James Swensen

LIFE STORY OF JAMES AND MARY CAROLINE SWENSEN
First section by daughter Kessie Swensen Carlston

A short time after Grandfather Lars Swensen came to Utah he was called to go back to Denmark on a Mission. In the City of Aarhus he met Andreas Jensen and converted him to Mormonism. Andreas was eager to come to America and be active in the Church with the Latter-day Saints in Utah. He was also intrigued with the idea of coming to a new land.

Andreas' daughter, Mary Caroline, married James Swensen, the son of his Danish friend Lars Swensen. James was a venture-some young man, too. He loved the good old earth, the living soil, rivers, creeks, hills and forests. Enthusiastically he related his experiences of hitching his team of fine horses to his wagon loaded with beef, mutton, potatoes, eggs and fruit to be taken to faraway mining camps in Utah, Colorado and Nevada.

During the Summer of 1896, Jim took his wife and three small daughters to his father-in-law's mining claim at Fish Springs, in the western Oquirrh Mountains. While the men dug into the bowels of the earth for hidden minerals, Mary Caroline was busy preparing wholesome meals for them. During her spare moments, she would take her children for a walk up the rocky slopes of the desert hills. They gathered wild flowers and picked up interesting rocks. The children scampered around almost as fast as the tiny desert lizards flitted over and under the rocks. During the long evenings, she kept busy mending, darning and knitting woolen stockings. She spent much time making baby clothes. The dresses and petticoats were very long with rows and rows of tucks and ruffles. How pretty they were, but, oh my! how long it took to iron them. A new baby was coming in April, so Jim and Mary Caroline left the mining claim and started toward home.

Arriving at Moroni, they were unable to find a house to rent, other than a small rock building which had been the town's saloon. Mary Caroline rather resented the idea of her baby being born in a saloon, but she washed and scoured the walls, ceilings and floors until it was as fresh and clean as the little shack she left out on the sage scented desert. By late March the little , old rock saloon was a cheerful home with a black coal range, table, chairs and beds. Bright checked gingham curtains were hung at the kitchen windows and hand-me-down lace curtains were hung in the bedroom and pallor. She put her patchwork quilts on the beds and her woven rag rugs on the floors. In one corner of the bedroom was a tiny, wooden cradle in readiness for the baby to come. Early in the morning of April 1st, Mary Caroline didn't feel so well, and about noontime she began to have pains. "Oh my, she said, "I fear my baby shall be born on April fool's day." It's lucky for me she prolonged her pains until the next morning, being born in a rock saloon and practically conceived behind a rock was quite enough, to say nothing of being born on April fool's day.

Four small daughters kept mama busy washing, ironing, cooking, sewing and the million and one other household duties that she had to do. She kept the little old saloon so tidy, it was a joy to live in it. She said that after living in it for a month or two, one could scarcely smell the beer that had been spilled on the floor. It was plowing time on the farm. Papa hitched his horses to the plow and turned over acre after acre of good old Sanpete soil. Although papa spent a good deal of his time away from Moroni, he had a deep fondness for his birthplace. He loved the town, and he loved the people of the town. So many times I have heard him say, "People just don't come any better than those in Sanpete County." He said, "I guess they are good and kind because they eat so many carrots and carrots are good for the system and disposition. Sanpete is known as the Carrot County, and do you know everyone born there is born with a yellow streak around the mouth." On day papa was rather late coming home from the farm. He surprised mama by telling her he was going to buy a house for her. It was a comfortable white cement house. Happily for we children, because with it came a very large lot and a wonderful big rock barn for the horses with a loft in it to store hay. My sisters and I had so much fun jumping in the hay. Papa and mama planted a big garden and we had plenty of fresh vegetables. How good the raw carrots, turnips and green peas tasted. We used to cut them in little pieces for our dinner when we played house under the big cottonwood tree. Mama was simply delighted with her new home and it was such a relief to her not to be living in a saloon. Papa was a kind and loving man, but living in the saloon didn't seem to bother his religion or pride, but mama, she was a saint through and through. Mama soon put on her full wrapper again and before long she had another tiny baby girl. "Five girls. "papa said, "seems we would be able to get a boy," but mama said, "it wasn't her fault." Very often when we had company, papa would say, "come on, all of you white headed little Danes and stand in a row and let Aunt Maria and Uncle Eph see how big you are." As we stood in a row, we looked very much like a step-ladder. Edith, my oldest sister, was a sweet, helpful child. Anna Dora, the second was also named Anna for papa's mother. Laura Maria was named Maria for mama's mother. Kessie, the baby that was born in the saloon, that's me. I really wasn't named Kessie at all, mama just began to call me Kessie on the way home from church the day I was christened. If it hadn't been for polygamy in out Church, I might have had a pretty common name like other girls. Mama named me Kestin for grandpa's second wife who couldn't have children. As soon as meeting was dismissed, Grandma Kestin said she hoped Mary Caroline didn't expect any favors for naming the baby for her. How mama ever thought up the name of Kessie, I will never know. As far as I know, I am the only Kessie in the world. Mama's fifth baby girl was named Alda Caroline. Papa insisted she be named for mama. Soon after Alda Caroline was a year old, mama made her some new wrappers and before we knew it, we had another step to the ladder. By this time papa didn't seem a bit surprised when the midwife, Aunt Artie(Artemisia D. Anderson), said, "It's another girl Jim." Our new baby was a beautiful baby and it seemed that every time a new baby name along, mama and papa loved it more than the last, if that could be possible. Mama was always talking about her dear friend Betsy, and so named this baby Betsy Lenore for her friend.

