Another memory from Michael.

One of my best memories of my Dad occurred when we were a struggling family on the Rowland ranch.  I must have been about 8 or 9.  Dad was trying to restore some small hay fields in the upper reaches of the Mink Place on the Bruneau River.  One of the many problems was clearing away small rocks that littered the fields.  It was a job that had to be done by hand, and I joined my Dad and some of my other siblings in the task.  I don't know if all the others stayed on the job, but I did until quitting time.  It was exhausting work, and I was tired.  Afterwords, my Dad was full of praise that I had shown determination and persistence, and had given the effort my best.  I suppose child psychologists call that "positive reinforcement."  To reinforce the point further, he referred to that incident many times later in life.  It was a teaching moment for him, and a learning experience for me.  Dad was a man of many virtues, from his impeccable honesty to the high value he placed on working hard and on doing a job well.  His loving nature made him easy to love, but he also earned and maintained for his entire life the respect and admiration of all his children.

Texas Cake in Roy's house

Roy's kids -- Sydney, 11, Cameron, 7, and Reagan, 4 -- prep to blow out the birthday candles right after singing Happy Birthday in honor of Grandpa's 100th!! ... thanks everyone for sharing your stories. It's been fun sharing your insights of Grandpa to the kids. Keep the stories coming! -- Roy

Remembering Grandpa

I think I was seven years old when Grandpa passed away.  He must have made a deep impression on me, though, because when I learned he was gone, I vowed to myself that I wouldn't smile again.  I mean, what was there to smile about if such a wellspring of love and goodness could no longer be with us?  The world was emptier.  But I wasn't able to keep that vow, and I'm sure Grandpa is glad about that.

As I recalled at the Twin Falls reunion in 2009, my clearest memories of Grandpa are his hugs.  He had broad shoulders and strong arms, and when he scooped you into one of his hugs, you felt safe and special.  His hands sometimes shook, but that didn't detract from his solid, reassuring presence.  His whole being somehow seemed to overshadow what pain or discomfort he must have felt in his last years.  His love was all-encompassing and unconditional.

What a difference a century can make.  My husband's grandparents were also born in 1911, but in Germany.  Since they and Grandpa were born, their two countries went to war against each other twice, with devastating consequences. Much has thankfully changed over the past few decades, but the memory of Grandpa's hugs transcends time and place.  It set a gold standard for family love, for knowing when you've found something similar and for knowing what to strive for as you establish your own family.  Thank you, Grandpa, for that wonderful gift.

-- Katherine
  

Too many memories to count on Grandpa's birthday

I'm sure many of you are like me -- thinking "Where would I start?" in regard to writing some memories about Grandpa Southwick.  I'm trying to think of my earliest memories as I pretty much lived my whole life in Willits (we lived in Cloverdale when I was a baby -- don't remember that a bit! :)) 

I think quantity time sums up my experiences with Grandpa.  Didn't need to be one special moment, but many multiple moments all strung together.  We went to their house for birthdays and holidays, but also went over just to watch a TV show together and maybe even get lucky to be there when they had TV dinners.  Grandpa worked outside on trucks and did his business in the little room off of the garage.  I remember seeing him many times welding with that shield on his face and I wasn't supposed to look at the light.  It was always so tempting, but I somehow resisted and still have my eyesight to prove it. 

I loved to go up to Springfield for Thanksgiving to see JoAnn and Suzie and our family only went once or twice.  So I drove up there many times with Grandpa and Grandma.  Grandpa liked to tease Grandma as we'd drive -- nothing taunting, just subtle humor and he enjoyed that I was there to laugh too.  Like when Grandpa would be driving silently, every once in awhile, Grandma would shout, "Elmer!  Are you awake?" and he'd just dryly reply, "No."  When I'd tell him about something I did, he'd say "Oh, you did, you did, you did, you did, did jya?" with a big smile on his face. 

I drove to Utah with them too and remember all the stops at Dennys or Sambos to eat along the way.  Grandpa would drink his Pero and take his Perdodan for his headaches.  I thought it was great that they stayed in motels along the way because when I drove with our family, we sometimes just pulled into a truck stop and slept in the car until dad was awake enough to drive again. 

On one Utah trip, we went to visit aunt Lily and it was wonderful because Grandpa and Grandma drove me around and shared memories of when they met and what they did when they were growing up.  I remember Grandma seeing a woman who lived near Lily walking along the street.  Grandma said that lady lived there as a little girl, then added, "She looks so old!  She's still supposed to look like a girl!  I don't look that old."   

