Night On The Town

 It was a beautiful spring day - - - just right to begin housecleaning. Aunt Hilda always worked from the cellar up, so her first chore was to go through the fruit jars on the cellar shelves, selecting the good ones to dust and place on clean papered shelves. The fruit that hadn't been kept well, that was showing signs of fermentation or mold, was opened and the contents poured into buckets to be disposed of later.

With the cobwebs swept down, shelves washed and re-papered, floors swept, and stairs scrubbed clean, the room was finally finished, the day almost spent. Hilda looked on the room with satisfaction, and picked up the bucket of fruit, but just at that moment, her big Plymouth Rock rooster helped himself to a beak-full of fruit. Hilda changed her mind and immediately poured the contents of the bucket into the chicken trough. This taste of fruit might be a nice change from the handsful of wheat she fed her chickens morning and night.

Hilda didn't see her chickens again until the evening when she went to feed them. What she saw startled her almost beyond reason. There on the ground lay every one of her chicks; roosters, hens, and spring pullets. At first glance she thought a skunk or weasel had been in her flock. On closer inspection she saw them sprawled in every unlikely position possible: some lying with wings widespread; some lying on their sides, others cramped in strange, grotesque positions with their heads under their bodies; some on their backs with legs straight in the air, and some had fallen across another's the lifeless body.

Had she killed them? She knelt down and felt a body. It was warm. Then she realized she had a drunken flock of chickens. She knew just how it had happened - - - the fermented fruit, of course.

Since the bodies were still warm, her first thought was to cut their heads off and dress them, but she was too tired after her day of housecleaning. So she decided to leave them in the cool night air and finish the job in the morning.

Bright and early the next day she approached the yard and was startled to see the dead chickens up walking around - - - a little wobbly, to be sure, but up and walking. she gave them plenty of grain and fresh water, and by night they were chipper as ever. Who knows, maybe they enjoyed their

 "NIGHT ON THE TOWN".

Bobbed Hair and Short Skirts ~~~ A Reading by Hilda Madsen Longsdorf

Corona Virus Utah

Still none in Sanpete County 

We, the old-fashioned long-haired, long skirted women of the modestly dressed school must confess there are times when we do admire and envy our beautifully marceled, well trimmed, brillianteened sisters of the bobbed hair and knee length skirt, and we do fight the temptation to "go and do likewise." And become one of the great masses. We assure you it does take a great deal of will power to say, "Get thou behind me Satan".

***

You will acknowledge it takes a more than ordinary strength to come before so many bobbed heads to tell you of your mistake and sins and to defend our long hair and skirts. But thanks to the teachings of our early innocent childhood when we were taught in school and in Sunday School a verse something like this, "Sin is a monster to be hated, needs to be seen, but seen too often, we first endure, then pity, then embrace.

***

Friends, we may well compare that sin, to the sins of the world, to the sins of the short skirt and the bobbed hair today, and are we not advised from the pulpit to "keep ourselves unspotted from the sins of the world?"

***

We have often heard the bobbed hairdo epidemic defended with the illusion that it makes one look younger. are we not taught to honor and respect old age? Is it honest to look like something you are not? Is it honest to deliberately act out a lie?

***

Only a short time ago, a certain Mt. Pleasant man; (you all know to whom I refer, but we shall call him Bob) was taken to a hospital in Salt Lake City, all on account of something that wasn't. He saw at a distance what he thought was a young chicken. He hopped into his automobile and when he overtook the object, he found that it was an old hen and that she was his mother-in-law at that. The result of the meeting was his trip to the hospital. One day while there, there was a knock at the door.

***

The lady sitting by his bedside, who by the way had her hair, bobbed the day before, stepped into the hall and there she saw a sweet young creature with a boyish bob and a short pantilooned skirt that asked to see Bob. Said the first lady to the younger, "May I ask who you are as we do not allow all visitors." "I am his sister." "Oh, said the other, I am glad to know you, I am his mother." Think of that, mother and daughter not knowing each other, not knowing the members of their own family, all on account of looking like what you are not, with bobbed hair and short skirts.

