HAROLD AND NORMA VANCE OBITUARIES

My Father, Neldon Rigby was a cousin to Norma.  I remember her working at Sears in Provo. Mary Jensen, Norma's mother was a sister to my Grandmother Rigby.  I remember them both when they restored the old Milburn Church and turned it into a lovely Restaurant. I also cherish the memory of visiting me at Mt. Pleasant Library.  I was working there when she brought me a small envelope of pictures of our ancestors and encouraged me to do our family genealogy.  

HAROLD AND NORMA VANCE ~~~ LOVED BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

 

MT. PLEASANT BOOK ~~~ SURROUNDING COMMUNTITIES

MILBURN SCHOOL HOUSE ~~~ Herald Vance

 

 

Someone, please send us a picture! 

Request Granted

Herald Vance

Fairview, Utah   1988

I hear the laughter of children. I hear the sometimes jovial, sometimes serious, and concerned conversations of adults. I hear music. I hear mischievous pranks giddily planned by energetic young people. I hear the solemn silence of reverence. Other sounds also drift through my century-old memory: the creak and clatter of wagon wheels over a rutted, rocky road; the heavy clop-clop of horse hooves; rhythmic sounds of a carpenter’s saw and hammer; the high-pitched ping of a rock mason’s chisel; sighs of fatigue; and proud comments of accomplishment. There are also the thousands of identifying odors that pleasantly linger, springtime and the changing seasons, the turning of the soil, fresh-sawn lumber, storm, new-mown hay, dust, rain, sweat, paint, food in various form, perfume, animals, and coal-oil lamps. Who am I? I’m a proud old building. I’ve served various purposes and seen many changes. In fact, my very own structure and location has been changed. In reality I’m not even the same building I started out to be. But I am very proud of my ancestral roots, and clung to those roots with every fiber of my stately structure. It all started about 1894, when the old pink-red brick, two-room Milburn school house, located below the mouth of Dry Creek Canyon was built. Its design was most prominently expressed by two large, arched entryways, above which appeared on one the word “Boys” and the other, “Girls” these entryways contained coat hooks around the walls and steps leading up into the two large rooms, one somewhat larger than the other.


The rooms were divided by massive folding doors which could be opened all the way to create an unrestricted hall for social events. There was also a teacher’ room near the front between the arches. The children of Milburn attended school in this building through the eighth grade, first through fourth in the “little room,” and fifth through eighth in the “big room.” A milestone in life had, indeed, been reached when one ‘graduated’ into the Big Room. Reading ‘Riting, and ‘Rithmetic were pounded into the young heads by able teachers like Rhoda Davis, Irene Edmunds, Maitland Graham, Marcella Graham, Coquella Jones, Mary Jones, Elva Madsen, Leah Nielsen, Leland Nielsen, Adriel Norman, Hilda Sanders, Mae Sanderson, Hannah Stewart, Otis L. Stewart, and Verga Ray Stewart. While the main purpose of the school was education, there were also the lighter, more carefree moments. The fun times participating in school plays, operettas, Christmas parties, May Day celebrations, dances, and scores of other events, should not be overlooked. But it should also be remembered that, even though these activities did provide untold satisfaction, pleasure, and entertainment, they did not take place without a price. It was not a monetary one, but one paid through inconvenience, determination, and sacrifice. In the early 1900’s people didn’t hop in a car and motor on down to the schoolhouse.


Transportation was either horseback or horse-drawn wagon, buggy, or sleigh. Upon returning home cold or wet, in the middle of the night, the team still had to be cared for. The building did not light by the flick of a switch. Lighting was provided by candles, “coal oil” lamps, and later, gasoline lamps, usually brought in by some of those attending. If a youngster had to go to the bathroom, it was a long, cold, dark, and possibly snowy trek to the little house out back. Ahh, for the “good old days.” This building served the Milburn community as both school and I hear the laughter of children. I hear the sometimes jovial, sometimes serious and concerned conversations of adults. I hear music. I hear mischievous pranks giddily planned by energetic young people. I hear the solemn silence of reverence.


Other sounds also drift through my century-old memory: the creak and clatter of wagon wheels over a rutted, rocky road; the heavy clop-clop of horse hooves; rhythmic sounds of a carpenter’s saw and hammer; the high-pitched ping of a rock mason’s chisel; sighs of fatigue; and proud comments of accomplishment. There are also the thousands of identifying odors that pleasantly linger, springtime and the changing seasons, the turning of the soil, fresh-sawn lumber, storm, new-mown hay, dust, rain, sweat, paint, food in various form, perfume, animals, and coal-oil lamps.


Who am I? I’m a proud old building. I’ve served various purposes and seen many changes. In fact, my very own structure and location has been changed. In reality, I’m not even the same building I started out to be. But I am very proud of my ancestral roots, and clung to those roots with every fiber of my stately structure. It all started about 1894, when the old pink-red brick, two-room Milburn schoolhouse, located below the mouth of Dry Creek Canyon was built. Its design was most prominently expressed by two large, arched entryways, above which appeared on one the word “Boys” and the other, “Girls” these entryways contained coat hooks around the walls and steps leading up into the two large rooms, one somewhat larger than the other. The rooms were divided by massive folding doors which could be opened all the way to create an unrestricted hall for social events. There was also a teacher’s room near the front between the arches. The children of Milburn attended school in this building through the eighth grade, first through fourth in the “little room,” and fifth through eighth in the “big room.” A milestone in life had, indeed, been reached when one ‘graduated’ into the Big Room. Reading ‘Riting, and ‘Rithmetic were pounded into the young heads by able teachers like Rhoda Davis, Irene Edmunds, Maitland Graham, Marcella Graham, Coquella Jones, Mary Jones, Elva Madsen, Leah Nielsen, Leland Nielsen, Adriel Norman, Hilda Sanders, Mae Sanderson, Hannah Stewart, Otis L. Stewart, and Verga Ray Stewart.