Six little daughters, my, how busy Jim and Mary Caroline Swensen were, taking care of them. Caroline was constantly sewing, washing, ironing, cleaning the house, churning, cooking, weeding the garden, but never complaining.

She began to teach the children that it was necessary for each member of the family to help keep the home clean, comfortable and happy, and each one was given tasks to do according to their age. One of the fondest memories of my early childhood was sewing for a tiny old fashioned china doll.

We all had our own little dolls, and when mama would sew our clothes, she would divide the tiny, bright scraps of calico, outing flannel and gingham and show us how to make doll clothes. My sisters and I used to play by the hours, sewing and dressing our dolls. We older girls would take turns washing and drying the dishes, tending the baby, running errands and weeding the garden. As soon as we were big enough, we helped turn the wooden handle on the washer. Mama would make a game out of it and we would turn the handle back and forth a hundred times. This method served two purposes; we helped with the washing and we learned how to count, and believe me when we had turned our hundred, we were very sure we didn't go one single turn more.

When Betsy Lenore was two years old, mama had another baby girl. Poor papa, he was really beginning to wonder if they would ever be a son to carry down the family name. When the baby was three weeks old, mama dressed us all up in our Sunday clothes and we all went to church to have our new baby named. Counting mama and papa, there were nine of us and we occupied an entire bench in the chapel. Betsy Lenore, not being used to sitting still became restless and papa had to take her out for a drink of water. A few minutes later Alda Caroline began to get restless and papa had to take her out, but not for a drink of water. After the congregation had sung, Love at Home, and Brother Faux had given a long, wonderful prayer, and all the other routine things had taken place, it was time to name the babies. Papa walked proudly up to the front of the pulpit with his tiny, seventh baby girl and my Uncle named the baby, Della. Mama had her named Della because she had always just loved the name Della. Even in the good old days, it took hard work and good planning to provide for seven children. Papa worked hard on the farm and made one trip a week to either the coal mines in Carbon County or the mineral mines in the Tintic Mining District to peddle fruit, eggs, meat and other provisions. On one occasion he was a day late getting home from the coal mines. There had been a terrible disaster at the Scofield Mine and many on the sons and husbands of papa's food customers had been killed. He did all he could to help the grief stricken widows and he tried to comfort the children who had climbed on his wagon so many times asking for apples. He was very fond of these people and the disaster was a great shock to him. For months after, when he loaded his wagon for a trip, he would tuck in a little extra for some poor widow who lost her husband and son in the disaster.

Mama was the best women in the world; however, we children seemed to take her loving kindness for granted because she was always at home working, guiding and taking care of us. But, we children adored papa; how we did look forward to his coming home from his trips. No matter how late in the night it was, he would come in the house calling "Brica, brica." Brica means treat in Danish. We would all jump out of bed and gather round him while he handed out licorice, peppermints and hoarhound candy. In the evenings after supper was over, papa would sit in the rocker and take turns giving each one a ride on his foot while he sang this little song. "Ride on the golden mule, ride on the golden mule little children come and ride up behind, little children come and ride the golden mule."

When he came to the part, he never kicks up behind, he would kick us up in the air and into his arms. If there is one trait of my father's that stands out to me, it is his love for children and old people.

It was good for mama to have papa home in the evenings to help amuse the children and tuck them into bed. He was especially helpful when seven little girls all had the whooping cough at the same time. Mama was up night and day helping when an extra hard coughing spell started. Mama said she didn't mind losing her sleep as long as the children were getting all right. She was really worried when the baby came down with whooping cough and when Aunt Artermins known lovingly by all as Aunt Art, our faithful town doctor came and said the baby had developed pneumonia. Finally Aunt Art stayed at our house all day and night and mama and papa looked so worried that we children knew our baby sister was very sick. When mama gathered us all around her knee and told us our baby sister had died and that she had gone back to be with our Father in Heaven, we were so very sad. As I look back, now knowing all the heartaches and sorrows my mother was called to bear, I marvel at the wonderful courage she possessed. I know it was her great faith in God that helped her bear her trials so bravely.

On one occasion in the Fall of 1903, papa came home from a trip to Tintic Mining District and told mama he had applied for a job at the Mammoth Mine for the winter months. After due consideration, they decided that mama and the children would go with him. As mama filled the old covered wagon with household goods, clothing and children, little did she dream that she would remain at Mammoth for seventeen years. We children looked forward to the trip with great excitement. Papa was up very early in the morning and we started our journey to our new home. He fed the horses and hitched them to the loaded wagon. Mama wondered how she was going to get the children in the wagon, as it was already full it was bulging over. Somehow, five little girls snuggled in with the bedding and papa, mama and little Betsy Lenore sat on the big spring seat in front.

