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BIOGRAPHY OF HYRUM KILBURN PORTER
Written by his daughter, Veda Jane Porter Mortimer
and edited by her son, George A Mortimer
HYRUM KILBURN PORTER
Hyrum Kilburn Porter was born in Porterville, Morgan County, Utah on a cold 12th of December in 1878. His father was Lyman Wight Porter, the son of Sanford Porter and Nancy Warriner. Hyrum's mother was Electa Mariah Kilbourn, the daughter of Ozias Kilbourn (sometimes spelled Kilbourne) and Electa Granteer (or Grantier).
Hyrum grew up in a religious home. His father, Lyman Wight Porter, had been born in Independence, Jackson County, Missouri in 1833, soon after his parents had joined the Mormon Church (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). They went through the sufferings of the Saints at that time and took the trek across the plains before there was a railroad. In fact, the Porters arrived in Utah late the summer of 1847, the first summer that Utah was being settled.
Hyrum's mother and her family had joined the Church in Pennsylvania where she was born. They, too, went to Utah by covered wagon before the time of the railroad. They all knew that the teachings were the true gospel of Jesus Christ. They knew there were prophets in modern times and that God loved them and would guide them the same way he had the people in the time of the Old Testament. They knew He was the same God and loved his children the same today as then. They knew that Joseph Smith was a true prophet of God, and that he had seen God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and that they were two separate beings, magnificent beyond description, but real and living. They knew that the Book of Mormon was truth, that it was another witness that Jesus is the Christ, the Redeemer and Savior of us all if we will but obey His commandments and let Him be our Savior. Hyrum's family all knew the Gospel to be a map, which, if followed, will bring us into the presence of God. They knew these truths so deeply that they suffered many physical hardships that came rather than compromise the principles which they knew were truth. They knew that truth does not change. They knew the peace of mind that comes to those who hold fast to that which they know to be true, who try to live by the principles given.
Hyrum was the eleventh and youngest child of the family. He had 5 older sisters and 5 older brothers, but he also had two sets of half brothers and half sisters. His father, Lyman, was called by church authorities to take polygamous wives, which he did. He came home from a special meeting feeling very depressed. On inquiring as to the cause of his depression, Mariah was told that he had been called to take more wives. "But I don't really want to," he said.
"Since you have been called to do so, you'd better do it, hadn't you?" Mariah suggested.
"Will you choose some for me, then?" he asked.
She chose two. On 18 March 1865, shortly before Mariah gave birth to their 6th child, he married Sarah Emmett, who subsequently had three sons and a daughter. On 5 October 1867, shortly after Mariah's 7th child was born, he married Elizabeth Bailey who eventually had 9 children, 4 boys and 5 girls.
All three families lived in separate houses, Aunt Lizzie's just across the street, and Aunt Sarah's across the street, facing around the corner. (Plural wives were called "Aunt" by the children of other wives.) They all lived together in love, helpfulness and harmony. The brothers and sisters seemed to love the half-brothers and sisters as much as those of the same household . There seemed to be no difference in the closeness they felt for each other. All together, Hyrum had 12 brothers and 11 sisters counting all of his father's children.
Since Hyrum was the youngest of his own family, he got all the hand-me-downs, even shoes. Shoes that have been worn, wet a number of times, dried on feet of the wearer, outgrown, can be very uncomfortable even for the person they were bought for and who has always worn them. They were even more uncomfortable for Hyrum as they came on down to him. He had no choice but to wear them.
His mother washed the wool from their sheep, carded and spun it, and wove it into cloth to make his clothes, even his best suits. The clothing was all sewed by hand; no sewing machines were available as yet. The clothing was rough, but warm and sturdy and sometimes quite colorful. Dyes that were used were indigo for blue, steeped roots for brown, human urine boiled for yellow, bark for green. There were white sheep for natural white, and black sheep for black.
