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 John Griffith Timothy, Part 3

This is the last part of John Griffith Timothy's written history:

After they moved to Heber, John had a team of horses and a wagon, and during the winter went north to Wyoming and got a job where they were building a railroad. He left Martha and nine children with about 50 lbs of flour. He didn’t know when he left how long he would be gone, but it was necessary for him to find a job somewhere. He was gone nine weeks, and all the flour Martha had during that time to feed the nine children and herself came from that one sack. Their main food was bread. She said each time she made bread, it would seem that most of the flour was gone, but each time she went to get flour again, it also seemed there was as much as there had been before. When John got the money for his work, he went to Salt Lake City and bought 900 lbs of flour, the most they ever owned, and came home and found them still using flour from the same sack they were using when he left.

At Wallsburg, a public school was established and John’s boys attended the school, beginning about January 1^st each year and ending about April 1^st. In the spring of 1885, John moved his family to Ashley Valley (Vernal, Utah). The first winter they, including David and his family, lived at Fort Thornburg in the northwest part of the valley. John purchased a large farm in a very productive part of the valley and built a very nice home. His sons were now married, most of them, or were of marriageable age, and how the grandchildren did love to go their grandparents’ home. He had planted many shade trees around the lot and soon had a fine orchard.

After having raised a fine family of nine boys and three girls (one boy and one girl died in childhood), helping always with community and church affairs, these worthwhile pioneers lived happily and contentedly until John reached the age of 74, passing away the 18^th of April 1900. Martha died at the age of 81 on the 10^th of October 1906.

History of John Griffith Timothy, Part 2

From New York , the party journeyed by train to Omaha, Nebraska, where they camped at Mormon Headquarters for two weeks, awaiting the arrival of ox teams from Utah to take them on to the west. The company was named the “Dan Jones” after its captain. The wagon assigned to John and Martha took two families, including five grown people and nine children. Before leaving Omaha, John bought a cow, which made it necessary for him to walk all the way and lead the cow, but the milk was necessary for the young children. The wagon in the caravan next to John’s was drawn by two cows belonging to one of the group who bought them in Omaha, so that they could milk them night and morning and drive them in the day time.

While the company was traveling along the Platte River, Martha’s first girl was born, 3 Aug 1862, Martha, the 7^th child of the family. During that night, a raging storm arose. Martha and the baby were in the covered wagon, and the children were sleeping in a tent, which blew down and their beds floated around in the water. The man who shared the wagon with John’s family had guns and hunted along the way for game. One day, he left his gun lying in the front seat, and it rolled off and shot a man through the leg. This man was milking his cow, and it passed through the flesh of his leg and into the cow’s foot. They happened to be camping by a ranch, and through kindness of the owner, the wounded cow was traded for another, permitting them to go on with the company.

The oldest boy, David, said, “The old nick himself was along, and tried in every conceivable way to discourage the weary travelers.” One day, when they were camped and apparently everything was quiet and peaceful, the oxen suddenly pricked up their ears and started a stampede. Several children barely escaped being trampled under their feet, and John, just in time, dragged two of his boys from their path. The company landed in Salt Lake City late in October and were unloaded on the public square. Can you imagine this picture: Martha with six children all under eight years old, the baby two months old, in a strange land, winter coming on, no money, work, or provisions? For two weeks, they were taken in by the family of an elder who had labored in Wales, but with five mischievous boys who succeeded in breaking down a valuable young apple tree, they were soon passed on to George Bywater, who allowed them to camp in his yard and gave them many privileges, which were much appreciated. Early in November, after searching for work in every conceivable place, John hired out to Israel Evans at Lehi. He contracted for one year, and for this labor he was to have a one-room dobie house to live in, flour for the family to use, and five head of sheep. Thus, with the aid of other Welsh families in Lehi, they passed the first winter, enduring many hardships.

The family lived in Lehi during the year 1863, and another son was born, Hyrum. In March 1864, they moved to Provo Valley, in the vicinity of Heber City. In March 1867, John and his son David took the flock of sheep and the cows, and walked up Daniel’s Canyon and over the mountain to Round Valley, later known as Wallsburg, walking all the way on several inches and sometimes several feet of snow. Here, they rented a farm of William Wall, and in April, they moved the family over. But after three weeks, the Indian scare drove them back to Heber. The women and children were packed in wagons, and the men drove the cattle and sheep. After several days, the scare died down, and the men ventured back to care for the crops. They finally took courage and drove the cattle back, and John, along with others, were organized in a company and took turns standing guard to report any signs of Indians.