We all suffered little pangs of sadness as we left our home in Moroni, our big rock barn and all our aunts, uncles and cousins. We all shed a few tears when we passed our Grandma Swensen's house. As we were leaving town, we looked up towards Grandpa Jensen's farm house that was just below the mountains in the West in a very small town called Freedom. Soon we were passing the Moroni Cemetery where our baby sister Della was buried, and we all looked at mama as her eyes filled with tears. After going through Fountain Green and over the summit, we began to go down through little Salt Creek Canyon. The canyon was beautiful; the maple leaves were turning gold and crimson and the stately aspens had turned from green to gold. We passed a monument that had been erected at the place where a terrible battle had been fought during the Black Hawk War. This was the war between the Indians and Pioneers. Mama and papa told us that their fathers had fought in the war. Mama said they called her father Little Soldier as he was small of stature. She also showed us the place where grandpa used to have a salt mine. Further down the canyon we passed the Nephi Plaster Paris Mill. Papa said when we came to the flour mill we would stop by the creek and have our dinner. We were anxious to get to the flour mill because it used to belong to Grandpa Jensen, but was now owned by Uncle Robert Winn, who had married Aunt Annie, mama's sister. Near the mill was an old adobe house mama used to live in when she was a young girl.

How we did enjoy our dinner sitting near the creek. When we reached Nephi, we called by to see our Aunt Annie and our cousins. It was late in the afternoon and she insisted we stay with her overnight. She had a nice home and extra beds. Little did we, or did she realize that on numerous occasions in the years to come that her home would be a stop-over place for our family when we would go to visit our relatives in Moroni.

Early the next morning, we said goodbye to Aunt Annie and started on our way again. After leaving Nephi, we passed Uncle Rob's dry farm near Mona. About noon, we had our lunch under a grove of trees at Star Ranch. It seemed a long way to Santaquin, but we finally arrived there. Papa unhitched the horses and took them to a nearby ditch for a drink of water and told us to all get out and stretch our legs. He went into the store, and when we were well on our way, he said "brica, brica and we knew he had bought us a treat. He gave us all some hoarhound candy and some jaw breakers. About sundown we came to Goshen, and we decided we had better camp for the night. We stopped at a farmhouse on the outskirts of town and inquired about sleeping quarters. The farmer said there weren't any in town, but offered us an empty old adobe chicken coop. Mama was afraid of chicken mites, but six little girls were very tired, so she swept out the coop and made a big bed on the floor for the family. The bed on the floor was not nearly so comfortable as we were used to and it took us quite some time to get to sleep. Finally after we all were asleep, Edith awoke with a terrible toothache. How she did cry. When we could stand the crying no longer, papa aroused the farmer to see if could get something to relieve her pain. He gave papa a piece of chewing tobacco and told him to chew it up well and put it in the cavity in her tooth. My, how she did scream. It burned, blistered her mouth, and made her sick to the stomach. It seemed that we had no more than gotten to sleep than mama began to wake us up one at a time and dressed and fed us so we could get on our way again. Papa pointed out to us the long road leading up to the slope towards the western mountains. He told us the new home we were going to was nestled up in the top of the hills. When Papa said we would soon come to Eureka, one of the largest and richest mining towns in Utah, we were very excited. He had told us so much about the towns he had peddled in that we were very anxious to see them.

As we came down over the summit we could see the big mining dumps on the side of the hills. So many times he had told us about the long tunnels through the mountains that led to the cage which lowered the men hundreds of feet down in deep shafts. He explained to us how the miners used picks and shovels and how they blasted to get the ore, then loaded it into mining cars and hoisted it up to the tunnel and there were tracks laid through the tunnel for the cars and they used mules to pull the cars out of the mine. The men who had charge of the mules were called mule skinners.

Papa's first job at the mine was a mule skinner's job. After the ore is brought out of the mine, it is sorted and loaded into railroad cars and shipped to the smelters. The waste ore is dumped on the big mining dumps that sometimes get so big that homes have to be moved to give them room. Quite low grade ore and small pieces of high grade ore are dumped out on the dumps and mines lease the dumps and salvage the useful ore.

Little did my sisters and I know that later in our lives, we would learn a great deal about sorting ore on the mining dumps. We felt like pioneers coming down the main street of Eureka in our covered wagon loaded with provisions and immigrants. Mining towns can be either booming towns or ghost towns, but the day the Swensen family made its grand entry into the mining camps, the Tintic Mining District was booming, and to say the least, we did help raise the population. It just happened at this time Eureka rated very high in population of Utah cities. The narrow streets were full of people going in and out of stores, pool halls, saloons, post office and butcher shops. When we passed Pat Fennel's Butcher Shop, Pat recognized papa's wagon and horses and he waved to us through the shop window. Papa had hauled eggs and meat to Pat Fennel's Butcher Shop for years.