While the main purpose of the school was education, there were also the lighter, more carefree moments. The fun times participating in school plays, operettas, Christmas parties, May Day celebrations, dances, and scores of other events, should not be overlooked. But it should also be remembered that, even though these activities did provide untold satisfaction, pleasure, and entertainment, they did not take place without a price. It was not a monetary one, but one paid through inconvenience, determination, and sacrifice. In the early 1900s people didn’t hop in a car and motor on down to the schoolhouse. Transportation was either horseback or horse-drawn wagon, buggy, or sleigh. Upon returning home cold or wet, in the middle of the ngi9ht, the team still had to be cared for. The building did not light by the flick of a switch. Lighting was provided by candles, “coal oil” lamps, and later, gasoline lamps, usually brought in by some of those attending. If a youngster had to go to the bathroom, it was a long, cold, dark, and possibly snowy trek to the little house outback. Ahh, for the “good old days.”


This building served the Milburn community as both school and Today this building still serves a dual purpose. While it houses a successful small business, it is also a lovely home with all the charm, character, and comfort that one could ever hope for. Friends and relatives bask in its warmth whenever they come to call, especially the grandchildren. They think it’s about the greatest thing this side of heaven. So you see, my rough-sawn native pine rafters and floor joists, though nearly 100 years old, still hear music, the conversations of oldsters, and the laughter of children. My Milburn stone quarry foundation rocks still hear an occasional sigh of fatigue. And my native pink adobe bricks still absorb the many sweet aromas of the changing seasons and most of the other smells that crowd my memory bank, as well as the tantalizing odors that drift from the kitchen.


While many changes have taken place during the past century, some things change very little. The couple who have called me “home” for the past sixteen years love me very much and cherish my heritage as they do their own. They are descendants of those hardy founding fathers who helped plant my roots. Mr. Vance has been associated with me since he drew his first breath nearly sixty-five years ago. His early teachings, both academic and spiritual, began within my walls as the old Milburn School and as the Milburn Ward Chapel. Even though my history goes back a century and holds many memories, I think I kind of like being a part of this modern age!


Sources: 3 Author’s recollection. 4 These Our Fathers, 1947, p. 120. 5 Ibid 6 These Our Fathers, 1947, p. 121 and Fairview North Ward LDS Church records. 7 Personal diary of Donna Brunger, Milburn, Utah.

Deseret News May 28, 2001 ~~~Poor Farm

 

Memorial is dedicated to 'Poor Farm' inhabitants
By Deseret News May 28, 2001, 10:40am MDT
Carma Wadley senior writer

 https://www.deseret.com/2001/5/28/19588594/sanpete-honors-forgotten-souls

 

William Ditmer was a blind shoemaker who lived and worked in Fairview. At the end of his life, he went to live at the "Poor Farm," as the Sanpete County Infirmary was called in those days. When he died in 1916, Ditmer was buried in an unmarked pauper's grave.

Legacy's a quirky thing. Those who try to manufacture it are not always successful. Those who never give it a thought are often the ones who have untold impact.

When William Ditmer lived out his quiet, useful life in Fairview, he probably had no idea that all these years later people would be remembering him. Or that because of him, others whose only claim to fame might be that they did the best they could would be honored.

This Memorial Day, the town of Fairview is dedicating a monument to all those who lived and died at the Infirmary. They need to be remembered in a positive way, said Norma Vance, who has spearheaded the the memorial project. "At the time, there was a bit of a stigma attached to going to the Poor Farm. Maybe this will help to exonerate them."

Many of them were immigrants, far from their families. But to come here showed such faith and courage, she said. And many were simply caught by circumstance. "When age came upon them, some fell victim to ill health and could no longer do for themselves."

The story of the monument actually began on a wintry day in 1992. A former resident of Fairview came to the home of Norma and Herald Vance with an old clarinet. It had belonged to William Ditmer, the man said, and it should go in the Fairview Museum.

"I had read a little about Ditmer, but when I actually saw and touched his clarinet, he seemed so real, and I wanted to know more about him," Norma said.

She thought about him from time to time. But it wasn't until 1998, when she and Herald were asked to speak at Fairview's Patriotic Program, that she did more research. "I knew I wanted to talk about William Ditmer."

He had been born in Denmark in 1857, she found. As a small boy he had contracted the measles, which had taken his sight. He learned the shoemaker trade at a school for the blind in Denmark. He joined the LDS Church and came to Fairview in 1886.

Golden Sanderson, one of Fairview's long-time residents, remembered Ditmer in his life story. "He did his shoe repairing mostly by feel," Sanderson wrote, "and could always pick up the right tool or tacks. . . . He lived an isolated life and barely lived off his trade. My parents often helped him with a bowl of soup or other food."

