The following is a transcript of 'Dave's Story'.


I began tape-recording my story January 15, 1979. My wife typed up notes of the tapes as the story progressed. When we began I thought it would be a simple little two or three page affair--- never had any idea it would become such a big production as this--- never wanted it to.

Now, four months later, it's finally finished and I'm glad---the typing and illustrating all. My wife took four days off at Easter, and outside of that she's worked on it steadily since the middle of January. On my 70th birthday February 22,1979 we had hoped to have it finished, but we took a trip down to Panguitch for more pictures, then went on down to Las Vegas, over to Lake Havasu, across to Flagstaff and home again. And my dear wife resumed work on the story where she'd left off. All it is is a story with pictures for my grandchildren she says. They will probably never read it or care, but now it's finished and I'm glad.

Dave Heywood

April 30, 1979

We got a picture of me and my dear wife and our traveling companion Gracie on my birthday in Panguitch February 22, 1979

( It's a terrible picture we should've gotten rid of it.)

Dave's story a personal history

Recorded by David Heywood

Born in Panguitch Utah February 22, 1909

son of David Leland Heywood and Kate DeLong Heywood

Begun January 16, 1979 completed March 24, 1979


Dave's story is a personal history of his 70 years of life from 1909 to 1979 as dictated by him on tape and transcribed edited illustrated and typed by his wife of 40 years Margaret Taylor Heywood.

This story has been told due to repeated requests from his children that daddy tell the stories of his youth growing up on a ranch in southern Utah of his experiences in the U.S. Forest Service , at the refinery and all the stories they want to remember about him.

A special effort has been made to complete his story to celebrate his 70th birthday and 40th wedding anniversary February 22, 1979 . His memories have been supplemented by old family photographs letters pictures documents etc. which have been included to give a clearer picture to Dave's children and grandchildren of what his life and times were really like.

Margaret's T Heywood,



Kate Heywood Church, my sister brought her family albums of old photographs for us to select and copy those we wished to use. She refused to tell her up on personal memories saying this was Dave's story.

At our request Jean Heywood Betonson wrote a brief description as she remembered it all Dave's birth. Dave's niece Janet Judd Wellington his sister Betsy's daughter supplied Heywood and belong genealogy records and pictures of her Judd family . Dave's nephew, his brother Leland's son Frank L Heywood send us pictures of Leland's family.

Kate's daughter-in-law Clem's wife, Mary Ann Henry Church, took pictures of Panguitch Valley and sent them to us.

Most of the factual material quoted and if some of the pictures came from the world book of knowledge 1950 field enterprises educational corporation Chicago Illinois and from pictures from the Salt Lake Public Library.

The birth of Dave Heywood as told by his sister Jean Heywood Betenson

(pictures of baby Dave)

Great was the joy in the house of D. L. Heywood on February 22, 1909 when a son was born. The third boy with six sisters, he was very precious to his mother who loved him so much. He must have returned her love in kind as she never could see any wrong in him.

We were out of school because of Washington's Birthday. I remember as I ventured out that the snow was over the top of the fence. There was some controversy over the name for the new son. It should be George or David. Right up to the time for church the debate continued but those for David won out.

David learn to work early. There were always many chores and especially out at the farm much work had to be done. I think he spent most weekends taking care of cattle out at the ranch until he was 23 or 24 years old. David was truly a child of the depression. There weren't jobs at all after our ranching was over. He finally was excepted in the CCC Civilian Conservation Corps. He did some road work and he worked on the forest or for the government building trails, firebreaks, reseeding, bug control and timber count as a young man.

David was always very kind and his family, to his parents, his brothers and sisters, his nieces and nephews. They all still love him dearly.

I went away to school when I was 17 after that I was teaching away from Panguitch so there were many years when I didn't know much about his activities.

I think he can still recall every poem and song he ever learned at home and in school. He has surely been a thoughtful and kind brother to me through the years. I appreciate what he has always done for me.

Chapter 1

Growing up on a ranch on the Sevier River in southern Utah.

" each man has a different interpretation of reality then another is interpretation is valid though it may differ from that of another so they may both have shared the same experience unknown .

This enlargement of my mother and father's wedding picture my wife and I had made about 1955 to give to each of my brothers and sisters for Christmas. Both mother and father were fair complected and had very blue eyes. Father was inclined to be red-haired or sandy. They were married in 1894.

My story wouldn't be complete without telling something of a dear friend and neighbor of my parents. When an older spinster lady she married Mr. Burgess. She dressed in black poplin handmade dresses, wore old-fashioned hats or bonnets, was very small, very aged as I remember her. She used to say to my father, " hearing you sing to your children as you rock them in your arms is like hearing the voice of an angel."

Before Aunty Burgess died she gave mother an old silver desert spoon that been used for so long in making gravy that it was one halfway down the spoon bowl on the stirring edge. One day my wife saw one like it in a used furniture store and purchased it for our farmhouse in Manila. She said it reminded her of the stories told in our family. We call it our auntie Burgess spoon.

(Picture Auntie Burgess)

After my mother died my youngest brother Benjamin, then living in Logan and employed by the Bureau of land Management in Cache Valley area, invited Father to spend his last years with him and his wife Trudy. They gave him devoted care. Trudy especially gave him personal nursing care which cured a long-standing infection in his toe, easing the years of pain he had in his foot and leg from rheumatism. They gave him companionship humor which he enjoyed, and good regular meals which he enjoyed very much. Father was always sensitive about being a burden to anyone. The last year of his life he returned to Panguitch as he seemed to know he'd reached the end of his life. He spent the last year with Mary who cared for him until his death.

When it came time for my parents to depend on their children for daily care and nursing, if there were any feelings expressed at all it was that each of their children felt they would have liked to have been in Kate van and Mary's position to help care for them.

My father's father, Joseph Leland Heywood, died in Panguitch in 1910 when I was just a year old so I remember nothing of him personally. He was 95 years of age when he died. My grandmother, Mary Bell Heywood was his youngest wife. I know very little of her except stories I've heard told by members of my family.

The story of my grandfather Joseph Leland Heywood and my grandmother Mary Bell Heywood are told in more detail in the appendix to my story. My grandfather Heywood in his earlier years was well acquainted with Joseph Smith, founder of the LDS or Mormon church, and served in many positions of responsibility. His old frame house on first north and west temple was built when he was first Bishop of the 17th Ward in Salt Lake City . He was later sent to colonize various towns in Southern Utah by Brigham Young. One story I remember because I heard it retold so many times , about my grandmother Mary Bell Heywood, was that she made gloves of deerskin to help support her large family.(Picture Joseph Leland Heywood by the home he lived in in Panguitch when he was a very old man. He is shown with his wife Mary Bell Heywood and an adopted daughter, Ada Bell.)My father David Leland Heywood, 1871 to 1858, was born in Kanarraville Utah (map). He didn't talk much, but when he did he spoke with humor that showed that what he did say he had much thought behind it. As a child I remember him as a very hard-working man who always rose early in the morning to get the day's work done. His family came first with him. He was always proud of his family of 10 children, and very gentle with my mother. He supported her in the big job they had of raising a big family. His only fault was that once in a while up to his middle age he'd go on a really big bender. He was a responsible businessman and held a dozen or so public offices. He was a good citizen and a steady and hard-working as could be. People in the town respected his judgment.

After President Franklin D Roosevelt started his program to relieve the hunger and unemployment in the United States in the 1930s father was coordinator for the welfare program. He'd been a Republican all of his life until his later years. He was always conscious of the condition of others, of those poorer and without the means to feed and clothe their families. Whenever he butchered a pig, or beef or sheep he would always take part of it to families who were in greater need. Also when he knew of families in need of wood to heat their homes he'd see to it that part of our wood supply went to them or that wood was given to them.

In my father's later years he became more democratic. It in the course of his life's work and on various jobs he had he saw how those in possession of lands, cattle and influence just use those hired by them to increase their own wealth without any regard for the condition of the men they hired. In the latter years of my father's life when he became involved in government spending to help the poor relieve their unemployment and in many cases real suffering, he turned toward the Democratic philosophy. Father and Mother had to turn over their home to the state in their early sixties, something he wanted to do to preserve his sense of independence while he lived. They received for this a very small stipend from the state welfare agency. When Mother became very ill toward the last several years of her life, my brother-in-law Rudolph Church invited them to share his home. Kate, my sister, gave mother the constant care and nursing she required until she died in 1955.

Panguitch Main Street 1909. Dad was manager of several businesses in Panguitch, the little 'Eck' Southern Utah Equitable and several others on Main Street. He ran a butcher shop for a while, the bank etc. Men who owned the businesses he managed were early settlers in Panguitch, livestock and sheep man like the Hatches. They came to the valley early, taking up thousands of acres of land had big grazing rights and large herds of cattle and sheep. They were also Republicans concerned with increasing their own wealth at the expense of those they hired.

My earliest memory of my mother, Kate DeLong Heywood, was that she was a very kind, loving mother. She was born in Harmony,Washington County, 10 or 15 miles from the town of Kanarraville where my father was born. (Map)Her father, Albert DeLong, had been a freighter who brought wagon trains of supplies from the east to Utah in the early days. He also freighted from Utah through Arizona. One story my family tells is that grandfather DeLong used to like to tell stories about the polygamist in early Utah history. He built a large log house on the lot next to Main Street in Panguitch just east of the County building. He also built a large barn with stables for cows and horses. Travelers passing through would camp their wagons on his city lot, put up their teams and stay overnight at the DeLong home which was like a hotel or an inn where people could get lodging or their meals overnight.

It was this original house built by grandfather DeLong that my parents lived in when they were first married. It was in the large barn and corrals on this lot that my father later kept his teams, riding horses, pigs, chickens, and a milk cow or two that we'd bring from the ranch in the winter time when I was young.

One interesting story about my grandfather Delong was the unusual circumstances that occurred to change his name and how he eventually changed it back to DeLong from Perkins, the name he was raised with until he was a grown man.

My mother at age 16 was the first student to leave Panguitch. She attended the Brigham Young Academy in Provo Utah where she studied to be a teacher. While there, she became exposed to an illness. Her legs swelled up over twice their normal size. This affliction which made it very hard for her to move about or stand on her feet stayed with her until her death . She taught school in several towns surrounding Panguitch then she returned to Panguitch to teach. Her students were from very young children to adults all in one room. This school was attended by my father, one of her students.

In 1894 when she was 24 and my father was 23, they were married. Father was always proud of mother's intelligence and teaching ability yet occasionally he would tease her about it. As an example of this, when he was a grandfather many times over he'd tell about mother scolding him for hanging clothes out on the line, white sheets with his gloves on and she said he left dark smudges on the corners of the sheets.

Father was always concerned about mother's physical condition, assisting her when necessary to move about to save her what steps she could and directing the children to help her. My mother was definitely not an outdoors woman. While she kept track of what chores and work needed to be done around the ranch and at home she never took an active part in the ranch work or outdoor work at home in town.

She knew what cows needed to be milked and when calves needed to be taken to pasture or returned. She supervised the cheesemaking, butter churning and molding. The butchering of animals was not part of her work but she supervised rendering of the fat we used for cooking.

Mother never really liked the life out on the ranch but she did what she had to to help Father support their large family and educate them.

Mother loved little children and was always kind, good and loving to all her grandchildren and loved to visit them

My mother was public spirited. Many years of her life she worked in the Parent Teacher Association. She helped organize and sponsored The Daughters of the Utah Pioneers in Garfield County. She tried for many years to save and have restored the old Panguitch Tabernacle, the first church built in the valley, as a museum for Pioneer artifacts to be sponsored by the DUP. The tabernacle had been erected on an acre or so of ground which Mother had hoped might become a city park.

Atop its steeple was a large 12 foot wooden fish. She thought that this symbol of the town's name Panguitch, an Indian word meaning 'big fish', should have been preserved. As it turned out the old building was eventually torn down and the fish was placed atop the tower of the County building where it is today . At the time my mother was trying to save the building the Depression was in full swing. There was no money for restoring old buildings nor any for building new ones, for that matter. It should have been allowed to wait out the Depression as it would have made as, mother foresaw, a fitting County Museum. Today what pioneer artifacts are still about are housed in the old bishop's storehouse, the building which was being used before mother died as classrooms for the elementary school. Since the new elementary school has been built they no longer need the storehouse for classes. Today the site where the Tabernacle stood is a large, grass covered area but no attempt has been made to make a City park out of the grounds.

