Life History of Dora Merrill Packer
(Written by Dora
Packer/completed by her husband, Clyde, after her death)
One beautiful summer morning the
stork was hovering over a small cottage in the hills with a precious bundle for
the good people who lived there. And so
I was born on the 14th of June 1892.
This little home was on a farm in Franklin Canyon. The little settlement was called Mapleton.
My father’s name is Samuel Adam
Merrill. He was born to Samuel Bemus
Merrill and Elizabeth Runyon Merrill in Springfield, Illinois on 2 April
1846. My great-grandfather was Samuel
Merrill and my great-grandmother Pheobe Odell.
He belonged to those “forgotten pioneers”, the section of the Mormon
Battalion who entered Salt Lake Valley on July 29, 1847. He was a man of rugged constitution. He lived to be one hundred years old—all but
three days.
Samuel did a great among of labor
in that century which was a time of establishing one home after another. Great-grandfather was living in Smithfield,
New York. He and his wife joined the
church and came to the frontier to be with the Saints then on to the West,
enduring all the hardships that frontier life entailed.
I am the youngest daughter the
sixth child of Samuel Adam Merrill and Alvira Elizabeth Tidwell Merrill. My mother’s father, Peter Tidwell, was a
pioneer also. My mother’s mother was
Sophronia Hatch, a daughter of Josephus and Malinda Durfee Hatch.
My progenitors joined the church in
its infancy, enduring the persecution that the church went through and so far
as I know, not one of them was ever disloyal.
My grandfather’s brother, Philemon C. Merrill, was a bodyguard to the
Prophet Joseph Smith.*
I was the fourth daughter in my
parent’s family. My oldest brother,
Peter Ernest, passed away when he was ten years old, more that a year before I
was born. When I was born, there was
only one son, Leslie Vinton. Mother said
she was hoping I would be a boy. There
were three brothers younger than I so she never regretted my being a girl. I was the baby daughter, until Helen was
officially adopted. As I’ve grown older,
I have appreciated very much what my parents, brothers, and sisters have done
for me. For instance, Bertha was so anxious
for me to realize my desire to go to school and have the opportunity she did
not have that she paid my board and room for one whole year. That was when I went to the Oneida Stake
Academy.
*A miraculous incident happened
which might be faith promoting to my children.
While at Nauvoo, Philemon, as a bodyguard, chose to accompany the
prophet after he had been put under arrest by U.S. Marshal Ronalds. The purpose of the arrest was to take the
prophet back into Missouri to face trial.
The party stopped at an inn for lunch and afterwards they climbed to a
little knoll to rest themselves and their horses. While there the marshal got a couple of
stones and marked the distance he could jump upon the green grass. No one offered to jump against him as he made
several impressive leaps. Finally the
marshal bragged, “I can out run, out throw, and out wrestle any man in the
state of Illinois.” No one challenged
him, so he repeated the statement using the name of deity.
The prophet, lying close by, told
Philemon to accept the challenge.
Philemon was a tall, slender youth of about twenty-two years and still
unmarried. The marshal was a large man
weighing over two hundred pounds, who was noted for his prowess and skill. Philemon hesitated at attempting to throw
such a powerful opponent for he knew he was no match for such opposition. The prophet then said, “Philemon, in the name
of Israel’s God, get up and throw that man down.” Philemon arose and spread both arms out to
meet the attack of the foe. The marshal
advanced and grasped Philemon’s right hand with an unfair hold. The prophet said it made no difference, that
any way he wanted to do it, Philemon would still throw him. The prophet counted three. On the count of three, Philemon caught the
marshal and threw him over his hips and into the air and when he came down he
lit on his head and shoulders about fifteen feet from where they were. The prophet ran to him and finding he was not
dead, asked him if he wanted more. The
marshal, rubbing his bruised head, replied, “Not by a ____ sight!”
I was baptized by Stephen Byington
when I was eight years old, in June 1900.