***

The bobbed hair is robbing the women of today of motherly love, of that sacrificing spirit that has made motherhood so hallowed. Compare the long hairdo mother of yesterday with the short hairdo mother of today, for instance. A few days ago a schoolboy asked his patient, red faced, perspiring father, who was busy preparing the midday meal, for some money with which to buy a belt. The poor father sadly replied: "Son, never before have I refused you any of the necessities of life, but since Ma bobbed her hair, it is all I can do to keep her on speaking terms with the barber and the marcellor and attend to the housework. And friends, that poor boy, that son and heir, that representative of the future generation, say perhaps the future mayor of Mt. Pleasant, was forced to go without a belt. And we all know how necessary a belt is to a pair of trousers. Think what might have happened.

***

Now there is an example of following the styles. There was a time when men were blessed with gallowses,then fashion said suspenders. Soon they discarded them and left only a belt. And, Oh what agony the men's belt has caused.

***

We ladies used to have petticoats, underwear and hose supporters. Gone are the petticoats, fast going is the underwear and we roll our hose. We used to wear sweeping long skirts, sometimes with a graceful train. Then they gave us the ankle length, then the eight inch from the ground, then knees and above. Ah, can you not see the inmodesty, the brazenness, and the trickery of it. i warn you. Stop your sinful style-following ways, or yhou, like the men, will only have a belt left.

***

Already a man who often occupies the pulpit, and whose wife is a Relief Society worker has written this verse: Mary had a little skirt, 'twas the latest styles no doubt. But every time Mary got outside, she was more than halfway out."

***

Recently I noticed an ad in a journal to the effect that with the short skirts now in vogue, the hose must match the complexion of the jewelry. And after reading that I stepped into J.C. Penney to see the effect it had had. And there, my friends, I saw old women, young women, grandmothers and stepmothers if you please, clambering to be waited on. One dear old lady was in tears, because they had told her the freckled hose had not arrived. A grandmother rushed in to match some purple beads. Had their skirts been long andmodest, like mine, they could have worn any kind of hose, and avoided that grief and worry.

***

A few days ago, I saw a North Ward Relief Society Teacher in tears. I asked her the cause and she replied, "Lost,yesterday, somewhere between Bart's and Slim's Barber Shops, two golden braids, each set with sixty golden hairs, now reward is offered for they are gone forever." She like so many poor bobbed hairdo women here today, was forced to wear her hat or stay at home. Oh, could they only have had a 10-day free trial, could they only have seen the effects of before and after.

***

The bible tells us, that in bible days, men wore long hair and flowing beards. What have they done? They have cut it off. They have shaved them off, until what do we have now? In Mt. Pleasant alone there are so many bald or almost bald headed men.

***

Oh, what is the world coming to when women, who's doting mothers gave them saint-like names will brazenly parade the streets with bobbed hair and short skirts and unblushingly show their shapely or unshapely calves, I mean limbs?

***

In last week's Pyramid there was the followning verse; Henry Snmith is dead, we loved him so, just what caused it, we did not know, until they cut him open, and there they found, short marcelled hairs, floating round and round. Reason tells us, had they been long hairs, they never would have gotten there, for Henry would have seen them, and taken them out of his gravy, pudding, or pie and saved his life before he died.

***

A short time ago, as I was walking through the cemetery, I saw a mound all heaped up with Job's Tears, Love in the mists, Bleeding hearts, and For-get-me-knots. And I thought there has been a great loss. I stepped nearer and read the inscription. "Here lies Randy Lee, the wife of Gus. She bobbed her hair and it ended thus." now think of it. She might have lived forever had she listened to the dictates or that still small voice and the advice of her husband. On a little father in the same cemetery, I heard a man weeping. I went near him to console him, he turned to me with a knowing light in his eye and said, and "Here lies the body of my bobbed-haired wife. Tears cannot bring her back to life. Therefore, I weep."

***

I was told that a husband, who had not kissed his wife for more than twenty years, did so, after she was bobbed. The examiners for mental trouble, pronounced him incurable.