The following letter was written by my father to his brother, Ed Heywood, while he was on his mission. Dad was just 13 years old when the letter was written. It indicates that his schoolteacher at that time was Brother Dodds and that their father Joseph L Heywood was working at Foy store. (picture of letter)

Dear brother Jimmy I thought I would write to you. Our granary is finished and we expect to thrash on Thursday. Brother Dodds started school two weeks ago yesterday. James Cole is agoing to start tomorrow. Thair is a new blacksmith shop being built uncle archer has got home from Salt Lake City he was gone five weeks. Father has engaged to attend Foy's store till 1 March or $25 per month.

David L Heywood

Mother was constantly sewing, making clothing for her large family, mending, patching, sewing for others, making burial clothes for the dead. She supervised her six daughters in cooking, in managing the house and in assisting them in caring for the younger children. She was active in community and church affairs throughout her life. She was a lifetime member and president of the PTA, the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers which she helped found. She attended Relief Society and church meetings and often was asked to be a speaker at funerals. Writing she always did very well. She had a large command of words and an unlimited vocabulary. Mother loved books. She was an agent for the Cromwell publishing company for many years. Through this she provided her home with many magazines such as Life, Pictorial Review, Ladies Home Companion and various church publications such as the Children's Friend the Era and others.

We had newspapers and books. There was no library in Panguitch when I was young. Mother was on the library board to secure books which were passed around in a traveling library, passed in canvas boxes from house to house for reading. She never charged a commission for this service and was always, in spirit, a teacher. Physically mother was a very small woman, except for her legs which were swollen due to the illness she'd had when in school in Provo. Her feet and hands were small . Her hands were small but efficient, always busy. Her hair light brown, was worn plainly, drawn back straight, parted in the middle and formed a bun in back. Her very clear eyes were perhaps the most outstanding characteristic--eyes that could always seem to see right through one. After fashion raised the women's hemlines to their knees and above, Mother always wore hers to her ankles.

In her last years mother had considerable difficulty moving around and she suffered considerably from rheumatism as father did.

My mothers brother Ralph was the first white child born in Panguitch after the pioneers returned to the town and built a fort after the Indians had driven them away from their homes. Mother was then an infant child it was mother's father Albert who built the first house outside the fort, the log cabin described earlier.

picture of Kate Delong with sisters and mother.

Mother was a good pastry cook. Her pies were especially good. She never cut pies in less than quarter pieces. She thought pie should be eaten fresh. She made excellent lemon meringue and apple pie. My sister Mary was always making cakes and cookies that tasted much like mother's.

Because mother taught them, all of my sisters were good cooks -- especially Mary . My six sisters did the housework at the ranch and in town under mother's supervision while mother sewed, patched clothes, and made older children's clothes over for the younger ones. She was darning socks constantly, always had a big sock basket she worked on.

Mother made lots of donuts. She'd use the fat rendered from butchering of the hogs and fat from fried bacon or drippings for frying them.

We cooked and bottled meat for our winter supply. Mother would roast or fry meat and bacon, pour. the hot grease over it and seal it. When we killed a pig Mother would grind the pork, pour salt, sage, pepper and other seasonings in it and stuff it in bags a yard long made by sewing a flour sack into two long strips twice down the middle and cutting them apart. She'd stuff them with fresh ground seasoned pork sausage it was delicious.

Mother always felt that good nourishing meals served regularly were essential and should be served hot. We had good nourishing breakfasts and a big hot meal in the middle of the day as we worked hard on the ranch and when in town. During the winter we lived close enough to walk home for dinner each day. Our suppers were simpler, bread and milk, cold sliced meat, onions, cheese, not a hot meal. Mother liked the family all to sit down together for a meal and this was an established practice in our family.

Since I was just a child of six or seven years and was in town with my mother when the Hatchtown dam went out causing so much damage to our ranch, I' ll use my sister Bessie's account of it.

" Dad worked for the public when I was young. At 12 years old or so we moved up on the dairy ranch 12 miles north of Bryce Canyon, 7 miles south of town. My older brother, Leland, was then working for the forest service so we girls milked 40 to 50 cows and made cheese. We were real cow wranglers. We had to swim horses across the river several times a day to wrangle the cows out of the willows and bring them into the milking pens. We'd also ride back and forth to town in the summer to dances in a white top buggy. I was always the teamster and used to get my sisters many a scare, standing up with the lines in one hand whip in the other making the horses run. One thing I'll never forget was when the Hatchtown reservoir dam broke.

"It was 12 miles up the river from our ranch, a few miles south of Hatchtown.. It had been a very rainy spring. Our pasture was fine and we had lots of calves. Someone called Dad on the telephone telling him that the dam was going and to get all the livestock gathered up since the water would take everything. We had just built new lambing sheds, new dairy barns, pigpens and chicken coops.

Father had hired a man with his family, Haycocks I believe, to build the new buildings. We had an old granary that have been on the place since it was first homesteaded.

Dad said: "Girls, gather up saddles, chaps, ,spurs, bridles and tools and throw them on top of the granary she'll never take that."

We all worked fast. We had a hired man living in one of the ranch houses. He helped us drive the cattle, horses, pigs-- we even tried to get the chickens up on the hill. About 4 o'clock the telephone started to ring. Excited men were calling to tell Dad that it was taking everything. Dad got on the telephone and called ranches below us along the river warning them until the water reached his knees. Then came the roar, a noise I'll never forget. Dad gave orders to move all household goods up on the hill. Finally we could see it --a big angry wall of water sweeping everything before it. My sister Blanche's violin had been left in the ranch house on the piano and she started crying. Dad went back down to get it. Dad was standing in mud and water up to his waist still trying to warn people below us before it took the telephone line out. We could see all the buildings being swept along. Just below our house was a narrow place in the valley. The flood struck that and backed up on us again. We lost lots of stock we couldn't find in such short notice. The next morning we looked out over the valley The riverbed was completely changed. We could see nothing but red mud. Not even a current or bullberry bush or willow remained, nothing but red sticky mud. Nothing was left for our remaining stock to eat. The wild grass and all the good feed was covered up. The state paid all the ranchers something on their losses. At the hearing in Salt Lake a neighbor lady said, ', next time you build a dam make it out of something besides whiskey and sand."

The next morning when I went with mother and Ben, someone took us in a buggy, we saw all the damage that had been done. It had taken our bridge to the ranch across the Sevier River. It had wrecked the town grist mill a mile east of town-- wrecked the water wheels so they wouldn't work anymore. It had swept all our new barns corrals and machinery down the river. Our harnesses, tools, everything was gone. Dad did find an old bob sleigh he used in the winter to go to and from town in order to feed the cattle. It was thirty or so miles further down the river in Circleville Canyon. He took it back to the ranch and use it to haul hay, families and to feed cattle. Most everything else was lost had to be replaced.

Ice, in my childhood was cut in large blocks from a pond. When the winters weren't too severe and it was possible to get up to Panguitch lake, men would go up with teams and sleighs cut big blocks from the lake and bring them to town where they would be stored in straw in granaries and barns. In Manila we have such an ice house. The walls are made of log 27 inches thick. An inner wall of logs contains sawdust filling for further insulation. It is very effective. It was used for storing meat in summer. We can cure meat in it. I cured one or two spring lambs I butchered one spring and our friends in Manila use it at deer, antelope and elk hunting seasons.

When I was young there were no refrigerators. What we couldn't keep cold had to be canned or salted or cured in some other manner. In the summer milkhouse used to be built over natural springs. Lacking those, water would be run into cement or log spring houses where milk would be kept cool.

Another cooling device would be a cabinet type of structure 6 feet are so high with a metal pan on top. Over the wood frame would be stretched canvas or gunny sacking. A hose would lead to the metal pan on top and water would run slowly into the pan running over-the-top and dripping onto the burlap and cooling the pans of milk, butter, cream and cheese stored inside.

However most dairy products wouldn't keep long in this fashion and would generally have to be used within 10 or 12 hours or would sour. Then it would be fed to the pigs, chickens or other stock along with their other grains and feed.

We used to celebrate the fourth and 24th of July at Panguitch Lake when I was a boy. It was very cool up there and it was a chance for an outing. People would ride up in wagons, horses and buggies, white cops, most any horse-drawn vehicles and make camp. There were no cars in those days. They'd take tents, bedding, cooking utensils and food supplies for meals. (picture of camping out)

When this picture was taken I was just six months old so infants accompanied their parents on these occasions as well as young children.

I do remember one year when I was 16 or 17 years old riding up to the lake on horseback for the July 24 celebration. I stayed overnight at Bluesprings (a piece of property now owned and being developed by my nephews Clem and Val Church and their partners. My sister Blanche and her husband Deward were working at the Blue Springs Ranch that summer.

The entertainment consisted of foot races, horse races, boating, fishing on the lake and of course picnicking. This kind of outing wasn't a hardship as one nowdays might suppose. Everyone had to travel and camp in this fashion. There were no cars or buses, no hotels or motels no forest camps or tourist retreats. Everyone made their own fun the best way they could.

Holidays were all celebrated as a family. One Christmas I remember especially is when I was nine years old. My older brother, Leland, had just returned from France after World War 1. We went to the ranch for a load of hay and a milk cow. I reached home first. When Leland got to town he really beat me up because I hadn't helped him load the hay by pushing it in from behind where he could stack it with a pitchfork. After he disciplined me dad got sore at Leland because he thought there should be only one Boss in a family. As Bessie puts it, "Father didn't believe in disciplining children. He thought that life disciplined us all and we learn from experience."

Jean was mad about it too. I guess I was about 16 before I got my revenge on Leland. He was married by then. We grappled over something I beat his head on the floor breaking his bridgework. We weren't really angry we were just grappling as brothers do to see who is the strongest.

That Christmas Leland was supposed to buy me a pocket knife but he didn't because he was still sore at me. Jean had taken over Christmas by then. She was teaching over at Antimony and she bought presents for all the family, still does. Jean has always been a very generous person and thoughtful of all of her family.

To use the water from the Hatchtown dam reservoir drains and ditches were built all along the east side of the river up over the benchland east of Panguitch clear north to Circleville. My father had a sawmill at Panguitch Lake and he cut timber into logs and lumber to sell to the farmers who took up the land watered by these ditches. After the flood the water supply was cut off. They abandoned most of the farms, no one has ever lived there since the flood. Dad never collected any of the money for the lumber he cut, sawed and sold to those farmers.

One of my very first memories when I was a kid out at the ranch was playing on the porch of the ranch house. I looked down and saw what I thought was a quirt or a whip. I reached down to pick it up and it started to rattle. A rattlesnake crawling under the house. Up to then it was the only one we'd seen around the house, but there were many out in the Red Canyon wash, in the willows, in the pasture and in the black rocks above the ranch to the east. (Mary Ann Church, Clem's wife reported to us just last month when we visited Panguitch that she quit hunting Indian arrowheads in those hills above the ranch. There were arrowheads there, there were also rattlesnakes and one she had run into when last up there had terrified her it was so large.

Our ranch on the Sevier River was referred to as the 'old Schow place'. Dad had been working at a store in town, Garfield Mercantile Company. He decided to go into business for himself so he bought the old Schow Ranch, about six or 700 acres south along the Sevier river to the point where the road branches off to Bryce Canyon from the main highway to Kanab, then east to the entrance of red Canyon. He'd hired a crew of men, got the materials and they built onto the old board house already on the property three big rooms and an upstairs. My wife and her friend Virginia took this picture while riding horses out by the ranch in the year we met in 1936.

Dad decided that with our large family we needed an addition so he built two rooms as an addition out of lumber. Dad hired a family by the name of Haycock to help him build the barns and corrals and house. They lived in one of the houses. At that time the Hatchtown dam had been built for about two years.

All these new buildings except the additions to the house were swept away in the hatch town dam flood. Dad had to start all over again but he never did replace the big barn or sheep sheds that were lost.

When I was a child on the ranch and in town playthings were mostly invented. We didn't have toys as children do today. We invented playthings like stick horses. We used to make roads up and down the hills out on the ranch and we'd dig in the dirt a lot. When I was very young, three or four, Dad would hand the lines guiding the team for me to drive them as they pulled the wagon or sleigh. He treated me like I was a man and could do anything from the time I was a very young boy.

Ben was the youngest of our large family of 10 children. While the family was getting ready to go to church to christen Ben I was all dressed up in pantaloons and a white shirt. It was November 1. It had snowed and there was a bunch of town kids my age with their sleighs hitched onto a rope being pulled by a horse, so I tied on behind with my sleigh. We rode all over town through slush and mud. When I got back to the house I was covered with mud from one end to the other. I didn't go to Ben's christening.

