Showing posts with label Seamons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Seamons. Show all posts

Saturday, May 11, 2024

Will's Joke ~~~ Mary Louise Seamons


Mary Seamons

April 11, 1930 — August 9, 2016

Mary Louise Madsen Seamons

11 April 1930 – 9 August 2016

Mary Louise Madsen was born to Willis Neil (1903-1934) and Louise Dolorus Frandsen Madsen (1907-2002) in Mt. Pleasant, Sanpete, Utah, on 11 April 1930.

Mary Louise’s father died when she was 4 ½ years old.  Her mother remarried when she was 6 years old.  Justus Olson Seely (1895-1981) and her mother presented her with a brother Justus Frandsen Seely (1941-2002).

Mary Louise married Oleen Seamons 2 September 1950 in her childhood home in Mt. Pleasant, Utah.  Mary Louise and Oleen were blessed with four children: Debra Anne, Randall M, Sherri Lou, and Jerry Oleen.  The marriage was later solemnized and the children were sealed to their parents in the Idaho Falls Idaho Temple.  Oleen and Mary Louise later divorced.

Mary Louise attended Hamilton Elementary School where she was the twirler for the band from second through sixth grades.  She continued twirling during her junior and senior high school years.  Mary Louise graduated from North Sanpete High School where she served on the yearbook staff.  She earned her associate degree in business from Utah State University (USU).  She returned to school later in life to earn her bachelor’s degree in history from Brigham Young University (BYU).

Mary Louise was Mt. Pleasant’s Centennial queen in 1947 and was a participant at the first Utah Girls’ State that same year in Logan, Cache, Utah.

Mary Louise’s first job while a high school student was at the turkey plant in Moroni, Sanpete, Utah.  During her early married life, she worked as secretary for Vera C. O’Leary at Twin Falls Junior High (later O’Leary Junior High) until the birth of her first daughter.  She also worked as a secretary at the Beneficial Life Insurance Company office in Twin Falls, Twin Falls, Idaho.  After moving to Orem, Utah, Utah, she accepted a job as production secretary at the BYU Motion Picture Studio.  She later transferred to the Education Department at BYU where she worked as the department secretary and completed her career as an advisor to the elementary education students.

Mary Louise was an active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints serving as organist in her seminary class and the Primary and Jr. Sunday School organizations and ward librarian in Twin Falls.  She used her secretarial skills to type the ward bulletins for her ward there and served as secretary to one of her bishops in Orem.  She was an avid genealogist.  Her family stories regularly appeared in the “Saga of the Sanpitch”, a writing contest in Sanpete County, Utah, from 1969-1998 and she wrote and published a book about her maternal grandparents (It Takes a Heap o’ Livin’).

Mary Louise belonged to book clubs in Idaho and was active in the PTA program when her children were in school.  She was a member of several vocational organizations, a past president of Utah Valley Historical Society, and a lifelong member of Daughters of Utah Pioneers and the Mt. Pleasant Historical Society.  During her retirement, she served as a volunteer at the BYU Museum of Art and as a poll worker.  She traveled the world with her mother and later with close friends.  Her children remember family trips closer to home.

Mary Louise passed away in the early morning hours of 9 August 2016.  We appreciate the staff and administrators of Cascades of Orchard Park (formerly Orchard Park Post-Acute Rehab) who treated her with kindness and compassion and helped her to be comfortable during the last year and a half of her life.

Preceded in death by her parents and step-father, brother, a grandson, and two great grandsons.  She is survived by her children: Debra Seamons (Orem, Utah), Randy/Cyndee Seamons(Glendale, Arizona), Sherri/Greg Kielsmeier (Draper, Utah), and Jerry/Lori Seamons (Eagle Mountain, Utah), fifteen grandchildren and thirty great grandchildren as well as her sister-in-law Averil Seely and many extended family members.

The family would like to extend a special thank you to all who came to visit our mother/grandmother while she was recovering at Orchard Park.  She loved people and enjoyed having them come spend time with her.



Tuesday, April 4, 2023

CARATAT CONDERSET ROWE AND THE MORMON BATTALION SICK DETACHMENT (1846-1847)

Taken from Saga of the Sanpitch Vol. 21

FIRST PLACE HISTORICAL ESSAY Mary Louise Seamons 

  Much has been written about the Mormon Battalion's 2,000-mile forced march under adverse conditions; a number of diaries and journals provide further insights into their trials during those trying months of heat and cold, reduced rations, starving oxen, desert sand, and little or no water. Not nearly as much is known about the men, women, and children who left the Battalion, wintered at Pueblo, Colorado, and entered the Salt Lake Valley soon after Brigham Young's main party arrived.

