by Betty Jean Jones Richards
6 June 1965
Introduction:
GRAY’S LAKE–GRAY’S LAKE. The words kept coming back into my memory like the half forgotten melody of a once heard song.
We had just opened our shoe repair shop in Soda Springs, Idaho, and one of our first customers said he would be in town for the afternoon, that he had driven down from Gray’s Lake. For weeks now I’d kept wondering where I’d heard of Gray’s Lake–now I remembered, Uncle Arch, when he’d told me his story. How I enjoyed the afternoon of story telling. I can picture him now as he sat recalling his life. Sad times, happy times, the good and the bad, with a twinkle or a tear in his eye. I took notes in my own shorthand-way, which never holds up once cold and these got cold, so as I read through them now, they leave much to be desired. However, I will write the story as I remembered it.
In the Beginning:
Jan 3, 1885–one wonders what kind of a day it was. January–it must have been cold with lots of snow, but what a nice New Years gift for Everett and Margaret Ann John Harris, a new little baby boy. Mother Margaret was indeed grateful to hold her newborn son who had been struggling for three long days to be born. As she held him close, she no doubt wondered what life would hold for him. How her heart would have swelled with pride to know what a wonderful man he would become from his humble one room cabin home.
Whenever reading of a one room log house, my thoughts turn to Abraham Lincoln. How great this man became from humble beginnings and how great Archibald Harris became from his one room log home. Each achieved greatness, gentleness, humility, prayerfulness, love of children, kindness, ambition, a deep concern and an interest in one’s fellow man. The ability to put the needs of others before your own, regardless of where our paths lead us, these are the things that make a man, whether his achievement is in his own home, community, or the nation’s capitol.
Arch remembered their cabin in Woodruff, Oneida County, Idaho (a farming community about seven miles south of Malad) as being just east of where the Ellis Harris home now stands. When he was four years old, about 1888, the family moved to Gray’s Lake, Caribou, Idaho. This lake was about 12 miles long and was located about 40 miles north of Soda Springs, Idaho. The lake area today is mostly swamp and good pasture land. Some 40 years after leaving there, Arch once more visited the place they had lived, but could only find a bush on the site where their early home had once stood north of the old wood church.
The trip to Gray’s Lake was made by wagon and pulled by a team of horses borrowed from a Mr. Yeates. They had 50 head of cattle and found good grass to pasture them on. The first winter was a bad one with five feet of snow and very cold. There were only 12 families living in the entire district and five of the families were negroes. Arch remembered playing with a little negro girl I believe he said her name was Lila.
From their house to the main road was a distance of one mile and in one hard, cold winter, mother Margaret was expecting another baby. Every day Everett drove the team and sleigh down the road and back to keep it open, only to wake up each morning and find the night had brought a fresh snow storm. Then on the night of January 31, 1890, Everett rode by horseback to get the local midwife, Mrs. Stevenson, to deliver the expected baby. In an hour he was back, leading her horse drawn wagon with a lantern hung on the wagon tongue to light the way. This was the way Margaret gave birth to another son who they named Cleve.
The family lived in Gray’s Lake for about two years, then in the spring of 1890, they moved back to their home in Woodruff. Everett sold his 50 head of cattle to his father for $11 a head and bought 50 acres of land in Cherry Creek, a farming community north of Woodruff and five miles south of Malad. They still own the homesite in Woodruff as of 1965.
His first schooling was at Woodruff and his first teacher was Jennie Davis from Samaria, Idaho. Other teachers through the years were Miss Mattie Matthews, Tom Nibert, J. Peter Jensen, and Lathan and Charlie Maughan. School was only held three months each year and the highest grade was the fifth grade. After, you started over or just stayed in the fifth grade. One teacher taught Arch a song called “The Passing Policeman.” He sang it all the way through for me. How I wish I had copied the words. Other than this, Arch’s only other schooling was in the school of life.
Childhood:
Of his childhood, Arch remembered playing in Uncle Joe Harris’ currant trees and having the mumps. One of the funny things was his brother Al’s inability to talk plainly. Arch and Ev were the only ones in the entire family who could understand him. It seems Al’s favorite expression went something like this: “A feet a fort, ut a unt a fort as a fink a art” which interpreted meant, “Ya think ya smart, but ya not so smart as ya think ya are.”