My brother Dwight died when I was nine and he was 14. They buried him on my birthday, February 22. He just got sick that winter, wouldn't eat, got thinner and thinner. They didn't know too much then about diseases as we do now and couldn't seem to help him get better. Dad had been grooming me to take his place working with him on the ranch. I probably did things boys twice my age wouldn't be expected to do. Leland had gone to France during World War I; dad was alone on the ranch without any other son or man to help him. There were kinds of work he wouldn't let my six sisters do. The older ones were getting married.

Fights would be arranged for me by my older brother Dwight before he died. He'd get with the bigger boys and arrange for me to fight after school. It seemed I was always fighting. He put me in a wagon pulled by a dog and then set the dog on its worst enemy, a sheep. Once the dog chased after some of uncle Ed's sheep. I took a real good ride! Dwight wasn't the best student but very enterprising-- always very busy. He had his own horse.(picture of Dwight with dog.)

The team ran away with Winnie and me one day when we were driving to the ranch when I was seven or eight. The wagon tipped over. Some men working at the grist mill a mile east of town found me knocked out. When I came to, they said I said, "Where's those damned horses?" They found the team running around loose in town. When we got to our house in town we called back to tell Dad what had happened. We gathered up the horses, took them out by the river, righted up the wagon, hitched up the team and drove back to the ranch. Winnie told me this story later when I was married, living in Salt Lake and she visited during World War 2.

When I was about six or seven my parents attended a postmasters convention in Logan Utah. Dad was postmaster in Panguitch at the time and we were all excited to think they were taking such a trip. I don't recall how they traveled it could have been by car as dad had purchased a 1917 Studebaker around about that time or it might have been by buggy to Marysvale where the railroad terminal was, then on by train to Logan. (pictures of post office and attendees at convention.)

We always memorized a lot in school when I was a kid. I never learned how to write. From the first grade on I was very poor in handwriting. Because of this, later in English classes where so much had to be written, I wouldn't even try. If someone had gotten hold of me then and made me learn to write instead of doing as little of it as I could, I would have done well in school I think. Mother had been a schoolteacher and could've taught me I suppose but it was about that time when I was in elementary school that Dwight died and I guess she had her mind on other things. I've always read a lot and enjoyed it-- still do. Also if one learns quickly, it is easy to memorize. I memorized very easily-- poetry verses from magazines and at school I would listen as other students recited and by the time three or four kids had recited before me I'd know it off by heart. I ended up with a block against writing and because of it I also had a block against doing my English lessons as they required so much writing. Low grades in English meant a general dislike of written work in my other subjects but I did learn quickly and memorized easily.

Bern Miller was my best friend when I was in the first grade outside my family cousins. Bern lived in the northeast part of town. We visited back-and-forth with each other up to the third grade. After that I became friends with Dennis Lee, a friendship that's lasted a lifetime. We used to have snowball fights in the school grounds.

The spring I was six my older sister Jean had finished her schooling at the University of Utah and hadn't started teaching, so she came home and went to the ranch and cooked for my mother and father. That year there was a lot of high water. It came clear up the hillside almost to the house. One day my father killed a duck which was swimming on the high water. Jean cooked it and it was surely delicious and an unexpected treat.

Our town house in Panguitch was a nice, two-story red brick house on one fourth of the city lot right near town. Most of the family lived there most of the time. In the summer we worked out on the ranch during the week then go down Saturday night to have baths, go to church, and get our soiled clothes washed and ready to go back to the ranch Monday morning early. In the spring early my mother and father would go out to the ranch to care for the cattle, milk cows, feed chickens get the land in shape and the crops in but the children would stay in town with my older sisters and go to school.

When I was very young we had a big well in our backyard for our water supply. We had one of the first indoor bathrooms in town and the first electricity. When I was very young, dad installed a pressured gas system with the pipes in the attic. The lights operated much like a Coleman lantern. Soon after the city installed the city water system dad filled up our well and capped it. After I left Panguitch in 1940 the kitchen floor began to sink from the water from the well. They had to dig another pit to drain the water away from the house.

When electricity was available my parents were among the first to have it installed. Before the city water system came in we had a large tin tub much like the tub now for our house in town but out at the ranch we bathed in a #three tin tub. We had an indoor toilet after the town got water but we also had a privy outside until dad got rid of it because just anyone from town began to use it as it was so close to the center of town. We kept the privy out at the ranch, a much better one then we have out at Manila. It was a three holer. During the Depression there were so many privies in town, the government during Roosevelt's time, the WPA built toilets called Roosevelts with chemical tanks beneath them for the many families who didn't have indoor plumbing as we did. I memorized a poem on the topic.

My sister Jean paid a lot of attention to me when I was young, more than the others did. I always loved her very much because of this. (On my 70th birthday while visiting with her my wife asked her about this. Jean answered, "Well I'd do anything to keep the peace...") Other members of my large family used to call Jean 'the angel Moroni.'

Whether this has anything to do with her behavior in our family I can only guess. Kate and Winnie, more my same age, also protected me and never tattled on me for fighting in school or the time Bern Miller and I stole some chickens when I was in the third grade. I used to get into quite a few fights. Dennis Lee and I would fight after school each day just to keep in practice or to prove who is the biggest.

When I was about eight, in 1917 dad bought a new Studebaker car. I'd gone out on East Fork with Leland. He was breaking outlaw horses and had a tent out there. I asked him to bring me into town so I could go on a trip I knew my parents were planning to take in the new car. Leland was too busy and wouldn't take me to town. I started out walking and I began to run. I'd bawl and run until I felt real miserable it was a distances of 20 to 25 miles. I looked back and saw a couple in a buggy following me so I ran faster than ever. Finally I reached Red Canyon where I saw some springs. (These springs are now the water system for the Red Canyon Forest Camp. I knelt down and took a big long drink and felt better so I started running again. When I reached the main highway leading into town someone came along in a white top buggy and offered me a ride so I decided to ride the remaining 7 miles with them. When I reached home I found my parents had decided not to take the trip after all.

Before Leland went to war in Europe when I was eight or nine years old my father bought a herd of hogs, Duroc jerseys and reds. He let people breed to the hog and give him a pig from their litters for the breeding service. This soon put him in the hog business. We had nine sows and each of them had a litter of 10 piglets or so very soon he had over 100 pigs. After having had experience with Dad out on the ranch I thought I knew what the hog business was about, but last summer,1978 in May, we made a trip up through North Carolina and I saw for the first time what the hog business is all about. We drove for miles, 50 or so, and so perhaps 2000 to 3000 metal hog pens with automatic feeders and water lines, all on big farms. There were dozens like that as we drove along. I've never seen anything like it before in my life.

My brother Dwight herded, fed, and cared for our cattle after my brother Leland went to World War I.

(picture of 18 year old Leland as he left for France.)

Dwight was father's right-hand man. When Leland returned from the war he got married. When Dwight died at 14 I was seven and father began training me to take Dwight's place just as Dwight had taken Leland's place on the ranch. I suppose that is why I began doing a man's work when I was considerably younger than other boys.

My brother Leland was a favorite with all the ladies of the town who had eligible daughters. When he returned to Panguitch after the war he was even more glamorous to them as he was in uniform and in those days it was a heroic thing to be a returned soldier home from the war. Woodrow Wilson was president. The war had been fought "to make the World safe for Democracy!" There was great celebrating all over the United States when war was over. There was dancing in the streets and all the big cities when the boys came home I remember a song I memorized at the time:

" Goodbye Ma, Goodbye Pa! Goodbye mule with the old hee haw! I may not know what the war is all about but I bet my gosh I'll soon find out. I'll bring you a Turk and the Kaiser too, and that's about all one feller can do!"

It was about this time after Leland had left for Europe and dad was shorthanded that our cattle had wandered out along the East Fork on the way to Bryce Canyon. I was seven or eight at the time. Not having any other man to depend on, dad sent me out to find a lost cow. Someone told him that they'd seen a stray cow with his brand on her and she had a calf. I passed by old Judge Hatch's ranch. His wife Lucy invited me in. They were living on this ranch proving up some marginal homestead land. Mrs. Hatch gave me a cheese sandwich and said she thought it was terrible that Dave Heywood would send such a small boy out alone so far on such an errand. I ate the sandwich thanked her and went on my way. I found the cow she had to pass following her what the Yearling and the other newborn both were nursing her one of the calves, I remember, was a 'morphadite'.

Another time when I was about eight, my sister Kate and I were riding Old Snip without a saddle. I think we were going out to find some lost cattle along the South Field near the entrance to Red Canyon. Our ranch ran south for about a couple of miles then turned east along the Red Canyon Road for two or 3 miles. That part was all pasture and willows after the Hatchtown Dam flood. Map and picture of Heywood Ranch.

Old Snip made a sharp turn and started to run up the South Field. Kate and I fell off. I think Kate broke her arm as I remember it.

Cows tried to hide before having their calves. Since bobcats, coyotes and cougars were common on ranches then near the foothills it was a constant concern that the cow and her calf be found.

I think it was after Leland came back from Europe and was helping dad on the ranch for a short time that he was seriously injured. Father was then in the hog business. We have been killing young pigs. They were making a lot of noise. There was a lot of blood. The old brood sow got really excited at the smell of blood and the noise. Leland got into the pen for another young pig and she attacked him. Knocked him down and started to gore him with her tusks and chew on his leg. Dad was standing nearby and called for someone to hand him a club. He beat on the sow but couldn't stop her so he went for pitchfork and finally drove her off.

Leland's leg was so badly mangled he had to have the care of a doctor so dad took him over to the road and a wagon or the mail buggy came by and picked them up and took them into town. He was on crutches all the rest of the winter.

(picture of Jean, Bessie, and Mary)My older sisters used to do the cooking and cleaning at the ranch and in town. They would pick wild currants and bullberries. We'd go up along the river towards the Allen Ranch and south by the river and to Red Canyon Wash. Kate and Win and I would pick them and the girls and mother would make jelly and jam. The bushes grew wild along the river. We always have lots of jelly and jam and made lots of fresh cakes and candy. All of our family can make good candy.

(picture of Mary, Kate, Dave and Dwight.) One of the few pictures we have of Dwight before he died I was about seven Dwight 14 when this picture was taken of the four of us sitting on the cheese press out on the ranch just before he died.

A packrat lived in the top floor or upstairs of our ranch house. It kept crawling around between the rafters. Dwight blasted it all to pieces with a shotgun.

That same summer a large sack of peanuts was lost off a wagon loaded with freight. The wagon had gone on by and the peanuts were left behind. We were the first to claim them and we made a lot of peanut brittle at the ranch that summer. Mother made cake donuts in the winter time. She cooked them in lard, coat them with sugar and freeze them during the winter time when it was very cold. When we went to the ranch to feed and water the cattle we'd take these donuts with us. Warmed in the oven of our wood-burning stove they thawed out and tasted especially good after we've worked hard and were very hungry. Reading was always an important leisure activity in our large family of 12, including mother and father. My parents used to read the papers and discuss current events together. It seemed that life was all work but we had a lot of reading material and when the work was done we would all read. We didn't have electricity then. There were 4-5 whale oil lamps about the house in town and at the ranch. Three or four would be huddled around each lamp reading. We all read whenever we had leisure time at the ranch and at our home in town. This is a habit that all of us enjoy to this day. My sisters still subscribe for magazines and pass them around among themselves. Jean is a great hand to subscribe to book clubs and offer them to members of the family to enjoy along with her. Through the years I've enjoyed a lot of good reading this way band and I still exchange books when we find something worthwhile or just plain interesting.

A Durham cow herd was another venture of my father's. He bought a herd of 40 cows and saved their calves to add to his herd. We had no milking machines but my six sisters used to do all the milking. The Durham bull was called Old Repeater. He stayed with the cows on the ranch. We also had a range bull called 'Mahonri', a Durham shorthorn which went out with the dries, cows that were going to have calves. We didn't dare get close to Repeater. He'd wheel suddenly and could lift a 1200 pound horse off the ground with his head. Jersey or Holstein Bulls weren't allowed on the range. The livestock men didn't want crosses or spotted cattle they wanted beef cattle not milk stock.

My sisters gave me the job of running the calves. They had each cow named. When they got through milking one cow they say, "Turn me a calf. " and I'd go and turn the calf out of the pen and then announce the name of the next cow. One was Old High-Class, one was Old Hard Hillsdale, one Martha, one Beulah and another Muley. As I turned the out the calf it would recognize its own mother and go to the cow. One of my sisters would then go to the cow, tie her back legs then give the calf one or two tits to nurse depending on how big it was and how badly it needed milk. If it still seemed hungry it would be fed more milk from a bucket.

When one of them would finish milking a sister would call out "take my calf off." I'd go get the fed calf and put it back in another pen.