 Caratat Conderset Rowe was born in Perry Township, Indiana. He was a member of the Mormon Battalion sick detachment.1 Brigham Young had endeavored to get assistance from the U.S. Government to help the Mormon Saints preserve their homes in U.S. territories. When that failed, he sought help to move them where they could live apart from those desiring their "extermination." He prayed to the Lord for help. 

When Captain James Allen arrived at Mount Pisgah on 16 June 1846 and spoke with Church leaders, Young was convinced this was their answer and espoused Captain Allen's recruitment of five companies of Mormon men to serve with the U.S. Army in their war against Mexico.2 Most of the able-bodied men were away earning money to help the main body of Saints on their westward journey. Those at Mt. Pisgah and nearby Council Bluffs were mainly men with families, not enthused about leaving them to travel alone. 

The Brethren made impassioned pleas to the men to join. Young at one point told the men that if they wouldn't go, he would: Let the Mormons be the first men to set their feet on the soil of California. If we want the privilege of going where we can worship God according to the dictates of our own conscience we must raise this "battalion.3 He felt if the Mormons failed to earn the respect of the nation, further criticism would be their downfall. The men were promised that if they went with the Battalion and obeyed the Lord's commandments and their leaders' counsel, they would not fight against other human beings and would return to their families. The Army promised $42.00 per man per year plus pay while in the ranks. A Captain received $50.00 a month; a Private, $7.00. They could keep their "arms and accouterments." A flag was hung in a tree in front of which 549 men took the oath to serve their country. Church leaders counseled the Mormon officers to treat their men with respect and dignity, as if they (the officers) were the men's fathers, and to wear and honor their temple garments at all times. On 20 July the new recruits marched four to miles downriver and camped. "On July 21st they started on the march to the tune, 'The Girl I Left Behind Me '."4

Caratat was a member of Company A; his cousin, William Howe, in Company D. Another cousin, Manning Rowe, is reputed as also being a member of the Battalion, but his name does not appear on Battalion rosters in any of the companies.5 The new recruits marched to Fort Leavenworth where they received their first supplies, then headed for Santa Fe — across the whole of Kansas, a tiny corner of Oklahoma, and into New Mexico. They endured many hardships, particularly after Captain Allen, whom they had come to trust, died at Port Leavenworth a few days after the company left for Santa Fe. Although some good officers remained over the Battalion, some were not so good. 

When the detachment reached the last crossing of the Arkansas River, the commanding officer insisted that most of the families, with some food and supplies, be sent under guard up Arkansas to Pueblo, Colorado. This was unquestionably "in the best interests both of the families and of the Battalion."6 Water was scarce and often impure causing many to become ill. Food rations were cut, and a number of the men were without blankets or warm clothing, having left as much as possible with their families, possibly misunderstanding exactly what they would receive from the Army. It is quite possible their commanding officers were harsher because they understood the need for as much speed as possible so all could reach Santa Fe before supplies ran out or the weather turned cold. When they did reach Santa Fe, they were greeted by a 100-gun salute ordered by Colonel Doniphan, their supreme commander. 

There was much criticism and complaint about Dr. George H. Sanderson who had been appointed surgeon to serve with the Battalion. Sanderson seemed to enjoy tormenting the men who became ill and caused the whole company to travel more slowly. He made them come before him each day to prove they were incapable of walking, then dosed them with medicine from a despised iron spoon. One man complained that he had been given a large dose of laudanum, but was warned by the orderly in charge to get rid of it quickly or it would be fatal.7 

Caratat's cousin William was apparently treated somewhat the same. When William became ill and unable to walk, Caratat was advised to leave him where he was and move on. Caratat sat cross-legged on the ground beside his sick cousin, his musket across his lap, and refused to leave. Finally, the officer in charge ordered that William be lifted into the wagon.8 The commanding officer felt he could not keep so many disabled men, so he ordered a sick detachment back to Pueblo. Some men were afraid they would be mustered out and lose their pay if they went back; their fears proved unfounded. 

