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THE PIANO AND THE CIRCUS

Mary Louise Seamons and Her Family 

Author:  

Mary Louise Seamons
Orem, Utah

Non-Professional Division

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Willard and Bothilda had long known the importance and

joy of music. Bothilda's father, first musician in Mt.
Pleasant, had inspired in his children a love for music.
Although they had an organ in their home as they were
growing up, none of the children had been allowed to play
it; the privilege was reserved for their father. Yet he
taught lessons to others, for which he received no pay.
How Bothilda had longed to touch the ivory keys, to pump
the bellows with her tiny feet, to accompany herself as
she sang the songs of Zion in her sweet soprano tones. But
that was not to be until she could afford an organ in her
own home when she was grown. Yet the desire was there.
Willard, too, had known the joy of music. How he and
Bothilda enjoyed dancing together, or sitting quietly-
listening to the lively tunes played by the orchestra when
the two tired of the activity of the sometimes-all-night
dances. Music was such a lovely part of life,
One day John Hasler, then town musician, had approached
them offering to sell them an organ. Soon, he told them,
there would be pianos available. If they later wished to
have a piano, he would allow them to trade back the organ
as partial payment.
After much discussion and planning, the Frandsens
decided their children deserved the privilege of learning
to play and of having music available to them in their own
home. An agreement was reached with Mr, Hasler, and the
organ had been delivered. They had been ecstatic. Payments
had been made regularly, and the organ was now solely
theirs: paid for through their diligence and frugality.
They forgot about the piano.
Time passed. The children grew, and new ones were
added to the family. As each reached an age of teachability,
Bothilda helped them, as best she could, pick out simple
tunes on the organ. Coordination was important, as feet
and hands must move in unison. If they forgot to pump the
pedals, soon the organ sighed, and no more sound was emitted.
They learned to keep pumping, even when not pressing down
the keys.

Some time later Mr. Hasler again approached the
Frandsens.
"I've been able to arrange for three pianos to be
shipped from the east. They'll arrive in Salt Lake City
on the train, then freighted by wagon here. Are you still
interested in one?
Surprised, Willard and Bothilda needed a while to
talk it over, to plan how they could pay for it, to decide
if they could afford it.
"Of course we're interested. But we'll need a little
time to work things out. How soon do you need to know?
Well, I can give you a few days, but, quite frankly,
I'll need some time to arrange for another buyer if you're
not going to take it. I had to pay cash to the company
before they would ship them way out here."
How could they manage it? What could they do to pay
for a piano? The amount Mr. Hasler had quoted seemed
reasonable enough, but things hadn't been too prosperous
for their family for some time. They had nearly lost
their farm through a poor business deal, and they barely
seemed able to meet their obligations. Could they afford
another payment? But could they afford to deprive their
children of this opportunity either?
Bothilda proposed that she raise chicken, geese,
turkeys, and ducks, sell them to townsfolk and supplement
what Willard could make. Willard said he could "hire" to
herd sheep during the winter. They agreed they would take
the chance and buy the piano.
Willard walked the long, dark blocks to Hasler's
house after the evening chores were done. Mrs. Hasler
opened the door.
"Sorry to come by so late, Sister Hasler, but I need
to speak with Brother John if he's at home. It's rather
important to us."
"Of course. I'll call him. Won't you come in,
Brother Will?"
Uncomfortable, Willard stood just inside the door,
hat in hand, while he waited for Mr. Hasler. After respond-
ing to a friendly greeting from John, Willard blurted out,
"We want it!"
"That's fine, Will. It should arrive soon. I'll let
you know as soon as I know more. I'm glad you made the
decision to get one. The Candlands and the Seelys are
getting the other two. With all the musical talent in your
family, I'd hate to see your children go without one."

Hasler's strong Swiss accent soothed and reassured Willard
that the Frandsens had made the right decision*
A bargain was struck, sealed with a handshake* Hasler
knew that Willard's word was a good as any document ever
written. His integrity and honesty were well known to the
townspeople.
Several weeks passed, Bothilda began seeking buyers
for her fowl. She offered them killed, plucked, singed,
cleaned, and delivered for fifty cents each. As word spread
about the high quality and quick delivery, she got more
customers. She involved the children in her project. They
just as well help earn the piano; it would mean more to
them if they realized the struggle it took to meet the
payments. The Frandsens didn't have the money the Candlands
and Seelys did; the latter would probably pay cash for their
pianos the day they were delivered—if they hadn't already
done so,
Willard sought out those he knew might need a herder.
He made arrangements to winter the Barton sheep on the
desert. He wasn't pleased to be away from home for so long,
but he was pleased that he hadn't had to search too long
for employment. His ambition was also well known to the
townspeople.
By the time the piano arrived, the Frandsens had a
small down payment saved. Mr. Hasler had told them he
would finance the remainder for them, knowing they would be
paying him $50 a year, after the crops were harvested and
sold, until the agreed-upon amount had been paid.
The day the piano arrived was an exciting one for the
Frandsens, They had not told the children it would arrive
so soon, but had kept it a surprise, at least for the ones
who were in school,
Maggie was first to arrive home that afternoon. She
couldn't imagine what the huge crate was doing in the front
yard. Bursting through the door, she found her parents
admiring a lovely new piece of furniture: an upright piano.
Of dark-stained oak, the handsome instrument seemed to have
been made for the inside wall of their parlor, Maggie,
first to play on the shiny ivory keys, felt a shiver of
delight tingle up her spine. What fun she would have once
she had a chance to take the lessons Mother and Father had
promised when they recruited the aid of their children in
raising the money for it*
Farrie, Talula, and Lucille reached home soon after,
with Edgar not far behind: the whole family, grouped