We passed the Eureka Cemetery and circled around a hill for three miles. As we came around the hill and looked to the East, we saw a picturesque mining town nestled in the ravine and on the sides of the hills. High up in the top of the hills was the big Mammoth Mine with its large dumps flowing right down into the town. I fell in love with Mammoth at first sight. I loved the little train winding its way around the hills. Papa said the train was called the Little Alice and that the hill just below it was called, "Buttercup Hill." "Buttercup Hill," how I came to love it. It was the only hill in town where bright golden butter cups grew under the gray sage brush in the Springtime. The town had one main street that went up the ravine in the center of town and led to the largest mine called the Mammoth Mine. Mammoth was divided into three sections--lower town, middle town, and upper town, and believe me, it was really up. The frame homes were built on the sides of the hills. Papa had rented a house for us in middle town just back of the school house, and the Mormon Meeting House. Mama was very pleased with the location, she said it would be so handy for the girls to go to school and Sunday School.

Papa tended to the horses and mama and we girls began to unload the wagon and carry our belongings in the house. There were four rooms and a lean-on porch that led to a dirt cellar. The day we moved into the house, there were eight of us; mama, papa and six small girls and every 18 to 20 months after, the Lord blessed us with another sister. Papa was a mule skinner at the mine, mama was a Relief Society teacher. My older sisters and I were enrolled in school and were going regularly to Sunday School, Primary and to a new organization called Religion Class.

In the winter we had so much fun sleigh riding. Papa bought us a Flexible Flyer sled for Christmas. After school and on Saturdays everyone in town was out sleigh riding. We would pull our sleds to the top of town and ride down through middle town, lower town and almost to Tintic Junction, down in the cedars.

In the Springtime we took hikes up into the glorious hills. Quite often we would build bon fires and make Irish Stew, each one of the gang taking something to put into the stew. Sometimes we would bake potatoes in the hot coals of the bon fire.

There were two things that happened in the Spring that weren't quite so delightful as gathering flowers on the hillsides. As much as I loved sage brush, I wasn't too fond of drinking sage brush tea, but papa said it was the best Spring tonic in the world to purify the blood. By the time we had drunk sage brush tea and worn asphidily bags around our neck for a week, we were really immune from disease for the rest of the year. Every time a single child in town came down with a disease, about eight or ten little Swensen girls were wearing asphidily bags and we had a smelling good time.

Mama was going to have a new baby the first part of November. She expressed the desire to go to Grandma Jensen's at Freedom where she could have Aunt Art take care of her. There were two good doctors in Mammoth, but mama felt she just couldn't have a baby without Aunt Art to take care of her. The latter part of October we went on our first visit back to Moroni, Sanpete County. It was an exciting adventure for we children, as we were to take our first ride on a train. We were all up early the morning that Jerry Sullivan, the man that met the trains at the station with his horses and buggy drove up to our place to take us to the station. Papa helped us all on the train, kissed us goodbye and carefully gave mama the directions about changing trains at Payson. It was such fun riding on the big train and so exciting going over the high trestles through the canyon. When we reached Payson, we had to walk a long distance to another depot to get on the train that took us to Nephi. We had to stay overnight in Nephi to get the Sanpete Valley train that would take us to Moroni. We had a nice visit with Aunt Annie in Nephi; this was the first time we used her home and hospitality for a stop-over place, but in the years to come, they were quite frequent. It was way in the night when we reached Grandpa's farm. Grandma had a big kettle of soup with Danish dumplings prepared for us. The next morning grandma called us into breakfast an d we had flour mush with rich, thick cream. We also had Ebleschew, a Danish food. It is made of a batter, somewhat like waffles and cooked in special iron muffin pans and sprinkled with sugar.

A few days later, we saw Aunt Art coming up the road in her buggy. Aunt Tenie told us mama wasn't feeling well and would have to play out of doors. A few hours later she called us to come and see our new baby sister. This made seven girls and mama was still quite a young woman. Mama was sick in bed for ten days. Aunt Art came every day to bathe the baby and care for mama. Grandma cooked good nourishing food for her and the neighbors brought in a large kettle of Basalmi or sweet soup. This is a Danish dish and custom. Basalmi is made of stewed prunes, raisins, currants, orange and lemon slices, cinnamon sticks, tapioca, sugar and other ingredients. It is a very healthy dish for new mothers. It was hard for we children to understand how mama had gotten so slim while she was in bed, because everyone had brought her so many good things to eat. I suppose all of us kids getting into mischief and mama and the new baby to care for was quite a strain on Grandpa and Grandma. Although they were very good to us, sometimes Grandpa would get a little out of sorts. For instance, the day we were floating big red apples by the bushel down the ditch that ran way down to the bottom of town. Now, Grandpa Jensen was very ambitious and very kind-hearted, but he was inclined to be somewhat frugal, which I consider a fine trait, if you don't carry it too far. It was Indian Summer and Grandpa, my aunts and Uncle Bill had picked and stored hundreds of bushels of good winter apples in the apple cellars.

One day while Grandpa had gone to town to get the weekly provisions for the family and added visitors, we kids were having the time of our lives floating the largest and best apples we could find down the stream. Soon our cousins and all the kids in town joined us and there was a line of kids from the top of the town to the bottom floating Grandpa's winter apples. As he came up the road in his white-topped buggy, he wondered where all the kinds had came from and what was taking place. As long as I live I shall never forget how excited he was. He made us gather every apple from the top of the stream to the bottom and carry them back to the apple cellar. He gave us a lecture on wasting good food I shall never forget. He told us he wanted us to enjoy our visit and have a good time, but that it was a sin to waste good food. He said there were millions of boys and girls in this Country and in the old country where he came from that would give most anything to have a good red apple to eat.