***

One could go on and on and tell of the sins and sorrows that bobbed hair and the short skirs have caused on the earth. Hee the warning, we are all preparing to be angels bye and bye. Have you ever seen an angel or the picture of an agel with bobbed hair and short skirts? No, they all have flowing robes. Let me plead with you as you are as you shall be. As you sow, so shall you reap. With all the proofs we have offered, with all the sadness that has been caused and all the calamities now existing, how can you unblushingly accept the bobbed hair and the economical short skirt?

***

H.E.L.

Hilda Madsen and Annie Pritchett as Little Girls

I believe Hilda is the girl standing and 

Annie is sitting with the doll. 

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING WITH HILDA

My Favorite Christmas Story

Christmas Shopping With Hilda ~ From Hilda's Scrapbook

Awake I have worried, fussed, fumed and planned.

Asleep, I have sought over sea and  land.

Wherever I went, when I told them the price,

Clerks would smile, show sympathy and try to be nice.

I have been at the Wasatch, The Progress, and Squires

I have looked at all things a human admires.

At Gunderson's, at Biddle's and over at Pete's, too,

I asked to see their goods, both old and new.

I went to Penney's and then to the Sanpete.

I am quite sure I visited all places on Main Street.

I roamed North and South, and up and down,

Almost decided to go to some other town.

At last discouraged and in despair,

I searched mail order catalogs from everywhere.

But whenever I saw an article I thought would do,

I found that aft' their price, there was Uncle Sam's postage too.

I have seen radios, automobiles, blankets and mitts,

But darned if I could find anything for only two bits.

Today I decided on this present  plain and queer.

Here is wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've added a few more pictures and  Hilda's Main Street Tour

 

(A fun walking tour of Main Street found amongst Hilda's Memorabilia)

Next stop is Mt. Pleasant City. As I step from the train, the first sign that meets my eye is "ROOMS 5 BLOCKS EAST 1 BLOCK NORTH". I am next attracted by a road sign that reads: "Fairview - 6 1/2 miles, Thistle - 37 1/2 miles, Provo - 57 miles, Price - 95 miles, Spring City - 5 miles, Ephraim - 15 1/2 miles, Manti- 23 miles, Gunnison - 38 miles. After sizing up the conveyances, I decided to walk up one side of the street and down the other. Between third and fourth west is a red BLACK SMITH SHOP sign with a sign PEERLESS, on the west side and LUCKY STRIKE TOBACCO on the east side. Nearly a block east we notice a blue sign advertising FIRESTONE on the west side of the building, with the sign BENT HANSEN AND COMPANY LUMBER in front. We pass the building painted yellow and two sign boards advertising DODGE BROTHERS and LUCKY STRIKE. As we pass the brick house surrounded by pines we see the sign SWEET CHOCOLATE. In front of the building is a painted sign SANPETE COUNTY COOP GENERAL MERCHANDISE. Next is the Mt. Pleasant Bank Building. On the front is painted 19BANK01. On the front of the LAMONT BUILDING upstairs are the following signs: A. SUNDWALL, M.D., and P.L. HOLMAN, SURGEON AND PHYSICIAN. In the east window, the sign reads W.D. TUELER, DENTIST. In the lower window is MRS. LAMONT MILLINERY and JAMES SQUIRE JEWELRY. Next we come to the GUNDERSON BLOCK. Next is the JAMES F. JENSEN building plainly labeled. Then we pass the CLEANING AND PRESSING and the MAYTAG SHOP. Next a frame building with a lot of CIRCUS posters; then the GOOD YEAR TIRES SERVICE STATION. On the corner of Main and 1st west is the MT. PLEASANT POST OFFICE and SEELY HINCKLEY GARAGE. and next is a BARBER SHOP. And now for a hot dog at REDI-QUICK LUNCH. Now the PYRAMID building, on the west side is the sign UTAH MEAT AND PRODUCE. The next building is the EQUITABLE building occupied by PROGRESS MERCANTILE CO. In the window upstairs is I.O.O.F. HALL. Now we are at SKAGGS', SAFEWAY. The WASATCH BLOCK comes next, L. A. PHILLIPS, DENTIST is located on the second floor, and J.C. PENNEY occupies the ground floor.