I thought I was a better milker than my sisters but they'd never let me milk out at the ranch only in the winter when we'd go to town for school. There they forgot they ever knew how to milk. We would only take one family milk cow to town.

My parents spent the last several years of their lives until my mother's death with my sister Kate. Many of their personal papers were left in her keeping. She loaned me this sheet from the ledger describing the management of our dairy herd; when the cows were sent out on the range, when they calved, and their names. It was in fact a dairy business and he managed it in a businesslike way .

We'd wean the calves in the fall, sell calves that we didn't intend to keep to build up the herd and keep the cows as dries out on the range until the next spring when they would calf again. Our family milk cow was an old bobtail jersey we called Old Jersey and she had just enough tail so that if she hit you in the eye it would knock you out.

Except for our winter milk cow we'd keep the rest with the bull all the time. They'd dry up in the fall then have their new calves in the spring.

My six sisters with mother: Blanche, Jean, Bessie, Mary, Kate and Winnie. They did the milking when younger and ran our family cheese and butter business.

"All cheesemaking no matter what country or what kind of cheese follows the same basic process. " Our milk was used for butter and cheesemaking. We sold the butter to the local merchants. We made enough to buy our groceries and sugar, 100 pounds at a time which at that time was only about $10 a 100 pounds, before World War II. We traded meat, grain oats, rye and wild hay for molasses and sometimes honey and flour. The honey and molasses would come in 5 gallon cans.

Cheesemaking was a major activity at the ranch. My sisters Blanche, Jean, Bessie, Mary, Kate and Winnie all helped in making cheese which would be traded for groceries, fruit, tomatoes, plums and raisins from St. George. Peddlers would come to Panguitch early in the spring.

We had one room for cheesemaking, first in the back room of the original log house and later it was moved into one of the rooms in the new frame addition Father built on. The cheese room first had a hard dirt floor and then a board floor. It was a fight all the time to keep the flies mice and rodents under control (we didn't have DDT then.)

The vats were like a double boiler, a smaller vat sitting in a larger that was filled with water heated underneath with a slow fire to heat the water which in turn would slowly heat the milk. It had to be kept at just the right temperature. *Rennet is added to the warm milk to produce the curd. When the curd separated from the whey, a long handled tool with four cutting blades would be pulled through the curd then the curd was re-cut until it was fine-grained like cottage cheese. It would be washed with cold water that would be drawn off and saved for pig or cattle feed. Coloring and rennet were added to the curd which was then put in presses making cheeses of 25 pounds. Cheese like we used to make on the ranch, Wrapped in cheesecloth then dipped in paraffin wax.

If a calf for some reason was undersized or wasn't doing well it would have to be hand fed from warm fresh milk. Calves that were nursed from their mother seem to do better from the start. After they were weaned they were put out on the range with the other cattle after spending some time in the pasture at the ranch.

Whey that was drained off the cheese vats was run into buckets and drums. It would then be used to feed pigs and livestock. During the heating of the milk we had to be very careful not to let the temperature vary. If it got too hot or a little too cold then the cream would be knocked out of the cheese and the cream would go into the whey.

There was not much work at the time for my sisters so they've milk the cows and make the cheese and butter instead of getting jobs on the outside. Today all of those involved in cheesemaking agree it took a great deal of care, it was a lot of work, but how else was there to make money then?

As my sisters got older and left home either to go to school or get married (Bessie about 1921, Jean about 1923) we did get some outside work near the ranch. In about 1920 when I was 11, they planned and built a road through Red Canyon leading out to Bryce Canyon which was becoming quite a tourist attraction.

We had a contract to furnish the milk for the road construction crew. Mary, Kate and Winnie had a light team of horses and a white top buggy. They'd load milk into the buggy during the week and deliver it to the construction camp. Saturday and Sunday they would separate the milk and make butter to take to the merchants in town as usual.

My wife and Mary Ann Church found this old buggy without the white top on a lot in Panguitch now being used as an antique display these lightweight rigs were used a lot for hauling like loads of produce and merchandise and for transportation when I was young they were usually drawn by a team of horses whereas the lighter single seated buggies were drawn by only one horse.

My two sisters Mary and Kate have always lived most of their lives in Panguitch. They've been friends and neighbors. They are very different but they have been friends. They were nearer my own age than my older sisters and Mary especially was bossy, thought it would do me good to be whipped into line once in a while. She used to catch me and choke me but I always knew she was doing it because she really loves me.

Mary was a very good cook. She loved to cook and was an extravagant cook, using more cream and butter and sugar than was actually needed to make whatever dessert or food she was making. She was perhaps a better cook even then my mother, all of my sisters because she love to cook and spent a lot of time doing it.

Mary got a job when she was quite young cooking for the construction workers on the Red Canyon Road and she could handle it, liked to do it, but it was hard work, a big responsibility. She made lots of cakes and cookies, rolls and fresh bread on that job and at home for the family. She loved to do it and have people enjoy the food she prepared.

Mary wasn't much concerned about saving for the future. She enjoyed spending the money she earned. She spent money. She's always worked hard all her life to make her own money to take care of herself and her family. She's never been afraid of hard work and if she had to she could cook very common food and make it taste very good, better than most people could that I know. Mary had a lot of tough luck in her life but she took it on the chin and didn't complain but started over and did it the best she could. She LIKED to cook, she LIKED to clean, she LOVED to sew. She was happy and enthusiastic about whatever it was she was doing. Often she made ends meet when it looked like she never could and would always come out with something extra to do the things she loved to do, yet of all my sisters she had the least to do it with in the first years of her marriage.

All my family were early risers. Mary never minded it. She LIKED to get up really early in the morning and most always was cheerful and a good companion, interested in whatever was going on. She laughed a lot even during the hardest times but she could be mean and she got after me a lot when I was young. I always knew she'd be my friend afterwards

When her first child Dewitt was born she had to work so he stayed with our family a lot and was raised like a son and a brother. She married a Panguitch fellow, Waldon Davis and had her second child, a girl, Mary Zane, named after Waldon's mother, Zane Davis. Waldon was a good carpenter. They built a nice frame cottage over on the west side of town. Mary's life wasn't very stable as Waldon had a health problem most of his life. He tried hard to overcome it and for a few years he did and he had a good carpentry business when they lived over in Tooele before World War II. He died of pneumonia after the war when they moved to Salt Lake. During her marriage to Waldon Mary worked hard to help support their family but she was always cheerful about it she worked at the Remington arms during World War II in Salt Lake and for a time in California while her son Dewitt served during the war in the South Pacific.

Different from Mary, my sister Kate was a hard worker too but she never really like to work especially out at the ranch. Kate was always a very good student, very bright, perhaps the brightest one in the family outside of Ben. She always got A grades. She was quick in learning everything. In high school she was valedictorian of her graduating class. She married when she was just out of high school.

Most all my six brothers-in-law except Denton, Winnie's husband worked out at the ranch for Dad, particularly during the summer when they weren't doing other jobs, planting, helping with livestock, harvesting hay or grain but Kate's husband Dolph, as I remember it, never worked out at the ranch except the time when he came to propose marriage to dad asking for Kate's hand in marriage. As they worked and talked Dad sent whoever it was with them to the house on an errand while they did their talking. Dolph was the principal of the Garfield County High School, Kate's principal as I remember it. They left after they were married to go to Idaho to teach school and coach, Dolph's specialty, and one he did extremely well over the years.

Kate was quick-witted she worked easily and hard at whatever she had to do and like cooking, she always did it well but didn't particularly enjoy doing it. Kate seemed to inherit her gift for using words from my mother and Kate wrote very well. If she had chosen to make that career she would've been an excellent writer. It was easy for her to put words together. She LIKED to write. I think she could have perhaps been a pretty good journalist in whatever field she chose to work in had she chosen to do that instead of marrying young and raising her family of four children and helping her husband Dolph with his hotel and later motel business.

Unlike Mary, although both sisters had been raised to work hard in a large family where there was never quite enough money to cover the expenses of our ranching ventures and providing for and educating those who wished an education, Kate, it seemed to me, never really enjoyed spending money. Where Mary was a spender Kate was always a saver.

Kate was a very perceptive, sensitive person. She had a great sense of humor, she read widely and had a good mind that could interpret events. She always had a stable marriage and security and she worked hard with her husband Dolph to save, to build up their business, to care for their children, to educate them, those that wanted an education. The first half of their lives together they lived in the old Blue Pine Hotel in an apartment, a hotel Dolph inherited from his parents and built up in their middle age. He built Kate a very modern comfortable brick home just east of the hotel where she lived the rest of her life. So while she and Dolph were gone for a few years teaching in Idaho, most of Kate's life has been spent in Panguitch.

So my sisters, Mary and Kate, were quite different, have always been good friends and lived just a block or so from each other in Panguitch and were the sisters I'd stay with after Mother and Dad died when I was older and returned to Panguitch on vacations.

Both Mary and Kate have always been very hospitable to me, were always interested in my welfare and their houses have been my home when I needed it or visited them and I have appreciated this very much over the years.

While building diversion ditches out on the ranch we would use a horse pulling a drag. One horse we had was really smart in getting out of this work. We called it Old Sway. It would stop really fast. Once on a hayrake when I hit it it would kick at me. Dad would say, "You have to be smarter than the horse to get it to obey you."

Then Dad tried to work him on the grain binder once but he couldn't get Old Sway to work either. He traded him to Leland who was supposed to be a good horse trainer. Leland worked with him but couldn't change his disposition so he traded him for another horse we called Old Star. Star was worse than Old Sway. You had to know about horses or you could be in real trouble as you had to work with them constantly.

After the Webbs leased our ranch and couldn't pay for their lease in about 1919 when I was 10 years old, they left without paying Dad anything for the crops and livestock. We had to take it back and start over again.

When I was 11 I mowed all the hundred and 60 acres of wild hay, 7 acres a day. Leland had just returned from the war and was working in the forest service, Dwight had died, Ben was only four so I was Dad's right-hand man.

One of the big jobs on the ranch was harvesting the wild hay we used for feed and sold or traded for supplies we needed. Generally dad would have to have extra help with this and often my brothers-in-law, Deward Woodard, Tom Judd or Waldon Davis would lend a hand and work during the harvest or dad would hire someone else. We all helped, those who were home, stacking or tromping. Several of us got broken arms from falling off the hayrack during those years.

We had about 20 to 160 acres of wild hay during the years we operated the ranch. During the drought it would not produce and we would have to buy hay at high prices to feed our livestock.

My older sisters were married-- Bessie, Blanche and Jean by 1922 to 1923 but during the flu epidemic around that time everyone in town got sick. Mother went to take care of Tom and Bessie. Deward and Blanche came home. Dad was running the 'Little Eck' that year, spending many hours after regular working hours delivering supplies to sick families. After everyone else had it, Kate and I got real sick. I wouldn't go to bed and later got bronchial pneumonia and nearly died. The doctor kidded me about it. Everyone was quarantined until late in February that year-- missed a lot of school. Mother worked so hard nursing her large family and neighbors. Finally Dad passed out on his feet at work. Jean got it first and was the sickest of all of us I believe.

Many people in our town died during the flu epidemic following World War I. Whole families would be down sick. There were frequent deaths and at times hardly anyone to hold the services or dig the grave's or bury the dead. It was a nationwide epidemic and hundreds of thousands of people died that year across the United States. There was no vaccine or shots available for it then.

Threshing of our oats rye and grain was done in this manner. A threshing machine and a crew of men would move on to the ranch when the grains were ripe and work until the grain crops were harvested. Generally it was the custom, if the work lasted more than a few hours, to prepare a big meal for all the threshing crew as well as for the family. It was considered quite an occasion and broke the monotony. When the threshers came everyone worked either out in the fields or in the house preparing the large meal.

Trips for trading produce were made in the fall or early winter. I remember particularly the one we made to Kingston when I was seven or eight years old. Of the six or seven hundred acres on the ranch, much of it was grazing land. We used about a fourth of it for raising irrigated crops for food and trade. In order to care for the grain crops we had to have sacks and they were kept for a long time, washed clean, mended and used over and over again.

We'd load barley, grain, oats, potatoes into these sacks, put them in a wagon to haul them to our tin granary on the ranch to store for feed or to sell. The potatoes we'd take to the potato pit in town one under our house and one in an old utility building for winter use until the crop matured the next year. We fed the cattle hay and straw in the winter when it was cold. Dad took the grain to Kingston and Marysvale.