We were baptized, several children who were eight years old, in what we
called Byington’s Big Spring. Rather a
lovely spot, as I look back on it now—a deep pool of perfectly still water that
was surrounded by trees. There were
smooth round stones at the edge, which we stepped on as we stepped into the icy
cold water. We each went hurrying into
Grandma Byinton’s kitchen to get dressed.
I was confirmed the next day by the bishop of the Grant Ward, J. Frank
Hunt, who was also speaker of the House of Representatives for the state of
Idaho. I did not receive a patriarchal
blessing until I was a woman. It was
given to me by Patriarch Alma B. Larsen, at his home in Rexburg, Idaho.
I don’t know what my parents did
except have a home full of love and kindness for us children and everyone else
who came their way, because there was always room for one more. But we, everyone, love the farm and look back
on those childhood days with warm and happy feelings, and gratitude to our parents
for so many lovely memories.
We went to church at the Grant
Ward. The church house was about three
miles away, but it wasn’t the schoolhouse.
We went in the white top buggy or a bob sleigh. We were about the furthest away, so when we
got there the vehicle would be packed with children we’d gathered up along the
way. I don’t remember much about primary
in those days, but I do remember MIA.
That used to be held after school and my sisters who were MIA age used
to stay, so I had to stay too so we could go home together. They say I embarrassed them plenty by wanting
to take part right along with all of them.
One time I volunteered and sang all the verses of “I Will Take You Back,
Kathleen’.
My brother, Leslie, was always
thoughtful of me. I remember him pulling
me behind him as he skated. He felt
sorry for me because the skates were his and there wasn’t enough money for two
pair.
My first memories are connected
with our home in Mapleton. We left there
when I was about four years old, but I remember very vividly when we had the
east wind.
My father seemed to know it was coming. Uncle Orrin Merrill had a sturdy big log home
about a mile from us at the foot of the hill and not far from the Cub River,
while ours was higher up on sort of a bench.
I remember the whole family going down the hill and across the meadow to
Uncle Orrin’s and Aunt Libby’s so we would be safe. Part of the time I walked holding to father’s
hand and part of the time he carried me.
We were safe with the shutters closed tightly and had so much fun, all
the cousins together. Next morning when
we went home, a large tree had been blown over and the branches were against
the house. I don’t know what other
damage had been done, but I vividly remember the fallen tree. I also remember the sunshine on my brother
Demar’s golden hair as father took him from mother’s arms to help them from the
wagon. I remember too the night my
youngest brother, that lived, was born.
It was on Jan. 19th. I
sat by the fire with father, part of the time with my feet on the hearth but
mostly on his lap. I remember Aunt
Molly, as we called the midwife, hurrying in and out of the bedroom and the
feeling of anxiety and waiting that was there.
Funny how memories of so long ago are so vivid!
I began my schooling in a little
rural school called Calvin School. It
was a few miles south of Downey, Idaho.
For many years it stood as a sentinel on the hillside.
Just prior to this father had sold
his home and farm at Mapleton and had purchased a farm in Swan Lake. That put us in the Calvin School
District. We attended school in a little
yellow school building with a tower and bell, cloakrooms, and closets and
heated by a central round stove.
While I went to school at this
little yellow schoolhouse, I received certificated for being neither tardy nor
absent for a school year and one for having 100% in spelling every day. I was to get a certificated another year for
perfect attendance but the last eight days of school I missed because I had the
mumps.
We all helped to get things done in
our home. I guess because I was the
youngest girl and had older sister I surely didn’t have many of the
responsibilities. One thing that I do
remember having to do was weed the garden.
I also had to clean the lamps.
The house was all lighted by lamps in those days. I usually had help. They had to be filled with kerosene, trimmed
and dusted and the chimneys washed. We
didn’t have detergents and the only waster softener was lye which was dangerous
for a child to use so I had to use good old homemade soap. Sometimes it took a lot of shining to have
them pass my mother’s inspection.