around staring reverently, it seemed, at their treasure—-
the gleaming piano now standing in their parlor, a tribute
to Willard and Bothilda's interest in providing "quality"
experiences for their children*
Next came lessons. These, too, had been arranged with
Mr. Hasler. One morning every few weeks, on a regular
basis, he came to the Frandsen home in the morning-—early
enough to give the children their lessons before school.
Bothilda, too, wanted to learn all she could now that she
finally had such a fine musical instrument of her own.
It wasn't long until they fell into a regular routine.
Mr. Hasler would arrive, teach each of the children in turn,
then sit down to one of Bothilda's breakfasts, prepared
with great care, using only the best food available. Mr.
Hasler, his Swiss accent strong, often told her, "You fix
the best food I've ever tasted." And he asked her for "just
a haffa cuppa coffee," then proceeded to fill the cup to
the brim with the rich, think cream provided by their
jersey cow.
Bothilda continued to prepare her birds to be sold
and delivered. She sewed, knitted, crocheted, and quilted
for others to supplement their meager monetary income so
the payments on the piano could be made. Willard herded
sheep in the winter, spending long, lonely months away
from his home. In one letter he wrote: "I went to bed
with my eyes full of ashes and my belly full of burnt
bread." Bothilda cried herself to sleep that night. In
the summer Willard took his baler around the valley—one
year he even went to Scofield across the mountain in
Carbon County—baling hay for others, returning home only
long enough to harvest his own small crops, which Bothilda
and Edgar cared for in his absence.
Then came the year Bothilda and Willard had worried
about. It was time for the yearly payment. The hay crop
that year had been light and the price of cattle and sheep
down. Money was scarce everywhere. Would they be able to

make the payment? Would they be able to keep the piano
that had come to mean so much to each of them? They
thought it over individually. They discussed it together.
They worried over it. But no solution was provided.
Then one day Bothilda saw Willard, standing on the
boardwalk in front of the house, talking with two strangers.
Soon he came into the house, smiling broadly.
"Well, we can meet the payment on the piano. The
Ringling Brothers circus is going to be here . . . on our

farm."

Bothilda was nearly as excited as the children. The

planning and anticipation that followed Willard's announce-

ment were almost as much fun as they knew the circus would

be.

Days before the show, people from all over Sanpete

County began arriving: in wagons, in buggies, on horses,

even on the train. The streets of Mt. Pleasant became

small, teeming villages as tents were set up and covered

wagons backed to the sidewalks. Some campers brought a

cow for milk; some, chickens for eggs and meat. All brought

eagerness and activity. The excitement was contagious.

The Frauds en garden spot became a sandwich stand. The

Frandsen children sold milk and eggs to strangers. Bothilda

baked bread, pies, and cakes for the crowd of relatives and

friends that filled their home. Willard worried about the

campers near the farm; each night after everyone else had

retired, he made his "rounds" to make certain all fires

were completely doused and all gates securely fastened.

Finally the great day arrived. The children were up

before sunrise, almost before their parents; none of them

had slept much the night before. Breakfast was hurriedly

prepared and eaten. No one wanted to miss seeing the circus

train pull in at the station, nor the performers and animals

as they came off the train, nor the parade with its vibrant

clowns, steam calliope, gaudily-uniformed brass band,

horsewomen, and animals of many strange and exotic varieties.

How Willard, Bothilda, and each of their children thrilled

when the gaily-dressed circus barker shouted:

 "FOLLOW THE PARADE TO THE SHOW GROUNDS," 

and they knew he meant THEIR FARM.

Bothilda was as eager as her children to see all there

was to see at this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, exper-

ience all there was to experience. But first she made

certain the children were all settled, informed, and

involved. Then she, too—Willard by her side—did as much

as she possibly could. Each of them thrilled at the three-

ring performance. Each was awed by the strange displays in

the sideshows. Each had their fill of pink lemonade, a rare

treat, as citrus fruits were not easily obtained in the

small town. All was done on Willard's "family pass"

provided by the circus managers. What a wonderful, tiring,

exciting, exhausting day they all had*

But the excitement was not over when the performance

ended and the spectators dispersed. Long into the night.

the Frandsens watched the tents come down, the animals put

back in their cages, and the long procession wends its way

back to the railroad station headed for its next engage-

ment. When they finally crawled, exhausted, into their

beds, sleep evaded them—pleasantly so, there was much to

savor in their thoughts and dreams.

Slowly the temporary villages disappeared, too,

leaving behind piles of food, apple peelings, potato

peelings, and one large pile of beans; Willard's pigs had

food for days. The children searched the ground for nickels

and pennies; they had memories to last them a lifetime.

Willard and Bothilda no longer worried about the pay-

ment for that year; it was taken care of* But what about

next year?

Willard Lauritz and Bothilda Johanna Hansen Frandsen,

both children of first settlers in Mt. Pleasant, were

grandparents of the author. The story of the piano and the

circus—as well as many other stories savored by the

author—were told her by her grandmother. Many of these

memories were also gleaned from the author's aunt, Talula

Frandsen Nelson, of Mt. Pleasant.

Concerning the reference to Bothilda's "tiny feet,"

as an adult she wore a size 3 1/2 shoe.

John Hasler, prominent musician in Mt. Pleasant

followed Bothilda's father, James Hansen, from about 1869

on, providing music for all occasions.

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