When Hyrum was about six years old, the United States government was set upon exterminating all polygamous households. His father had to go away for safety. He took Aunt Lizzie with him and went to St. George to live for several years. I don't know how widely the information was spread that he was in St. George, or whether any of the children knew where he was. One day, while he was away, several U.S. marshals dressed in their impressive uniforms galloped into the farmyard. Sitting high on their restless, glossy-coated horses, the mounted men looked down on little six-year-old Hyrum. Dressed in his hand-me-down, worn, home-made clothes, curly hair tousled, clear blue eyes wondering, he gazed up at the government men as they shouted down at him, "Hey, sonny, where's your father?"
Whether he had been previously instructed, or whether his reply was an inspiration, it was effective and he never deviated from it. "Father's gone to the moon to look for green cheese."
Hyrum had plenty of playmates within his own extended family, but there was much work to be done on the farm, and each child had responsibilities. They were all taught to be honest workers and to hold up their end of any task, to do it well.
Their father was of the "old school," stern, firm, autocratic, but loving his children and grandchildren very much in his own way. Not demonstrative in love, quick to punish, the children learned quickly what the rules of the household were. At table there was to be no talking except for requests to pass the food, and that in a very soft voice. "Mealtime is for eating, not talking," was the motto. Sitting around the oval table, the family ate in silence.
The father was the head of the house and sat at the head of the oval table in the large, warm, comfortable kitchen. At his left sat the mother, and ranging around the table were all children living at home. One day Hyrum was extra hungry and there was a big bowl of steaming potatoes cooked with their jackets on, his very favorite. As soon as the blessing was said he reached for that bowl which was sitting in front of his mother's plate. "Crack," a swift pain in his knuckles. He drew back his hand in quick shock and remembered the rule, "No reaching." The father had quickly lifted his bone-handled steel table knife, and with the handle had given the boy a sharp rap on the back of the hand. Not a word was said. Hyrum remembered the lesson and, even when an adult, refrained from reaching for food.
Hyrum's mother was a very kind, sweet, patient, thoughtful woman, a good cook, hospitable and helpful to those around her. She was very industrious. She made scrapple, headcheese and sausage from the pork, as well as salt-curing bacon and brine-curing hams and shoulders. She always had a large bowl of mincemeat on a low shelf behind the pantry door after the fall "killing." It contained real meat, spices, apples, raisins, and was very delicious. (I used to like to "taste it.") She made fresh soda biscuits every morning for breakfast. They were fairly yellow with soda, but they were so good. For supper the left-over cold soda biscuits were crumbled and hot milk with a piece of butter in it poured over them. This was the main part of the meal and was called "toast." With a very light sprinkling of sugar it was delicious and very satisfying. She always had some of her blue plum preserves in the cupboard or on the table. It was slow-simmered on her wood-burning stove to a perfect stage of flavor and consistency. Spread on half of a cold soda biscuit it was a treat for the grandchildren who used to drop in to say good morning. Dinner was at noon and would include meat, potatoes, and other vegetables.
Hyrum grew up in a time when there was very little money, but plenty of wholesome food, lots of fresh air and pure water, and lots of healthful exercise in doing the work on the farm, but only one suit for Sunday and "best" and one suit for everyday. They made their own candles from mutton tallow from their own sheep. They used a six-mold rack for holding the tallow until it was solid. Later they had fine kerosene lamps and lanterns. It was one of the girl's responsibility to keep them filled with kerosene each day, keep the wicks trimmed and the globes washed and clean. The farm did not have electricity until Hyrum was married and had at least three children.
There was little reading material in the home, but there was the Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price, the monthly magazines, "The Instructor" and "The Relief Society Magazine." Newspapers were a rarity. Hyrum liked to read what was available and learned rapidly.
The school was one room, one teacher, each child "on his own" more or less to go as fast or as slow as he wanted to or was able to. Hyrum made excellent progress. From one reader to another, from one speller to the next, ciphering and multiplying quickly. Coming from a religious home, which knew and taught that the glory of God is intelligence, he wanted more schooling than the eight grades offered in Porterville. So he went one year to the LDS College in Salt Lake City. He was then eighteen. The next year, or more, he taught school at the Academy in Rexburg , Idaho. The first "boughten" suit he ever had was when he went to Rexburg to teach. Then he taught in Porterville during the winter and worked the farm before and after school and in the summer vacation time.
