ELIZABETH DAVIS ARBON
Born May 8, 1879 and died January 29, 1957 and was buried in Pocatello Cemetery, Idaho.
This is the story of my mother, Elizabeth Davis Arbon. The facts and interesting stories have come from relatives and friends who knew her and what I could remember myself.
Mother was born May 8, 1879 at Samaria, Idaho. Her father was David Price Davis and her mother was Elizabeth Griffeth. She was the sixth of seven children, four boys and three girls; Lucy Ann, Margaret, Edward, Owen, William and David.
Mother was only seven years old when her mother died, leaving her and her sister Lucy Ann to keep house for her father and brothers. Lucy was married in 1888 so, at the age of nine, mother was left as housekeeper and cook for her family.
Her schooling was only through the fourth grade, yet she could read and write very well. In fact, she liked to read whenever she could find the time.
When she was about 16 years old, she met my Father, Joseph Nicholas Arbon. He and his father George were living out in Arbon Valley. They were the first two people to remain in the valley all winter. It was a lonely time for them, Father being a young man of about 19 years old. He made up his mind he was not going to live that way any longer. He was going to find him a cook. (Grandmother Arbon had passed away some years before.) Father got on his horse and went over the east mountain to Samaria and started courting the “Jenkins Girl”. After one year, he asked her to marry him but she couldn’t decide so he decided for her. He left her and started dating mother. It wasn’t long before they became very fond of each other. I think he also fell in love with the ‘good bread’ that she made. Grandfather discovered the seriousness of this love affair, he realized he might lose his cook, so he ‘chased’ father from the place and told him not to come back. Dad went over to Wilford Wight who had married Lucy Ann, and Wilford told dad not to pay any attention to Grandfather, that he had done the same with him. This encouraged dad, so he went back and asked mother to marry him. This time he really got chased with the broom. Grandfather then made a deal with father. If he would give him one year to go to Salt Lake to find him another cook, he could have “Lizzie”. This father agreed to do.
In November of the following year, father and mother left Samaria in a wagon for Colingston, Utah. From there they took the train to Salt Lake and were married in the Salt Lake Temple on November 23, 1898.
On their way home, they bought a small chest of drawers and a bolt of cloth suitable for making house dresses and aprons. The roads were in terrible condition with deep chuck holes. Mother sat in the bottom of the wagon with her back against the chest to hole it from being scratched all the way home. Father’s comment was “What a horrible trip that was for her, but it was the best we had.”
They went to Arbon that winter and lived in a small one room log cabin. It was a lonely, cold and long winter for this young girl, but she never complained about any hardship she had to endure. Uncle Ed and Aunt Ettie lived nearby. They had a small son, Eddie. He told me he was down to Uncle Joe’s and Aunt Lizzie’s as much as he was at his own home. All my life I can recall people saying, “let’s go to Aunt Lizzie’s.” Mother kept an open house all the time. Seldom would any call without being served warm bread and honey or sugar. Many a loaf of bread she gave away to the Indians as they came to her door. They were given sweet cream frequently too.
On November 1, 1902, I was born. Mother went over to her sister’s home in Pleasantview, Idaho. When I was about two weeks old, we went back to Arbon. This apparently was the worst year of her life. I had colic and eczema so I cried the first year of my life.
Living in the valley was very hard. In the summer, it was necessary to grow most of the food used through the winter months, which meant that hundreds of bottles of fruit and vegetables were canned each summer. There was always the cows to milk, butter to make, and bread to bake. Many a pound of butter she made and sold for 20 cents a pound. “Aunt Lizzie always made such good butter,” people would say.
In the fall they would take a wagon and go to Brigham City, Utah for a load of peaches, apples, plums and tomatoes. The trip would take from three to four days. When they did get it home, it would take a week to can it all. This was the only fruit they would have all winter, so mother was willing to can it. It also meant she would have something to feed the many men she had to cook for in the summer. There were always men to cook for during the haying time, then came the combine crew and last were the “thrasher” men. All this meant she had to cook for six to a dozen hungry men most of the summer.
When I was about 9 years old, father built a house in Malad, Idaho. I was sent over there to live with my Grandfather Arbon. I lived with and kept house for him for the next ten years until his death, March 22, 1921.
Mother would come to Malad on weekends to help me out, then for a few months during mid-winter, she lived with us, but most of her life was spent on the farm.
After Grandfather died, father sold the house in Malad, then bought a house on Carter Street in Pocatello. About this time my brother Joe was married to Edna Bailey and they lived on the farm and mother moved to her house on Carter Street.
On November we, 1948, mother and father celebrated their Golden Wedding Anniversary. That night they moved into their lovely new brick home on 1004 East Center Street, Pocatello. She lived in her “Anniversary House” until her death on January 29, 1957.
Mother was a wonderful sweetheart, mother, neighbor and friend. Her doors were never locked and many have sat at her table. She advised many and talked about few. She was a religious woman and a prayerful one. She demanded and got respect from her children; her home was a home of love, cleanliness and order, where foul language was not used.
Mother had many talents. She could sew quite well, her home was always decorated with her embroidery and her bed covered with beautiful hand quilted quilts. She did not belong to clubs nor seek public offices. However, she was President of the Arbon Relief Society for many years and a teacher for many more. She was always on the cooking committee for any church supper. She was a good worker and dependable.
Mother was an honest woman and taught her children honesty early in life. When I was about five years old, my cousin Oval and I went down to our Aunty Emmy’s store. It was a country store so the candy was kept in open buckets. Oval and I took two striped paper bags and filled them full and started home. Aunty Emmy had seen us but said nothing. Somehow she got word to mother what had happened, so mom took over. She found both of us under the bed, scared to death, clutching our bags of candy. She showed no partiality in the strapping we got. Then she sent us back to the store with the remaining candy.
Mother also had a good sense of humor and forgiveness. One day she and I came home from shopping. I drove into the driveway and she got out with her arms filled with packages. I reached up to close the overhead garage door. It came down with a bang and bounced back again. I turned around and my mother was lying on the driveway with packages scattered in six different directions. She then said, “For hell sake, Delta, what you trying to do, kill me?” Then she started laughing. The door had hit her on the head, knocking her flat. After I found that she was not badly hurt, we both had a good laugh. For a long time after that, she would always say, “Let me go inside the house before you close the garage door.”
I cannot remember ever having a quarrel; talking back to her was never permitted. She left her three children a wonderful heritage and a pattern to live by-one could hardly ask for more.
Written by: Delta Arbon Harmon, January 29, 1960