But Ditmer was also a skilled musician. "When darkness came with only the flicker of the kerosene lamp, it was comforting to hear strains of music coming from the old man's house," wrote Sanderson. "It was Ditmer who started some students out on reed instruments until finally a band was organized."

That's what struck her about Ditmer, says Norma. Here he was, blind and barely getting by, "but he gave something back to the community."



Norma went to the Fairview sexton's office to get Ditmer's exact birth and death dates, and that's when she found out that he had gone to live at the Poor Farm. "And I was shocked to see so many more names on the sexton's records of people who had died there."

At least 34 other men and women had died at the Infirmary during its years of operation, and many had been buried in unmarked graves at the Fairview Cemetery, she found.

After the talk at the Patriotic Program, one of the audience members commented on the need for a monument, and that kept nagging at the Vances, who finally took the matter to the City Council in September 1999.

The council agreed, but it has taken awhile to get it all put together. And it has become a community project.

"The Poor Farm was a special spot. Everyone knew where it was, and that's what everyone called it," says Margaret Bench, chaplain of the North Bench Camp of the Daughters of Utah Pioneers, which has been involved.

"One of our DUP themes is that our heritage binds us together," adds DUP secretary Becky Roberts. "And this is our heritage."

The infirmary was built in 1895. At that time, not only was the county's population increasing, but the economic depression of 1893 had created a growing number of indigents, and county commissioners looked for ways to support them.

"They settled upon the idea of purchasing a farm where able-bodied indigents could work," Norma said. A two-story building was constructed, with separate wings for the men and women. At any one time, it could accommodate between 16-20 men and eight women.

It operated until the early 1930s. The abandoned building was finally torn down in 1980.

Nowadays, you probably couldn't get away with calling it the Poor Farm, but it was an important part of Fairview history, Mayor Ron Giles said.

The granite marker has been created by Leon Monk, who owns a monument shop in Mt. Pleasant. The marker features a drawing of the building on one side, and a tribute to those who lived and died there on the other. They decided not to list individual names, Monk said, because there were some discrepancies in names and dates and they weren't sure they even had all of them.

It's been quite a project, but he's been glad to be involved, said Monk, who has donated all his labor in creating the monument. "Those people had tough lives. But we need to remember them."

Remembering, after all, is what this day is all about.

But it is not just for their sake that we remember the William Ditmers of the world, Norma said, it is also for our own. The very act of remembering can make us more aware, more appreciative, more connected to each other.

And that, as much as anything, may be the legacy of the blind shoemaker of Fairview.

RUTH ELIZABETH ROSENLOF VANCE

 

Ruth Vance

died March 29, 2024

Ruth Elizabeth Rosenlof Vance, age 83, of Mt. Pleasant Utah passed away March 29, 2024 Born on February 9, 1941 to Harold and Reiva Andersen Rosenlof of Mt. Pleasant, Utah.

She married Charles Bert Vance of Fairview July 2, 1960. He passed away way too young at the age of 33 on March 23, 1969.

She's the mother of two children: daughter Vicki Jo Vance who passed away May 10, 1967 ten days shy of her fifth birthday. Nine days later, they welcomed their son Mark Shane Vance. After Vicki Jo and Bert passed away within two years of each other, Mother thought the end of the world had hit. She was only 28 years old at the time and still had her two-year-old son to raise. Ruth was always protective yet supportive and said the "sky was the limit for her boy Mark". She would often say "he was the Golden Egg so of course he was the Golden Boy!"

Ruth attended local schools. She was an excellent student in all her classes and well liked throughout her years in school. She was a drum majorette and worked on the yearbook.

She also had beautiful penmanship, was quick-witted and fun to be around which followed her throughout her life. She graduated from North Sanpete High School, class of 1959.

Back in the day when Ruth was being raised, there were always chores to be done at home after school. Mother always commented that she would never wash another milk bucket or pick raspberries again. She would gladly eat them if picked by another, however she stood by her word and never washed a milk bucket or picked raspberries again!

Mother tended to many children in her growing up years and often told of these times. She would save her wage of a quarter an hour to purchase a Jantzen sweater and once had a bedspread on lay away that she never thought she would own.

She also worked at the telephone office when the phone system was answered through the switchboard and all calls incoming and outgoing would be connected and re-directed to the party to whom they wanted to speak with. Sometimes there would be some listening in on calls to pass the time way. She waited tables in a few cafes in Mt. Pleasant for a few years. She then went to work as a cashier at Safeways in Mt. Pleasant and worked there for a short time when Safeway shutdown. Mother told of her walking home that day and outstepped Terrel Seely who had a small grocery store down the block. He asked her if she would like to come to work for him. She often said she was out of work for a whole 10 minutes and then would chuckle! Ruth found her niche which led her to work for Terrel and in check stand #5 which was the most popular check stand for almost 49 years. This is where mother's personality really surfaced, and she could and would talk on any subject. She always had her spin or version of the situation, and she could handle any type of conversation with her colorful use of language. When talking with Ruth if you didn't want to hear or know about it, then don't ask about it." She was well rounded on any subject ranging from A to Z.