Hyrum fell in love with a small, shy gray-eyed girl, Adria Rich, who lived in Richville about two miles from the Porter farm. She was not too ready to marry, she thought, but she did love Hyrum, and her father told her she could do no better and she should marry him before he got tired of waiting for her to make up her mind. So Hyrum, Adria, and her mother, in a wagon drawn by two horses, journeyed to Salt Lake City where they could be married for time and eternity in the Salt Lake Temple. That was September 1901. It took all day to make the trip, a good forty miles or more. The next morning they went to the Temple and were married September 4, got in the wagon and started for home. They camped out, both nights, just north of Salt Lake. They reached home the evening of the 5th.
For the first year, they lived with Hyrum's parents, having one small room for themselves. All during the year Hyrum had been building a new home for them, just north of the family red-brick home (which was the first brick house built in the valley). The new little house was L-shaped, of frame construction, and consisted of three rooms and a pantry. Hyrum and Adria were very proud of it. They moved in about August 10 and their first child, a girl, Veda Jane, was born August 20 to the accompaniment of the braying of the donkey in the barnyard nearby.
The following February, when the baby was six months old, the proud parents wanted a picture of their darling baby. The closest photographer was in Ogden, thirty miles northwest through Weber Canyon. It was cold and the snow was deep, but they had a good team, a good bob sled with nice shiny runners, lots of warm covers, and they were young and enthusiastic. Why not go to Ogden and have the baby's picture taken? By leaving early, they would be able to come back the same day. So they planned. Everything worked out as planned, except, they covered the baby too tightly. By the time they got to Mountain Green, just before entering the mouth of the Canyon, they peeked to see how the baby was doing. It was a blessing they did, for the baby was blue, almost smothered. They quickly stopped in the next farmhouse, got pans of hot water and cold and after a half-hour of working and praying, the color began to return to normal, and after another hour, the baby was hungry and smiling and none the worse for the experience. They did go on to Ogden and had the picture taken.
The next January 18th (1904) their first son was born, Hyrum Preston, a tiny little fellow with red hair and gray eyes, his mother's pride and joy. Two months after that, Hyrum answered the call to leave his little family and go on a mission for the Church to the Eastern States Mission where he was for two years. He had many interesting experiences and some very exasperating ones. Hyrum was in New York City most of the time. It was a trying time for it was the time that the Smoot investigation was taking place in Washington and hate for the Church was high. (Reed Smoot had been elected to the US Senate from Utah, and the Senate was investigating Mormonism to see if a Mormon should be seated as a member of the Senate.) There was a Mr. Nutting who was doing all he could to hamper the missionary work in the New York area. The Mission President, John G. McQuarrie, called Hyrum to be his secretary in the Mission Home for about one year of the time he was there. He did make many friends and some converts even so. One convert was a Mrs. Blotter who later came to Utah to live; another was a Mrs. Witmer, a German woman, a widow with three children. She later moved to Salt Lake also. At one time she came to the farm to take care of Hyrum's mother after she had had a stroke and stayed there with her children one school year.
While Hyrum was gone on his Mission, he rented the farm to his cousin, C. G. Porter, who lived about 1/2 mile south and had a farm of his own. The farm rented for $500 a year, which C. G. paid well, and which helped to sustain Hyrum on his mission. Adria took the two children and did "day's work" or "lived in" when a woman of the town had a baby. This way she was able to get some money and have food for herself and children, too. Financially, they made out very well. Adria was a good organizer and a good manager. The mission was 1904-1906.
The next year, after returning from his mission, December 4, 1906, a second son was born, Reed Rich, a big, fine healthy, robust blue-eyed blond son, his father's pride and joy. Before Reed was one year old, the family moved to Vernal, Utah, where Hyrum taught in the high school there for one year.
What a year that was! The family took the train to Dragon (a name of a town that scared the children, just to speak of it), and the family had to stay overnight in a hotel in Grand Junction, Colorado, in order to transfer to another train that would take them to Vernal. The children, used to being on the farm and having the full run of the farm, felt very penned up in one room, so they proceeded to race in the hallway even though it was a dark hallway. A woman put her head out of one of the doorways down the hall and in a haunting half-whisper rasped, "You'd better watch out. There are black measles in this hotel. You'd better stay in your room." All three children raced back to the room, terrified. What were black measles, would they catch us, would they kill us, what did they look like? It had its effect. The children were content to stay in their own room.