On the way back from Utah, once we stayed the night in Wendover.  I thought it was funny to leave Suzi's house in West Valley and only drive for 2 hours before stopping.  But Grandp just wanted to get a start on the trip and then we all settled in bed to watch Lady Diana marry Prince Charles -- the Royal Wedding.   I couldn't believe the dresses and the flowers!  So much fun!

One thing I remember the most about Grandpa over all was his convictions to what was right and what was wrong.  He wasn't afraid to mince words and taught me many gospel principles when I was with him.   Even when we'd drive on I-80, he'd let me drive, but would often ask, "Renee, how fast are you going?"  When I'd answer, he'd say, "What's the speed limit?"  I couldn't believe that he offered to let me drive when I just had my permit.  We got near Reno and I wasn't so sure about driving through a bit city.  He trusted me and told me I'd do fine.  I did. 

Grandpa also loved to hug us grandchildren and every one of us knew that he loved us.  I remember when Jeanine and Bradley were little, grandpa would hug and kiss them and say that was thing in the world for his headaches.  I hated to see him with his head down in his hands sitting at the table in pain.  Getting to see him smile and love us all was good for me too.

Love, Renee

From Roy on Grandpa's Birthday

I always enjoyed going to Grandma and Grandpa's house. With the number of relatives around Willits, it seemed like we were attending a birthday party for someone every couple weeks ... and Grandma and Grandpa's was usually the hang out. 34 years ago, it was Grandpa's turn to be celebrated. As we all gathered in the living room there at the white and red house, I was amazed with the number of candles on the cake as the last ones were getting lit. As grandkids do, many of us hovered around Grandpa on the backside of the cake as we prepared to sing to him. As I gazed at the burning candles and the words on the cake, I belted out: "Grandpa is 99?!" Everyone, including Grandpa, started laughing and I, of course, had no idea why. Grandpa was really turning 66 and I just had the upside down view of his age. Silly me. To young kids, recognizing the age of 66 or 99 seems all the same. Grandpas are always 'old' to the grandkids. Now looking back, I wonder how it would have been to share life with Grandpa until he was 99, or to today, 100. Although I miss him, it's comforting knowing he is without his headaches. I look forward to the day when we can all see him again.

-- Roy

Entry from Michael

Wallace Elmer Southwick, 1911 - 1986

Some Background on His Origins and Early Years

(extracted and updated from the mini-biography of Elmer and Gertrude Southwick included with the memory book of their lives prepared for the 2005 Southwick reunion in Lincoln City, Oregon)

My father, Wallace Elmer Southwick was born at home in Liberty, Utah on January 11, 1911 to James Oatha Southwick, always called Oatha, and Frances Pearl Southwick (nee Gatchell), always called Pearl.

 Elmer was the fifth of seven children.  His older sister Eva Pearl died of heart problems at age 12 when he was three, but his five brothers, Howard, Joe, Jim, Jerry, and Louis, as well as his sister Clara, all went on to have long lives.  Many in the family came down with the devastating Spanish Flu in 1918, including my Dad, but no one died, a result that may have been unusual considering that this epidemic killed hundreds of thousands of Americans and more than 20 million people worldwide.

Economic circumstances for the Oatha Southwick family were modest, though not any poorer than for most others in the Liberty community in Ogden Valley.  People there farmed.  Oatha’s small farm was his share of land from a homestead grant obtained by his father, Joseph Southwick, Jr., in 1895.  Economic life revolved around raising crops, tending to animals, and doing other work to supplement the family income.  For the Southwick men this involved working on a thresher in season and operating a small sawmill. Trips for supplies to the nearest city, Ogden, were rare.  In my father’s early years these were made with a team of horses and a wagon.  Most social activities in Ogden Valley revolved around the Mormon Church or the schools.  Oatha and Pearl both liked to perform in plays.  Like the rest of Utah at the time, virtually everyone in the community was a Mormon.

Oatha’s father, Joseph Southwick, Jr., had a colorful life.  Born in England in 1847, he was only four when he emigrated to the United States with his family, traveling first by ship from Liverpool to New Orleans, then by riverboat to St. Louis, where his father died of cholera.  Some months later, with his young, widowed mother, he traveled across the American plains from Missouri to Salt Lake City.   Family legend says he traveled mostly on foot.  From age 13, by then motherless and fleeing a harsh stepfather, he was on his own.   Joseph married three times, outliving his first two wives but divorcing his third.  He had one daughter with his first wife.  The rest of his nine children were with his second wife, Louisa Maria Shupe.  Joseph lived until 1929, having achieved a longer span of life at 82 years than all of his children except William, referred to by my Dad as “Uncle Will”.  Will died in 1976 at the age of 93.