Ruth was always complimented on her thick head of hair, once she finally had some, and the beautiful color for most of her adult life.

Down through the years Ruth belonged to several clubs from pinochle and bridge to Bonko. She was always a fun lady to be around, and you always knew you could depend on her to make you laugh. Strong and special friendships grew through the years with all the ladies that she enjoyed going to club with.

Mother gave freely of her time over the years and volunteered to plant and weed Mt. Pleasant City flower beds. Alongside her was her best friend Sandra Bigler and son Mark. Many fun and mischief times were had and encountered for 18 years!

Ruth was always a very good cook and liked to keep a nice yard and home. She always had very special and amazing friends that ranged from grade school and friends at work. Two of her most treasured friends are Sandra Bigler and Glenna Riddle. Their friendship has carried on throughout her lifetime and brought so much joy and sunshine into her life.

Ruth is survived by her son Mark Shane Vance, Mt Pleasant, Utah. Sister Dixie Rosenlof (Tracy) Lewis, Springville, Utah., Sister-in-law Beth Mills Rosenlof, Woods Cross, Utah., and many nieces and nephews. Preceded in death by her daughter Vicki Jo, husband Bert, her parents, brother Travis Rosenlof, sister Sally Rosenlof (Clair) Faux, and brother Roger Rosenlof. In laws Glen and Marjorie Fowles Vance, Fairview, Utah.

A special thank you to the Caboose of the family Dixie and her every patient husband Tracy Lewis for all the love and support throughout her life. Also, a big thank you to Terrel's Market, this was her home away from home. She had so many friends and coworkers and treasured memories. We would also like to thank her incredible IHC Hospice care team of Tyler, Kallie, and Heather; physical therapist Kirt Terry for their tender loving care shown to Ruth in her final days.

Viewing and Funeral services will be held at Rasmussen Mortuary (96 N. 100 W. Mt Pleasant, Utah) Viewing Wednesday April 3, 2024, from 6:00-8:00 pm Thursday April 4,2024 from 10:00-11:00am prior to 11:30 funeral service. Interment will be held in the Mt.

Pleasant City Cemetery under the direction of Rasmussen Mortuary.

 

Roger Glen Rosenlof February 17, 1943 — February 13, 2024

 

Roger Glen Rosenlof passed away on 13 February 2024, in Bountiful Utah at the age of 80, 4 days short of his 81st birthday. He was born 17 February 1943, in Mt. Pleasant Utah, to Harold "R" Rosenlof & Reiva Elizabeth Anderson. He was the 4th child and second son. He had an older brother Travis, older sisters Sally & Ruth and younger sister Dixie.

Roger grew up on the farm. He spent much of his time helping his father and grandfather with the sheep, cattle, hay etc. He was not fond of this work to say the least growing up, nor as an adult. He graduated from North Sanpete High School in 1961. In his High School yearbook a classmate wrote, "past tease, present tease and future tease." He would sometimes help his brother Travis haul and deliver coal. Roger was also a member of the Utah National Guard, serving in the 1457th Engineer Battalion, 116th Engineer Company in Mt Pleasant Utah.

He married Beth Mills 2 March 1968 in Ogden, Utah. They were sealed later in the Salt Lake City Temple on 3 June 1983. They are the parents of two children, Michelle and Cameron. Roger has one grandson Shandon Roger Jones. Roger lived all of his adult life in Woods Cross, Utah.

He worked for Mountain Fuel Supply Company in Salt Lake City as an industrial meter setter and retired from Mountain Fuel after 24 years of service. He also had a part-time job while working for Mountain Fuel at the Browning Freight Company. After retiring from Mountain Fuel, he worked as a casual for ABF Freight. He worked a total of 20 years at the two freight companies. During retirement he liked to meet his friends at the coffee shops. Roger was very good with his hands and enjoyed making things such as walking sticks and other items. He was a very good welder.

One of his favorite things was to have a few pets. He loved dogs and had a "cat calling" Cockatiel. His dogs were like additional children, and he took them with him most everywhere.

He enjoyed hunting, fishing, camping and anything outdoors. He loved to take his motorhome to Mt. Pleasant and camp out for a couple of weeks every year. He enjoyed riding his side by side on the Skyline.

Roger is survived by his wife Beth, daughter Michelle, son Cameron and grandson Shandon and by his sisters Ruth and Dixie. And of course, his dog Bailee and his Cockatiel, Taylor. He was preceded in death by his parents and Beth's parents Ray & Selma Mills. Also, preceded in death by his brother Travis and sister Sally.

A viewing was held from 9-11 a.m. on 17 February 2024 at the Russon Mortuary in Bountiful, 

The family will then have a viewing from 2:00-3:00 p.m. in Mt. Pleasant, Utah at the LDS Stake Center located at 461 North 300 West in Mt. Pleasant, UT. Interment will be in the Mt. Pleasant City Cemetery at 3:15 p.m. on 17 February 2024. Arrangements are under the direction of Russon Mortuary, Bountiful, UT.

The family would like to thank the staff at the Hematology & Oncology Clinic in Layton, the staff at McKay-Dee Hematology & Oncology, the staff at the Holy Cross Davis Hospital, the staff at Sandstone Park Skilled Nursing facility, and my Costco family for the love and support they have shown us in caring for Roger.