Vernal was a town of small homes surrounded by farms. It was a town with feet and feet of beautiful white snow in the winter but no water. It was necessary to haul water in cans or barrels from a well about eleven miles away for drinking and cooking. Dishwater and clothes-washing water could be dipped out of the canal in the summer, but during snow-time the children would scoop up piles of snow into tubs, buckets, wash-boilers, large boxes, which Adria would put on the stove and melt and heat for even clothes washing, bathing, shampoos.
The year in Vernal was a good experience, for Hyrum taught Art in the high school and Adria taught sewing to several girls after school, at the house, and taught the children songs and taught Veda to say "poems" that the high school people liked to hear on their programs. It also helped them all to appreciate the good home and surroundings on the farm. The Vernal year was 1907-08.
Vernal-year was the year all three children had several rounds of colds, chicken-pox, measles and whooping cough. Veda almost died with the measles, and the children still were coughing from the whooping cough when they went back to Porterville in the spring. They finally recovered when they played all summer on the white hill in the warm, healing sunshine.
The big white hill, just east across the road from the house, was a favorite playground of the children. The sun came up over it in the morning to wake them. They walked on it, built dirt houses, picked flowers and got wood ticks from it in the summer and coasted on its south slope in the winter. It was dirt they could play in to their heart's content and not get "dirty" for the dirt was actually almost white. It had lovely western sage on it; buttercups and sego lilies in the spring; forget-me-nots, Indian paint brush and red sand flowers and many sunflowers in the summer; and coyotes and rabbits in the winter. The children could snuggle down safer and warmer and more secure in their covers as they listened to the mournful cry of the winter coyotes howling.
On March 18, 1909, the third son, fourth child, Ezra Wesley, was born, about 10:30 A. M., a red-faced, chubby little fellow, a delight to all the family. The children wondered why Grandma Rich was there so early in the day, and why they were all being bathed, not Saturday, but the excitement of going up to Grandma Porter's for dinner (noon) was enough to allay their questions. They were just enjoying the mashed potatoes with bacon gravy, slice of bacon and green salted beans when their father came in and told them they had a new baby brother. What fun! The food was forgotten and they all ran down the narrow path through the snow to welcome the little newcomer into the family.
Hyrum worked the farm. Reed's first recollection of Father was when he put Reed on a horse for the first time alone. Reed was not more than three years old at the time, "Just like a little fly on that big horse," Mother said when she saw what was happening from the window. Father had finished work in the fields and unhitched the team in the yard. He put Reed on one horse and said, "Hang on." Reed hung onto the brass balls on top of the hames, and rode the horse from the yard to the water trough and back to the barn. "What a thrill!" Reed said.
Being the youngest son, it was Hyrum's duty to care for his parents, take over the farm, and see that his father's interests were attended to. During this time he was ordained a Seventy and served as one of the seven presidents in his quorum. At this time, Seventies were Elders who had special missionary responsibility but lived at home; each Stake had a Seventies quorum. He was also Sunday School chorister and Ward Choir Director. He loved music, understood it, and had a good voice. He and his half-brothers, Ernest and John, and one of his cousins made a fine quartet. They used to meet almost every week at our house to practice. They sounded very good. When he was released as Choir Director he was given a fine, big rocking chair as a gift of gratitude for all the good work he had done with the choir.
"When I was about six or seven years old," Reed remembered, "Father and I went to Morgan in a wagon. On the way home we stopped at the South Morgan school. I held the team while Father went in. When he came back he had a First Grade Reader for me. Again, what a thrill."
"My first day at school I got into a fight with Bert Bott," Reed said. "I wanted to go into the furnace room to see it and because others were going in. Young Bott shoved me out. It was their private domain. I was not about to be pushed round and so went at them. We fought all recess. Preston tried to stop me, so I swung on him. When we got home Preston told Father. I was expecting a good licking. Instead he said he was proud of me for standing up for my rights. 'But if I ever hear of you picking a fight I'll tan you good.' That was one time I didn't get disciplined when I was expecting it."