More details and other information on the Southwick family and its origins can be found in the two Neal Southwick genealogies.  The first, published in 1981, is entitled “The English Ancestry and American Posterity of Joseph Southwick, 1703 – 1980.”  The second, published in 1997, is Volume 2.

Thanks to my cousin Connie Golighty, Jerry Southwick’s daughter, I have finally come to know some of the history of the family of Dad’s mother, Frances Pearl Gatchell.  The basic source is a manuscript written by Maxine Smith, a niece of Frances Pearl.  It is a fascinating read. 

Pearl’s family on both sides is descended from two New England families named Judkins and Gatchell, both of which date back to the early 17^th century in America.   Her father was Jeremiah Gatchell, known as Jerry, born on June 25, 1850 in Lee, Maine.  Her mother was Clara Ellen Judkins, born on January 29, 1857 in Missouri.   Jeremiah and Clara Ellen were married in 1877 in Minnesota.  The Gatchell line appears to connect to John Alden and Priscilla Mullens, passengers on the first Mayflower voyage that landed at Plymouth Rock in 1620.  They later married and had a large family. 

The marriage of Jeremiah Gatchell and Clara Judkins proved to be a sad one.  Tension arose early on when Clara decided she wanted to join the Mormon Church, following the course taken by others in her family, including her parents.  Jeremiah said that this would end the marriage.  Nonetheless, Clara left Minnesota without Jeremiah and joined the church in Utah.  He eventually followed her.  In Utah the couple had two daughters, Frances Pearl in 1881, and Serepta Ann Jeanette in 1882.   Shortly afterwards, in early 1883, Jeremiah abandoned his family.  After the breakup, Clara supported herself and her daughters for a time working as a chambermaid for three dollars a week at an Ogden hotel.  She went on to marry Richard Jones in 1885.

Jeremiah wound up in Wyoming, working as a cook.  Some evidence suggests that for many years he had had trouble finding work that suited him.  He died in 1909 and is buried in Laramie, though the location of the grave has not yet been identified.  He never remarried, nor did he ever join the Mormon Church, nor did he ever see his daughters again.  Nonetheless, the daughters knew of him and were curious about his life.  As an adult, Pearl was in correspondence with at least one Gatchell cousin, and Frances’s sister Serepta Ann Jeanette asked her aunt, also named Serepta, to find out about her father during the aunt’s visit to Laramie.  It was said that Jerry was a good man except for a drinking problem.  The reality behind that summation is no doubt much more complex.       

Clara’s marriage to Richard Jones seems to have turned out well.  A widower, he came to the marriage with six children.  Together, he and Clara were to have three more children, all sons.  Clara and Richard made a point of treating all the eleven children as if they were one family, with Richard having a reputation as a disciplinarian. Richard was a good provider, and the household even had a few luxuries such as a wool carpet. 

Clara’s older sister, Serepta Judkins Cowles, is of interest because she left a first person account of her long and colorful life, which paralleled to some extent Clara’s own life.  Born in Maine in 1857, Serepta moved often as a child, first to Massachusetts, then in succession to Illinois, Iowa, and Missouri, where Clara was born.  Local unrest during the Civil War caused the family to flee Missouri and settle in Minnesota for a number of years, and then, for those who converted to Mormonism, to move to Utah.   It’s a true “How the West Was Won” kind of story.

A studio photo of Pearl taken in Ogden when she was 17 shows a striking young woman, with round, dark eyes, a feature she passed on to some of her children and grandchildren.  My cousin Connie Golighty remembers Andrew and Pearl as being very much in love.  They held hands and kissed often.  When Connie and her parents, Jerry and Delta Southwick visited Pearl and Andrew at their Mantua, Utah home, there would always be family prayer.  Andrew is further remembered as a large man, very kind and religious.  He had a smokehouse in his back yard where he smoked ham and fish.  Widowed again a few years before her death in 1947, Pearl spent her last months in the care of several of her children including my father at my father’s motel in Ukiah, California.

Liberty

Dad always talked lovingly and with nostalgia about growing up in Liberty.  He called his home community the “sweet land of Liberty,” borrowing words from the patriotic hymn, “America.”  He told stories of roaming around the surrounding hills on horseback with friends and relatives, of feats such as climbing Ben Lomond peak.  His cousin and buddy Ralph Southwick, a son of Uncle Will, was almost exactly his age, and lived on the adjacent farm at the northern end of the valley.  Visitors to Ogden Valley, at any time of year, will find it a beautiful place, especially in the fall.  While rapidly filling up with homes, the rural character of the valley remains. 