One trip to Kingston, a distance of 35 miles or so, we camped the first night just south of Circleville where there was an old campground and we could buy hay for the team. I was seven or eight years old. We unloaded the grain and traded it for whatever produce they had on hand that we needed. We had close to 30 sacks of grain that we traded for flour and two or three sacks of bran hulls off the milled grain. It was real good hog feed mixed with water.

Our grainsacks like everyone else's had been branded so we could keep track of them. They were large, heavily woven cotton sacks of very durable material. If they were used for flour they would be washed in the washing machine like clothing and then they'd be patched, quite a job, but sacks were expensive. They started to use more burlap sacks for grains and potatoes.

Produce then came in by freight on the railroad to Marysvale. Marysvale had big stores then. Freighters would pick up their sugar salt clothing tools and other items of freight needed.

On one trip I had a list from home. I drove a wagon of wool down for uncle Ed. He purchased rock salt for the cattle to lick, 50 pounds of table salt and 200 pounds of sugar. The goods listed above were bought for my wages for driving the load of wool down for him. He bought a lot of supplies for himself. I was 12 years old at that time. I didn't drive another load to Marysvale until I was 17 years old.

We didn't generally trade for sugar. Dad would buy it at the store. We'd buy hundred pound bags in the fall. We'd also buy molasses and sometimes honey for our family's sweets. Freight was hauled by wagons when I was young.

We had a range permit for 25 head of horses and cattle. This herd would consist of cows that didn't calve or that didn't give enough milk to pay for keeping them and the heifer calves that we kept--yearlings--to make up our herd.

Dad tried the pig business one year and it was a failure. He raised a bunch of sows and they had about 80 little pigs in the spring. By that time the price had gone down so that it didn't even pay to raise them. We salted, smoked and ground the pork up for sausages and cured the hams rendered out the lard and used it for all our cooking, cakes, pies, donuts. We always kept one or two brood sows for pork for our own use and generally fed from 1 to 5 in town in the fall to fatten for winter use.

Martin Foy, in the early days of Panguitch, was a trader. He hauled freight, when I was a small boy, with an eight mule team to pick up all kinds of trade goods and junk to sell in his store.

Martin Foy's eight mule team he used for freighting. My grandfather, Joseph L Heywood, worked for him once in 1888 when my father was 13 years old.

When I was 12 I learned to butcher sheep and cattle. One old cow I butchered weighed 1200 pounds. I was supposed to raise up her carcass with a rope and blocks but I couldn't so I opened her big belly where she lay after she'd been killed, and took out the guts before I could lift her up with rope and blocks.

We didn't raise white faces or Herefords as most other livestock man did. Instead we raised Durham milk cows that could also be used for beef and were allowed on the range. Besides pigs we had two or three milk cows for our family uses after we went out of the dairy business. We always had one of these in town just fresh after calving for our milk supply. Dad also kept about 16 beautiful young heifers and ran them out on the range permit with our horses and our dry cows.

Riding horses was one of my favorite recreations. I had an old gray pigeon footed horse called UNO. Leland had owned this horse and passed it on to me. If anyone asked what his name was we'd say, "Oh, you know." It became my horse when I was about seven. Another horse, Old Sugs which I rode when a small boy made a sudden turn when I was riding her bareback and I fell off, breaking my arm. I'd ridden her out to round up cows on the ranch over on the north end by Red Canyon. I walked back to the ranch house bawling as loud as I could. Dad took me across the bridge over the river to the highway. Someone came by in a buggy and gave us a ride into town where old Doc Bigelow set it.

We stayed that might with my grandmother Delong in town before going back to the ranch next morning. Not long after that Mary fell off the haystack while tromping hay and broke her arm too.

My grandmother Delong's home on Main Street was built by grandfather DeLong in the early 1900s. It was located just a block west of us. She was always very close to us as we grew up. In her last years one or another of my sisters took turns sleeping at her house.

After my brother died my father and mother went to the ranch to get early crops in and I went with him to help. I rode a horse 6 miles from the ranch to school and back each day. It was my own horse her name was Bunny. She was one of the best animals I've ever seen. She was a small bay, about 900 pounds, really intelligent and ambitious and easy to ride. She was my pony. I got her on my eighth birthday. I learned to ride on Old UNO, Leland's old horse before that. Dad traded two the three other horses to uncle Ralph Delong, mother's brother, for Bunny.

All the better off boys in town had their own horses. We'd get together in a bunch, run races, ride in groups. I didn't get a saddle for her until I was nine years old and then I was working her to bring in the cows from the pasture to be milked at night. Most of the cows would come in at milking time but one or two would stay out and I'd have to hunt them up and drive them to the milking pens.

Cattle getting in the quicksand was always a problem. Sometimes during heavy rains in spring and summer time, big dry washes would form in watercourses leading down from high ground, some as high as 12 to 15 feet. After the washes would dry out and the fine sand would wash to the river bottom, our cows crossing the river would get caught in the sand washed down by the rain. A cow that got caught in this quicksand would have to be literally dug out. One cow I remember especially was in quicksand up to her hips. Father had his shoes off wading in his socks in the cold high water, waist high, trying to save her before she drowned.

Father would wrap a chain around the cow's neck and legs and try to pull her out with a horse. The trouble was not to pull too hard on her neck or legs or they would break so he'd have to dig sand from around her legs below the water to get her legs free from the quicksand. We never had a cow drown but we broke several cows' necks pulling on them with the chain. I think that was the beginning of the bad rheumatism Dad suffered from all the rest of his life, pulling cows out of the river and irrigating and trying to prepare ditches to spread out on the ranchland.

Work in our family had to be done by everyone both in town and on the farm. We raised a big garden out at the ranch and in town and irrigated them. At the ranch we brought water out of Red Canyon. The watercourse of this stream had banks over 15 feet high in several places along the stream. We brought in spring water from natural springs. We'd try to raise this spring water up to the level of the ground above the wash and put it in the irrigation stream. To do this we'd build diversion ditches. This job was never finished as the spring rains would fill the watercourse with rushing water from the big dry washes draining the red Canyon area. The banks would cave off ruining our diversion ditches. We'd work all day using shovels and a dirt drag drawn by a horse to move the dirt. The next day the bank would be caved off filling up our ditches of the day before.

We used plows, scrapers, shovels, picks, anything to move the dirt. Most of this work was in vain.

One day we found our tools had all been covered with sandy clay which had caved off the bank filling up the ditches and burying all our tools. We dug them out but the handles on the plow, scraper, picks and shovels were all broken.

On our ranch the spring floods would eat out from under the banks and at 10 to 12 foot wide cave-in would occur. It was a constant process of erosion. We'd haul in dead trees, large rocks wired together, everything we could think of to try to hold back and secure the banks. All this would be flooded away in the constant erosion process that went on and is still going on on that ranch today.

The eastern portion of the ranch led down from the high ground of Red Canyon. When the rains came draining the canyon, they'd rush down the incline of our east meadow, on down there we had a wild hay and irrigated gardens. The contours of the wash were constantly changing with each new year of rains. When the Hatchtown damn break occurred it changed all in one day the whole course of the river along the western portion of the ranch but it wasn't long before rich grass was growing again in the mud left behind by the flood so we would be encouraged and despite the disaster, decided to go on trying again to make a profit from that Sevier River bottom land.

There was a great deal of work when it rained out at our ranch trying to scatter the water over as much ground as possible where it would do the most good. One of the hardest jobs was plowing the ground for the irrigated crops to get the ground ready for planting. It had to be done with a hand plow and a team of strong horses. There were no tractors or mechanical equipment to do this kind of hard work when I was a young boy. All our irrigated land had to be hand plowed and later hand cultivated with a small cultivator drawn by a horse. It was a lot of work to keep the ground furrowed and the weeds out. Harrowing had to be done in the spring to break up the clods left in the ground after the fall plowing.

We always had a vegetable garden, carrots, potatoes, always a lot of potatoes, a big bunch, enough to last us through the winter. Onions turnips and rutabagas grew well. One time our Red Canyon garden (I call it that because it was planted on the strip of ground running from the highway east toward the entrance to Red Canyon) produced turnips and rutabagas 6 or 7 pounds apiece. We didn't have any way of storing fresh vegetables then except for the potatoes and we always put them in pits in the ground to last us all winter. Some we'd keep in our root cellar under our house in town.

Dad half soled our shoes. He had every size of shoe last. He'd buy the leather hide, cut, fit and repair all our worn-out shoes from the youngest child to the oldest. he had an awl, hammer, sole knife, lasts, the whole outfit. It kept him busy mending 12 pairs of shoes.

Mother made my clothes until I was eight or nine years old. As I got bigger I didn't want to wear those homemade clothes. I wore short pants above my knee, long sleeved homemade. shirts of cotton material. I guess I wasn't the last boy in town to wear the short pants and long cotton shirts, long knitted socks over long "billy split open" underwear.

Each fall we'd get our fall or winter outfit--long underwear, long it socks, garterbelt, (yes a garterbelt), with four long garters on it to hold up our socks. We wore ankle high sturdy leather shoes which laced rugged heavy shoes to last I was awfully hard on shoes especially out at the ranch.

We were not much for wearing cowboy or western clothes. But there were certain pieces of equipment that were necessary for riding horses, wrangling cows through the bushes and willows, chasing after and putting a bridle and saddle on horses, things we did every day.

One of the first items was a saddle, it was a major investment and a necessary piece of equipment and an item that had to be taken care of. Harnesses were another item that were a necessity and quite expensive and needed repairing often. A good rope was also a necessity for a lot of reasons, roping calves, tying livestock for branding or giving shots, to get an unruly cow or horse into the corral, stretching wire fencing, pulling a cow out of the quicksand, there were many needs for good strong rope handy at all times. We needed bridles that wouldn't cut the mouth of a horse. There were several kinds of bridles.

Since all the people who worked on a ranch had to be good horsemen it was important to know how to ride, how to handle a balky horse. Because ranchers depended so much on horses for work and transportation they took good care of them and this is one reason there was always so much horse trading going on. A long hard ride or several days hard work plowing harrowing or cultivating meant that the horses or horse needed several days to recover so it was important to have six or seven horses available to do the required work. At one time or another most young men on the ranch took their turn breaking or taming wild or outlaw horses. My brother Leland was particularly good at this.

As I grew older and outgrew the homemade clothes mother made for us to wear I mostly wore Levi's or overalls as they were made of tough fabric. Pant legs were tight so they wouldn't catch on the brush as we chased the cattle. Leather chaps were worn to keep thorns and branches from tearing and ripping and to protect legs from getting scratched or from rubbing and chafing when one had to spend long hours in the saddle. Broad brimmed hats are the symbol or mark of a true cowboy but we wore hats with medium brims to keep the sun from blistering our faces. I always wore a hat, all of us Heywoods did as we had fair skin that sunburned easily, but I didn't wear the typical cowboy hat. Hats are also used to catch water from a spring or ditch for a drink.

High heeled boots were not worn for show so much is for practical reasons. The higher heel gave one a good foothold on the stirrup and the rider wouldn't be so likely to be thrown off his horse while making a sudden turn or an unexpected stop.

A good knife, generally a regular pocketknife, was a necessity and in constant use. Guns were not generally used unless one was intentionally hunting predators.

When my dad decided to go into the sheep business I went up with him to Swapp's ranch up on the divide south of Hatchtown 40 miles or so. We drove home 300 dogie ewe lambs, cutbacks, lambs that they thought would not go through the winter. Dad had also bought 300 old 'gummer' ewes (sheep so old thy have lost their teeth) from Swapps. We also got 30 head of purebred Rambouilet sheep from over to Parowan. That winter because of lack of feed, extreme cold, food could not be bought and what there was would have cost $45 a ton. Ordinarily it was eight dollars a ton so 300 sheep died. Also 25 head of milk cows and most of the lambs died, froze to death. Following their death after a day or so the wool loosened and my sisters pulled all the wool from their bodies so we could at least save the wool and it wouldn't be a total loss.

The previous spring when Leland had returned home from war in 1919, a Webb family leased the ranch. They stayed all summer. They were supposed to care for the sheep and feed them for half. They saw that the cattle and sheep were going to die and they'd lose on feed. They pulled out although they had agreed to lease for five years. The Webbs lost all their work and dad lost all his years feed as well as the livestock that froze or starved to death. Webb didn't have anything to pay him with. If dad had sold the sheep in 1919 instead of leasing them to Webbs he wouldn't have had such a loss. As it was he went broke. He had to start all over so he the mortgaged the ranch to buy livestock again.

Herding from a thousand to 3000 sheep on the open range was a lonesome job month in and month out but it wasn't too hard. There was a lot of responsibility to it, seeing that the flock stayed together, that predatory animals didn't kill the sheep and knowing where the herd was at all times. I never herded sheep for anyone but my father, but I believe one summer Ben did while in college.