One spring day, Hyrum and Adria were driving with a one-horse buggy to Morgan, five miles north of the town of Porterville. Some cows were standing in the road and were very slow to move away so the horse and buggy could pass. He had a nice new buggy whip, the tassel still on it. He reached out and gave the offending cow a quick flick with the end of the whip around the cow's nose. In that instant a small copper wire broke off the end of the whip, flipped back and hit him in the eye, making a slash across the pupil of the eye. They went right back to Morgan to the doctor, and for several weeks he suffered untold agony and pain with that eye. How unwise that doctor was to put iodine into the eye. Of course, it burned it and scar tissue formed. He lost the sight of that eye. It was difficult to judge distance after that, without the sight to see depth.
His mother took a stroke one morning as she was clearing away the breakfast things. She dropped a dish, then a few minutes later dropped something else. An hour later she knew something drastic was happening to her. His father came down for Hyrum to come. They sent for Aunt Electa who lived near, also Aunt Lizzie, and they got Grandma into bed. Gradually, she got some better, but for five years she was an invalid, having in all five strokes. Grandpa went across the street to live with Aunt Lizzie then, but he was never as happy when he knew Grandma was not well. He, himself, took sick about 2 months after her first stroke and died in March 1914. What a muddy, muddy time that was-ruts six to eight inches deep-almost impossible to get anywhere without a wagon; it almost would break a buggy wheel just to slip in or try to push out of one of those deep ruts. Mud!
How different when Grandma died in April 1917. The plum blossoms were at their fragrant best, and choke cherries were bursting with their brown and gold flecked cream-colored spikes of bloom.
Another bad accident that happened was when he tried to lift the hay rack off the running gears (wheels and chassis) by himself. He was doing very well and had one end off. Then, somehow his foot slipped and he fell, the rack, too, almost onto him. He injured his heart and got a hernia out of it. He was never as strong again.
The Family moves to Ogden
Preston is kneeling in front of two unidentified men.
Then, left to right, are Hyrum, Reed, Veda, Wes (in the car) and Adria.
Hyrum served as a counselor in the bishopric of the Porterville Ward from 1914 to 1916; he was released at the time the family moved to Ogden where better medical help could be found for his heart condition. "We got our first auto about 1916," Wesley remembered. "It seemed like every time we went anywhere our Model T Ford got a flat tire. It was quite wonderful to have a car, though." It had rising glass panels in the removable curtains instead of the windows that open and shut with ease now. When it started to rain we all scrambled out to put on the curtains, probably getting just as wet doing it as if we didn't bother with them. Cold would come in as they flapped back and forth, and we could travel a breath-taking 12-15 miles an hour with it. We could use it only in the summer, for the muddy, rutty roads were not built for cars in fall and spring, and we had to use sleighs in the snow in winter.
In Ogden, they rented the house on the corner of 33rd Street and Grand Avenue, 304 33rd Street, just across the street from the almost-finished First Ward Chapel. Hyrum did begin to improve in health and got a job with the slaughter yards, promoted to become traffic manager. He liked that job very much except that, having been a farmer for so many years, he still wanted "to be his own boss."
When the family first moved to Ogden, it was the first time most of the members had ever used an indoor toilet. On the farm only outhouses (backhouses) were used. It was a bit difficult to get used to an indoor toilet, but it was wonderful having to be able to take a bath in a nice white tub with room enough to sit down. On the farm, bathing was done only on Saturday nights, unless there were some very, very special reason to do otherwise, and in a wash tub.
While in Ogden, the family made many fine friends. Adria kept her friends, Mrs. Flinders and Mrs. Jessop, until each of them died.
Poor Wesley had a terrible case of scarlet fever, which was the forerunner of his mastoids when he was in high school. When Wesley had scarlet fever all the other members of the family moved to a two-room apartment 1-1/2 blocks west. Adria stayed and took care of him, of course. She baked bread and while still hot, just out of the oven, she would put it out on the back stoop and one of the family would come and collect it and take it down to the place for the rest of the family to enjoy. She cooked large pots of baked beans and did the same way. For six weeks the family lived apart like that.
