13 April 1889- 19 December 1950
compiled by Betty J. Richards from a history written by Faye Madsen Ward and Clifford Madsen September 1983.)
Spring again. A time of renewal, rebirth, and coming alive. Easter had past and Mary Jane Williams Dalton thought about death and resurrection. Yesterday her mother had died, and now she was in labor, preparing to bring a new life into the world. Grief and sorrow would give way to pleasure and happiness. The next day she gave birth to her second daughter, and named her Mary Ann in memory of her mother. 13 April 1889, Willard, Box Elder, Utah, she wrote in her family bible. The funeral was held for her mother, and the body was taken to Liverty Cemetery, near Montpelier, Idaho and buried in the family plot beside her husband. How sad Mary Jane was to be laying there in bed while her mother was being buried. Her daughter Rose was such a help, at fourteen, she really was a rose. Happy, pleasant and a good worker and so proud of her new sister. On 6 June 1889, all the family were dressed in their very best Sunday dresses and went to church to witness the blessing of their new sister by their grandpa, Matthew William Dalton. On 13 March 1892, when she was three years old, Mary Ann awoke one morning to the cry of a tiny baby brother and Henry Eutgene became part of their family. Now there were six boys and two girls.
When she was six years old, Mary went to school with her brothers George, Matt and Roy. Some of their teachers were Miss Jacobsen, Josie White, Will White and Coblin Woods. School was a change and a rest, for life on their farm was hard work. Almost everything they ate was raised and stored on the farm and while she was still very young, Mary Ann remembered picking fruit for two cents a quart.
Another happy event was when she was baptized on 27 May 1897 by George Smith and on 6 June she was confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints by Abraham Zundel. How proud she was. Now she was a Mormon.
The next year, on 3 June 1898, her Grandma Dalton died, and the next year, on 7 June 1899 her Grandpa Dalton married Sarah Ann Hyman. Next year her mother presented them with another baby sister whom they named Merintha Irene, born on 22 July 1898. What a busy growing -up time she was having.
When she was 12 years old, a major change came into their lives. They left the safety and security of their farm in the shadows of the Wasatch Mountains in Willard, Utah and with everything packed in a wagon, the entire family moved to Idaho. Sister Rose had married James Alma Facer and already lived there, so at least they would know someone. On 19 November 1901 the Daltons began their trek northwared. The trip took three days, and when they reached their newly purchased 480 acre ranch south of Malad, Idaho, the Willow Springs Ranch, they found the Mifflin family still living there with no place else to go. So the ten Daltons and the Mifflins survived the winter in a house that immediately seemed too small.
Spring came and brought with it, the work. Much of the land had to be cleared of sagebrush, rocks hauled, plowing done, before crops could be planted. The ranch was a stopping place for travelers because of the fresh water spring, so there were always new people and news of friends and relatives to lift their spirits.
The next year the railroad came in from Corinne, Utah. The entire grid was built without any machines, except for a steam boiler used as a pile driver to hold the tracks where the ground was marshy. All the work was done by men and horses. What an excitement it was to watch the work progress and see the big steam trains go past.
School wasn’t much of a problem because the school house was built on the ranch. Some of the teachers were Millie Davis, Audery and Rose Dalton. Some school mates were Jim and George Tovey, Tom and Bill Richards, Tisha and Semore Davis, brothers Gene and Roy. By 1905 the schools were consolidated with Malad and the Daltons, being on the end of the school district, drove the school bus, which consisted of a sleigh or wagon, whichever the weather demanded and two to four head of horses pulling it.
Sadness came to the Dalton Family this year too. Brother Matt had married Elize Richards and they had a baby Elizabeth. Matt fell from the haystack, broke his neck, and died. (Five years later brother Roy married her.)
Not everything was work and hurt, they had happy times too. Their father was a good gardener, and they had all kinds of fruit and vegetables, plenty of meat to eat; they went to church at the community south of them called Cherry Creek; visited Rose and her growing family across the valley from them; went to dances at Malad and just had a good time being together as a family.