On 17 October, Caratat, William, and the others were placed "on detached service by orders of Captain Doniphan" and remained so until they were mustered out of the Army,9 Now the sick detachment traveled under difficult circumstances: little water, short rations, cold and rain, with poor equipment and oxen. Some of the latter died along the way. One day several Battalion members came to camp with thirty fresh oxen. . . followed shortly by some men who claimed to have lost their teams. The Battalion commander told them they could take any of the animals they found. The men left with only four head, leaving the Mormons with thirteen additional teams. Right or wrong, the Mormons felt it was Divine intervention that had provided these animals in their time of need.10 

The detachment arrived in Pueblo nearly a month later and set about building houses and a church, of split cottonwood logs, and a small fort apart from the original site of Pueblo. They passed the winter "drilling, hunting, and having a good time generally: dancing in the church, attending church meetings, and preparing for their springtime journey west. They were first to know the final destination of the Mormons."11

 While at Pueblo, a settlement of trappers and hunters in a natural crossroads setting, they left their mark: theirs was the first white baby born in what is now Colorado. They were able to supplement their meager supplies with "buffalo, deer, and elk meat, thereby saving the necessity of killing any of their stock of cattle of which few remained.12

 Early in the spring—about 15 April 1847—they began their journey west to join the Saints traveling to Utah, heading due north for Port Laramie, west to Fort Bridger, and thence to Salt Lake, Although they found tracks of the main body of pioneers and knew they were not far ahead, the detachment entered the Salt Lake Valley five days behind—20 July 1847. Their enlistment had expired on 16 July 1847» They were officially mustered out of the Army and once again came under the command of Brigham Young, the man they had followed for their beliefs. The empty cabins at Pueblo were never occupied by others, 

On 16 August 1847, 71 men, with 33 wagons and 92 yoke of oxen, some horses, and mules, left the Valley and returned to the Missouri River area to rejoin the families they had left behind, Caratat among them. - There he married Mary Napier, a demure red—haired Scottish lass; two children were born before they returned to Utah. Three more children were born in what is now Payson, and their last child was born in Mt. Pleasant, where they went in early 1860, less than a year after its settlement. There Caratat died on 12 February 1904» not quite two years after Mary's death.14 

His cousin William died 25 July 1905 and was buried in Thayne, Wyoming. Although Caratat and William did not make the long march with the Mormon Battalion, they left a heritage of commitment and loyalty, of responding to the call of their leaders. As B. H. Roberts wrote: Since the Battalion march has not been equaled by any march of infantry. . . it is not likely ... that the Mormon Battalion march across more than half the North American continent will ever be equaled.15 Caratat and William were a part of that march. Note: Caratat Conderset Rowe was the author's great-grandfather. 

END-NOTES 1 . Caratat Conderset Rowe, son of William Niblo and Candace Blanchard Rowe, B. Perry Township, Delaware County, Indiana, 11 May 1823* Mary Loretta Rowe Burnside, "Biography of Caratat Conderset Roue" (unpublished typed manuscript prepared for Mount Pleasant Camp, Daughters of Utah Pioneers, n.d.). Mary was the granddaughter of Caratat. 2 . Kate B. Carter, compiler, The Mormon Battalion (Utah: Daughters of the Utah Pioneers, 1956). 3 . Kate B. Carter, compiler, Heart Throbs of the West (Utah: Daughters of the Utah Pioneers, 1946). 4 . Carter, 1956, P. 9. 5 . Burnside* 6 . B. H. Roberts, The Mormon Battalion: Its History and Achievements (Salt Lake City. Utah; Deseret News, 1919). P. 30.7 James S. Brown, Life of a Pioneer: Being the Autobiography of James S. Brown (Salt Lake City, Utah; George Q. Cannon and Sons Company, 1900). p. 51. 8. Burnside. 9 . "Mormon Battalion (1846-1847). Service Records, n.d. Film. 10. John P. Vurtinis, "Colorado, Mormons, and the Mexican War," Essays and Monographs in Colorado History (Denver: Colorado Historical Society, 1983)» p. 51. 11. Vurtinis, p. 136. 12. Ralph C. Taylor, "Pueblo Mormon Village: First Anglo-Saxon Settlement in Colorado," Colorado South of the Border (Denver: Sage Books, 1963)f p. 386.13. Garter, 1946, p. 186. 14. Family records in possession of the author. 15. Carter, 1946, p. 187-

[Composite++Caratat+and+Mary.png]
   Caratat Conderset Rowe                                   Mary Napier Rowe

Monday, May 23, 2022

THE PIANO AND THE CIRCUS

 



THE PIANO AND THE CIRCUS


Mary Louise Seamons and Her Family 

Author:  
Mary Louise Seamons
Orem, Utah
Non-Professional Division
~~~~~~~~~~~~




















 


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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