Many memories of my childhood are
associated with the little schoolhouse.
We used to go to school in the winter in a sleigh, a little one with
shafts for one horse. In the spring, it
was a one- horse buggy and at time we would ride horseback. The good horse, Pal, was used for all these
purposes. Father said when she quit
going to school and completed her education, she could live in the pasture the
rest of her life, which she did.
Another companion of my childhood
was a little black pony we called Topsy.
My brother Leslie and I used to ride her to school. He was in the front in the saddle and I was
astride behind the saddle. She had one
bad habit and that was to run away when we headed toward home after
school. Each day she would run like she
was racing and we couldn’t stop her, so we flew along the road with dinner
bucket, books, braids and bonnets flying out behind. She would run right up to the yard gate and
stop so short that we had to cling on with all our might to keep from going
over her head and over the gate too.
I graduated from the eighth grade
from that little school. My
brother-in-law, Leo Beckstead, was the teacher that year when I was thirteen
years old, fourteen in June. That fall I
went to Preston, Idaho to go to Oneida Stake Academy for my high school
work. I lived at the home of Mary
Dalley. She was a second wife, married
at about the time of the manifesto. It
was a peculiar family relationship to me, as her husband came to see them only
once in a while. She had two daughters
and I wondered many times how the girls got along without their father. My father meant so much to me. I heard the younger of the girls say one
evening, “Here comes papa. Shall we let
him in?”
Mrs. Dalley taught school and had
four girls live with her also. We had a
good time at home and the school was just a delight to me. Those teachers and friends are lovely memories
to me. I sang in the school choir, Henry
Otto was the teacher. He was a fine
teacher of music. He came from the old
country—Germany, I think. Believe it or
not, I sometimes sang the solo parts.
How lucky I was to go to a church
school! The lessons on the restoration
of the gospel; the coming forth of the Book of Mormon; the songs we sang; the
spirit of the school and its teachers I have never forgotten. These things all had such an influence on my
life. One teacher, George D. Costo, was
such a well-informed man, I used to think if I could just know as much as he
did it would be worth any effort. Others
I loved were John Johnson, Ethel Cutler, and W.K. Barton. John Johnson said once that I was the best student
he had ever had.
I would like to tell a little
story that happen while I lived at Mrs. Dalley’s. We were assigned a big lesson in
algebra. The problems were what we used
to call written problems. I could not
get them. After struggling with them
until about ten o’clock, I kneeled down by the side of my bed and asked the Father
in Heaven to show me how to do them. He
answered my prayer immediately because I started in on them again and did every
one o f them. I knew they were correct
and the next day in class proved that they were.
I spent four happy years at the Oneida Stake
Academy. The second year I lived with my
brother Dell and his wife Mame (her real name was Mary). Mame became ill so I went to stay at my
cousin, Frank Merrill’s, home. Frank and
Emma had a home much closer to school and they wanted two girls to live in a
room separated from the main house by what we call now a days a breezeway. While there, I got the measles. I was very sick. I can still remember some of the delirious
dreams I had about gypsies, etc… When I became ill, I was moved over to aunt
Lil’s and Uncle Orrin’s home, so the little kids at Frank’s and Emma’s wouldn’t
catch the measles. When I was well
enough, I went home on the train. Father
and mother were at the depot to meet in a sleigh with hot bricks among the
quilts. They shouldn’t have sent me home
so soon I guess because I was very ill for weeks. Mother and a practical nurse, Mrs. Barger,
kept watch over me night and day for a long time. I didn’t go back to school again that
year. It was in February that I got the
measles. The next year, however, they
let me take the junior years work.