MILLBURN SCHOOL HOUSE ~~~ BUILT 1894 (from our archives)

 

 

 

Herald Vance

Fairview, Utah   1988

I hear the laughter of children. I hear the sometimes jovial, sometimes serious, and concerned conversations of adults. I hear music. I hear mischievous pranks giddily planned by energetic young people. I hear the solemn silence of reverence. Other sounds also drift through my century-old memory: the creak and clatter of wagon wheels over a rutted, rocky road; the heavy clop-clop of horse hooves; rhythmic sounds of a carpenter’s saw and hammer; the high-pitched ping of a rock mason’s chisel; sighs of fatigue; and proud comments of accomplishment. There are also the thousands of identifying odors that pleasantly linger, springtime and the changing seasons, the turning of the soil, fresh-sawn lumber, storm, new-mown hay, dust, rain, sweat, paint, food in various forms, perfume, animals, and coal-oil lamps. Who am I? I’m a proud old building. I’ve served various purposes and seen many changes. In fact, my very own structure and location have been changed. In reality, I’m not even the same building I started out to be. But I am very proud of my ancestral roots and clung to those roots with every fiber of my stately structure. It all started about 1894, when the old pink-red brick, two-room Milburn school house, located below the mouth of Dry Creek Canyon was built. Its design was most prominently expressed by two large, arched entryways, above which appeared one the word “Boys” and the other, “Girls” These entryways contained coat hooks around the walls and steps leading up into the two large rooms, one somewhat larger than the other. 

The rooms were divided by massive folding doors which could be opened all the way to create an unrestricted hall for social events. There was also a teacher’s room near the front between the arches. The children of Milburn attended school in this building through the eighth grade, first through fourth in the “little room,” and fifth through eighth in the “big room.” A milestone in life had, indeed, been reached when one ‘graduated’ into the Big Room. Reading ‘Riting, and ‘rithmetic were pounded into the young heads by able teachers like Rhoda Davis, Irene Edmunds, Maitland Graham, Marcella Graham, Coquella Jones, Mary Jones, Elva Madsen, Leah Nielsen, Leland Nielsen, Adriel Norman, Hilda Sanders, Mae Sanderson, Hannah Stewart, Otis L. Stewart, and Verga Ray Stewart. While the main purpose of the school was education, there were also lighter, more carefree moments. The fun times participating in school plays, operettas, Christmas parties, May Day celebrations, dances, and scores of other events, should not be overlooked. But it should also be remembered that, even though these activities did provide untold satisfaction, pleasure, and entertainment, they did not take place without a price. It was not a monetary one, but one paid through inconvenience, determination, and sacrifice. In the early 1900s, people didn’t hop in a car and motor on down to the schoolhouse. 

Transportation was either horseback or horse-drawn wagon, buggy, or sleigh. Upon returning home cold or wet, in the middle of the night, the team still had to be cared for. The building did not light by the flick of a switch. Lighting was provided by candles, “coal oil” lamps, and later, gasoline lamps, usually brought in by some of those attending. If a youngster had to go to the bathroom, it was a long, cold, dark, and possibly snowy trek to the little house out back. Ahh, for the “good old days.” This building served the Milburn community as both schools and  I hear the laughter of children. I hear the sometimes jovial, sometimes serious, and concerned conversations of adults. I hear music. I hear mischievous pranks giddily planned by energetic young people. I hear the solemn silence of reverence. 

Other sounds also drift through my century-old memory: the creak and clatter of wagon wheels over a rutted, rocky road; the heavy clop-clop of horse hooves; rhythmic sounds of a carpenter’s saw and hammer; the high-pitched ping of a rock mason’s chisel; sighs of fatigue; and proud comments of accomplishment. There are also the thousands of identifying odors that pleasantly linger, springtime and the changing seasons, the turning of the soil, fresh-sawn lumber, storm, new-mown hay, dust, rain, sweat, paint, food in various forms, perfume, animals, and coal-oil lamps. 

Who am I? I’m a proud old building. I’ve served various purposes and seen many changes. In fact, my very own structure and location has been changed. In reality, I’m not even the same building I started out to be. But I am very proud of my ancestral roots, and clung to those roots with every fiber of my stately structure. It all started about 1894, when the old pink-red brick, two-room Milburn schoolhouse, located below the mouth of Dry Creek Canyon was built. Its design was most prominently expressed by two large, arched entryways, above which appeared one the word “Boys” and the other, “Girls”. These entryways contained coat hooks around the walls and steps leading up into the two large rooms, one somewhat larger than the other. The rooms were divided by massive folding doors which could be opened all the way to create an unrestricted hall for social events. There was also a teacher’s room near the front between the arches. The children of Milburn attended school in this building through the eighth grade, first through fourth in the “little room,” and fifth through eighth in the “big room.” A milestone in life had, indeed, been reached when one ‘graduated’ into the Big Room. Reading ‘Riting, and ‘Rithmetic were pounded into the young heads by able teachers like Rhoda Davis, Irene Edmunds, Maitland Graham, Marcella Graham, Coquella Jones, Mary Jones, Elva Madsen, Leah Nielsen, Leland Nielsen, Adriel Norman, Hilda Sanders, Mae Sanderson, Hannah Stewart, Otis L. Stewart, and Verga Ray Stewart. 