One day Reed made an arrow of an old rib of an umbrella. Just trying it out, he aimed at the neighbor's big red rooster. The "arrow" went right through the rooster's heart; Reed was scared, but he brought it to his father to show what he had done. They paid for the rooster, and they ate chicken for several days. Veda did the cooking. When the six weeks of quarantine were up, the whole house at 304 33rd was heavily fumigated and thoroughly washed before the others could go home.
While in Ogden, Veda took some piano lessons and finished the 8th, 9th, 10th grades. The boys did well, too. Wesley started school in Ogden. He learned to read by thought, not word. The toad in the road became the frog in the street.
After the two years in Ogden, with good medical care and lighter work, Hyrum felt that he could farm again and was anxious to "be his own boss" again, so they moved back to Porterville. Subsequently all four children graduated from the Morgan High School, and the old three-room house was remodeled into a lovely, modern home with three bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen, living room and dining room and a large front porch. It had perfect work in it, the carpentry and painting were done by Clarence Porter. He was a slow worker, some thought, but what he did was perfect quality work.
The children were always encouraged to improve themselves and to learn new things. The family usually had fun together. Music was no exception. The four practiced and formed their own orchestra, Veda at the piano, Wesley with the violin, Reed on the trombone and Preston with the banjo. They played at a few dances, but they never felt quite successful, and they all enjoyed dancing too much to give it up. So they played for their own enjoyment mostly.
The Family in 1922
left to right; Wes, Preston, Hyrum, Adria, Veda, Reed.
Back on the farm, Hyrum was again called as a counselor in the bishopric in February 1919, and in July 1920 was made Bishop of his Ward, where he served faithfully for seven years. He was also a member of the Morgan County Board of Education for a number of years. He enjoyed reading, and the Doctrine and Covenants was his favorite book. He often quoted from it, and in most instances liked to live by it.
Wesley remembered that Father always saw to it that we had recreation. During the work days he liked to have us work hard, but when Wednesday afternoon came, even if there was hay to be put in the barn, everyone would knock off work, get cleaned up and get into the surrey and go to Como, or to the ball game or to something different for relaxation. Wesley said, "I always thought it was very wise of him that so many enjoyable things were worked in, too."
The thoughtfulness to plan recreation and outings began early. When we were very young, we used to go, with some of the half-brothers' and sisters' families, up Norwood Canyon or Hardscrabble, for an over-night outing, eat wild rabbit cooked over the campfire and sleep under the stars. "Father was a whiz at skinning the rabbit," Veda remembered. "He would slit around the legs near the feet, toss the rabbit around his head and give it quick tug and the skin would be off and the rabbit clean, ready for cutting up and frying." It was so good.
Other outings, when the children were older, were to Bryce Canyon, Logan Canyon, Bear Lake, Lemmon's Grove-a different place each year. We would all talk about places and plan them for weeks in advance. Wesley remembered an especially fine fathers and sons outing, an overnight, somewhere above Coalville. He remembered it especially for the good fellowship he felt and the closeness he felt with Father, more than usual.
Hyrum always liked baseball and wrestling. Those were important items in the newspapers that came to hand. He liked to be pitcher in baseball and was a good one. He often played when Porterville played against Richville, or Milton. His ideal baseball player was Christy Matheson, Wesley said. Jack Dempsey and Firpo were his favorites in the boxing ring. He didn't do much boxing himself, but he knew enough of it to teach his sons the art of self defense. "Defend yourself if it is necessary, but never be the aggressor," he would tell his sons. He bought two sets of boxing gloves and showed the boys how it should be done, then let them practice all they wanted to. There was no radio or TV to keep abreast of the times in sports; he watched the newspapers.
On the farm, Hyrum was very good at teaching his boys. He gave them responsibility and trusted them and they knew it. Again, Reed, "The circus came to Morgan. Father promised to take us to the circus if we three boys had finished weeding the potato patch west of the house. We fooled round all week and had much left to do by Friday night. 'No circus tomorrow with the weeding not done.' We got up at daybreak and worked like beavers, finishing about 9:30, too late to make the morning show. He took us in the afternoon, but we had been taught a good lesson; he meant what he said."