More than likely you have not observed the sign POST OFFICE and HENRY GEORGE CIGAR on the side of the building. The NORTH SANPETE BANK BUILDING which is built of stone with larger glass windows now greets the view. The next building we se is occupied by JOHANSEN BROTHERS and the MOUNTAIN STATES TELEPHONE AND TELEGRAPH COMPANY upstairs. Now the next building we see is built of stone with large glass windows now greets the view. The building has a sign: PALACE PHARMACY near the top and is occupied by SLIM'S BARBER SHOP. The next building is labeled at the top LUNDBERG BLOCK. In the front on the ground floor is the sign, big enough for near-sighted people to see CONSOLIDATED WAGON AND MACHINE. Over the door is the sign JOHN DEER PLOWS.

My, we are hungry again and here we are at the CITY LUNCH ROOM. On the second floor is the sign, beginning to age DR. A. LUNDBERG, DENTIST. on the ground floor is the RECREATION HALL. Last year the CONSOLIDATED FURNITURE COMPANY built a fine new building, putting the name F. C. JENSEN on a marble plate in front. Over the sidewalk, facing west, is the sign FURNITURE, and facing east, HARDWARE. We won't forget the RED FRONT SHOE SHOP just east and in the old BANK BUILDING is the OPTICAL SHOP and CONFECTIONARY. At the intersection of Main and State is the Doughboy erected by the Service Star Legion in 1926. On the southwest corner of the next block is the sign, MADSEN AND LONGSDORF, and in the front window is the sign, S.D. LONGSDORF. On first east we come to the BISHOP'S STOREHOUSE. Opposite is the PUBLIC SCHOOL, ERECTED IN THE YEAR OF THE LORD 1896. We now turn west and on the opposite side of the street from the one we have just traveled. The next building is the CARNEGIE LIBRARY. Next we know, although it is not labeled is the Pioneer Monument which was erected on the fiftieth anniversary of the coming of the pioneers in the year 1859.

Going west we pass JOHNSTON DRUG STORE. Two sign boards, advertising PEET GREENALDI SOAP and VELVET CIGARET are set in a distance from the street. A lumber building where cream and eggs are handled is labeled ELECTRIC SUPPLIES. It must be strictly up to date, according to the sign. The next sign west is BJELKE SHOE HOSPITAL. On the red brick building next, appears the sign ERICKSEN MEAT AND SUPPLY. And on an upstairs window reads L.P. NELSON AGENC Y, NOTARY PUBLIC. Across the alley is another cream station.

And now we are almost dead but are not ready for MERZ MONUMENT, although it is near Decoration Day. The beautiful MOBILE OIL HUB service station comes next. After passing a home with a hedge fence, there is a lumber building with the sign COMMERCIAL PRINTING and in the window is WATCH MAKING AND JEWELRY.

The train now whistles and we only notice the GUNDERSON CANDY SHOP, and on third west a house with the sign ROOMS FOR RENT. Just as we arrive at the station, we notice N.P. NIELSEN SERVICE, and R.R. CROSSING. On the depot stands out boldly, AMERICAN RAILWAY and WESTERN UNIION TELEGRAPH AND CABLE OFFICE. We now leave Mt. Pleasant at the elevation of 5857 feet and board the train for Denver, which is 719 mile away.

(Some of you no doubt will remember things differently as to the signs along Mt. Pleasant's Main Street. Different generations remember different things. some may argue that the railroad station was never American Railway, but always the Denver Rio Grande. We have retyped the original document for easier reading purposes. Also, in some cases the penciled in writing was very difficult to read. The original is at the Relic Home in Hilda's Scrapbook.)

Holiday Greetings from David and Kathryn Gunderson

     Merry Christmas 2013

     Kathryn & I hope this Christmas will be a special time of year for each of you and your families.

     As I think back over the many Christmases of
my life, many of them are especially memorable. Mostly, memorable because we spent them with you our treasured family and friends.

     I can remember some details of most of my early Christmases, there was a windup tractor, a glass washing machine (there is a story about that but I’ll save it for another time), my tricycle, the tinker toys, etc. But the Christmas of 1942 stands out as one of the most memorable, and I owe much of that to my “teasie” Uncle Bruce. who never missed an opportunity to make things “interesting” for his nieces & nephews.   