Four of her brothers and Rose were married and Mary longed to stretch her wings too, but in spite of lots of boys calling at the ranch, she just didn’t meet anyone she wanted to settle down with. So, Mary went to work in Malad at the Peck Hotel. How exciting and frightening it was, but her ability to work came in handy and she enjoyed it. One day a young man, (well actually he was nine years older than her) moved into the hotel, and asked her to the dance. After a decent courtship, the couple decided they were meant for each other, and on 27 October 1909 they went to Salt Lake City, Utah and were married for time and eternity in the Salt Lake Temple by John R. Winder.
Married Life
Frank and Mary began their married life together back at his father’s farm in Salem, and spent the winter there. That wasn”t working out too well, and the next spring, they bought a team and buggy and headed for Malad. Father Madsen thought them very foolish to move and felt there were just as many opportunities in Utah as in Idaho, but their minds were made up and they headed north.
They had heard of a farm just about half a mile across the road from where sister Rose and Alma Facer were farming, and on 30 April 1910, in consideration of $4,000.00 for 160 acres of land, Mary and Frank bought a ranch with four and two fifths shares of stock in the Samaria Lake Irrigation Company, from Hyrum and Jane D. Thorne. There was even a house consisting of two rooms built of adobe bricks and wood. There was no bathroom (and never was) just a neat little house out back. There was a well with a hand pump for water, and the canal ran through the yard, furnishing water for lots of things. Mary and Frank were in heaven! A home of their own after living with others all winter was bliss, and they always remembered this and appreciated their home. Now the hard work began.
Families at this time depended on each other and a good neighbor was worth his weight in gold. John and Eliza Robins, at an adjoining farm, were those kinds of neighbors. Rose and Alma were always ready to help too. The area they lived in was called the Point. All the farmers were just starting out and they used each other’s horses and any equipment they had. More important was the work they exchanged. John and Frank were always working together, and Mary and Eliza would help with the chores and prepare meals at one home or another.
It was a happy but hard first summer they spent on the ranch. They planted a garden, bought a milk cow, some chickens and a pig. Their greatest joy was in the knowledge that they would soon be parents. Mary Ann’s mother was a midwife, and on 17 September 1910, Mary gave birth to their first son and named him Clifford Dalton Madsen.
They were members of the Cherry Creek Ward and Frank’s very first job in the ward was as a Home Teacher with Joe Lowe as his companion. He was set apart for this position on 2 October 1910. Prayer was always to be an important element in their lives, and every day was started with prayer.
Winter was quiet, a time to make quilts, prepare Christmas gifts, sew, sit by the fire and rock the baby. Spring was an entirely different matter. Not much of the ranch was under cultivation and there was sage brush to uproot, stack, and burn; haul the rock and pile them; plow the land and plant it. Horses were the only means available to work the farmland and they never did own a tractor. The principal crops were grain and alfalfa which was used for cattle feed, or left to seed which sold for a pretty good price. Each year a cow or two, more pigs, chickens, ducks, and geese ( who loved life on the canal and the marshy ponds nearby). The water fowl were double profit. The meat was eaten and feathers and down were used to make pillows and ticks for mattresses. The garden grew and lots of canning was done for the winter. Ever;yone made their own soap and dried it in the sun for winter use. In the fall, the neighbors used a company thresher to thresh the grain and lucerne seed. Wheat was sent to the mill at Malad, and exchanged for flour.