My sisters and I attended the little one-room county school until mama was strong enough to journey back home with the new baby. Finally the day arrived when mama had regained her strength and Grandpa hitched the horses to the buggy and took us to the depot where we boarded the Old Sanpete Valley train and started our journey home with our brand new sister. At nine o'clock the next evening papa was at the Mammoth station to meet us and we could hardly wait for him to see the new baby. One of the most cherished days at our house was the day the new baby's clothes were shortened. Mama would make the sweetest little dresses of tiny blue and white and pink and white gingham. I remember so well who my sisters and I would argue about who was to hold the baby first after mama had her all dresses up in her new short clothes. We may have lacked many things in our home, but we never lacked the opportunity of tending babies and washing diapers. We named our new baby, Lola. Grandpa Jensen blessed her in the quaint picturesque little church in Freedom. We had so much fun going to Sunday School in the one-room church, while we were with our grandparents that Fall. It seems it doesn't matter how small the church is when the good spirit prevails wherever there is love and harmony.

During the winter mama was kept very busy taking care of her seven girls. Edith, my eldest sister who was now 12 years old and Dora who was 10 were beginning to be big enough to help with the household duties. In fact we all had our work to do. But, mama worked from early morning until late at night cleaning, sewing, mending, cooking, washing, ironing and tending the baby. Each one of us had some task assigned to us to do before we left for school in the mornings. After school we ran errands.

Mama was a fine manager and a very good cook. Our clothing was always homemade. I don't believe any of us ever had a ready-made dress or pants. In fact, mama was continually bleaching flour sacks for that purpose. She made most of our coats and knit woolen itchy stockings for winter. She crocheted bonnets and shawls, and made beautiful quilts to keep us warm and comfortable. She made the best bread, biscuits and cinnamon rolls that were ever made in this world. We weren't always served the best cuts of meat, but my, oh my, what she could do with a good beef soup bone and a piece of mutton stewing meat is something to dream about. Papa just loved mutton stew. I wonder now if it was the mutton stew meat he liked so well or the low price of it.

As I am writing these things, a most wonderful, glorious picture comes to my mind. I can see our big kitchen, and mama standing over our old coal comfort range stirring a big pot of beef vegetable soup. The oven door is down and I see two large pans of golden brown biscuits. On the side table by the stove is a large dripper with eight loaves of bread that will go in the oven when they have raised high enough in the pan. In the bread mixing pan, mama has left some remaining dough, she has added sugar and shortening to it. After supper she will roll it out and sprinkle mixed cinnamon and sugar on it, then cover it with raisins. After making a roll out of it, she will cut it into buns and put them into the large pan to raise. Long after the supper work is done and the youngest children have been tucked in bed, she will sit in the rocking chair and darn stockings while she is waiting for the bread and rolls to get baked. Perhaps two of the most enjoyable pieces of furniture in our home were the kitchen table and the long bench papa had the carpenters at the mine make for us. The table was large enough to seat sixteen people comfortable and at every meal six girls sat on the bench back of the table against the wall. While mama was sitting in the rocker darning stockings and peeking in the oven to see how the cinnamon rolls are coming, my sisters and I are sitting around the table getting our lessons. Mama helped us so much with our lessons. I can see her now holding a paper while we are saying out times tables and going through our spelling words. We were all so proud of mama's handwriting, she received an award when she attended the Snow Academy at Ephraim for the best writing at the Academy. She helped so many girls with their reading that she knew the primers and readers by heart. We were always glad when the next to last pans of rolls were baked because mama would let us eat those while the last pan was being baked.

With all the work mama had to do she found time to work in the Church. I remember when Mrs. Larson was President of the Relief Society and Mrs. Reed and Forsey were her counselors. Mama was the Secretary and Treasurer. At one time they had a bazaar and dance at the dance hall. They took in quite a sum of money which mama had to take home. It was very rare that we had thieves or robbers in our mining town; however, about 12:30p.m. that night, as mama and my sisters and I were going home from the dance, just as we started around our trail that wound around the hill, a man who had been hiding down in the hollow below began to chase us. Gee, we were scared to death, mama clung onto the purse with all her strength and we all ran just as fast as we could go. As we neared our house, the man turned and ran in the other direction. We never did find out who he was, but mama was sure he has seen them counting the money after the bazaar was over and knew that she was taking it home with her.

Saturday was a busy day around the house. In the forenoon we cleaned house. I would like to tell you about our house. We had four rooms and a lean-on, built-in porch which led to the dirt cellar. Here we kept the bottled fruit, winter potatoes, carrots and onions. Papa made a small cooling cupboard for the milk, eggs, bacon and butter. Hanging from the ceiling in one corner of the back porch was a shelf made of wire and stove pipes where the yearly flour was stored. The idea of the pipes was to make the shelf mouse-proof. I loved the big kitchen, the home comfort coal range with a big reservoir, our long table and bench. One of the most useful pieces of furniture in our kitchen was the wash stand. In the morning we had to wait in line to use the big granite wash dish, after we had stood in line at the little outside house.