December of 1942 found our family staying with Aunt Hilda and her nephew, my mother’s brother, Uncle Bruce in Mt. Pleasant. A fire at the site of the Duchesne Tunnel^[1], where my father was working as an engineer, had destroyed the generator and compressor plant. Because of WWII, the damaged equipment couldn’t be replaced and work on the tunnel had to be postponed.

As we left our home in the mountains a heavy snow storm moved in, effectively cutting of all access to our former home until spring. My father was reassigned to the Salt Lake office, but from Thanksgiving to New Years, while my parents were searching for a place to live in Salt Lake, (not an easy thing to do in those wartime years)  our family stayed in Mt. Pleasant.

As Christmas approached, Uncle Bruce repeatedly cautioned me that since we had moved so late in the year, I shouldn’t be prepared to have Santa miss me at our new address.  

On about the 15^th of December, Dad asked me if I wanted to go with him and Uncle Bruce to the Mountains east of Mt. Pleasant to find a Christmas tree and I readily agreed.  But as I remember it, I just stood, cold to the bone, at the bottom of a steep hillside in mud not quite deep enough to cover my boots, listening to Dad and Uncle Bruce argue the virtues of various tree. (I really don’t know why Dad worried about the shape of our trees. He always remade them when we were decorating them anyway, adding branches or taking them out as he felt necessary.) I did, however, take the opportunity to learn some of the great sounding new expletives I was hearing.

When I got home, I was anxious to show off my new vocabulary and got my mouth washed out with soap for my efforts.  Dad and Uncle Bruce got scolded but they didn’t get the soap treatment. I remember of thinking that maybe Mom and Aunt Hilda had just given up on them.

A few days before Christmas, Uncle Bruce really started to give me the business, he explained that I had probably waited too long to let Santa know that we had moved so he could re-arrange his pack to deliver my presents in Mt. Pleasant, and that my presents would probably be left in our old snowbound house and worse yet, before we could get there in the spring to pick them up, skiers or snowshoe hikers would get there and find my presents. Thinking them abandoned, they would naturally take them home for their own children, who, unlike the children for whom they were intended, would appreciate them.

Well that really got my attention. Uncle Bruce promised to do what he could to “help” me in my desperate situation and he did. Mom and Aunt Hilda didn’t say much but they did assure me that Santa would find me as he had found other children through the centuries.

To understand the rest of the story, you need to understand that, like other families, my mothers family used to have a cutter, complete with a set of sleigh bells.

In those early years of my life I didn’t know about the cutter or the sleigh bells, but Uncle Bruce did.

Early on Christmas Eve day, Uncle Bruce came back home with great news. He had seen Santa and explained my situation. Santa had agreed that my situation was desperate and that he would try to work me in to his busy schedule, but that I should remember that he might have to come by a bit early and that the strict roles could not be changed. Before he could come I must be in bed and asleep.

In the late afternoon of Christmas Eve, thing really started to happen. Just before dinner, I suddenly heard the sound of sleigh bells, but running to the window, I saw nothing. Soon afterward, Uncle Bruce came into the Kitchen and asked if we had heard the bells. We told him we had and he warned that I should probably have been in bed and asleep because Santa may not be able to make another run.

During dinner, Uncle Bruce suddenly remembered some important chore and needed to be excused for a few minutes. While he was out we again heard sleigh bells.

After coming back, Uncle Bruce asked if we had the bells and again warned that I should have been in bed and asleep, because Santa had already made two tries and may not be able to make another run for me. Aunt Hilda reassuringly said that I should just leave it to Santa. We heard sleigh bells again several times that afternoon and each time Uncle Bruce (after coming back into the house) would warn me that I should already have been in bed and asleep, because Santa could not just keep trying.

After Dinner, we held a family Christmas Eve Devotional in the parlor, where the Christmas tree was located and where I was to sleep. I was just frantic, but Aunt Hilda casually read from the Gospel of St. Luke and set out a tray of goodies for Santa. We all heard bells once or twice more during the evening, but soon, excited as I was, I became so sleepy that I just couldn’t keep my eyes open.