On 8 February 1912, Ruby joined the family, followed by the death of Mary’s father the next year on 3 September 1913. Nineteen days later Mary delivered her second son on 22 September 1913 and named him Albert. Leland was born on 1 August 1915 followed by Reed on 5 September 1917. By now fear came into their lives. War—how far away it seemed to them on the farm, yet when a boy from the valley had to go, they knew it was a very real thing. Mary’s brother Gene joined the Marines, but didn’t have to go overseas, for which they were all thankful. Far worse to them then the war was the Flu epidemic. All public meetings were banned and even funerals were limited to graveside services. Brother Roy had died and his wife Eliza. Mother Mary Ann had the Flu and they couldn’t even go help her, because of fear they would take it home to the children. She was raising Matt and Roy’s children Elizabeth, Lona, Lola, and Albert. Worst of all, the depression was on and there was very little to buy. Albert had pneumonia and finally, Gene was released from the Marines to come home and help. The only work he could find was unloading coal for twenty five cents a ton.
Mary and Frank were better off than the people who lived in cities, at least they had food and their health. How thankful they were to their Heavenly Father for all their blessings. And how thankful they were when the war ended and the Flu ban was lifted so they could go to church again.
To cheer their lives came Ray on 28 October 1919, and to Mary and Ruby’s joy, a daughter Faye came to them on 21 October 1921. Franklin Dee was born 21st August 1923, and they had Boyde on 4 April 1930. The last two boys were the only ones to be born in Malad. Mary had the rest of the children right on the ranch. And the little house was full of healthy, happy children. As the family grew, so did the house, and three rooms were added and the garden was now huge. The depression hung on and so did the work. Mary asked Frank to attach a sturdy wooden box to the farm machinery, and while she drove the horses pulling the mower or rake or wagon or whatever, the current baby went right along with her in his little box, as she helped Frank with the farming.
Mary Ann sat in the shade of a tree to rest after planting the garden. It was 9 April 1925 and the mailman brought the weekly newspaper, the Oneida County Enterprise. Mary read the news and the weekly ads. There was an article on the death of Gene’s wife Dolly. She had left a six year old Billy and an eight month old Betty Jean. How sad it was when death came to those you love. Looking at the ads, she thought of all the things she would love to have: a new car–the Chrysler ‘58’ advertised it would travel 58 miles an hour, 25 miles to the gallon, and only $845.00. Only––that was a fortune and some of the cars were selling for $3,695. That was almost as much as they paid for their farm! Who ever heard of such a thing! Well, here was more in her price range. Children’s stockings, .25, J.C. Penney had house dresses for .79; men’s hats for $1.98; Jos. Parry Groceries was selling one pound cans of Salmon for .25; large cans of tomatoes for .12; walnuts for .20 a pound; People’s Meat Market had lettuce 3 bunches for .25; Malad Lumber and Hardware had some good sales. Copper bottom boilers for $1.75; Well hers was still good, 9×12 seamless, fringed edge, velvet rugs were $12.00, $14.00, and $15.00; the $15.00 beds were on sale for $12.00. Those she could use. Well, back to work, she was glad she didn’t have to buy many groceries at those prices. First a look at the farm prices– Wheat $1.11 to $1.18 per bushel; Cots $1.00; Barley $.80 Eggs .18 per dozen and Butter .40 a pound.
Times were still hard, and the older boys left the farm to find work and wives and started homes of their own. However, none ever forgot the good times on the ranch. They remembered the horses they rode in summer, the swim in the Canal, the picnics and the fishing. Winter, when there was too much snow to get to Malad, there were sleigh rides, skating the canal and the ponds, and the warm fire of home with lots of books to read and games to play. Frank would get out his little button accordion and someone plunk on the piano as they all sang and laughed and had a great time. The old graphophone that played such marvelous music on records was a favorite, and when they acquired a battery radio, there was a wondrous link with the outside world. There were seven large families living at the Point, and oh, the parties they would have! The men would go out on a rabbit hunt, catch rabbits, sell them and use the money to buy special food for a party called a “Rabbit Supper”. Summers were never lonely, as friends and relatives came from Malad to visit and stay for a meal.
Through the years, Saturday was always special. Work would stop early in the day, and everyone went to town. The week’s shopping was done and they would all go to a show, or the older ones went to a dance. It made all the weeks work bearable to know such a treat was coming at the end. And work they did. There was the garden produce to be canned, pork to butcher and cure for the winter. The lard was rendered out and packed into jars to be used throughout the year. Bacon was cooked and packed down in the grease and enjoyed all winter.
