ON THIS DAY IN HARWARD FAMILY HISTORY

October 28, 1919

Leon Rees Harward died

Emma Jane Rees and Leon Sinclair Harward (nicknamed Lin) moved from Spanish Fork, Utah to Blackfoot, Idaho with their four children in 1911. They leased land outside of town and took up farming. What crops they planted is not recorded, although they kept adding to the acreage they were working in an effort to increase their earning potential. The only things that increased during the next seven years, however, were the size and needs of their family. Their oldest son, Rees (born in 1900), dropped out of school in the eighth grade to help sustain the family. He seriously considered joining the army at age 18 when the United States entered World War I, but his assistance on the farm was crucial. Uncle Sam had a lot of other sons, but the Harwards needed Rees to help support the family. He postponed enlisting until after the crops were in, and by then the Armistice had been signed. In the fall of 1919, Lin signed a contract with Bingham County to grade roads near Blackfoot, east of Thomas. Nineteen-year-old Rees worked with his father on that project.  

The Bingham County newspaper reported the tragic events of Tuesday morning, October 28, 1919:  “Rees Harward and two Sova brothers, Henry and Lester, were grading the highway with a team of horses between the farms of Pat Murphy and Vance Johnson. An irrigation ditch passed through the Murphy property and carried water to Johnson's land. Johnson was concerned that the road grading was being done too close to the ditch and would restrict his access to water.  He approached the boys and demanded that they shift direction and plow further away from the telephone poles that lined the land between the road and the ditch.  Rees explained that they were required to carry out the orders of the contract with exactness, and had no authority to make any changes.  An argument ensued.

"Mrs. Johnson, hearing the trouble, telephoned the county clerk's office, the county attorney's office, and Judge Good's office in an effort to get the work stopped legally. Apparently, she was not successful. At about 3:00 p.m. Johnson returned to the road crew and demanded that the work be stopped. Rees refused. When Johnson went back to his house the boys thought the conflict was over.” The newspaper reported that Johnson's wife tried to prevent him from getting his shotgun, but Johnson took the weapon and circled around behind the workers.  About thirty feet south of the boys he rested the gun on a fence and took aim. One of the Sova brothers called a warning to Rees, which caused him to turn around in time to receive a full charge of shot in the chest. An autopsy revealed 148 shots entered the young man. He died instantly, with the reins still in his hands. The article stated that after the shooting Johnson returned to his house, put away the shotgun and resumed work in the hay field until he was arrested by Sheriff A. H. Simmons.[1]  

It was not reported in the newspaper that when Lin arrived at the scene, shocked and distraught, he cradled his oldest son in his arms and attempted to carry him all the way home. It was not reported in the newspaper that Jane, fighting back tears, laid out clean sheets on a bed and prepared her house and the children to receive the body of her oldest son.

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[1] "Dispute Over Road Grading Proved Fatal Last Tuesday" Bingham County Newspaper, Oct 31 1919.

PEEK INTO THE PAST

The Home Place on Williams Road

            Did you ever wonder what the Williams farm looked like?  Here’s your chance to see Elmer's woolly flock, Boyd on his horse, Donna with her piglets, and little Max barreling down the creek. Judging from the estimated age of Max, the barnyard footage was probably shot before 1940. The scenes inside the house seem to be taken just before Dean and Rob reported for military duty during World War II.

            Note:  When the 8mm footage was originally transferred to video tapes, and then later to DVDs, by a professional service many years ago, I tried to have them label some of the people. You will notice that at least one of the names is wrong – Vera was identified as Vera Mae. I’m sorry. Unfortunately, I wasn’t looking over their shoulders. The background music was also added at that time, and as cuts have been made to consolidate different footage into this segment the music sometimes changes rather abruptly.  

Elder Williams

       In 1912 Elmer Williams was called to serve as a full time missionary to the Central States Mission headquartered in Independence, Missouri.  According to Vera, who was counting the days, he left on November 6, 1912.  Only three letters he wrote from the mission field have survived the passage of more than a century of time.  They are dated January 2, February 25, and March 9 of 1913. Elmer’s 39-year old mother died on April 9, 1913, and at her request he did not leave his mission to attend her funeral.  But her death may explain why only three letters were preserved.  Elmer was the oldest of seven children, and it is easy to imagine how the full responsibility for care of a large, motherless family may not have included long-term preservation of the weekly mail.  Without a doubt, Vera saved all his letters.  But they would have been consumed by the 1929 fire that destroyed their home and everything in it.

       Surprisingly, at first Elmer was not a proselytizing missionary as he expected.  Instead he was assigned to teach school in the rural township of Marlow, Oklahoma. Up to this point in his life, Elmer had graduated from high school and spent many long, lonely summers herding his father’s sheep. While skills learned as a student and a shepherd could serve as a foundation for missionary life, they were surely not sufficient for the responsibilities handed to the young elder. Elmer's January 2nd letter expressed concern at being “put in” as Sunday School Superintendent, theological teacher, school master and Presiding Elder.  He was actually the “only elder left,” in the area, he admitted, as the other two had been transferred or released. “I don’t have a minute to spare,” he wrote.  Apparently, Elmer replaced a female teacher who could not handle the man-sized rebellious boys in the class. Elmer’s teaching methods certainly lacked professional finesse. One is left to wonder whether or not the techniques learned at home on the range were as effective with his stubborn students as they were with his woolly flocks. You are invited to listen to highlights from the February 25^th letter read by a great grandson. Click on the podcast link in the column at the right.

Both the Harward and Williams families lived in and around Blackfoot, Idaho. A map marking some of the places mentioned in their histories is helpful in picturing their circumstances.