When I awoke on Christmas morning, I found that Santa had been right there in our parlor where I had slept, eaten the snack we had left him and just as Uncle Bruce had arranged, built a “Toyland Town all around our Christmas tree”.

It wasn’t until many years later that I realized that every time the sleigh bells rang, Uncle Bruce was away on some important errand.

Uncle Bruce went to great of effort to make sure that we had a great Christmas that year and I love him for it. But, I think he had just as much fun as I did.

I don’t remember what Santa brought that Christmas, but I do remember that he made the effort to find me. Over the years I have come to see the symbolism in this and recognize how grateful I am that the Prince of Peace has made the effort to come to find each of us, regardless of race, religion or status just as Santa found me

  With Much Love, We Wish Each of You a Very Merry Christmas

                  David & Kathryn Gunderson

---

[1]  The Duchesne Tunnel is part of an irrigation project. It is located 18 mi east of Kamas, Utah. We returned to it in 1949

Photos from Hilda's Album ~ Johannah Madsen Hafen Collection

On reverse it says :  "My friend Ernest McClellan"    H , Presumably Hilda

On reverse it sayss:
"Dan Omen
June 12, 1898"

Scofield Photos ~ from the Johannah Madsen Hafen Collection

HILDA MAKES A PLEA FOR CITY BEAUTIFICATION

Well, said the chick with a funny little squirm. 

I wish I could find a nice little worm.

Said another little chick, with a queer little shrug,

I wish I could find a nice fat bug.

Said a third little chick, with a shrill little squeel,

I wish I could find a nice yellow meal.

Look here, said the mother from a nice green garden patch,

If you want any breakfast, get busy and scratch !

So it is with city beautification, or any other project.  If we want results we must get busy and SCRATCH !!!

Patriotism as religion and charity begins at home.  And it is the duty of every American Citizen, man and woman to join hand in hand in the making of all America a Beauty Spot.  The beauty of a community depends upon the individuals of that community.  Each common individual is personally responsible for their own as well as rented property, and should in any way possible help to create a sentiment for improvements on public grounds, as well as an interest in the needs of that town in general.

It has been said that a man is the head of the house, but woman is the head of the home.  Attractive home surroundings have a great influence upon the young folks, in creating a love of beauty and love for their hometown.  Home is more than four square walls, even more than a mansion of costly stone.  The most costly mansion would be barren and cold without suitable surroundings.  There is a certain comparison between the interior of a home and the grounds.  When a carpenter finishes a room it is only four bare walls, and does not become a place to live in and enjoy until there are some furnishings, rugs, tables and chairs.

The yard is very much a part of the home life and environment.  When the ground is graded, it is only a barren spot, uninviting and uninteresting. As the room, it requires furnishing.  First a carpet of green, then trees and shrubs; later as in the room other details are worked out.

The home is life's greatest school.  Respect for private as well as public property should be taught by example in the homes.  It is surprising how destructive children and some grown people can be.  I have seen flourishing trees deliberately broken off or marred, supposedly by children.  I have also seen prominent citizens, probably wishing to fill a vase or probably for no reason at all, deliberately break large limbs of shrubs on public grounds.  Thereby, stunting the growth and marring their beauty.  I know these persons would resent the passerby, breaking limbs from plants on their own grounds.

It is not always a mansion that is the most attractive.  And it does not take a great deal of means to make a home an inviting place.  One can make a most beautiful place out of the most humble home with a little careful planting of trees and shrubs for permanent beauty and a few flowers for variety.  Of course, if we are to build a new home, and plan our grounds anew, we have a better chance to get things as we like them.  And yet, even then, later on there are improvements to make.

Every yard and community would benefit with a little careful constructive criticism, backed up with co-operation and ambition.  Sometimes there are things about our yards and community, we have become so used to, we do not notice them and thus take them for granted as a necessary evil.  Yet, they may be outstandingly ugly spots in our neighborhood or community.

Some of the worst conditions in our smaller towns are there because we take them for granted and are unwilling to change.  OUR TOWN IS AS WE MAKE IT !!!

taken from Hilda's Scrapbook