Arch’s job as a boy was that of baby tender for his younger brothers. This consisted of putting them to bed every night. When he was only six or eight years old, he could remember the fact that his mother never missed a night of mixing bread, which she set to raise all night and in the morning always baked hot biscuits for breakfast. The family used over 500 pounds of flour each year.
One of his saddest memories was when their brother, Cleve, was 14 years old and had an attack of appendicitis on a Sunday and by Tuesday, 17 August 1904, he had died.
Work:
When he had finished his formal schooling, Arch went to work for Khalil Kingsbury and D.L. Evans on their farms. His first job was for Ralph Harding where he milked cows and washed the milk things. This job lasted for one year. The most bothersome thing about farming for these men were the gnats that came every spring in that area to pester the men and animals.
In 1905 the railroad came to Malad and Arch was able to get a job driving four head of horses on a fresno (scraper). The men lived on the job. The commissary was run by J. Peter Jensen and the men ate in a large tent. Food was hauled in on a wagon, called the butcher wagon and often maggots were found in the meat as the only way of cooling it was to wrap it in wet sacks. He worked this job for about two months.
Another job was when the electric power station was being built for the Malad area. This was in a beautiful canyon north of Malad on the county line between Oneida and Bannock counties. The canyon at the present time is known as Power House Canyon. This job lasted from April 1 through July. The men lived on the job and only went home by horseback every two or three weeks. Their job was to dig a trench 1800 feet straight up the mountain. The depth ran from 1 ½ inches to 18 inches and was dug with a pick and shovel. Each day was 10 hours long and the wage was $1.75 a day. They placed the flume boards, which ran the water into a press box. They then placed and joined the pipes which ran into the power house to run the dynamo. This pipe line ran from a house over the spring 1800 feet above. He remembered working with George Dalton, and his boss was a rough man named McGlaughlin, another was Thompson. The company he worked for was Little & Hodson. As a result of this job, Arch saw the first electric light in Malad.
In about 1908, Arch worked at a sawmill for George Thomas, where the pay was $10.00 for every 1,000 feet of lumber cut.
The Circus:
Life was not all hard work. In 1905 (perhaps after making a little money on the railroad job), a bunch of boys got together for a little trip. There was Arch, his brothers Al, Ev, and Stillman, Oliver Harris, John B. Jones, Cave Jones, Jenkin W. Jones, and Howell Williams. Two of the boys had saddle horses and the rest piled in an old springboard wagon and headed for Logan, Utah, some 60 miles away to see the Ringling Brothers Circus. Each boy took along $2.00. The admission price to the circus was 25 cents. They slept in a livery stable with the wagon.
The fact that it rained a great deal only increased their excitement because the wagons got stuck in the mud and the circus elephants had to push them out. During the circus, which was naturally held under “the big top”, Brother Al, who always had a hard time breathing when confined to a crowded, stuffy place, disappeared. Arch spent most of the time during the main show anxiously looking for Al, who had gone outside for fresh air. Arch didn’t get to see much of the show. Nevertheless it was a high spot in their young lives.
Music:
Music played an important part in Arch’s life, as it did in the lives of all Welsh people. Each year on March 4, the Welsh people celebrated St. David’s Day with a program of music. A contest was held by different quartets, choirs, soloists, etc. This event was held in the Opera House along Deep Creek in Malad.
Arch sang in the Cherry Creek Choir, directed by Dave Maggs. Practice was held twice a week in the Presbyterian Church house in Malad. They rode their horses to Malad for the practices and seldom missed one. There were four choirs that he remembered and two of the other leaders were a Mr. Giles and Dick Davis.
One of his music teachers was Dave (poet or music) Jones. He was from Wales and was very near-sighted, had no musical voice, used a piece of metal held between his teeth to flip in order to set a pitch and yet he taught them to sing in parts. Their first hymn book was about four inches long, cost 10 cents and had no music, only the words. Mr. Jones’ book had the notes, which he taught to them as up and down. He taught his pupils on Fridays in a tiny room where one had to stoop to get in.
Another social event enjoyed by people from all over the valley were the dances held in the Opera House under the direction of D.L. Evans. Favorite dances were the Quadrille and the Varsouvianne. It was one of these dances in the year 1907 that Arch met a tiny brunette beauty from the community of St. John. Her name was Mary May Jones. She was only up to his chin, weighed 113 lbs and could span her waist with his hands, and he fell in love.