I earned a man's wages at 12, work such as hauling wool to Kingston for uncle Ed. Once I went down to Wilford Pendleton's blacksmith shop located in town. Someone came into the shop and my friend told him I was a midget. I did things way ahead of what the other kids did. That time I was helping shoe a horse of dads. In junior high I was really small, the runt of the crowd, but I still did the work of a man.

In 1921 when I was 12, uncle Ed Heywood was sending a load of wool to Marysvale. His son Jim had a load. I had a load of Father's wool and Fay Evans had a load from Hatchtown. Fay was a real smart Alec. He drove a mule team. There were many others. I was real proud to think I was a man enough to drive one of the caravan of over 20 wagons. We stopped for dinner at 10 mile, our noon camp located at the mouth of Circleville Canyon about 20 miles from Panguitch, then we drove the 18 and half miles on into Marysvale.

When I was 17 I took another load down. Our own wool made up of 12 to 14 sacks weighing 300 to 400 pounds each. We averaged $0.63 a pound down to $0.60 a pound. Usually it averaged about $0.25-$0.30. We'd keep the ewes and sell the lambs. We'd take the lambs to the Tebbs farm down by Spry. Speculators in sheep would buy the lambs and contract them out to farmers. They were unhappy with our lambs because they were too big one year. They wanted smaller lambs so they could put a lot of growth on them--make more profit.

My father loved a parade. He loved the Fourth of July especially. He wanted us all to take part. As long as I can remember our town has always had several big celebrations, the most looked forward to being the fourth and 24 of July especially by children as they were all invited to march in it. People who have once lived in Panguitch return to celebrate and to enter the children in the races and enter bets on their winning.

Playmates and friends when I was a young boy were mostly my three cousins, Austin Heywood, Amon Judd and Fay Delong. We'd go ice skating from the time I was seven until I was in high school in the winter when we lived in town. We searched out ice ponds formed by an overflowing irrigation ditch in the meadow or along the Sevier River. Wherever we could find ice we'd skate. We had the kind of skates that clip onto the soles of your shoes. We always had a dog to play with and generally that dog would go skating with us too.

In the summer we'd have our horses to ride, much of this was real work. We did a lot of swimming in the deep holes of the Sevier River or any place we could find a hole big enough. One favorite place was down 10 miles north of town where there was a natural warm spring. It never froze over in the winter time another favorite swimming hole was just north of the ranch just below the state dam west of the present Allen farm. That dam was washed out by the Hatchtown flood which washed out all the smaller dams along the river but we referred to it as the state dam.

We fished along the Sevier River, up Panguitch Creek, which drained Panguitch lake; we fished at the lake. Most town boys fished more than I did as I was generally always so busy working out at the ranch.

Sleigh riding and tobogganing was another sport we enjoyed, pulling our sleighs in a string behind a horse, or hitching up the team to the sleigh, a two runner sleigh we called the snow sleigh. It was different from the bobsleigh we used to haul feed and ride into and from the ranch. That was heavier and had four runners. The snow sleigh was pulled by horses but was lighter and faster more like a white top buggy as compared to a wagon.

Regardless of what environmentalists say coyotes are a sheepman's worst enemy. There is nothing romantic or desirable about them to a sheepman, slaughtering lambs, ripping open the throat or belly of a ewe. Those who want to protect them and prevent their being poisoned haven't seen the damage they can do to a herd of sheep.

Life for a sheepherder most of the time is a lonesome tiresome job. My dad used to say I wasn't a good herder as I'd "drive them around, herd them to death." In the spring it's a harder job and sheep will start to run 10 to 15 miles to get to green grass or better feed. Sheepherders were paid very low wages when I was young. The big sheep owners would give them a grubstake a sheep wagon or tent, two horses. Sometimes old-timers would have a pack donkey and a tent to stay in especially in the high, rough country in the mountains. Sheep wagons were used mostly on summer range or flatter country.

As far as I know sheepherders wages were lower than other wages earned by ranchhands. They have big responsibility, 3,000 to 4,000 head of sheep in the herd to care for summer range especially. After the forest service was organized in 1908 herds were cut down to 1000 so they wouldn't tramp out the range. It was said that uncle John L. Sevy, father's brother-in-law wouldn't hire a herder that wore a straw hat or laced boots as he would always be chasing his hat or lacing his boots. Tom Sevy, his brother, always let his herders ask for their pay. He said if it's not worth asking for it's not worth having. He'd always pay, but his herders had to ask for it.

When the sheepmen didn't need herders they'd lay them off or 'can' them after they'd taken care of the sheep, kept the coyotes away from the herd and helped with the sheering. If there was a lull or a few weeks off they were out of work with no pay. Jim Showalter another sheepman, a Democrat, kept the same herder for a lifetime. Tom Best, he died on the job. It didn't matter to him if he went home. Another old Panguitch sheepherder, Engelstead would come to come to town once a year for a month. He was not paid much either about $30 a month but he had a real nice family, a big family too, nice kids who lived in a two room house.

When my brother Ben was retired from the soil conservation service at age 55 for ill health he sent a picture of a sheepherder taking a bath in a bucket to us to announce his retirement. On the card was written "I think I could still get a job."

When he was going to college at Logan attending the Utah State he herded for our cousin Carl Heywood up on Blue Fly out on the east Fork by Bryce Canyon. I never herded sheep, just help take care of my dads herds. Sheepmen started going broke when they started using cars and trucks to pull their camps. It became too expensive. About that time too old herders, Benny Cooper and Neil Clove leased a herd and bought trucks, cars and good saddle horses. They didn't stay with their herds. They couldn't work for themselves so they went broke.

In the early days the sheep man had a lot of money-- lived well. Labor was cheap. Jackie Miller, Jesse Miller, all had nice homes--nice cars. During the Depression of 1920-21, the price of sheep went down then again in '29 and '30 there was a big drought. Everyone went broke again. In '28 things looked good. We thought we could get a herd started, buy feed, we went broke again.

In 1920 after we lost our herd and livestock, after the Webbs left. Dad got a mortgage and made a new start. He hired Old Dick Shakespeare to help him shear the part of the herd that didn't die. Half the ewes, half of the dogie lambs and the purebreds. The next year, 1922 he had Chauncey Allan shear. In 1923 he had his son-in-law Deward Woodard who had bought a modern electric shearing outfit come to do the shearing for us. Before that it had been all handclipping.

Sheep shearing was all part of raising sheep when I was a boy. Old Dick Shakespeare-- looked 80 was only 35-- all crippled up with arthritis. He'd shear 25 head a day. Dad could do 45 but he needed his help and Old Dick needed the work. They were very poor people from Tropic.

It was my job to pick up the wool, it would all cling together, all the wool from one sheep, and stomp it down into the big wool sacks that held between 300 to 400 pounds.

After dad finished the shearing in 1921 he rented his sheep in '22 and '23 to Bill Dodds. He sold the cattle. He kept the herd for a couple of years. The intention was to sell the cows and go into the sheep business. It looked like the prices were just going to keep going up. He took the herd back in 1924 and did really well for about four years until the fall of '29. We had the lambs already contracted to sell but the bottom dropped out of everything. People began using their surplus money thinking it was going to come back up it didn't. I graduated from high school in 1928. We bought 100 head ewes from Tommy Dodds for $12 a head and begin again to build a herd.

Kingston Mill was located on the East Fork of the Sevier River. This part of the Sevier headed up Kanab Creek, ran through Widstoe, on down to John's Valley to Antimony then northwestward to Kingston to the State Road between Junction and Circleville where it joined the main branch of the Sevier River.

Roads ran along these waterways in the old days, connecting the towns. The State Road ran from Panguitch to Circleville on to Junction, on up to Marysvale and Richfield.

When we'd take a trading trip for flour we followed the state road to the point just south of Circleville where we made our first night's camp. There the road branched out to Kingston through Kingston Canyon. When we camped we'd take all the quilts we could get, good cotton blankets and pieced quilts made from old pieces of clothing with wool filling. Quilts then were not made for show so much as for wear and tear. All our old clothing, Levi's, coats, skirts, everything would be turned into quilts. We'd put a tarp down on the dirt floor of the cabin or outside on the ground depending on how many were in the party and what the weather was like then we'd roll up into two or three quilts and hope to keep warm during the long, cold nights.

The first trip I made to Kingston was driving for my uncle Ed Heywood as I've related before. The next year seven wagons went down to Kingston and that year I took my dad's wool. Travelers like us would pay two bits for the campsite and maybe $0.50 to a dollar for food for our team for the night depending on what kind and how much feed was used. There was a water trough for the team and taps for travelers to use to wash up, to drink, and cook with.

We cooked our meals in an old iron frying pan. There was always an old blackened coffee pot we put on the coals for hot stimulating drink to warm us when it was cold. We'd take along some coffee, sugar, our own meat, maybe a can of vegetables or two. On camping trips was about the only time we used canned food.

I was never afraid on these trips as long as my dad was close by. We'd hear birds along the edges of the farmland but as it was close to farms we never saw any wild animals. It was really cold. We wore heavy layers of clothing and bundle up in our quilts to stay warm through the nights.

,My older brother Leland was a real horseman. I was with him in 1919 when he was breaking outlaw horses, horses that were running wild on the range without a brand, out around Dave's Hollow Ranger station. He did this as one of his duties for the Forest Service. Outlaws would crossbreed with branded horses, tramp out the range grass. He would pick out the best and break them and shoot the others, the outlaws, (but then the TV news or environmentalist were not told about it.)

As my brother Ben described him, "Leland had brute strength and determination. Horses that had run wild on the range held no fear for him. He'd walk up quietly in the back of them, pat the horse on the rump to approach it, rope it with a lasso, snub it down to a post, put a hackamore on it, mount it and ride. He would do this many times alone without anyone to assist him or to know if he'd been seriously injured. Leland didn't have any rhythm as a horseman, didn't know the first thing about different gaits or proper riding etiquette but he could sure tame an outlaw bronc."

Once he brought in a four-year-old studhorse with a bunch of outlaw mustangs. It was a beautiful horse, prettiest horse ever seen. He decided after he tamed him to castrate him. Wallace Houston, a local fellow from Panguitch, Leland's age, just back from studying veterinary science at Utah agricultural school in Logan, castrated him for Leland.

Leland also had a horse he'd tamed he called Dynamite. He was a middle sized bay. He bucked all the time. Leland's wife, Marie, objected--insisted he got rid of him as he was too dangerous.

Another horse he had was Old Psyche. Leland got him on a trade over to Tropic. It used to be quite a thing trading horses like some people today buy new automobiles. The Wilson boys at Hillsdale used to make money just trading horses.

One day Leland was writing Psche out on the range, no one with him. He pulled his gun and took aim at a stud, an inferior horse turned loose which was trespassing on the range. (Livestock men didn't want their mares to get colts from the wild stallions.) Well, while Leland was taking aim, old Psyche bucked up and Leland shot him through the head. He fell on Leland who dug himself out from under him. Old Psyche died on the spot. Leland might not have much rhythm as a horseman but he had absolutely no fear. He'd grab ahold of anything, mane, tail, ears--and hang on! He's had horses all his life. After he retired from the forest service he had horses up on Cedar Mountain where he and his second wife Myrtle had a ranch.

Leland bred a beautiful little animal, a Hiney. It was a cross between a female jackass and a horse. The father was a small stallion. The colt from this cross looked like a small horse, but it would bray like a donkey. It was about 4 feet high, shiny and black and real pretty.

Even in old age Leland could probably out ride either Ben or myself, I'm almost sure he could.

Livestockmen usually have range rights for grazing their cattle and horses. If calves or colts are born on the range they must be identified by the mother they are following, their markings etc. and branded with the owner's brand. We had two kinds of brands, what we call the running brand and one that was on an iron. It was the italic 'h' brand. All our livestock were branded with a mark. These marks are generally placed on the right-hand hip of the animal being branded. If we used the running brand we'd make two two half circles in this fashion (picture of brands If we used the small branding iron it would be heated on some wood coals and placed red hot on the hide of the animal. The branding iron was easier to use but if we were somewhere we had to brand a stray or out on the range without the iron it was easy to use a hot piece of metal like a horseshoe or can to make the running brand.

When I was 13 and Ben was six we went out with Leland on a round-up at the head of the East Fork on Kanab Creek, about 30 miles out from Panguitch. Dad had some calves, heifers, out on the range and we went with Leland to get them. After we got out there Leland was called back to Dave's Hollow ranger station as there was a fire on the forest.