While the main purpose of the school was education, there were also lighter, more carefree moments. The fun times participating in school plays, operettas, Christmas parties, May Day celebrations, dances, and scores of other events, should not be overlooked. But it should also be remembered that, even though these activities did provide untold satisfaction, pleasure, and entertainment, they did not take place without a price. It was not a monetary one, but one paid through inconvenience, determination, and sacrifice. In the early 1900s, people didn’t hop in a car and motor on down to the schoolhouse. Transportation was either horseback or horse-drawn wagon, buggy, or sleigh. Upon returning home cold or wet, in the middle of the night, the team still had to be cared for. The building did not light by the flick of a switch. Lighting was provided by candles, “coal oil” lamps, and later, gasoline lamps, usually brought in by some of those attending. If a youngster had to go to the bathroom, it was a long, cold, dark, and possibly snowy trek to the little house outback. Ahh, for the “good old days.” 

 This building served the Milburn community as both school and Today this building still serves a dual purpose. While it houses a successful small business, it is also a lovely home with all the charm, character, and comfort that one could ever hope for. Friends and relatives bask in its warmth whenever they come to call, especially the grandchildren. They think it’s about the greatest thing this side of heaven. So you see, my rough-sawn native pine rafters and floor joists, though nearly 100 years old, still hear music, the conversations of oldsters, and the laughter of children. My Milburn stone quarry foundation rocks still hear an occasional sigh of fatigue. And my native pink adobe bricks still absorb the many sweet aromas of the changing seasons and most of the other smells that crowd my memory bank, as well as the tantalizing odors that drift from the kitchen. 

 While many changes have taken place during the past century, some things change very little. The couple who have called me “home” for the past sixteen years love me very much and cherish my heritage as they do their own. They are descendants of those hardy founding fathers who helped plant my roots. Mr. Vance has been associated with me since he drew his first breath nearly sixty-five years ago. His early teachings, both academic and spiritual, began within my walls at the old Milburn School and at the Milburn Ward Chapel. Even though my history goes back a century and holds many memories, I think I kind of like being a part of this modern age! 

Sources: 3 Author’s recollection. 4 These Our Fathers, 1947, p. 120. 5 Ibid 6 These Our Fathers, 1947, p. 121 and Fairview North Ward LDS Church records. 7 Personal diary of Donna Brunger, Milburn, Utah.

Home of John Heber Stansfield and his wife Elvina Elivira Jense ~~~ Researched and Compiled by Tudy Barentsen Standlee

 Submitted by request from an anonymous viewer. 

MILBURN SCHOOL by Harold Vance, Saga of the Sanpitch

 

Someone, please send us a picture! 

Request Granted

Herald Vance

Fairview, Utah   1988

I hear the laughter of children. I hear the sometimes jovial, sometimes serious, and concerned conversations of adults. I hear music. I hear mischievous pranks giddily planned by energetic young people. I hear the solemn silence of reverence. Other sounds also drift through my century-old memory: the creak and clatter of wagon wheels over a rutted, rocky road; the heavy clop-clop of horse hooves; rhythmic sounds of a carpenter’s saw and hammer; the high-pitched ping of a rock mason’s chisel; sighs of fatigue; and proud comments of accomplishment. There are also the thousands of identifying odors that pleasantly linger, springtime and the changing seasons, the turning of the soil, fresh-sawn lumber, storm, new-mown hay, dust, rain, sweat, paint, food in various form, perfume, animals, and coal-oil lamps. Who am I? I’m a proud old building. I’ve served various purposes and seen many changes. In fact, my very own structure and location has been changed. In reality I’m not even the same building I started out to be. But I am very proud of my ancestral roots, and clung to those roots with every fiber of my stately structure. It all started about 1894, when the old pink-red brick, two-room Milburn school house, located below the mouth of Dry Creek Canyon was built. Its design was most prominently expressed by two large, arched entryways, above which appeared on one the word “Boys” and the other, “Girls” these entryways contained coat hooks around the walls and steps leading up into the two large rooms, one somewhat larger than the other.


The rooms were divided by massive folding doors which could be opened all the way to create an unrestricted hall for social events. There was also a teacher’ room near the front between the arches. The children of Milburn attended school in this building through the eighth grade, first through fourth in the “little room,” and fifth through eighth in the “big room.” A milestone in life had, indeed, been reached when one ‘graduated’ into the Big Room. Reading ‘Riting, and ‘Rithmetic were pounded into the young heads by able teachers like Rhoda Davis, Irene Edmunds, Maitland Graham, Marcella Graham, Coquella Jones, Mary Jones, Elva Madsen, Leah Nielsen, Leland Nielsen, Adriel Norman, Hilda Sanders, Mae Sanderson, Hannah Stewart, Otis L. Stewart, and Verga Ray Stewart. While the main purpose of the school was education, there were also the lighter, more carefree moments. The fun times participating in school plays, operettas, Christmas parties, May Day celebrations, dances, and scores of other events, should not be overlooked. But it should also be remembered that, even though these activities did provide untold satisfaction, pleasure, and entertainment, they did not take place without a price. It was not a monetary one, but one paid through inconvenience, determination, and sacrifice. In the early 1900’s people didn’t hop in a car and motor on down to the schoolhouse.