PEEK INTO THE PAST

A few weeks ago, on September 14th, a 1938 Boise newspaper article introducing Elmer Williams, the freshman senator from Bingham County, was posted. That article stated that Elmer was a former professional wrestler.  I thought his present day posterity might be interested in seeing him in action. This will commence a new feature on the Harward-Williams Family History blog called "Peek into the Past," where short snips from old 8mm movies will be posted. Like looking through a tiny window of time long gone, we can catch a glimpse of our history in motion.

Today's short snip features Elmer wrestling with his eldest son, Marsden. The film segment then moves into the lava rock house at what they called the Home Place in Moreland. Vera, in her Life History, described their living room and office  the new house as "painted with oil paints on the ceiling to resemble the sky, and on the two side walls of the den were murals with mountains, lakes, trees, flowers and a boat."  The film scans the mural she described, and then Elmer at his desk. It must have been filmed the latter end of the year 1937, as the baby on the floor is Merrill Harward, Jr. who was born in May of that year.

Next week's Peek in the Past, probably filmed early in 1942 or before, will feature a tour of the Home Place farmyard and a gathering of the young adult children:  Boyd on horseback, Marsden and Phyllis, Boyd and Darlene, Merrill and Vera Mae, Donna and Rob, and Dean, ending with young Max "tubbing" in the ditch. (Dean and Arva were not married until after World War II, and unfortunately, she is missing from this segment).

Some of the future posts will also share early movies of the Harward ancestors.

THE FIRE

From the Memoirs of Vera Mae Williams Harward

Heatrola

The following event took place when Elmer and Vera Williams had five children:  Marsden, Vera Mae, Boyd, Dean and Donna.

When the twins, Dean and Donna, were about two years old, Dad bought an 80-acre farm in Moreland. I was in the fourth grade and had to make all new friends. We now lived three miles from the school and the church. Often in the winter the wind would drift the snow across the roads, making them impassable by car. Sometimes Marsden and I would take a horse to school, one riding and the other being pulled behind on skis.  Early one January morning when I was in the 5th grade [1929], Dad got up before dawn, as usual, to build a fire in the stove in the kitchen, as well as in the Heatrola in the front room so the house could warm up before the family needed to get out of bed. Then he went back to sleep. Later, he heard loud crackling sounds and awoke to discover that it was lighter in the front room than it should be. He jumped up, put his bathrobe on, and rushed in to find the ceiling on fire.  He quickly woke the family and told us to get out of the house as fast as we could.  The twins slept in the room with me. I gathered one under each arm and carried them out into the snow and up the hill, where we got into the car for shelter. I sat there with the babies, cold and frightened, and prayed as we watched the flames devour our house, and everything we owned.
           Marsden had broken his leg on New Year's Day, and was using crutches. In spite of the stiff, heavy cast on Marsden’s leg, Dad lifted him up into the attic through a hole in the ceiling in hopes he could douse the flames from there. Then Dad ran outside to the pump (we didn't have running water in the house) to get buckets of water to hand up to Marsden. We considered ourselves extremely lucky because Dad had recently purchased a motor to work the pump so we didn’t have to draw water by hand-pumping. But on this morning it was so cold, and there was so much ice on the belt of the motor, that it kept slipping off the pulley, and he couldn't get even one drop of water to fight the fire. Flames were spreading rapidly, so Marsden jumped down from the ceiling. Having learned in Scouts that smoke rises, and there is more oxygen near the floor, he grabbed a couple of blankets from his bed and crawled to safety, dragging his heavy leg cast painfully behind him.
       Dad tried to save the piano that was mother's gift from her father. He struggled and pushed to get it to the front door, but could not lift the heavy instrument over the door frame by himself. Heat from the flames was intense, and the ceiling was falling all around him. The varnish on the piano melted and stuck to his robe and hands. Finally he had to give up. It was a frame house, and burned fast. But the family all made it out safely. It was a hard time for me. I had been taught that if I prayed in faith my prayers would be heard and answered.  There was no doubt in my mind that the Lord could have stopped that fire if He wanted to, and I couldn't understand why He didn't. But I learned from that experience that prayers are not always answered the way you want them to be. For days after the ashes cooled, I would sift through the charred wood and soot looking for the new wristwatch I had earned as a prize selling boxes of chocolates for a school fundraiser. We had all gotten new ice skates for Christmas, but they were nowhere to be found. As hard as I searched, all I got from the ashes was dirty.  
        Dad didn't complain.  He put his arms around mother, wiped her tears, and said, "We’re lucky that we're all safe--and I still have my taw."  A “taw” was the big marble used to shoot at, and win, other smaller marbles.  Playing marbles was a popular game in those days, and you played for keeps. As long as you had a taw you could win other marbles for your collection. One of Dad's favorite sayings was, "Don't lose your taw." All the smaller marbles could be lost to other players, but as long as you had a shooter, or taw, you could always win more. Boys used to collect marbles in big jars and bury them. They would brag about how many jars of marbles they had buried around.  When Dad said he still had his taw, he meant that he was still strong, able, and willing to work hard and build us another home.

Typical Sheep Camp

We put our sheep camp facing close to Uncle Leslie's so we could step from one to the other, and that's where we lived the rest of the winter.  In the spring, Uncle Les fixed up a little two-room house that was on his property.  Dad built beds in one of the rooms that served as the kids' bedroom and kitchen. We stayed there until another home could be built on our land. The new house was built with lava rocks brought from the bottom of our field. I took great comfort in the fact that lava rocks could not burn. It took several years to get the lava rock house completed, but it was nicer than anything we had ever lived in.

The new home in Moreland made from lava rock

The Williams children after the lava rock house was built.
Back: Vera Mae, unidentified girl, Marsden with an unidentified baby, and Boyd.
Front: two unidentified girls, Dean and Donna, and an unidentified boy.