Chickens were bought and brooded out in the spring. The roosters were eaten for summer meat and the hens locked up and fed for laying eggs. The old hens were culled and sold to make room for the young hens each year. Geese, Ducks, and wild game added to their meat supply. Fruit was bought and canned, some was taken from their own trees and berries that grew wild, such as currants, elderberries, and choke cherries for making syrups and jellies were enjoyed many a cold winter morning. In the fall, Frank would go to Tremonton, Utah and get a load of apples for winter eating.
When the cows were milked and the cream separated, it was churned into butter. They also made cottage cheese and other kinds of cheese. Bread was baked for the large family every other day, eight to ten loaves, and how good it smelled and tasted with their own butter and jam on it.
Ice was packed in sawdust in the winter, and put in a large frame building where it would keep through part of the summer. What a treat to have ice cream made in their own Ice Cream Freezer and a big yummy cake on a Sunday after church.
Thanksgiving and Christmas were really looked upon as very special days. This was the time the children got a few luxuries that weren’t around any other time of year. Most of the excitement came from just preparing for the great day. Getting the Christmas Tree from the foothills, or the heavenly smells that came from the big turkey they had grown specially for Thanksgiving. What wonderful memories they made just by living every day, year after year.
Going to school was a tough situation. They belonged to the Samaria Public School district and it was several miles from home to school. Horses were a must for travel, and in the winter a team and sleigh, but you learned to survive and knew you were dependent on the guy next to you. No one went to high school. There was no bus and the children would have to live in Malad, and that was too costly for Mary and Frank to even think about. But the children learned many more things from farm life that were not taught in school.
The saddest day came to the family on 17 August 1931. The weather was a way of life on the farm, and when a bad storm came, you headed for home. Albert was doing just that when he was struck by lightning and killed instantly. The thought of him being snatched from them when he was only 17 years old was hard to accept. Their knowledge of the Lord’s ways and their faith and prayers carried them on.
Mary was set apart as 1st counselor in the Relief Society on 24 of September 1933 and released on 30 September 1934; sustained as president by Hyrum Hansen and released 5 November 1939. At this time she suffered a bone infection in her leg and had two major operations which left her in a cast for a long time. In fact she was almost an invalid for seven years, but overcame her problems and went on to live an active life. Her faith in the Lord and wonderful doctors were her saviours.
Frank was active in the church too, and was Sunday School Superintendent for six years from 1936 to 1942. He always did his job and was well liked. During this period of time in their lives, their help and support from their children sustained them repeatedly, especially Faye, who was her mothers constant companion and the two became very close. Mary insisted on a clean house and she always was doing some kind of hand sewing. Her work was beautifully done and valued by her children and friends.
There were few modern conveniences to make work on the farm easier. No electricity, only coal oil lamps and wood burning stoves. Later carbide lights and still later gas lamps. Each thing was an improvement over the last one. The family was close with lots of love and each doing the job assigned to them.
Plowing with horses, planting and never ending work from daylight to past dark, day after day, week after week, and the years sped on. One winter night when they were snowed in, they sat around the old cook stove and talked about the ‘olden days’ (only a few years past). They remembered that the road from the ranch to the main road leading to Malad was usually snowed in, and in spring ruts were so deep the wagon would drag high center most of the way and often bogged down in a mud hole. When that dried up there was a rough hard road, and lots of dust. In the winter there was the cold and snow to contend with, and a trip to town was a community affair. The sleigh box was filled with straw and big rocks were heated in the oven of the cook stove, then wrapped in old coats and put in the straw. As many as were going on the trip dressed in their warmest clothes, loaded the wagon with one facing one direction and the next person the other way, each with a hot rock at their feet. Big warm homemade quilts covered them, and they were off. The trip was a happy one, with the women exchanging ideas and problems, the children chatting and everyone singing and happy. The road crossed the railroad track five times but once on the highway the going was much better.