I was valedictorian of my class
when I graduated in 1910. Only six were
graduated, five boys and me. I was
nearly eighteen years old and since my brother was on a mission, it would be
impossible for me to go to college. (May
I digress briefly and say that years later I learned that a young man in the
audience saw me and heard my address and vowed that one-day he would marry
me. He never requested my attention
until two years later. When he did, we
had a beautiful courtship and were married September 9, 1914.) Since college was beyond the limits of our
finances, I decided to teach school. In
those days everyone, no matter what kind of a degree they had, was required to
take a teachers’ examination. So with
many misgiving I took the exam. I went
to the county seat of Oneida County, Malad.
There was another young girl, the rest were all older men and a few
women. I went back home not knowing how
I came out. Bro. John Johnson was one of
the men who gave the examinations. He
was principal of Oneida Stake Academy all four years I was there. I had taken many exams from him so I didn’t
feel quite so strange. The papers were
all sent to the county superintendent for grading. In about a week or ten days, I received word
that I had gotten a second grade certificate.
I was so pleased! I already knew
where I was going to teach—at Glenco, Idaho.
It was a school with all the grades.
That year there happened to be no fourth grade. When winter quarter came, the older boys
entered school. Some of the boys were
older than I was and much taller. I
would stand by them at the blackboard explaining arithmetic and would have to
look up to them. I think I grew from a
girl to a woman that year. I took my
responsibilities in that little school very serious that year. I lived with a Swedish family by the name of
Walgren. They were so good and kind to
me. My bedroom was icy cold in the
winter. Brother Walgren had a couple of
small rocks which he would get hot in the evening, then wrap a piece of blanket
around each one and give them to me to put in my bed. He had a little cushion and began calling it
my prayer cushion. He always insisted
that I kneel on it when we had family prayers.
Sister Walgren was a very good cook and housekeeper. Even the boardwalks connecting her summer
kitchen and cellar with the main house were scrubbed with sand until they were
white. Bro. Walgren wasn’t very well the latter part of the year so they took
him to Salt Lake for diagnosis and treatment.
They found he had a tumor. Now I
know it was malignant and couldn’t be removed.
He came home and in a few months passed away.
The next three years I taught in
Preston, Idaho at the Central School. I
taught the third grade for two years and the fifth grade for one year. Those were happy days. I enjoyed being a teacher. I’ve always been sorry that I didn’t know
more about it and hadn’t had more training.
The day I left the schoolroom knowing that I was not going back again
was one of the sad days of my life.
During one of the years the teachers all met together to ask for a raise
in pay. I signed my name to the petition
to the school board. I found out that I
was getting more than anyone else. The
regular wage was $55.00 and I was getting $57.50 I thought everyone was getting what I
was. I felt a little foolish but as I
remember it we each got a $2.50 raise.
And teachers think they are poorly paid no days.
During these years of grade school
teaching I had some wonderful experiences in the church. I taught a kindergarten Sunday school class
in Preston 2nd Ward and can still remember the thrill I got trying
to teach the gospel lessons to these little children.
I was called to be on the MIA Stake
Board of the Oneida Stake when I was seventeen—to be the literary leader. That was a lovely experience. I’m sure I didn’t do so brilliantly with the
lessons but I had an association with some wonderful women, among them Luella
P. Cowley, who was the president. The
board meetings were real spiritual experiences.
I marvel that I could undertake a responsibility like this one was. I guess that more than one has marveled at
the confidence and exuberance of youth.
It was a fine development for me.
I taught an MIA class in our ward, Preston 2nd, at the time
too. I was then asked to be the play or
activity leader in the stake primary.
From there I was changed to the secretary of the primary stake board. Marinda Skidmore was the president. When I wet to Glenco to teach, I was released
from this position. I worked again on
the primary stake board of Oneida Stake when I taught in Preston. Sister Bertha Larsen was president. I was released when I went with my husband to
Salt Lake City to go to school.