Because of the Indian scare, a Mr. Stokes, thinking the Round Valley settlement would be abandoned, traded John a 92-acre farm, a lot, and two cabins for a yoke of steers. John, also thinking they would not be able to live there, took his family back to the valley, hauled the two cabins back to Heber, filed on a city lot, and built their first two-room house. Later, twelve families decided to go back and locate for the winter, which they did without further trouble with the Indians, including John’s family.

(Click here to continue to Part 3.)

History of John Griffith Timothy

Here's another written history of one of my ancestors. I didn't write these; I'm just transcribing the old copies that I have:

John Griffith Timothy was born March 12, 1826 in Cardiganshire, Wales. Martha Davis Timothy, his wife, was born August 12, 1825 in Cardiganshire, Wales. John was converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1849, and Martha was converted sometime later. They were married in 1850, and John was appointed local elder and went from place to place with the foreign elders, preaching the gospel. They were the only members of their families to join the church. They decided to join a group of Saints and migrate to Utah as soon as their savings would permit.

John was a watch and clock maker by trade, but he worked in the coal mines when business was dull to add to the migration fund, which did not increase so fast because of the arrival of six sons in eight years: David, born 6 March 1854; John, born 8 Feb 1855; Joshua, born 10 Aug 1856, died 1 Jan 1858; Alma, born 1 Dec 1857; Brigham, born 21 June 1859; and Heber, born 2 Apr 1861.

In March 1862, John was notified that a group of Saints was going to America, and with nine days’ notice, the family made parting visits to their parents, who lived on small farms in Cardigan County. After Martha joined the Church, her mother felt very badly about it and told Martha she never wanted to see her again, because she had disgraced her own family so by joining the Mormons. So when they were ready to leave for America, Martha thought her mother would relent and let her come home once more to visit. She walked five miles and took her five little boys with her. When they arrived, her mother opened the door at her knock, and when she saw who it was, she said, “Are you still a Mormon?” Martha said, “Yes, and we are going away to America.” “Well, go,” her mother said, “and I never want to see your face again,” and closed the door. Martha went to a ditch bank not far from the house and sat down and cried, and of course, never saw her mother again. John disposed of his watch and clock business and household furniture and was ready to sail April 1, 1862 on the “John J. Boyd” with 701 other Mormon missionaries and Saints.

When he rushed out to dispose of the last basketful of watches and clocks after they arrived in Liverpool, John was left behind. The family was on board waiting for their father when the boat moved slowly out in the Irish Sea, in spite of the weeping and begging of Martha and the children. After several hours of sailing, a small boat was seen approaching, which proved to be John. He was pulled up over the side of the boat with a rope, and there was great rejoicing. Due to the over-exertion and excitement, and the rough water on the small boat across the Irish Sea, John was ill during the entire journey.

The journey from Liverpool to New York took 45 days, and the accommodations on the “John J. Boyd” would compare with third class or steerage passage today. There were no cabins and no dining room, but all families or groups located themselves in a corner or any open space and took care of their own beds, which were mere bunks. They also prepared their own meals by taking hard tack, small cakes, packed in large sacks, crushing them with a hammer, soaking them in water, and making pudding. The sea was very rough and many people were sick the whole time. Sometimes the whole deck would be a jumble of people and their belongings rolling from one side to the other with the waves. One time, a sad accident occurred as two children were playing on the stairway that led to the bridge deck. The boat suddenly lurched, and a huge wave swept the deck, and both were killed and buried at sea.

After five weeks of intense suffering privation and sea sickness, they landed in New York. The first night, the whole company spread their beds on the floor of the Castle Garden building, and with hearts full of praise and thanksgiving for their safe landing, slept with solid ground under them once more. Bread and vegetable vendors met the boat as soon as it docked, and there was great scrambling and rejoicing to see real bread and green vegetables again.

(Click here to continue to Part 2.)

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.)