History Written By daughter Mable Myrle Johnson Halbert
(Gloria says to read this with the idea that it is only half true. Aunt Mabel wanted to glorify everybody, and make things overly “beautiful.”) [Note in Glory Lynn's handwriting]
PETER ALVIN JOHNSON, the second son of John Martin and Marie Matilda Oman Johnson, was born at Mt. Pleasant, Utah, October 4, 1866.
His early life was spent in Mt. Pleasant, where he attended school. He and his brother, John Martin Jr., were taught to work at an early age. I have heard him tell of the two of them going with their ox team to the canyon to get out wood. He said many times their mother would meet them quite some distance from home when they were late coming in with the load of wood.
He was devoted to his mother, and said he never heard her speak an unkind world to anyone. She was always patient and kind. His mother was born in Stockholm, Sweden, and his father was born in Osterriar, Norway.
His family consisted of the following brothers and sisters: Johnny, Delena, Annie, Lauritz, Erick, Lottie, and Hannah. His mother died when the last named girl was a few days old and he was about 16 years of age.
On February 7, 1887, he married Hettie Mina Staker, a local girl, whom he had known since childhood. Their first child was born in Mt. Pleasant, but soon after, they moved to Lawrence, Emery County, Utah, across the mountains from Mt. Pleasant, and settled there. They built a house, planted trees and an orchard in Lawrence, and lived there for several years.
His father, and sister Delena, made their home with them for some time. Here, five more children were added to the family.
He worked in the coal mines at Schofield during the winter months, but in 1903 decided to move to Idaho. Always a pioneer, new fields beckoned. So with his family and some nephews, the long journey began.
When he reached Idaho he had to take out his own homestead, file on it, and build a house for his family. It was necessary to live on the homestead for five years before it could be proved upon, but in the meantime, he built a substantial house, had a deep well drilled, added other buildings as needed, planted an orchard, fenced his fields, and raised good crops.
Always religiously inclined, he was instrumental in getting a nice cement-block church built about four miles from the farm which all the family attended regularly.
He was a scholar, and although he did not have an opportunity for extensive education, he wanted his family to go to school. He provided fine books for the home library, and on the wall of our living room hung a picture of John Milton dictating a poem to his daughter after he lost his eyesight. Father told me the story of that picture when I was a little girl.
Young Peter and Hettie Johnson family.
The Johnson's home in St. Anthony, Idaho, which burned down.
As people began moving to Idaho from Utah they stayed at our house until they had a place of their own. Uncle Johnny and Aunt Millie, with their four children, Martin, Olie, Tillie, and Nell, lived at our house for quite some time, until shortly before Aunt Millie died.
Father loved horses, and took great pleasure in breaking broncos and training them for work or travel. He was always able to bring the most recalcitrant horse to obey.
I used to watch him shoe the horses, harness them, and grease the wagons and other machinery, getting ready to work about the farm. He was always so kind; it was a pleasure to be around him.
Sunday morning he would hitch a team to the white-topped buggy (a two-seated affair) and we would all go to Church. I enjoyed Sunday School, but would get sleepy during Sacrament Meeting, and usually went to sleep with my head in Mother's or Daddy's lap, and it was a welcome sound when they would sing the closing hymn.
Father marked out homesteads and settled many families in the Farnum area. Earl and Arthur Day and Ernest Miller, and Uncle Ether Staker settled there.
In about 1910, he and Hugh Davis bought the Hoff place near St. Anthony, Idaho, and divided the land between them. He sold the dry farm later to help pay for this place.
He was honest in his dealings with his fellowmen. I never knew him to take advantage of anyone, and he expected other people to do the same.
One time, he bought a load of hay from an Indian at Fort Hall, after they moved to Pocatello. He paid the Indian in advance, and the hay was never delivered. He was quite disappointed, and said, “I never knew an Indian to break his word before.”
Father loved music, and had an excellent tenor voice. He sang the tenor to “An Angel From On High,” beautifully. We used to gather around the piano—Daddy, Devere, Veda and I, and sing almost every night. He sang in the choir in St. Anthony, and I always had someone to take me to choir practice.
One time, I remember when in about the 4th grade, I brought my report card home to be signed. It had an “X” on it—which is equivalent to an “F.” I cannot remember what it was in [what subject], but was I ever embarrassed! I slipped it into Daddy's hand when he was eating and asked him to sign it. He signed it without comment, so I never knew whether he noticed the”X” or not.
He took a load of grain to Ashton one time, and when he came home he had clothes for every member of the family. Mother was flabbergasted! He had picked them up at a sale and they were not the kind of clothes she would have selected at all. The coat he bought for me was blue, with brass buttons, and to this day I do not like brass buttons! Mother was busy for months trying to make something suitable out of those things. That was the last shopping he ever did.
Father loved to read and study, and he had many fine Church books in his collection. He bought a set of books, “The History of the World,” which I would have loved to have, but Hazel got them, and it is in Bud Davis's house now.
He was a wonderful father, and he did the best he could possibly do for his family. He was deeply religious and faithful in his beliefs. He was very lonely after Mother died, and about a year later, he married a woman from Salt Lake, Mrs. Hattie Horne.
Below: Peter Johnson and children at their mother's funeral, April 14, 1931. Left to right: Devere, Florence, Hazel,
Peter Alvin Johnson, Mable, Veda, Ethel and Pete.
He died April 23, 1946, in Salt Lake, where he was making his home at that time. Shortly before he died, he reached for someone whom no one else could see. He is buried in the family plot in Mt. View Cemetery in Pocatello.
He was honest, true, and faithful,
And when the bugles sound,
His name will stand with honor
On the roll in the great beyond.
No comments:
Post a Comment