Transportation was either horseback or horse-drawn wagon, buggy, or sleigh. Upon returning home cold or wet, in the middle of the ngi9ht, the team still had to be cared for. The building did not light by the flick of a switch. Lighting was provided by candles, “coal oil” lamps, and later, gasoline lamps, usually brought in by some of those attending. If a youngster had to go to the bathroom, it was a long, cold, dark, and possibly snowy trek to the little house out back. Ahh, for the “good old days.” This building served the Milburn community as both school and I hear the laughter of children. I hear the sometimes jovial, sometimes serious and concerned conversations of adults. I hear music. I hear mischievous pranks giddily planned by energetic young people. I hear the solemn silence of reverence.


Other sounds also drift through my century-old memory: the creak and clatter of wagon wheels over a rutted, rocky road; the heavy clop-clop of horse hooves; rhythmic sounds of a carpenter’s saw and hammer; the high-pitched ping of a rock mason’s chisel; sighs of fatigue; and proud comments of accomplishment. There are also the thousands of identifying odors that pleasantly linger, springtime and the changing seasons, the turning of the soil, fresh-sawn lumber, storm, new-mown hay, dust, rain, sweat, paint, food in various form, perfume, animals, and coal-oil lamps.


Who am I? I’m a proud old building. I’ve served various purposes and seen many changes. In fact, my very own structure and location has been changed. In reality, I’m not even the same building I started out to be. But I am very proud of my ancestral roots, and clung to those roots with every fiber of my stately structure. It all started about 1894, when the old pink-red brick, two-room Milburn schoolhouse, located below the mouth of Dry Creek Canyon was built. Its design was most prominently expressed by two large, arched entryways, above which appeared on one the word “Boys” and the other, “Girls” these entryways contained coat hooks around the walls and steps leading up into the two large rooms, one somewhat larger than the other. The rooms were divided by massive folding doors which could be opened all the way to create an unrestricted hall for social events. There was also a teacher’s room near the front between the arches. The children of Milburn attended school in this building through the eighth grade, first through fourth in the “little room,” and fifth through eighth in the “big room.” A milestone in life had, indeed, been reached when one ‘graduated’ into the Big Room. Reading ‘Riting, and ‘Rithmetic were pounded into the young heads by able teachers like Rhoda Davis, Irene Edmunds, Maitland Graham, Marcella Graham, Coquella Jones, Mary Jones, Elva Madsen, Leah Nielsen, Leland Nielsen, Adriel Norman, Hilda Sanders, Mae Sanderson, Hannah Stewart, Otis L. Stewart, and Verga Ray Stewart.


While the main purpose of the school was education, there were also the lighter, more carefree moments. The fun times participating in school plays, operettas, Christmas parties, May Day celebrations, dances, and scores of other events, should not be overlooked. But it should also be remembered that, even though these activities did provide untold satisfaction, pleasure, and entertainment, they did not take place without a price. It was not a monetary one, but one paid through inconvenience, determination, and sacrifice. In the early 1900s people didn’t hop in a car and motor on down to the schoolhouse. Transportation was either horseback or horse-drawn wagon, buggy, or sleigh. Upon returning home cold or wet, in the middle of the ngi9ht, the team still had to be cared for. The building did not light by the flick of a switch. Lighting was provided by candles, “coal oil” lamps, and later, gasoline lamps, usually brought in by some of those attending. If a youngster had to go to the bathroom, it was a long, cold, dark, and possibly snowy trek to the little house outback. Ahh, for the “good old days.”


This building served the Milburn community as both school and Today this building still serves a dual purpose. While it houses a successful small business, it is also a lovely home with all the charm, character, and comfort that one could ever hope for. Friends and relatives bask in its warmth whenever they come to call, especially the grandchildren. They think it’s about the greatest thing this side of heaven. So you see, my rough-sawn native pine rafters and floor joists, though nearly 100 years old, still hear music, the conversations of oldsters, and the laughter of children. My Milburn stone quarry foundation rocks still hear an occasional sigh of fatigue. And my native pink adobe bricks still absorb the many sweet aromas of the changing seasons and most of the other smells that crowd my memory bank, as well as the tantalizing odors that drift from the kitchen.


While many changes have taken place during the past century, some things change very little. The couple who have called me “home” for the past sixteen years love me very much and cherish my heritage as they do their own. They are descendants of those hardy founding fathers who helped plant my roots. Mr. Vance has been associated with me since he drew his first breath nearly sixty-five years ago. His early teachings, both academic and spiritual, began within my walls as the old Milburn School and as the Milburn Ward Chapel. Even though my history goes back a century and holds many memories, I think I kind of like being a part of this modern age!


Sources: 3 Author’s recollection. 4 These Our Fathers, 1947, p. 120. 5 Ibid 6 These Our Fathers, 1947, p. 121 and Fairview North Ward LDS Church records. 7 Personal diary of Donna Brunger, Milburn, Utah.

My Father's Sky ~~~ by Norma Vance

While searching for a picture of the Old Milburn School,

 I came across this poem by Norma Vance. Norma was a 

cousin of my father, Neldon Rigby.