Everyone
said I would be an old maid if I taught one more year. Especially my oldest brother Sam used to
tease me about it, so I decided I’d better quit. I had been writing to a missionary for some
time but I was not engaged to him, so when Clyde Packer began asking me to go
out with him I accepted. On September 9,
1914 I was married to Clyde in the Logan Temple. Perhaps the Father in Heaven was watching
over me. I like to think that He was
because if I had married the young man that I thought I might I’m sure I
wouldn’t have been happy. My husband is
a religious, good man, bringing into our home the blessings of the priesthood,
because he has been worthy of it.
Going back a bit—I went a couple of
summer to U of U to learn more about teaching.
My cousin Gwen McCann went with me one summer. She studied music and I went to school. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I lived one summer with Mrs. McMaster, a
daughter of B. H. Roberts, who kept a boardinghouse for girls and kept her
husband in the basement. I had been
there about half the summer before I knew she had a husband. Gwen and I lived with a young family who let
us do our own cooking.
We began our married life by going
to Salt Lake City to live, where my husband went to school at the University of
Utah. I enrolled at the L.D.S.U. which
was in downtown Salt Lake. They had an
especially good department in Domestic Science as we used to call it. I started to go to school taking cooking and
sewing. I went to the first two quarters
then decided that I had hurried to get to school all my life and if I was ever
going to have any time to relax, I must do it now, so I didn’t go spring
quarter. It was a pleasant six months
that I spent there. The teachers in my
departments, I can still remember very vividly but have forgotten their
names. I still have a piece or two of
work I made that winter. At Christmas
time I made a bathrobe for my husband.
It was long since worn out.
In addition to this experience,
when spring came my husband decided to go to summer school. We had moved into a large old house on eight
east with Edna and Henry Stokes. Edna
was Clyde’s sister. When school finished
in June, they went home and I decided to fill up the house with
boarders—students who came to summer school.
It was quite a lark. There were
five men from Ephraim among them Archie Anderson. I was sick of my bargain many times and, of
course, it didn’t help out much financially as I had thought I would. We perhaps got our meals out of it. Clyde had charge of a playground in Salt
Lake. He went to school in the morning
and to the playground in the afternoon.
It was a happy summer. I had
never lived in a city before and Salt Lake was beautiful to me. We lived in the 9th Ward and I was
asked soon after getting settled to teach in the Sunday school in the second
intermediate department. The other
teacher in the department was Herbert B. Maw who later became governor of
Utah. I taught there until we moved into
the house where we had the boarders which was in the 10th Ward. The teaching was a challenge but it was also
a thrill. We had a whole room full of
boys and girls—thirteen to fourteen years of age. There were thirty to thirty-five in
attendance each Sunday and it was a task to keep them interested. I will never forget those lessons. We studied the Old Testament and I really did
some studying.
After the summer school was out we
moved into a house close by the large one where we had a real nice
situation. An elderly couple had moved
in a small bedroom and shared the kitchen with us. They were from the south and she cooked the
funniest things. We had the living room
and dining room and a small bedroom. The
furniture was a Corcasion walnut.
We went home for a few weeks at the
end of summer school when the playground was closed and before the university
term began. Our son, Clyde Dean, was
born the following spring, March 11, 1916.
And what a time, for my husband was a member of the U of U basketball
team. They were to go to Chicago to a
tournament since they were the winners in this part of the country, to decide
who would be the national champions.
We were so anxious for the baby to be born before he
left. In fact, he stayed home two days
after the team left hoping that his baby would arrive. He left late on evening-Thursday-and on
Saturday morning at 4 o’clock Dean was born.
Mother had come to stay with me and in those days it was unusual for
anyone to go to the hospital to have a baby so there we were, all by ourselves,
to go through that long night from 7 o’clock until 4 in the morning when Dean
was born. My husband didn’t get home
until Dean was 10 days old. People were
surely thoughtful and kind to us while he was away. The student body president, the dean of
women, some of the faculty and many others came to see the new baby and offer
their help. The teammates each
contributed a dollar and they gave dad a $10.00 gold piece for the baby. He still has the original one but it came in
handy a lot of times as security.