"While I got a few lickings during my youth (all but one that was richly deserved) there was one that stands out because it taught me a lesson which helped me all my life," Reed continued. "The thrashers were at our place. I was thirteen and had the unpleasant job of pitching the straw back from the blower to the stacker-chaff and dust in my eyes, nose, ears, everywhere. At the big table that evening, I was sitting on the opposite side of the table from Mother. I wanted a second glass of milk and asked Mother for it. She said, 'Bring your glass around and I'll fill it.' I felt I had done as much work as the other men and they were not asked to bring their glasses around for a refill, but passed the glass around. So I refused! Father pushed back his chair and said, 'Come outside, young man.' We did. He said he was going to give me a licking for two reasons. One, because I disobeyed Mother; and second, because I acted stupidly. I argued the latter. He asked if a principle was involved. I had to say, 'No,' except I felt I had done a man's work and should be treated as one. He answered that 'Pride is not principle.' I got the licking after cutting the switch from the thorn bushes in back of the house. Many times since then, in business or otherwise, when tempted to fight on some matter, I stopped to ask myself, 'Is a principle at stake here or is it just pride or stubbornness?' It saved me a lot of unpleasantness and foolish arguments."
Wesley remembered threshing time as an interesting and important time, too. He was always interested to see what kind of job he would be assigned, and knew that the kind and size of the job assigned would be an indication of his father's opinion of his maturity. Wesley was very proud when he was assigned to help carry the bags of wheat. That had been his goal of maturity for threshing.
Haying time was an interesting time, too, with much activity, much planning and everyone with a job to do, everyone else depending on each other person doing his part, and all going smoothly. The fragrance of new hay is a very special part of the pleasant memories, too.
As part of teaching responsibility and reliability, Father gave each of the boys an eighth acre of land to use for the season, as each boy got to be about twelve years old. The boy could decide what crop to plant, plant it, take care of it, and keep the proceeds from their work. Wesley planted sugar beets. It was a bumper crop and good prices and he got $100 from that eighth acre. He was thirteen at the time and that is a lot of money for one that young. Father would have liked to advise him what to do with the money, but he didn't. Wesley just frittered it away, little by little, buying candy for himself and his friends, or some other just-as-useless purchase. By spring the hundred dollars was all gone, and there was nothing to show for it. But Wesley had learned his lesson well, and he never spent wildly again.
Reed evidently planted sugar beets that same year, but his proceeds went in the bank. From that time on he always had his own funds to use as he needed. "From that time on I have never been broke," Reed said. He learned his lesson, too.
Father also had a habit of giving an animal, a pig or a lamb or calf, to each of the boys. It was theirs to care for and raise and do as they wished with it. Reed remembered that he had a young pig. He said, "I bred the sow and her first litter was twelve little pigs. I sold them when they were ready for market. The proceeds went into the bank."
The program of giving the boys an animal and a piece of land had three objectives, Reed said: (1) to develop independence and judgment, (2) to teach us the value of money and to handle our own finances, (3) to pay for work done on the farm. "This was an excellent program which might well be copied by more parents," Reed wisely said.
"Father was completely fair," Wesley said. "The only undeserved punishment I ever got was when I was about thirteen. Father thought he had told me to do something. When he came back I was doing something else. 'I didn't hear you say it,' I told him. He gave me a whipping anyway. I wouldn't let out a sound. Father realized it had been unjust and never punished me again."
"After all, he not only was a pretty wise father but a strong leader in the community," Reed wrote. We all agree.
The Family moves to Provo
front row: Hyrum, Wes, Adria; back row: Reed, Veda, Preston (all left to right)
In the fall of 1926 they sold the farm and moved to Provo where they were in the Provo 3rd Ward. That was when Wesley was to start college. Every one of the children had gone from home and Mother felt she could not stand it, to be away from them all. Both Reed and Preston were at Brigham Young University, and Wesley was going there too, so the folks moved to Provo and the boys lived at home while completing their college work. Veda also joined them to finish her college education. Father clerked at Taylor Brothers store, then sold vacuum cleaners and repaired them for Taylor Brothers. But again, he was not happy unless he was "his own boss" as he so often said.
