to the door, and I thought he was a trapper, for he drove a burro on a cart with his camping equipment tied on. He asked for breakfast, and I told him I would like to give him some but did not have any bread or soda. He took some clean ashes out of the stove and poured hot water on them in a tea cup, and used them with sour milk, which made very good biscuits. After that, I made biscuits this way many times, for we tired of salt-risen bread.

Later, another old man came along. He was a quite pleasant-looking person, with hair hung on his shoulders. He wanted breakfast, and I told him I had a very sick baby suffering from “summer complaint.” She was so thin and weak that I had to carry her on a pillow. He offered to give her some laudanum, which he had with him, assuring me it would cure her. It took some time to persuade me, and then I gave her ten drops. She went to sleep and appeared dead, and he said he would stay until she woke up, and I was just weak with fright; however, she did appear better. He told me to give her four drops when she went to bed, and I gave her three. She recovered rapidly.

November 30, 1889, my seventh child, Cora Belle, was born.

(Click here to continue to Part 4.)

Autobiography of Martha Timothy Gardner Rudy, Part 2

Because of the “Indian Scare,” a Mr. Stakes, believing the Round Valley settlement would be abandoned, traded Father a 92-acre farm, a lot and two cabins for a yoke of steers. Father, thinking it impossible to move the families there, hauled the cabins to Heber and built their second house. Later, we eleven other families returned and settled for the winter without any further trouble with the Indians.

After the birth of the youngest child, Jedediah, in 1870, my mother was left an invalid with milk leg. I, being the eldest girl, my mother depended on me to do the housework, which deprived me of many childhood pleasures and also an education. Father made a stool for me to stand on to mix bread and to wash. I learned to knit as soon as I was old enough to hold the knitting needles.

Our first light was a rag immersed in grease, which we called a “Grease Bitch.” Later, we obtained a candle mold, and it was my job to make the candles. I also made soap, washed and carded wool, and made tools from which the family stockings, etc. were made.

My four brothers, Dave, Alma, Brig, and Jedediah, were natural musicians and furnished music for the town’s entertainments. Dave made his first violin from a cigar box. Father built a room not far from the house for my brothers to use for a dance hall and other entertainments for their many friends. My brothers taught me to dance very young, and I became a very good dancer and enjoyed it a great deal. Ice skating was another popular sport that I mastered. We had long, hard winters, which provided for many winter sports.

Mother being a cripple, and father thinking an education unnecessary for girls, I never attended school. However, my brothers received what was considered a good education at that time.

On December 5, 1878, at the age of sixteen, I was married in the Salt Lake Endowment House to Charles Alma Gardner. Brother John’s wife was bedfast with milk-leg after confinement and being very poor, we went to live with them the remainder of the winter. They had a one-room house with two beds, stove, table, and four chairs, which made it very crowded. I felt my assistance was needed so much that we just had to live with them. In May, we went to a saw mill in Provo Canyon called North Fork. My husband had two yoke of cattle, and I, being very lonesome, accompanied him and drove one of them. After they felled a tree and trimmed it, I took my cattle and dragged the log to the skidway, ready for loading. He drove his cattle on the loaded cart, and I drove mine to a drag of two or three logs from the mountain to the mill yard, and we made good and I really enjoyed it. In November, we returned to Round Valley, and on December 20^th, my son, John, was born. All winter, I suffered with a gathered breast. It broke thirteen times, which left only one breast for the sixteen children that followed.

The following May, we returned to the canyon and did as before. Al carried the baby while I drove. When winter came on, we returned to Round Valley, and during the winter, we traded our logging outfit for a team of horses, harness, and a wagon, and with our savings, we bought a 62-acre farm with a neat little house where we lived for the following four years, in which LaPrele, Alice, and Rhoda were born. My mother came and persuaded us to move, so in July 1886 we moved to Ashley Valley, which is now known as Vernal. It was an extremely hard trip, for there wasn’t any road most of the way, and it took twenty-one days. I was not well, and many times the ledges and boulders looked as if they would surely break the wheels of the wagon. It was a miracle how we stood it.

(Click here to continue to Part 3.)

Autobiography of Martha Timothy Gardner Rudy, Part 1

I'm working on typing up this autobiography of Martha Timothy Gardner Rudy. It's pretty long, so I'll post it in parts.

My father, John Griffith Timothy, was born March 12, 1826 at Bethania near Lampeter, Cardiganshire, Wales. My mother, Martha Davis Timothy, was born August 12, 1825 at Cilcennin, Cardiganshire, Wales.

My father was converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1849, and my mother was converted a short time later. They were married in 1850. My father was appointed a traveling missionary to preach the gospel. They being the only members of their families who joined the Church, and because of the hostility that arose, they decided to immigrate to Utah.  Father was a watchmaker by trade, however, added to his income by working in the coal mines. In seven years, eight children were born to them, therefore, their means were quite scant. Upon receiving word that the Latter-day Saints were sailing for the United States on April 1, 1862 on the “John J. Boyd,” there were just nine days of preparation and father had to sell his business and household goods.

Mother’s tears and pleadings to father did not stop him from going ashore making his final attempt to sell his last basket of watches. In doing so, the ship embarked without him and there was a total of 701 Latter-day Saints aboard which included the missionaries. After the ship had sailed several hours, a small boat approached the side of the “John J. Boyd” and father was taken aboard. There just wasn’t any accommodations on the boat, for the beds were bunks and each family had to prepare their own food. After five weeks, the boat docked in New York and all had suffered from privation and sickness. The first night in New York, they slept on the floor of the Castle Garden building.

The party continued on by train to Omaha, Nebraska and waited there two weeks for the ox teams in order to start the long journey to Utah. The company was named “Dan Jones” after its captain. The wagon assigned to father carried two families, which included five adults and nine children. Father had to walk all the way to lead a cow which he had purchased in order that the children might have milk.

It was during a raging storm on the night of August 3, 1862, along the Platte River in Nebraska, that I was born. Mother was in a covered wagon, and the other children were in a tent that blew down. It is impossible to enumerate the many hardships they endured while crossing the plains.

Late in October 1862, they arrived in Salt Lake City and unloaded in the “Public Square.” After looking everywhere for work, father hired out to Israel Evans at Lehi, Utah. He contracted for one year, and in return, received a one-room adobe house that he lived in, five head of sheep, and flour for the family use. With some assistance from other Welsh families in Lehi, the winter passed, however, many hardships were endured.

Another son was born in March 1864 named Hyrum. They then moved to Provo Valley in the vicinity of Heber City. Father and my eldest brother, David, walked and drove the animals (which consisted of a small herd of sheep, and one cow), and mother and the children rode.

Father rented a farm from Robert Broadbent and farmed on shares. Not having an ox team, he had to work an extra day for each day that he used their ox teams. Heber City was just being lead out, so father took two lots and built a house from rough pine logs, this being the first house they owned. Sometime later, this house was traded for a yoke of oxen, which was a great assistance in making a living. All during that winter, father grubbed brush from the open flat for fire wood.

In March 1867, Father and my eldest brother, Dave, took the sheep and cows and walked over the mountain through several feet of snow to Round Valley, later known as Wallsburg. He rented a farm from William Wall, and in April moved the family there. But after three years of Indian Scare, they were driven back to Heber. The women and children were packed in wagons, and after some days, all quieted and the men ventured and were organized into a company, and took turns to guard and report signs of Indians. 

(Click here to continue to Part 2.)