Mother got word that my sister Ruby
was to have an operation. She asked mother to come and stay with the children
so she had to leave. I will never forget
how worried she was at leaving me before I was around and worried about the
serious operation of my sister. I
appreciated mother so much. What would I
have done without her!
When mother left, Clyde’s mother
came to stay a few days. Then we were on
our own. Our baby was so precious and I
was so fearful that I wouldn’t take the best care of him that I didn’t enjoy
him as much as I should have. I’ve often
thought that I made him fretful watching after him so much. His father used to get up when the baby
wakened in the morning at about five o’clock and take him up. He talked to him and played with him as much
as one can with a tiny baby. Then with a
book in one hand and the baby in the other arm, he studied and I got a few
winks of good sound sleep knowing that someone else was responsible for a
while.
I had a very dear friend in Salt
Lake City who was at least ten years older that I was. She was a friend of my sister Bertha and a
sister to my brother-in-law-, Leo Beckstead.
Her name was Aberta Beckstead Douglas.
She took me under her wing and everyday all through the winter she came
and took me out for a walk. She had a
baby boy nearly a year old. She brought
him in a baby carriage or on a sled and insisted that I walk a few blocks with
her. She also came everyday before my
husband came home to see how she could help out. I wonder now how I would have managed without
her. She initiated me into motherhood
and taught me many worthwhile lessons.
The foregoing was written by Dora
herself, I rewrote I all, inserting marginal notes and some other material she
had written to make it a unified whole.
Now I shall attempt to finish her history. It won’t be as detailed as hers has been but
I hope it will have great value to her posterity as they read. If they read this full account, they will
know they are descendent of a very wonderful woman.
It is now March 4, 1966. On April 4, 1963 Dora passed away. We have had a marvelous association from
September 9, 1914 to the time of her passing, April 4, 1963.
I should like to write of her life
first in relation to the farm. Dora
referred to some of the things we did on the farm but I would like to overlap a
little. We left Rexburg on April 17,
1918 as school closed early that year.
We rode in a one-seated buckboard, no top, two horses and two of us and
we had two children. Clyde Dean was two
years old and Claire about eight months.
We had intermittent snow and sunshine as we traveled those eighteen
miles to the farm. Dora had never seen
the house and I had told her it was a little cabin in the trees on the edge of
Canyon Creek. My idea of a cabin and
Dora’s
seemed to be very different.
I didn’t mean to misrepresent the house but I’m sure Dora was greatly
disappointed when she saw it. It was
made of three sections, about ten by ten feet, making a home of about ten by
thirty feet. The west end was the
bedroom, then the dining room and the kitchen.
I have wondered since why she didn’t turn around and go back.
Dora was a true and courageous
partner. She no doubt knew as I did that
it was just the beginning and that if we persisted with faith and
determination, a brighter future awaited us.
For indeed it did. She
immediately went to work and made a lovely home out of it. She used magazine pages to completely paper
the inside of the house. The stove that
was there didn’t work very well and so I well remember of buying a new one to
fit the little house and brought it home on top of a load of hay.
We had no car but I left
occasionally to get hay or grain but Dora never left the farm from April 17
until July 4. At that time we had
purchased a Model T Ford for $400.00 and were so happy and we went to the
Fourth of July celebration.
Water was a problem for the house
as well as for the horses. We tried
melting snow. It didn’t work so we fixed
up a wagon and a water tank. We hauled
water from Canyon Creek about five miles away.
We used a bucket bolted to a long handle and bucketed the tank full of
water. It took hours to dip the water
and four horses to haul the wagon. When
we got the water home the dozen horses would about drink it all in a day. That hampered the work so much that we
decided to drive the horses down to the creek three times a day. That was half-mile trek and six hundred
vertical feet in a zigzag on the side of the canyon. That was hard on the horses and men so next
we tried cisterns. We first dug a well
thirty-five feet deep, no water, so we excavated a cistern and cement plastered
it. After a season or two the cement
began to crack and leak, so we dug another and this time made strong concrete
walls, floor and ceiling. Then we caught
snow water as it melted and ran into the cistern. That sufficed as long as we long as we had
horses.