School for Dad in his early years involved a ride or walk to Huntsville, the largest town in Ogden Valley.  Dad told the stereotypical stories of trudging through the snow for many miles.  He liked school, and told the story of how he was the only person in his class at an Ogden school to get the correct answer on a math problem.  Nonetheless, like many kids of that era, he did not go on to high school.  His formal education ended with the eighth grade.

Dad’s life is summarized in The Willits News obituary I wrote about him in 1986.  It was reprinted in the second Neal Southwick genealogy.  In addition, I recorded two interviews with him, one in the mid-1980’s while visiting Mom and Dad at their home in Willits at 1025 Center Valley Road, and another, more fragmented interview, while Dad was with me and my wife Susan and our three children in 1985 on a visit to Ogden Valley.

David Brough had the first of these interviews transcribed, as well as the interview I did with Mom on that same Willits visit.  It’s also useful to read Ralph Southwick’s informal autobiography, a copy of which is in my possession, because his early years were similar to Dad’s.  Another useful source on Liberty and the Southwick family is a book published in the 70’s by Mary Chard McKee entitled “Early History of Liberty and the People.”

Dad worked in various jobs after leaving school.  He drove trucks, rode in rodeos, and hired himself out as a ranch hand, including in California.  From his father and grandfather, Dad learned early on about the timber business, as did all his brothers.  Grandfather Joseph established a small water powered sawmill near Liberty in 1877.  Later converted to steam, it could be moved from time to time to be near the best stands of timber in the region.   Over a big part of their working lives, one aspect or another of the sawmill business became the main occupation of my Dad and most of his brothers, as it was for Uncle Will and his sons.  

Grandpa and Michael sharing birthdays

Dad and I often shared birthday celebrations, because mine is a day later, the 12th.  This is his 52nd birthday and my 18th.  It was taken in the old Willits house.  

Best wishes, Michael

Grandpa

Grandpa was such a sweet man. He passed away when I was eight. I remember my parents sat us down to tell us and it was one of the only times I saw my dad cry. At the funeral I remember standing next to Jayne and telling her that I wasn't sad. I was glad he didn't have any more headaches. I think they are buried in one of the most beautiful spots on earth.

Things I remember about Grandpa: They came to our house for my birthday and gave me a Barbie doll with a yellow dress. I remember waking up early at their house and him sitting at the kitchen table drinking Pero and eating an egg. He took me to JB's at the mall on a special date and let me order anything I wanted. He would always say "You Betcha!" He gave great hugs. He loved my mom so much! They also came to our house for Christmas a couple times and vice versa. He eminated a lot of love.

Not bad memories for a few short childhood years. I love him with all my heart!

CAT Diesel Power

I have wonderful memories visiting Grandpa Elmer when I was a young boy during the timeframe when he had his trucking business and he always seemed to be wearing a CAT Diesel Power baseball hat. Grandpa was always proud of his 18 wheelers and enjoyed sharing his enthusiasm for them with me and presumably all his grandkids.

It was always great coming into Willits for our annual summer visit seeing one of the trucks parked in front of the old homestead and particularly exciting to be able to get close to them and actually climb into them. I recall one summer trip, Grandpa took me out in one for a ride to either Ukiah or Fort Bragg. It was a great day, one of those magical days as a boy when you’re doing something BIG. And what could be bigger than rolling around in a big rig? Nothing I suppose except receiving my own CAT Diesel Power baseball hat as a small memento of the experience. I think my Dad has a picture of me wearing it somewhere (perhaps it is a slide) and of me in the cab of the truck with Grandpa behind the wheel.

Those memories lived on in my playtime. When I lived in Burundi, I would play with Matchbox trucks outside recalling fondly my memories of riding around with Grandpa, pretending to be a trucker. To this day, every time I see a big rig, I can’t help but think a little of Grandpa, Uncle Jack, and Uncle Monte driving those trucks around CA and the West for their next haul.

Happy 100th to Grandpa!

If my dates are correct, Grandpa's 100th birthday is on Tuesday!!

I would love to read some stories or quick thoughts from many of you and then share them with my family during family home evening. As a young kid, I remember Grandpa having a Texas sheet cake for his birthday cake and then somehow always being able to blow out all the candles. As an honor to Grandpa, I suggest we each make a Texas sheet cake on Tuesday and then eat it in his honor (100 candles would be optional :-)).

 

-- Roy