How cold it was waiting on cold winter mornings, and how the flies buzzed around during the hot summer days. Mama's good old wheeler sewing machine was at the west end of our kitchen. I doubt if there has ever been a machine in the world that sewed more stitches than mama's machine. She was forever sewing new pants, petticoats, sack aprons, baby clothes, outing flannel dresses, calico and gingham dresses, mother hubbard wrappers, chemises, corset waits and waist aprons. I think she made enough tucks and ruffles to reach across the United States. When she wasn't making clothes, she was patching clothes, sewing quilt blocks and carpet rags. With fondest memories I remember her rocking chair, always nursing a new baby and softly singing hymns as she rocked it to sleep. When I think of hymns, I naturally think of our beautiful organ. On cold winter nights my sisters and I would play hymns, and although none of us sang too well, we really loved to sing. I suppose papa and my sister Alda were the best singers in our family. Papa loved music and his favorite hymn was "The Day Dawn Is Breaking". It was sang at papa's funeral and "In a Garden" at mamas. I guess I am like mama, I just love funeral songs. Mama buried three baby girls, two girls 16 years old, and a seven-month stillborn baby boy (the last baby she had), and unlike some people who can't bear to hear funeral hymns after a death in a family, they seemed to console her and she would ask my sisters and I to play "Oh, My Father, and I Need Thee Every Hour," when she was feeling sad. When my baby sister Mildred died, mama's friend sang "Your Sweet Little Rosebud Has Left You," to the tune of "Let Us Oft Speak Kind Words to Each Other," and the four months before mama died, she continually hummed this tune.

Our baby sister Lola was toddling around by this time saying, bye, bye, mama and papa, and playing peek-a-boo and waving bye, bye, and mama was wearing a new mother hubbard dress. Papa was getting in all the overtime he could at the mine, and to mama's grief and dismay, he had accepted a job running the slot machines in the saloon for his republican friend, the tallest man in town with the biggest feet in the world. Now papa was the most staunch democrat in the whole Tintic Mining District, and he and his republican friend had some dreadful arguments. Mama often said, that if papa would read his church books as much as he did politics, he could have been the best preacher in the Church. Papa loved people, and was a very kind-hearted man, but when he argued politics, he would shout and throw his Danish hands around more than any Italian you ever saw. Now papa always voted a straight democrat ticket, regardless of who was running. I'm sure if the worst man in town was on the democratic ticket, papa would have voted for him. But, mama was different, she didn't like to kill papa's vote, but she always voted for the man who was a church goer. She said, "If he attends church, he must be a good man to have in office."

The 4th of July in a mining town was something to be remembered. How well, I recall my mother sewing each one of her little girls a new 4th of July dress. She would make two alike for the girls about the same age. The material she used was not rayon or nylon, but dotted Swiss cotton, voile, linen or flaxen. She made yards of ruffles edged with val lace and such beautiful long sashes. The pity of it, by the end of the day, they were saturated with pink lemonade, ice cream, sticky pink popcorn and peppermint chews. But, never-the-less, every girl had to have a new dress for the 4th of July.

How I used to love Christmas in our town. In the evening after we did the supper dishes and studied our school lessons, mama would let us pop corn and string it. We made chains of cranberries and beautiful chains of red and green paper. It was such fun to decorate our little frame shack, but it was the homiest house, so full of kids, so much laughter, quarreling, sassing, love, kindness, happiness and growing up. Early Christmas Eve, we brought our tree in the front room and we all helped put the star and angel on top of it. We didn't have a fireplace to hang our stockings on, we had so many kids that there were stockings hung on back of chairs, on the door knobs, on the fancy corners of our organ and all over the frontroom. Although we always had a good Christmas, I don't think it took so much to please us as it does children today. I know I was always thrilled to get a doll, crayons, hair ribbon and a new pair of flour sack pants, and of course, candy and nuts in my stocking. The first day of school was an exciting day in our family. Mama would have to hurry so fast to bath the youngest ones and inspect the neck and ears of the oldest ones. By the time she had combed and braided all the white hair, it's a wonder there wasn't hair all over the house. The little kids all had Dutch cut hair with one braid tied with a ribbon on top. The oldest girls had two braids tied up with plaid ribbon. We all had a new percale or gingham checked sack apron to wear the first day of school with a long sash bow, tied on the back, and a nice pocket on the front with a sparkling clean hanky in it. It took a lot of papa's hard earned money to get us all a new pair of shoes to start school, but it was worth it all because mama was so proud of us.