Farming was a hard and lonesome
experience for Dora but she never complained.
We would get up at five a.m. to tend the horses, have breakfast and work
everyday. There were no conveniences in those days like we have today. No bathroom, outside toilet, washing,
bathing, ironing all requiring patience and hard work for a woman.
We enjoyed our family life on the
farm. Dora was an excellent mother
always-- maintaining a clean, lovely home, good meals three times a day. We drew close to our children and them to
us. The children loved the farm and they
all learned to work.
On Sunday we would all clean up and
drive the eighteen miles to Rexburg to attend church in our ward. I recall one time while in Sunday School
William. E. Gee was stake superintendent and was visiting our ward. In his remarks he complimented the Packers
for attending Sunday School when they had to go so far. So that was another habit the children
acquired largely because of the persistence and constant teaching of their
mother.
Then Dora would have the problem of
moving twice a year-out to the farm in the spring and back in the fall for
school. We had about twenty years of
depression years but I have no memory of Dora complaining about it. Then the last twenty-five years of Dora’s
life we had sufficient money to live as we liked. We were able to take trips that we had always
wanted. We went on the train to South
Carolina when Allan was born; we traveled east with mother and Alley in our car
and visited all the church points of interest.
We had a nice trip to old Mexico with Dave and Zell Manwaring. Next we toured Europe when Alden and family
were there and later visited the scenic beauties of Canada.
A history of a woman’s life would
be incomplete without reference to the houses she lived in. When we moved to Rexburg we registered at the
St. Johns hotel and I canvassed the town for a place to rent. We finally rented an apartment on the second
floor of the Bassett House. It was hard
for Dora as she had Dean and Claire both needing help to get up and down the
stairs. 1918 was our first year on the
farm and a good on so we had the Rexburg Home Builders build us a house. It was to have cost $4000.00 but it cost
$6,000.00. 1919 was the driest year in
the last fifty. We had very little crop
and the monthly payments on the home were high, as were the taxes, so we
decided after two years to trade the Home Builders for a smaller house on the
hill on second east. Then in 1927 Dr.
Merrill (Uncle Leslie) owned the Bitter house, later known as the maternity
home, and he wanted to sell so we bought it.
Then after a few years we sold it and rented the Austin Watts home just
east of our first home that we built. After
a year there we moved to the Fowler home on third east and after five years the
Fowlers wanted to live in it so we bought the white Blunck house on second
south-the only house on the block. In a
short time we purchased the entire block from the county for $25.00 and after
completely remodeling the white house, we living in it for about 10 years. We sold it and built a beautiful brick home
on the corner of second south and Harvard and lived in it for twelve years. Now the children had all married and the
house seemed too large for us and very reluctantly we sold it and built up on
321 E. 3rd S. in our present home.
While building this last home we rented Jay Slaughters house for a while
and then we lived with Dora Lee and Rex until the house was completed. Dora lived in it about four years before she
passed away.
I mention all these houses because
every move is a big chore, especially for a woman. However, Dora liked to plan houses and to
decorate them. And I must say every
house we lived in was made to be a real home.
They were kept immaculately clean and decorated to make them a bit of
heaven. Dora said many times if she were
a boy she would like to be an architect or an engineer.