He made arrangements with the other men out rounding up their cattle for Ben and me to bring back our heifers. There were men there from Tropic, Cannonville, Henryville and Panguitch. After we spent the day riding out looking for our heifers we were pretty tired. Ben was riding my horse Old Bunny. She didn't even need to be guided, she'd wheel around, go out after a calf, get it going with the rest of the herd just as if she didn't have a rider. She was really good that way.

That night before making up our bedrolls we stood around a big fire. Ben and I listened to the men tell stories of shootin, huntin and ropin, until quite late. Next morning when we started out with our herd of 50 or so heifers and were trying to drive them back to the ranch we got very cold and hungry, very very hungry. We came to a lime kiln which was run by Fred Worthen and his son. We asked him for some food. They gave us something to eat but they didn't think Ben and I were old enough to be out rounding up cattle.

65 years or so ago people did not have Polaroid cameras or Instamatic's or the expensive color slides and print cameras they have today. A small box camera called a brownie was about the best around. It was usually when a traveling photographer came to town that pictures were taken of special occasions, family groups, births, christenings were other important events. rarely did families go to a photograph shop for their pictures unless it was on such an occasion as a marriage.

The day Ben and I had been out on East Fork mother had arranged for a professional photographer to come and take our family's picture. He arrived but Ben and I and dad were missing. The older girls were all dolled up in their best dresses and hair ribbons and that picture was taken. Father was sore because Ben and I hadn't had our pictures taken so we had the photographer take pictures just as we were, in our old clothes, overalls and all.

Kate and Winnie hadn't dressed up but they got a hold of some pretty new hair ribbons and put them on their heads. It was the only family group picture I remember that was ever taken.

It was dad's practice that when we fed cattle we'd always load our feed for the next day in case the weather got bad. On Saturday and Sunday I'd go to the ranch to care for the livestock so Father could come to town. I did that until I was out of high school most of the time .

I was supposed to cut wood for the house in town before I left to go back to the ranch each day but dad would often go out and cut for a couple of hours and leave a big pile before he'd go back to the ranch .

Everybody was supposed to cut wood when they could (we didn't have a thermostat to give automatic heat). Most people would cut just enough to build a fire but we'd always cut it up and carry enough to the house to last for the day at least. When Dad cut wood he would cut enough to last for week. One thing dad believed in is that our mother or sisters were never to chop wood or carry wood to the house and they never did .

Generally dad was too busy doing other things, Leland was married and Ben was too young so it generally was my job to keep a good wood supply chopped and carried to the house.

One Sunday when I was going up to the ranch to feed the sheep (I'd stayed in town that weekend) with my friend, Dennis Lee, we picked up Nelly Judd and Nelly Proctor and took them up to the ranch with us, two girls in our crowd then.

We were about 13 or 14. While we were feeding the cattle a big blizzard came up, terribly cold wind. We thought we were in trouble so instead of waiting until it blew over we decided to make it back to town before it got worse. Three of them got in the backseat and huddled down behind it for protection. I sat up in the front seat to drive and nearly froze to death. When we got back to town the blizzard had blown over and it was a really nice weather, but we got the cattle fed. That's what I went up to do. That was my job.

In the winter when I was about 14 the town boys would hook up my sleigh with single runners and a box on it. They'd have races. Bern Miller, Eccles Cameron, Dennis Lee and myself and the girls in our crowd that year we were going with Nelly Haycock, Nelly Judd, Nell Proctor, Ora Lee, Norma Henry and Dora Henry.

We'd all get in the sleigh and go for a ride. It was a really big thrill. I was a really popular boy that year because everybody wanted to ride in my sleigh. It wasn't like a bobsleigh. They have four runners. The snow sleigh I had only had two runners with a box on it. One day we were running the horses drawing the sleigh and I dropped the lines. I was scrambling to reach the lines. The team stopped immediately. The sleigh ran up the guidewire of a telephone pole. All the kids in the sleigh were piled up one on top of the other.

Eccles Cameron was on the bottom he yelled:

Get 'em off me! Get 'em off me!"

He thought he was under the horses but it was all the other kids in the sleigh.

Before we broke up the sleigh that day we used to hook onto it with our smaller sleighs and go for a real fast ride all over town. The day we ran the sleigh up the telephone pole was the end of our sleigh.

Another experience I remember when I was 14 years old was about a guy by the name of Tom Bennett. He came by the ranch one day. He was about 18 years old. He didn't have a job, nowhere to go. Come up from New Mexico rustling a job. He didn't have any money or any food and told dad he'd work for nothing just for his board until the winter was over. Dad told him, "No, you can't afford to do that." So he gave him $10 a month.

Tom wanted to be a trapper. Dad told him that if he got some traps he could have what ever he caught, the hides. Tom stayed up there at the ranch, only came to town on the weekends when he'd stay with us. He'd go over to town and spend the $10 he'd earned that month mostly for candy. He was real hungry. He'd eat anything sweet---candied orange peel even.

One day he caught a big, beautiful male coyote. Then he got a beautiful bobcat. Finally he caught a big yellow house cat. He took the hides, tanned them, and stretched them on a board. He inquired of the mail order house that bought hides and they didn't offer him enough, he thought, so he sold them to a hide buyer who came to town. He got far less for them that if he sold them to the mail order house---about seven dollars or so.

Tom bought a horse and saddle he wanted. It was a balky horse. I guess he had a heckuva time getting that horse to town. He went to town and gave the saddle to friends of mine, old Coz Richards and Kemp Hancock--- just gave it to them. He'd give anything away. He traded the horse for a dog and left the country. He ended up marrying a girl down in Marysvale. I saw him a time or two after that--- a hard looking fellow just sort of a bum.

As soon as my little brother Ben got large enough, he had his own horse--- from the time he was six years old. But he was very hard on a horse. He'd ride them on the run until they dropped. Dad would tell him he'd drown him or would get him a jackass, anything to try to get him to learn how to ride sensibly. But as long as I remember, before he left for the service, he never changed much in that respect.

There was seven years difference in our ages but we were quite close. We didn't share too much in common. He was sort of spoiled as he was the baby in a large family. One time Ben went to town and bought some candy bars. He took one to bed with him and started to eat it in bed. I asked him for some and he wouldn't give me any so I proceeded to take it away from him.

He jumped out of bed and ran bawling to our parents. Dad came upstairs. I thought he was coming after me for taking the candy away from Ben, but he said to Ben, "You sneaky little begger. Dave would give you anything."

Dad would give you anything. He'd take even take the frosting off his cake and give it to the smaller children because they liked it. If anything like a treat came into the house it was shared equally, that was another thing dad believed. I'm sure Ben acted that way because he was the youngest and had been spoiled. After he grew up and got older he was free-hearted and would share anything with anybody. When he started school at home he started to change.

Ben and I were very different. He always hated to get his chores done, would wait around until the last thing. When we took the cows to the ranch in the spring he thought he was big enough to milk the cows. He didn't get as much milk as I did so mother had me do the milking. He'd always try to figure out an easier way to do something. I was bullheaded and would go ahead and do it the hard way.

One time the water tap froze up out in the corrals in winter. I got two big buckets and carried water out to the horses and other animals before I went to the ranch. When I came back to town Ben had rigged a hose through the bathroom window and taken it out to the barn and was watering the stock that way, which I should've figured out in the first place.

We always had horses at the ranch to work, for transportation, and for trading. On year we had five mares. I'd taken them to town when I was about 17 years old and had them bred to a re-mount stallion. We decided we'd raise some horses. We rented a jackass from up to Hatchtown and brought him to the ranch. We got only one colt, a mule. Before that we'd gotten a thoroughbred stud from Henryville in about 1924. We got five colts from this stud, 2 horses Leland rode in the forest service work, three mare colts, one from Old Star, one from Old Bunny, my horse and one from Old Blaze.

Before that when I was about 13 I'd taken two mares to town and we bred them to a big Morgan horse John Henry had, my Old Bunny and the Black Mare.

The Black Mare turned out to be a real good forager. She'd find her own feed but she'd get into the locoweed. We'd try to use her but she was hard to handle. One summer when she came in she had a colt by her side and a yearling colt. We hadn't used her for a year. One of her colts we use for a work horse. The other fell over the 15 foot bank in the pasture. She was crowded off by the other horses and she drowned in the high water in the wash.

After Leland married Marie Evans he was still breaking horses for people. He'd to come to the ranch and pick up horses for his saddle horses. Once Leland took Old Wildfire to Tropic and traded her for Old Snip. He was a fine saddle horse but he'd buck. He was the horse that bucked me off when I was 10 years old and broke my arm. Leland traded another of our horses for one we called Old Psyche. Old Psyche, as I've told about before, finally died a hard death, shot out from under Leland by Leland's own gun. Leland would always let me ride the horses, taught me how to handle them.

Dennis Lee was my closest friend about then in high school. We rode Old Browney, Nell, Old Snip, Old Psyche before she died. It was a long cold winter but we had lots of horses and did lots of riding.

As I said before while I was a kid, after Dwight died, and went out with Dad and Mother to the ranch, I rode the seven miles to town and back each day to help with the work.

Dad bought a model T Ford in 1927 I guess I drove it more than anyone else in the family.

When I was a junior in high school I wasn't doing too much in school. Dad asked me what I'd like to do so I went to the ranch and began hauling manure out of the corrals and spreading it out over the ranch ground. It hadn't been hauled for two or three years. I'd pitch it on the wagon, scatter it on the upper field by Red Canyon Wash where we'd plowed the spring before. It was quite a haul, a mile and a half each way to spread the manure where we wanted it. I harrowed it in later in the spring.

They had a track meet in Richfield about April. Dennis Lee, my friend, was one of the contestants. Dad told me I could take the model T Ford. It was about six months old and it was one of the first ones with balloon tires. It had a battery instead of magneto starter that had to be cranked in front of the engine each time it started.

Dennis got the crowd together. I told him I'd take them down to Richfield. There was Bern Miller, Dan Tebbs, big Jim Miller, and Karl Lee. These guys were two or three years older than Dennis and me. Dennis had a cousin who lived in Bear Valley on a summer ranch in an area called Orton. They had a wagon campground right near the river about 10 miles north of town. We stopped there.

We went to the track meet, engaged a room in a lady's home and paid her for a night's lodgings. After the track meet next day, instead of going to the dance and out chasing the girls later, we went back to the home where we'd rented the room. She had a large upstairs room which we rented from her and the six of us played poker all night.

We went over to Monroe next day and went swimming in the hot springs there, my first experience bathing in hot spring water. We were all as weak as cats after two hours.

Another time I took the Ford to a basketball game. We all went to two or three games in Circleville and other nearby towns. We thought we were very bold. I knew a Smith girl in Circleville. She was one of the girls we invited to go riding around town with us. We'd tell jokes and laugh and have a good time.

On one of the trips to the games my sister Winnie went with us. We'd all go in a crowd, didn't pair off. My crowd was Dan Tebbs, Stan Haycock, Dennis Lee, Bern Miller, Jean Miller, Stan Tebbs. Most of these fellows got married quite young. Bern was perhaps my best friend. Then he got married and I went with Dan and he got married and I started going around with Dennis more. Bern's dad had sheep. He gave Bern a lot of spending money.

The mothers of some of these fellows were really good members of the church but they didn't want their sons drinking the bad bootleg booze that was for sale during Prohibition so two or three of their mothers, Mrs. Tebbs, Bern's and Jean Miller's mothers they let them make a batch of malt beer now and then so they know what they were drinking.

We didn't really date girls that much but once we took a sow-eyed old spinster schoolteacher I owed bunch of English themes to and Dan's older sister Cecil Tebbs to a dance in Hatchtown. We showed them a really good time.

I've been going with an older crowd during high school. Most of my best friends were already married by the time I graduated from high school in 1928. We'd run sheep for three years from the time I was aged 19 to 22 after I graduated from high school. Dad had told me that if I wanted to go to college he'd find the money someway to send me. Ben was still in high school. I told Dad that I hadn't gotten the best grades in school anyway so decided to go in business with him. We bought 100 sheep. We kept them for one year and the Depression of the '30s hit. I stayed on the ranch with the sheep through '29, '30 and '31 until we had acquired a herd of 900 sheep.

I went over to the high after graduation and took an English class from Doc Miles who was teaching English before he went back to get his medical degree then he came back to Panguitch again is the country doctor. Doc Miles brought up my diploma to the classroom one day and asked me why I didn't take it home. It was signed and everything. I lacked one half unit of credit from graduating. Andy Johnson hadn't given me a grade in woodworking class. I was taking the English class from Doc Miles to make it up, so I took my diploma home a year after all the others graduated as I hadn't gone to graduation. They read my name out and I was on the class list but I didn't go as they said without the half unit I couldn't graduate. Dennis was in the same boat but he went over and talked to them and went to graduation.