 

Sanpete Honors Forgotten Souls

Memorial is dedicated to 'Poor Farm' inhabitants
By Deseret News May 28, 2001, 10:40am MDT
Carma Wadley senior writer

 https://www.deseret.com/2001/5/28/19588594/sanpete-honors-forgotten-souls

 

William Ditmer was a blind shoemaker who lived and worked in Fairview. At the end of his life, he went to live at the "Poor Farm," as the Sanpete County Infirmary was called in those days. When he died in 1916, Ditmer was buried in an unmarked pauper's grave.

Legacy's a quirky thing. Those who try to manufacture it are not always successful. Those who never give it a thought are often the ones who have untold impact.

When William Ditmer lived out his quiet, useful life in Fairview, he probably had no idea that all these years later people would be remembering him. Or that because of him, others whose only claim to fame might be that they did the best they could would be honored.

This Memorial Day, the town of Fairview is dedicating a monument to all those who lived and died at the Infirmary. They need to be remembered in a positive way, said Norma Vance, who has spearheaded the the memorial project. "At the time, there was a bit of a stigma attached to going to the Poor Farm. Maybe this will help to exonerate them."

Many of them were immigrants, far from their families. But to come here showed such faith and courage, she said. And many were simply caught by circumstance. "When age came upon them, some fell victim to ill health and could no longer do for themselves."

The story of the monument actually began on a wintry day in 1992. A former resident of Fairview came to the home of Norma and Herald Vance with an old clarinet. It had belonged to William Ditmer, the man said, and it should go in the Fairview Museum.

"I had read a little about Ditmer, but when I actually saw and touched his clarinet, he seemed so real, and I wanted to know more about him," Norma said.

She thought about him from time to time. But it wasn't until 1998, when she and Herald were asked to speak at Fairview's Patriotic Program, that she did more research. "I knew I wanted to talk about William Ditmer."

He had been born in Denmark in 1857, she found. As a small boy he had contracted the measles, which had taken his sight. He learned the shoemaker trade at a school for the blind in Denmark. He joined the LDS Church and came to Fairview in 1886.

Golden Sanderson, one of Fairview's long-time residents, remembered Ditmer in his life story. "He did his shoe repairing mostly by feel," Sanderson wrote, "and could always pick up the right tool or tacks. . . . He lived an isolated life and barely lived off his trade. My parents often helped him with a bowl of soup or other food."

But Ditmer was also a skilled musician. "When darkness came with only the flicker of the kerosene lamp, it was comforting to hear strains of music coming from the old man's house," wrote Sanderson. "It was Ditmer who started some students out on reed instruments until finally a band was organized."

That's what struck her about Ditmer, says Norma. Here he was, blind and barely getting by, "but he gave something back to the community."



Norma went to the Fairview sexton's office to get Ditmer's exact birth and death dates, and that's when she found out that he had gone to live at the Poor Farm. "And I was shocked to see so many more names on the sexton's records of people who had died there."

At least 34 other men and women had died at the Infirmary during its years of operation, and many had been buried in unmarked graves at the Fairview Cemetery, she found.

After the talk at the Patriotic Program, one of the audience members commented on the need for a monument, and that kept nagging at the Vances, who finally took the matter to the City Council in September 1999.

The council agreed, but it has taken awhile to get it all put together. And it has become a community project.

"The Poor Farm was a special spot. Everyone knew where it was, and that's what everyone called it," says Margaret Bench, chaplain of the North Bench Camp of the Daughters of Utah Pioneers, which has been involved.

"One of our DUP themes is that our heritage binds us together," adds DUP secretary Becky Roberts. "And this is our heritage."

The infirmary was built in 1895. At that time, not only was the county's population increasing, but the economic depression of 1893 had created a growing number of indigents, and county commissioners looked for ways to support them.

"They settled upon the idea of purchasing a farm where able-bodied indigents could work," Norma said. A two-story building was constructed, with separate wings for the men and women. At any one time, it could accommodate between 16-20 men and eight women.

It operated until the early 1930s. The abandoned building was finally torn down in 1980.

Nowadays, you probably couldn't get away with calling it the Poor Farm, but it was an important part of Fairview history, Mayor Ron Giles said.

The granite marker has been created by Leon Monk, who owns a monument shop in Mt. Pleasant. The marker features a drawing of the building on one side, and a tribute to those who lived and died there on the other. They decided not to list individual names, Monk said, because there were some discrepancies in names and dates and they weren't sure they even had all of them.

It's been quite a project, but he's been glad to be involved, said Monk, who has donated all his labor in creating the monument. "Those people had tough lives. But we need to remember them."

Remembering, after all, is what this day is all about.

But it is not just for their sake that we remember the William Ditmers of the world, Norma said, it is also for our own. The very act of remembering can make us more aware, more appreciative, more connected to each other.

And that, as much as anything, may be the legacy of the blind shoemaker of Fairview.

Mads Christian Anderson and Carolina Peterson ~~~ Pioneers of the Month ~~~ October 2019

INTERACTION WITH THE INDIANS continued……taken from Journey of Faith by David R. Gunderson

With permission of David R. Gunderson, we include the following book to our blog.   I will do a few increments at a time, as I have done with the Andrew Madsen and James Monsen histories.  I will also paste the pages over to David's own blog page: http://davidrgunderson.blogspot.com/

This book will be of interest to not only the Gunderson Family but also to the Brotherson, Ericksen, Peel,   Madsen, Larsen and more.