About 1905, our wonderful old Doctor Bailey's son, Doctor Steels Bailey, joined his father and his bother-in-law, Doctor Harville, in care for the sick in our town, and also our joining towns, Eureka and Silver City. As usual, about this time, my mother was expecting again. Grandma was getting older and mama already had eight little daughters, so she felt she just couldn't take her family and go back to Moroni for her confinement. And , so it was the morning of July 26th 1906, mama wasn't feeling too good. My sisters and I were sent to the neighbors to play and papa called the doctor to come, and to mama's surprise, Doctor Bailey came with his satchel and the first baby he ever delivered, he left to us. He was just like Aunt Art, he brought us a baby girl. Our new baby was named Nelda. Nine daughters, so many mouths to feed, so much clothing to buy, papa wondered how he was going to make ends meet. One day he came come with a bright idea. He would lease the old Mammoth Mine's big dump, and if mama would let him, he would buy all his girls a pair of overalls and let them salvage all the small pieces of copper that had been dumped on the waste dumps. We were all thrilled with our shiny new tin buckets and we used to have races to see who could fill their buckets first with real copper ore and then dump it on the pile. Each day the pile grew larger, and by time we were ready to go to school in the Fall, papa said we had enough for a shipment. He loaded it into a big railroad mining car, and when the returns came back, we had a check for $600. I'm telling you, in those days $600 went a long way in buying food and clothes for nine girls. Mama was such a willing worker. She took very good care of us, as well as having a few boarders now and then to cook for.

After Nelda's birth, my oldest sister, Edith, was a very studious and conscientious student. She was very active in school and church activities and seemed to be well liked by everyone. The eighth grade organized a basketball team and she was on the team. Just as she did everything, she did the best she could, so did she put all her zeal and strength into her basketball playing. A few days after a very important game, she was stricken with a sever pain and mama called Dr. Harvielle. We were all so sad and frightened when the doctor said she had ruptured her appendix, and in those days, they didn't operate as they do now. The doctor did all he could for her, but gangrene set in and for a week or so she hovered near death's door. Our neighbor, Mrs. Smith, fixed supper for my sisters and I and we were to sleep there. In the middle of the night papa came and took us home. He said that he was afraid our sister had a very short time to live and that before long the Lord may call her home. I shall never forget how all of us stood around the bed and watched death's angel take our oldest sister away(she died April 15th 1908). I felt the world had come to an end, and life wasn't worth living. She had the most beautiful funeral. School was dismissed for the afternoon and Mr. Davis, our old crippled music teacher had the entire school sing "Abide With Me," and in the days to follow, how I prayed for the Lord to abide with me and dear mama, who was expecting a new baby. All the town people were so kind to us. They sent such beautiful flowers, there were wreaths, sprays. The school children sent a large wheel with a missing spoke in it. For several weeks after Edith died, I would open the little top drawer on our lovely old bureau, where she kept her keepsakes, hankies, bright colored ribbons, bead, and her cherished friendship album, and as I folded and caressed her ribbons and read the verses in her friendship album, my tears fell like rain on them. As a child, I had a terrible dread of death, I felt it was so futile, but the older I grow the more I realize it just can't be the end and that there is sure to be a wonderful resurrection, and loved ones will meet and mingle together again.

Twenty-three months after my sister Nelda was born, young Doctor Bailey came up our narrow mountain trail again carrying his little black satchel. Yes, he had a new baby sister in it for us. Mama's tenth baby girl(Mildred was born two months after Edith's death). Soon papa would have another little ore sorter up on the big Mammoth dump and I'm telling you, he needed a little help. At this time he was leasing, and his paydays were far and few between. I suppose if the Mammoth Supply Store, hadn't carried him over periods of time, that ten little girls would have gone hungry many times.

But what a joyous day when papa's shipments came in. Some times he would bring his money sack with lots of 10 and 20 dollar gold pieces. He also brought home his pockets full of nickels and dimes and along with his little girls, he handed out nickels and dimes to every kid in the neighborhood. Old people and little children always like papa. He was so good hearted and jolly. Papa was such a good man, he just loved to mingle and talk with people. I rather hesitate in telling of perhaps a weak man, or the love he acquired when he was about 35 or 40 years of age for playing cards. He loved to play cards with the men he worked with and he really became a very sharp poker player; so good indeed, to poor mama's humility and shame, when now and then he was called "Poker Swensen."

When Mildred was about a year old, our town was full of whooping cough, our house was full of it. Mama and papa were up most of the night holding a little head during a bad coughing spell. Mama was very worried because the baby just didn't seem to be getting along as well as the other children. Day and night, she did everything she could possibly think of for her baby, but it seemed she gradually became weaker and weaker and developed pneumonia. Mama sat for hours in the rocking chair gently rocking and comforting the baby. Finally, when the baby failed to respond to the treatments suggested by the doctor, and mama was completely worn out, papa hired a trained nurse. It seemed it was destined that our new little baby sister was not to be with us long; that our Heavenly Father needed her on the other side. Mama said at the time, it was such an ordeal to bury my oldest child, but it is equally hard to have a baby taken from my arms. It leaves such an empty feeling. But, in all her heartaches and anguish, she always said, "If it is thy will O Lord, help me to have the courage and strength to carry on." She realized she had other children who needed her love and attention and day after day she kept her sorrow to herself and bravely carried on. In the weeks to follow, she would sit in her rocking chair during the long winter evenings, sometimes quite unconsciously she would be humming a baby lullaby.