Another version of the Philemon Merrill story:
Here is a true story that relates a simple experience of a nineteen-year-old who became a remarkable one. He was magnified and had great powers beyond his natural abilities as the Lord acted through him. There was a young nineteen-year-old admirer of Joseph Smith, Philemon Merrill, who had come with other loyal followers to rescue their prophet from the hands of sheriffs Reynolds and Wilson. While returning to Nauvoo, the company rested “in a little grove of timber.” One of the lawyers for the sheriff and the kidnappers boasted of his wrestling powers. He offered a wager that he could throw any man in Illinois. Stephen Markham, a bodyguard of Joseph’s and a huge man, also an experienced wrestler, took up the challenge. The boaster threw Stephen, and a taunting shout went up from the Prophet’s enemies.
As the taunts continued, Joseph Smith turned to young Philemon Merrill and said: “ ‘Get up and throw that man.’ ”
The boy was about to refuse, to excuse himself by saying he was not a wrestler, but the look in the Prophet’s eye silenced his tongue. “He arose to his feet filled with the strength of a Samson.” Philemon “lifted his arms” and told the lawyer to take his choice of sides.
“The man took the left side with his right hand under,” which gave him a decided advantage. Philemon Merrill’s friends protested, but young Philemon felt such confidence in the words of the Prophet that it made little difference to him what advantage his antagonist took. As they began to grapple, Joseph instructed him, “ ‘Philemon, when I count three, throw him!’
“On the instant after the word of three dropped from Joseph’s lips,” Philemon Merrill, “with the strength of a giant, threw the lawyer over his left shoulder, and he fell striking his head upon the earth.”
Little wonder it is reported that “awe fell upon the opponents of the Prophet when they saw this, and there were no more challenges to wrestle during the journey” (George Q. Cannon, Life of Joseph Smith the Prophet, Classics in Mormon Literature, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1986, pp. 450–51).
Ensign » 1986 » November My Son and Yours—Each a Remarkable One
Elder Ted E. Brewerton - Of the First Quorum of the Seventy
Samuel Merrill
Philemon C. Merrill
Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel, 1847–1868
Click Here ..
Another version of the Philemon Merrill story:
Here is a true story that relates a simple experience of a nineteen-year-old who became a remarkable one. He was magnified and had great powers beyond his natural abilities as the Lord acted through him. There was a young nineteen-year-old admirer of Joseph Smith, Philemon Merrill, who had come with other loyal followers to rescue their prophet from the hands of sheriffs Reynolds and Wilson. While returning to Nauvoo, the company rested “in a little grove of timber.” One of the lawyers for the sheriff and the kidnappers boasted of his wrestling powers. He offered a wager that he could throw any man in Illinois. Stephen Markham, a bodyguard of Joseph’s and a huge man, also an experienced wrestler, took up the challenge. The boaster threw Stephen, and a taunting shout went up from the Prophet’s enemies.
As the taunts continued, Joseph Smith turned to young Philemon Merrill and said: “ ‘Get up and throw that man.’ ”
The boy was about to refuse, to excuse himself by saying he was not a wrestler, but the look in the Prophet’s eye silenced his tongue. “He arose to his feet filled with the strength of a Samson.” Philemon “lifted his arms” and told the lawyer to take his choice of sides.
“The man took the left side with his right hand under,” which gave him a decided advantage. Philemon Merrill’s friends protested, but young Philemon felt such confidence in the words of the Prophet that it made little difference to him what advantage his antagonist took. As they began to grapple, Joseph instructed him, “ ‘Philemon, when I count three, throw him!’
“On the instant after the word of three dropped from Joseph’s lips,” Philemon Merrill, “with the strength of a giant, threw the lawyer over his left shoulder, and he fell striking his head upon the earth.”
Little wonder it is reported that “awe fell upon the opponents of the Prophet when they saw this, and there were no more challenges to wrestle during the journey” (George Q. Cannon, Life of Joseph Smith the Prophet, Classics in Mormon Literature, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1986, pp. 450–51).
Ensign » 1986 » November My Son and Yours—Each a Remarkable One
Elder Ted E. Brewerton - Of the First Quorum of the Seventy
Samuel Merrill
Philemon C. Merrill
Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel, 1847–1868
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