What a joy it was to reach Grandpa and Grandma Dalton’s home in Willow Springs. Grandma was a great cook and always had a hot meal and big cookies in no time. In the summer, Frank would hitch Old Rosie to the buggy, and Mary and some or all of the children would head for Willow Springs, spend the rest of the day and that night visiting, then next day they went to Malad to shop. What milk they couldn’t use on the farm was separated and the cream was churned into butter and the surplus was taken to town and sold or traded for groceries. That evening back at the Springs, they unloaded what Grandma had ordered, spent the night and the next day they were back home. These extended trips only happened once in a while and they were special.
Frank got up and threw another piece of wood in the stove, and commented he was happy they had a good pile out back to last them through the winter. Then they rehearsed to each other (with many a good story starting remember the time) of how they hauled wood every fall. It was really a problem and had to be hauled from the canyons on the west or south side of the valley. Going to the canyon was an annual event. Long before sunup, the team was hitched to the wagon box, a hearty lunch was packed, saws and axes had been sharpened and loaded, and usually one sturdy horse led behind the wagon. The little caravan took whatever children were old enough to help and started out, picking up other families with their wagons along the way. Once in the canyon, the men began sawing down trees, the extra horse was hooked to the downed tree and it was pulled to the wagon and loaded on. Mostly pine and quaking aspen were hauled, but some mahogany was valued as this held a good fire. By dark they were back home–with a prayer of thanks and a sigh of relief from the women – – and part of their winter firewood was stored. They had no coal – or very little, because it was too expensive and the wood was free. Sometimes a man with a big Buzz Saw came around to the farms and sawed the wood into lengths to fit the stove, and then the farmer only had to split it. Otherwise he sawed it by hand.
So they spent many a winter evening , safe and warm, laughing and sometimes crying over times past.
To supplement their income, Frank went into the chicken business and usually had three coops of laying hens. Eggs were a good price at that time and the chickens were sold too.
Church on Sunday was a must and Tuesday nights was Mutual. Summer by wagon and winter by sled or horseback. Any entertainment held in the Ward, be it suppers, dances, parties, wedding receptions, what have you, was a treat not to be missed.
What a big step they took when they moved from the ranch to a nice little home in Malad. They had been married 35 years, the children were married with homes of their own. Reed and Elsie would buy the farm and they could retire.
Mary Ann’s pleasure lay in her home and her arts and crafts work. Frank’s joy was out of door things. His gardens were a joy to behold. The flowers were sold to the florist shop in town, and the vegetables helped feed many a grateful neighbor. Blue ribbons were plentiful on anything he took to the Oneida County Fair each fall.
Church was just a few blocks away now, and so much easier to attend. Mary Ann was sustained as a counselor in the Second Ward Relief Society in 1944. In 1947, she underwent major surgery a second time and was released from her position in the Relief Society in 1949. She then enjoyed being a visiting teacher in that organization.
One evening while she and Frank were sitting at home reading, Frank spoke to her but she didn’t answer. Mary Ann had suffered a stroke and had swiftly and quietly left this life for another. What a sad day was 19 Dec. 1950 for all the Madasen family. On 22 Dec 1950, they buried her in the Malad cemetery. It was probably the saddest Christmas they would ever have.
Frank lived on in the little empty house, enduring the long winter hours. His heart was heavy after the loss of his beloved wife, and his life was made miserable by asthma. It was so hard for him to breathe properly and finally he was taken to the hospital, where on 21September 1952, his lungs collapsed and he died. He was buried beside his wife in the cemetery on 25 September 1952. Nine children and 25 grandchildren mourned the passing of two people they loved.
And so the children and the grandchildren and the great-grandchildren grew and remembered they had been taught to work by example and love and the link goes on. Oh sure, they made mistakes, but they are free agents, and the world is blessed for having known Frank and Mary Ann Dalton Madsen.
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