Time has a way of passing. My two older sisters, Dora and Marie were getting old enough to go to dances and parties with the boys. Mama, like all mothers, said, "I thought all the anxieties and troubles of raising a family was when children were young, but it really gives one a feeling of peace and joy when all the family is tucked safe and sound into bed at night." Papa began to realize that it took more money to provide for his family as they grew older. Naturally, the girls wanted pretty dance dresses and high heeled shoes, and for the first time in papa's life, he was having to buy corsets for members of his family. Do you know, mama never wore corsets; she wore a tight underwaist and a shimmy, but in all her life, she didn't wear corsets. In fact, most of her married life, she wore mother hubbards or wrappers.

My sister, Dora, got a job at Croppers boarding house during the summer months, and Marie and Alda and myself earned a little money helping Mr. Davis, our crippled music teacher, clean the school house.

(May 23, 1977) By Louise Carlston Andrew Mom (Kessie) became ill and never finished her story "Buttercup Hill". I will try to add a few things to my Mother's history. Kessies's husband preceded her in death; he died Dec. 3, 1975. In Mom's history she only got as far as the birth of Mildred, the remaining members of her family are listed on the family sheets. I will now relate what I know about the birth of her only brother, James Swensen. After Jim and Caroline had so many girls born to them, Doctor Bailey, who I'm sure made a good living because of the Swensen's, said "Jim, if you're ever man enough to have a son, I'll deliver his free of charge." Can you ever imagine the excitement and happiness of this good family when Doctor Bailey announced "No charge, its a boy." I have heard my mother say many, many times over, that the Lord saved this special son to the last because as time passed and Caroline and Jim grew older, this son stayed close to them, farmed and provided for them in their aged years. He was never spoiled by the girls, but very much loved and admired because of his love and kindness to them, and special devotion to his parents.

Many dreams and ambitions accomplished; many heartaches and disappointments, but in the Book of Life, the Swensen family records can be proudly recorded. Each member has left a fine heritage. They have loved and served each other and the Lord well.

At the time of this writing, Mammoth, Utah is no longer a booming mining town; it is a ghost mining town, but the beauties of nature are still there. The ravine where the town was, lowertown, middletown and uppertown and the rugged mountains with old mining caves. As the gentle breeze whispers by, if you are in tune with nature and your Creator, you can almost hear the soft, gentle voices of little children as scamper about gathering wild flowers, and see the little black lizards darting about the rocks. In the distance you can almost hear the whistle of the old Mammoth, 5 o'clock train as it winds around the bend, and visualize tired, dirty miners winding their way homeward to their little gray, weathered, frame homes. "Oh, how I love my BUTTERCUP HILL".

History of James & Mary Caroline Swensen.Beginning about 1918, the time they moved from Mammoth, Utah to Freedom, Utah

Mother and father moved to Freedom in March of 1918. Their two youngest living daughters. Lola and Nelda, and their only son, James came with them.

They moved into an old adobe, four-room house built by Mary Caroline's father. The home and five acres of land were given them by her father, Andreas Jenson. About four years later, father purchased the five acres that had been given to Aunt Annie, mother's sister. That was all the land they had to make a living on.

During this period, father peddled fruit and meat during the fall to Scofield, Utah by horse and wagon as means of transportation. In 1923, father bought a new dodge truck and began trucking to Scofield, Eureka and Mammoth. In 1925 he purchased another truck and hired a driver (Joe Stark). Father did very well at this business. In 1928 he purchased another truck and made several trips to Ely and Ruth, Nevada with fruit and eggs.

During this period of time I was left to do most of the farming and the chores. The things I remember best about this period was when he would return from Mammoth or wherever he had been and would always get me and take me into the front room and take out his money pouch and pour all the silver and good coins out on the table, (there was very little paper money then), and ask me to count the money. After it was all counted, he would tell me to take the amount I thought I had earned during the week.

Another thing I remember and cherish was having most all the grand-children and their parents coming to Freedom for summer vacation. Dora and Kessie would bring the Godlands and Sedgleys and their kids with them and we would have lots of fun.

I have often wondered since how mother was able to hold up under the strain of about 20 to 30 people for sometimes two weeks at a time. Mother was a very kind and loving person, and she loved all her grandchildren very much.

I might mention that for about ten or twelve years father would load up a load of apples and potatoes at Christmas time and take a bushel of apples and potatoes to every widow in Moroni and give to them. He was a very generous man. That is partly the reason he died broke.

In 1929, the great crash came in the stock market and the depression started. Mines began to close down and by 1931, father went out of the trucking business and soon went broke. He finally purchased additional land and made his living from livestock.

In 1931, I married Reva Carter. We moved in with dad and mother. We all continued to enjoy the visits from all the girls and the grandchildren.

Father served as a Counselor to Bishop Lee Taylor for a short time. I don't remember what year it was. The Freedom Ward was discontinued amd was moved to Moroni West Ward.

Dad and mother's health began to fail and my wife, Reva, was sure good to them, as well as the other girls. Dad especially liked to go up to Lark and stay with Marie. Having been a miner, he loved to associate with the miners and play a little sluff.

Dad passed away in 1941 at age 76 amd mother passed away six years later at age 76. I still have some very fond memories of both of them, and all of you grandchildren and great grandchildren can be very proud of them.

This history was written by their only son: James F. Swensen, May, 1977.

© 2001 Vickie L Nielsen and family
Submitted by Vickie

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