In '31 we rented uncle Jim Heywoods field in town by the Sevier River. Took all our stock over there, horses, 900 sheep. When the field feed was gone on uncle Jim's pasture we took the sheep and horses back up to the ranch. There was a drought on, a very bad drought and feed was scarce.

As we passed Hi Barton's place going south along the river I unhitched Tracy took her down to him and traded her for a big white one eyed horse hi new Tracy was bulky but said he could work her but he beat her to death because she wouldn't pull our other hers brownie Tracys Hardslate was killed by a car while in heat up along the red Canyon Road Keith Henry was coming down the road hundred miles an hour and hitter broke her leg he just left her standing someone else came by and cut her throat to put her out of her misery we had another horse we hadn't used her much called old Lindy, Leland's horse, but he hadn't used or either I started working here with Old Nell to make up another team. I kept working with them at the ranch. We sold beef and potatoes to Leland for his family. He hired me to attend his little kids, five of them, really smart cute children. Later my wife said Florence, she taught in eighth-grade, was probably the smartest next to Blanche's daughter the same age, Barbara Woodard, of all the students she taught in Panguitch.

I was in all the usual plays in school. One I memorized my part and all the parts of the other characters. After I got out of high school I was in a number of plays in town. One play they got Dennis, Ben and Ethyl Heywood and three or four others. It was quite a long play. It was produced in the social hall for the townspeople. The Depression had started, we weren't doing anything. There was no money to spend, no jobs and a lot of time on our hands. Most of the entertainment in the town was produced by the people themselves; musicals, dances, holiday celebrations, church activities like the Gold and Green ball with special dances and floor shows.

In the late fall of '31 we took our sheep herd to Delta, Utah. There was no feed, no market, no prospects of keeping them over another year. We couldn't even sell our spring lambs, a cash crop we'd been able to depend on before. We started out in November 1931. We left Panguitch the 11 November, Armistice Day. It was bitter cold. We drove the herd--dad in the wagon we'd rented from an old sheepherder, Gussie Reid who'd had a small herd of sheep, and I rode Old Blaze, a fine little half thoroughbred race horse herding and driving the sheep. We went up by way of Buckhorn flat, a shorter route to Cedar City across the mountains west of Bear Valley, an old Road not used now.

It snowed heavily all the way, a blizzard. We had to keep the sheep moving to keep them from freezing to death. As we drove them into Beaver it began to snow again very hard. We continued north along Highway 91 through Wildcat Canyon. When we reached Kanosh neither Dad nor I knew the trail on from there so we called Bessie's husband, Tom Judd. They lived in Delta, our destination. Tom and a friend of his, Lawrence Clark, who knew the route well, came to meet us at Kanosh. Tom took Dad in their car. I tied Blaze to the back of the sheep wagon and drove it the rest of the way herding the sheep as we went. We'd kept a fire going in the sheep wagon most of the time to keep warm. When we reached Delta we had trouble trying to dispose of our herd there was no market or money there either.

My sheep dog, Tramp, left us at Cove Fort but she left her pup. She helped us because she'd go wherever I sent her and bark at the sheep and keep them moving in the severe cold. She was an especially big help along the road. If she saw a car coming she'd clear the sheep from the road, making a space for the truck or car to go through the herd more easily. She stayed with us all the way to Delta.

We quartered the sheep on Tom Judd's ranch. My sister Betsy had always hated dogs and wouldn't let the dog stay around or for her kids keep him but the pup stayed around town.

The trip to Delta took us eight days. On 19 November father wrote home the following postcard:

Dear daughters and family,

Arrived here last evening. Tom met us at Kanosh with Lawrence Clark who stayed to pilot Dave and the sheep through the cut off via Clear Lake. I stood the trip fine but got chilled thoroughly last night riding in with Tom. I have been having a fine visit with Bessie and family today. Will go out to meet David and Clark Sunday when I think they will arrive at or near McCormick where we expect to winter the sheep. We had snow all the way since leaving home.

Yours, Dad

Old Blaze, the little thoroughbred race horse I'd ridden to Delta I planned on leaving with my five-year-old nephew Dick but Tom thought he was a little too frisky for Dick so I later took her back to Panguitch after I paid the trip first to Salt Lake. Next spring, when I went back to sell the sheep, there were two or three people fighting over who owned the sheepdog pup I left behind. She was the best sheepdog we'd ever had.

My sister Bessie was one of my older sisters. Like Jean and Blanche she married when I was about 13 and left home so I didn't associate with her as much as a boy growing up as I did with Mary Kate and Winnie or share as many experiences with her while growing up. Bessie and Tom married in 1918 when I was 12. A while later they moved to Delta to farm and raise their family of six nice kids.

I remember Bessie as a high-spirited happy sister who laughed a lot. She was a hard worker, always doing her share of work at the ranch at home, but she preferred working outside rather than in the house. Leland called her 'Charlie', no doubt to make out of her as a brother more his own age he never had. Bessie rode well, had no fear of animals. She worked quickly without complaining. She had a hot temper but liked a practical joke, liked to laugh. Tom said of her that her ability to make a little go a long way made it possible for them to make a go of it, care for their family.

I remember that when they first moved out to Delta some other towns people were moving out there who did not enjoy Mother's high opinion. She was worried for fear Bessie's children would grow up and be like the Gavins or worse still, married one of them. Bessie and Tom first lived on a ranch a few miles west of Delta. Later they bought a larger place where Tom raised alfalfa seed. A crop that proved quite successful for him. About that time they bought a large two story frame home in town which was very comfortable. As I was growing up, Mother made several trips to Delta to visit and help Bessie when she would have a new baby and no doubt to visit her sister Gladys Delong Banks who lived in Lyndyll a small town just north of Delta.

Betsy's main quality, I think was, like Blanche's, the great pride she justifiably took in her six children.

After our sheep raising business came to an end in Delta in 1931 I continued working on the ranch for a couple of years after that but not in any big way.

We finally located a man, a promoter, who had a lot of hay that no market for it. He said he'd rent the sheep for a year on a lease basis at so much a head. I left dad with the sheep to complete the deal. I got a ride with some of Tom's friends and went to Salt Lake City to see my sister Jean and her husband Blaine Bentenson. Blaine was then a supervisor for the Wasatch national Forest. They lived in an apartment on first Avenue and F Street for 12 years while he had the job and I visited them off and on during those years.

Jean took me down and helped me buy a new outfit of clothes, suit, shoes, shirts, underwear, everything. I stayed only two days then I caught a ride back to Delta. It was extremely cold. One thing I'll never forget were the men everywhere out of work, out there with their shovels over their backs trying to find some sort of work, shoveling snow, anything. There was no relief money, no welfare, no government food stamps, no county or city assistance for those unemployed and without food. When I reached Delta with those friends of Tom's I'd ridden down with there was 2 or 3 feet of snow, fresh snow. When I arrived back in Delta I found that Dad had already gone on to Panguitch, caught a ride with someone who lived down there. The promoter he'd eventually leased the sheep to didn't have any money to pay him as it turned out. There was nothing to do but herd them into his pens and leave them. At least they had feed.

I drove the sheep wagon and our team back to Panguitch but I took a different route home. I tied Old Blaze on behind. I went through Clear Creek then over to highway 89 to the town of Sevier, then on south to Panguitch. I needed wood to keep the fire going in the sheep wagon box and keep warm. There was no wood on the way--it was hard to find so as I'd drive along, there being nothing else, I cut off the tops of the fenceposts that were above the snow and the wire with my hatchet and use it for wood to keep warm.

I'd buy hay, bought it really cheap from farmers along the way to feed the team and my riding horse. Hay was so cheap as the farmers along the way had no market for it, no money, no jobs, they were glad to be able to sell a bale of hay for $0.50. On the way up we let the sheep browse on shrubs, sage, rabbitbrush, anything edible. We didn't feed them on the drive over, couldn't afford to as we had no money for feed either.

The horse I'd ridden up to Delta and brought back tied to the sheep wagon I turned loose out at the ranch upon our return. She was a dandy little horse, would've been a very good riding horse, but she disappeared. I never did find out what happened to her, but she was such a pretty little horse, and it was winter and we weren't spending so much time out there except on weekends when we'd go out to do some work, weren't exactly living there anymore, so I suppose someone just came along and decided to take her.

We had another horse about that time. A young kid from Panguitch, Oric Talbot, came out to work that summer. He liked to wear big wide cowboy hats, real high fancy cowboy boots, sort of the drugstore cowboy type. He kept wanting to ride our horses, telling us how good he was. So one day I took him up to the field, put the horses in the corral for him to make his choice. This one mare kept acting out like she was mean, she was mean. She'd shy to the side and one thing and another. Well I told Oric I'd hold her while he got on her, told him how careful you have to be. "Oh," he said. "I guess I won't ride her now. It looks too hard." I got on her and rode her back up to the field and turned her loose again.

I don't remember her name after all these years but she had a nice-looking colt, a yearling. Oric kept his eye on her colt, wanted to take her for part of his wages at the end of the summer so I sold the colt to him for a value of $20, real cheap. He took her to town and kept her for a little while but didn't have any feed for her. He sold her back to Leland for $10 (to show you how horsetrading and dealing goes!)

After that I was on her running down some cattle that had strayed over onto the land owned by Showalters, south across Red Canyon Road. We were riding between two big washes on a high narrow strip. She fell, or I drove her over the steep 15 foot bank and the fall broke her leg. I went back over to the ranch, got a rifle and went back and shot her. At that time she was Leland's horse. He bought her.

After we took the sheep to Delta we didn't sell the ranch. The Depression of the early 30s when I was young man was hard on everybody especially the people who lived in the cities. Those of us who lived in the country on farms and ranches were somewhat better off although everybody was unemployed, most everybody. We had meat, potatoes, garden produce, milk--food to survive on and a roof over our heads. We had wood to gather to burn to heat our houses. We didn't have jobs or money, but we did have food and our own shelter.

In 1932 the Garfield High School burned down. Money and jobs were scarce--- jobs almost nonexistent. Men in town donated a couple of days each helping to clean up the debris after the fire. They didn't save a thing. It was a total loss. They never found out what started it, but it was a cold winter and it might have been an overheated furnace.

We worked on the ranch in '31 and '32 and the first part of '33, did what we could to keep it up, plant what we needed to care for livestock we had. One day with Ben I was out stretching barbed wire between our ranch and Showalter's, the cinch on my saddle broke. The wire curled back around me and ripped all the way up my arms and shoulders. My hat was knocked off. I fell into the river and yelled at Ben to get my hat so he jumped and got my hat, waded over and handed it to me. We went on stretching the wire across the river. We worked at work, made out like we had a real job to do.

We rode horses, mended fences, raised the garden at the ranch and in town. Ben attended high school. We rode horses a lot. We kept Old Bunny until she was 15. She was the best animal on a dump rake, never missed a whisp of hay when we harvested the wild grass and stacked it for the livestock. Dad asked me if I wanted to keep the livestock and the ranch. I told him no I've had enough. I'd had it.

He said he was too old to try to borrow more money and work it any longer. We'd had it mortgaged to Federal Farm Loan. They put it up for sale. At that time land wasn't worth anything. We had worked, put every ounce of know-how and strength we had into it, Dad had, for 30 years. It was 1932, Dad was 63. He was ailing badly with rheumatism, suffered from it. I knew he couldn't keep going and I no longer wanted to or cared.

When we had decided to sell we kept working on the place, milked three or four cows, took care of the horses, harvested the garden, kept busy. We made a lot of ice cream, gallons of it. We had fresh corn and made our own butter. We took the separated cream to town and Mother would make the butter. Most of my sisters were married. Just Dad and Mother in town. Ben and I were at the ranch most of the time. Winnie was going to school and teaching. I was older than Ben and bossed him too much, seven years older. I came into the house one day for lunch. He'd separated the milk had been cleaning up the kitchen, cleaning the wooden floor with lye. There's nothing like lye to make a wooden floor gleam. High was mad because he mopped the floor before cleaning the separator so I started to nag him about it. He picked up the separator wrench and buried it in my backside. I still have the scar, and that memory, today.

Finally a Panguitch man by the name of Frank Haycock purchased our ranch on the Sevier. His son Joe committed suicide and his widow married again and they bought it from Frank. They never lived in the old ranch house but they did quite a bit to try to build up the land I don't think anyone is running it now. Some speculator has plans for summer homes.