So he started his potato chip business, at first in the garage. He experimented, sent for booklets, tried out various methods and materials and even different strains of potatoes until he found the best potato, the best oil, the best temperature, the best methods of making superlative potato chips. Then he went into production, from scratch. Everyone liked his chips. The chips were very thin and tender, just the right color of toastedness after the frying, and were always so fresh. Even being shipped all the way from Provo to New York (after Veda was married and living in New York), they were better and tasted fresher than any we could buy on the local market.
The folks built a new home at 72 W - 9 N in Provo 4th Ward and moved there in 1929. The Porter Potato Chip Company's business grew and finally Hyrum had to build a shop (at about 100 W - 10 N) and hired help to make enough chips to serve his customers.
The children all married well. Preston married first-Jane Elizabeth Jolley, a Provo girl who went by the name JaneE, 30th of April 1930. The year following, June 16, 1931, Reed married Sylvia Feldman in New York, a New York girl. Two weeks later, July 1st 1931, Veda married George Harding Mortimer of Provo in the Salt Lake Temple. Wesley soon married, too, 23rd of June 1934 to Mary Ashby, a girl from American Fork, Utah.
Father got to see all of his grandchildren except my youngest, Celia, who was born the year after his death.
The 40th Wedding Anniversary
sitting, Hyrum and Adria; standing Preston, Veda, Wes.
By 1941, Hyrum's health had deteriorated to the point that Adria felt he would not last another 10 years; that they would be unable to celebrate their golden wedding anniversary; so she urged everyone to attend their 40th wedding anniversary celebration in July 1941 in Provo. All of their living posterity except Reed were able to be there. That winter the United States became involved in World War 2.
Reed wrote: "The last time I saw Father was May 1942. I had just been commissioned in the Navy and Father had been bed-ridden for months. I took my two weeks vacation and went home, for I didn't know if we would ever see each other again. I asked the doctor how long Father had. He said, 'Two weeks, or two months, or tomorrow.' He had told Mother that Father was getting better. I spent those two weeks in trying to get the business in shape. (The potato chip business was in terrible shape, both in production and customer relationships, Father had been sick so long.) I had good visits with Father and Mother, too. Knowing I would never see him again, every moment was treasured. I felt sure Father knew it also because of the advice he gave me, and the discussion of his affairs and his desires. I always have been happy that I went out before he died and not to attend a funeral."
Sometimes we are prompted what to do without our realizing it. It could happen to us much more, perhaps, if we would listen. Reed felt that he was prompted to go to Father that two weeks in May of 1942. Mother was prompted to have a big family celebration for their Fortieth Anniversary. She was so insistent on it that the family went along with her on it. We were all glad she did, for Father took sick just about a month after that and was never well again. The celebration was in the summer of 1941.
At the end, Father passed away quietly and quickly. He woke about 5 A .M. and asked for a drink. Mother got it for him and he went right back to sleep. Within a few minutes she heard him breathe a peculiar way, and he was gone. That was July 28, 1942. The medical diagnosis was dropsy resulting from a weakened heart. His body filled with fluid until he couldn't breathe; at this period of time, doctors did not know how to combat this situation. He was buried in the Provo City Cemetery, July 31st. He was only sixty-four, but he had lived a full life.
We can all pay tribute to a father of very high principles. He taught his children well and loved them. We all knew it even though he was not very demonstrative by today's standards. Compared with how he was raised, he was quite demonstrative. He loved the Gospel and was always willing to work in it, for it, and teach it, and prayed us always to love it, too. He knew its worth.
The names of all the grandchildren should be included:
Children of Veda and George Mortimer:
George Allan, who married Grace Swann
Jean Louise, who married Walter Lewis Williamson
William John, who married Margaret Henry
Celia Ann, who married Devon Etsel Hokanson
Children of Preston and JaneE Jolley Porter:
"J" Stanton, who married Mary Ellen Chadwick
Richard Gordon, who married Susan Curtis
Children of Wesley and Mary Ashby Porter:
Lee Ashby who married Susan Yank
Reed had no children.
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