The Couple:
Their courtship lasted until June 1908 when they decided to marry. They planned to have a double wedding with Mary’s sister, Maggie, and her chosen, Don Noble. However, at the last minute they changed their minds, so Arch and May went by train all alone to Salt Lake City, Utah, where they were married in the Salt Lake Temple by Alfred Solomon on June 10, 1908. They planned to come home the next day for sister Maggie’s wedding but in all the excitement they missed the train. Brother Henry, who was at the station to meet the train in Malad, left when they did not come. Late that night when they finally reached Malad by a later train, there was no one there to meet them and they had to walk the four miles to St. John to their wedding dance being held in the ward meeting house. The dance was a grand affair to which every man and his dog attended, not to mention the children who sat about on the benches until they fell asleep. No baby sitters in those days.
After the dance they went to the old Jones home for the night only to find their sister Rachel Davis there with three sick children. Don and Maggie spent their wedding night at the Dave and Teanie Thomas home and Arch and May slept on the floor at Brother Davie’s house.
At the time of their marriage, Arch bought a team and buggy from John Brigham Jones, who had eight wives and seven children. They rented a little two room house from Harry Mifflin (near the Dave Zundel home in Malad) for $5.00 a month but only lived there for two weeks. Arch then borrowed $4,000 from May’s father, Henry Jones, and bought a ranch between St. John and Elkhorn. The ranch was known for its rattlesnakes and they found two in the house.
Their closest neighbors were Dave and Lizzie Edwards who lived nearly one mile to the west. One night at 1 A.M. Arch was called to ride for the midwife, Mrs. McCallaster, for Lizzie, who gave birth to a son. The next night the ride was repeated for Mary Smith, a midwife and May gave birth to a fine daughter on October 28, 1909, whom they named Millie May.
The days were filled with work on the ranch. Everything was homemade: bread, clothes, even soap. One of May’s hardest tasks was to keep the children out of the big ditch which ran through their ranch just south of the house. One worries now about keeping children off the road. What a worry it would have been to wonder if a rattlesnake was going to bite them while they were playing on the front porch.
However, life was rewarding. On May 26, 1911, another daughter was born whom they named Orpha. This birth must have been contagious, for on the same day the hen hatched out a batch of chickens, the old sow had 11 pigs and the mare had a colt. To this day, Orpha still has the ability to accomplish a great deal in one day.
At this time Arch had four horses and one colt to do his farming with. However, lack of worldly goods did not stop him from performing his religious duties. He often walked from the ranch to church in St. John and in the winter rode a horse to MIA, one night a week.
On August 29, 1913, another daughter, Catherine, was born. Katie always said she was Arch’s boy, but was less like a boy than any of the other girls. She was always very small and feminine with a wonderful sense of humor and had always reminded me of a tiny elfin.
On September 12, 1909, May’s father, Henry Jones, died and in later years the Jones estate was divided, each child receiving an equal acreage. This gave Arch and May a 22 acre strip of land in St. John and in about 1916 they were able to build a two room house on this land and move from the ranch. In the year 1918, in spite of World War I and inflation, in only nine years Arch paid off his debt of $4,000 and had bought a 1917 Overland car (which could not go up hills).
Being always true to his faith, on May 6, 1917, Arch was the First Counselor in the St. John Bishopric to Bishop Hyrum Monson. On June 16, 1918, he was made Bishop of the St. John Ward. He was set apart for this position by Orson F. Whitney. He was released in February 1929, having served as Bishop for 10 years 10 months and 6 days. He was succeeded by John Blaisdell. During his term as Bishop he proved himself to be completely unselfish and served his people as a true shepherd serves his flocks.
Following the war came the flu epidemic. It was very contagious with no modern medicines to halt its death toll. All meetings were banned and funerals were held at the cemetery. There is no record except in the Book of Life and in the hearts of those he blessed, of the tireless night Arch rode a horse through the cold and snow to give his priesthood blessings to the feverish mother, the gasping father or the dying child. No call went unanswered, no distance too great, no night too dark for him. He always went. Only those who have had the warmth of his hands on their head and felt the humbleness of his prayer sink into a sick body can realize and appreciate the gift of healing that was his from the Lord. Each of us, we are told, come to this world with a special gift. It seems the power to heal was his. What a blessing it was to all of us.
During his term as Bishop, Arch and May were blessed with more daughters. Rula, born April 5, 1920, and Maisie on January 23, 1925. From somewhere along the Genealogical line, red hair and freckles popped out and Maisie and Katie were given the gift to carry on to their children.
Then six years later on April 5, 1931, came little Bonnie Ray with her blue eyes and black hair. While all the other children have been born at home, Bonnie was born in the nursing home of Mrs. Hamblin.
This same year of 1931, Arch was made superintendent of the Sunday School and served in this capacity until October 1938. Two of his counselors were Harold Jones and James Madsen (both later served as Bishops of the St. John Ward). Arch also served as Superintendent of the MIA and was a tireless Ward Teacher.
For seven or eight years he was a trustee in the St. John School District, until it was consolidated with the Malad School District. During his trusteeship, an 18 mill levy was imposed on the taxes, which paid for a school lunch program and new rest rooms, which were built on the west side of the 1913 red brick schoolhouse. Oh, I remember how nice it was not to have to run through the snow to the little wooden houses back in the trees.
One of the highlights of his life was a trip to the World’s Fair held in Chicago in 1934. A bus load of 22 people from Malad left for Chicago on Labor Day in September 1934. The school bus was driven by Guy Gleed. Some of those taking the trip were Tim and Mary Ellen Woozley, Mitchell Deschamps and Josh Thomas. The journey to the fair took 4 ½ days. The first night was spent in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and the hotel had no lock on the door. Enroute they visited many points of interest including Nauvoo, Illinois, where they saw the Carthage Jail, Keokuk Dam and stayed in the Mansion House where Arch slept on a cot in the hall because of the shortage of rooms. When they crossed the Mississippi River, he remembered seeing an engine driven wheel boat and a wagon full of grapes on it.
As children we loved to listen to him tell stories of this trip. Mostly I remember how impressed he was by all he saw in the Fair and of the wonder of it. He was amazed at the huge piles of dirt from the strip coal mines near Chicago. The trip home took 4 ½ days and was by way of the Black Hills of Dakota, through Cody, Wyoming, to Yellowstone Park. There they encountered two inches of snow for which they were totally unprepared. They had no coats, only a small amount of bedding and no wood. They were able to rent quilts for 15 cents each. They reached home the day before school was to start, luckily, for Nettie Pierce was one of the vacationers and also a school teacher. I think this was the only time Arch was away from home for more than one night in his married life.
I Remember:
Arch was a man who always had time to listen to your troubles, time to help a neighbor, time to bless the sick and go to church. I know of no man who could say a more beautiful prayer. I never saw him be unkind to an animal. I never remember seeing his mangers empty, a weed on his summer fallowed ground, loose hay around his stack, an unoiled harness, or an untidy yard. I guess I could go on and on, as each who reads this will remember things about him. He was just a darn good farmer, as well as a good man.
When we were children, he used to tease us. I remember whenever I came to their house he would very seriously ask me if I came over all alone. When I said I had, he would incredulously shake his head and say, “Didn’t you see that gophy-doe out there?” (Years later he confessed to us that a gophy-doe was a nigger with a white bottom). At that time we were convinced it was a monster 10 feet tall and we were lucky to be alive. Sometimes if we were out after dark he would ask us if we had heard that coyote howl. I am still scared to death of a coyote. However, as I think back on it, he always had a twinkle in his eye while all this “serious” talk went on.
I also remember the times when there wasn’t a twinkle there, like the April Fool’s Day Maisie and I decided to fool him and told him we had let all the chickens out and Maisie got a good lickin’.
Uncle Arch blessed all three of my children and gave them their names. I can’t count how many times he has administered to me and to them. I usually called him, then the doctor. He was like a father to me before and after the death of my own father. I remember how I loved to hear him bear his testimony and I remember the day I tried to bear my testimony and thank all the people of the Ward for their help and prayers when my husband had been operated on. I was only able to say about one sentence and ended up in tears and had to sit down. Then dear Uncle Arch stood up and said it all for me. Oh, how grateful I was then and am now for his love.
I never heard anyone say one bad thing about him. His and Aunt May’s home was always open to all and usually full of friends and relatives who always had to sit down and have a bite to eat before leaving. How many things more there are to say about him is known in the hearts of all who knew Arch Harris, only the Lord knows how many.
With his passing on May 22, 1965, following a severe heart attack while watering his yard, he left with each of us a little of his love, his gentleness, his humor and himself, seeming to know that each man goes down to his death bearing in his hands only that which he has given away, how very full his hands were. I know that in the eternities to come he may easily be found among the highest.