(Alfred Smurthwaite is the maternal grandfather of the contributor, Richard Neal Heywood)
By Margaret Smurthwaite Heywood
Dedication to Mary Smurthwaite Smith
Dedicated to the Memory
of
Mary Smurthwaite Smith
Mary, for many years, extended her loving care and devotion
to her parents. She, it was, who unfailingly recorded the bits of history they
remembered. While visiting with them, she would take a few notes; then on her
return home would promptly type up the random fragments and the interesting
details.
Mary, it was, who responded to the insistent urge to write
their stories “that Dad and Mother might never be forgotten.” She never seemed
to tire of collecting their memoirs or recording their current deeds and
actions.
Finally she sent the fruits of her ceaseless efforts—her
whole, priceless conglomeration to her sister Margaret, saying, “See if you can
make something out of this. I can’t. I simply cant!”
THANKS TO MARY, I now have the stories completed, January
1980.
Margaret S. Heywood.
The Little Piano of Cherry Wood
When I was but a little one,
In memory I now recall,
The piano—my star and sun,
Stood there against the parlor wall.
When being played by one with skill
I sheltered by its side.
As the music rang, my soul did thrill
Just to listen and dream with pride.
At length when the others had gone away,
The “piano chair” invited me.
Its slender beauty seemed to say
“Sit here and play and be free.”
Then in an artistic way
I fixed my hands upon each key
And melody now sad, now gay
Freely the music came to me.
St. Cecilia framed in gold and green
Above at the organ played.
A halo crowned this artist queen
In her royal robes arrayed.
Infant cherubim, Heaven sent,
Dropped roses from above
And sang to her music reverent.
St. Cecilia smiled her love.
In that joyous company
How the hours quickly flew.
Just how much I loved its melody
No one ever really knew.
My little piano of cherry wood,
With its bronze angels, carvings and art
Satisfied me as no other one could.
No other so tenderly touched my heart.
Mary S. Smith
July 1958
A TRIBUTE TO MY HUSBAND
ANDREW K. SMITH
Andrew was
an exceptional man, endowed with power, influence and strong characteristics.
He had a great spirit; he loved the Lord and knew how to cooperate with Him;
and served Him all the days of his life.
He was a
teacher and shared unselfishly his acquired knowledge with others. He had a
burning testimony and was valiant in expressing it whenever the opportunity
presented itself.
He was a
student, particularly of the gospel, a lover of books, which he marked with red
and blue, commentary notes on the borders of the pages. He always carried small
note papers, yellow and white, which were found in all his pockets and stuffed
in envelopes bearing the labels “humor, poetry, genealogy, accounts,
miscellaneous, etc.”
His talents
were many. He was a gifted writer and a poet in the true sense. He was “handy”
in making and fixing things around the house. He was a gardner and believed in
producing. He loved music and his soul vibrated to the rhythm of it. He was
meticulous and orderly in everything he did.
No man could
have suffered more courageously the ills of the flesh than he. His life was an
example of integrity, loyalty, humility, devotion to home and family. He loved
children and was a kindly and considerate father. Loyalty to his friends, to
the State in which he was born a “native son,” to the Church which he loved,
and to the Country that gave him freedom were among his marked characteristics.
I respect
him, appreciate him, and love him.
Mary H. Smith
Charles
Albert Smurthwaite was largely responsible for others of his family and friends
eventually joining the church and emigrating to Utah. The following letter to
his niece Grace Jefferson (his brother Alfred’s daughter) written in 1926 is an
example of his continuous concern for the welfare of his people.
Letter from Uncle Charlie Smurthwaite to Grace
2720 Adams Ave,
June 1, 1926
Dear Grace:
June first!
The first
of the month of brides.
The brides
have visions
The
would-be brides, dreams.
Day-dreaming
is fine.
But we have
to wake to the realities.
Sorry
mother and dad didn’t give their consent,
But
probably they know best.
Age looks
at life differently than youth.
That’s
natural.
So is the
outlook of youth.
Your uncle
Charlie Smurthwaite left home not yet 21, went away 6000 miles from his home,
to live among a people despised, and worse.
The only
member of the family to leave Britain’s shores within the memory of the family,
Except soldiers!
And then
such a going.
He had
never been away from home.
He loved
his family dearly.
No son ever
loved mother, father, brothers,
Sisters more
than he did.
He dreamed
about them every night for months afterwards. He was always “knocking” at his
old front door and being met there by his Mother, the most devoted mother ever.
It was hard
And things
were so crude here then.
And the
people were so crude, too.
That made
it doubly hard.
But my
parents had given me full consent.
It was
harder on Mother, I’m sure.
Mother and
I were very close friends.
And the
“Mormons”!
It was
dreadful in her eyes.
But
whatever Charlie did was all right, in Mother’s eyes. What a blessing that was.
Parents are
jealous more of their girls than of their boys. When my girls got married, I
cried. I hated to lose them.
Your
parents doubtless have such a strong affection for you, unmarried, that they
want you home. All the
But it’s
natural for youth to want to wander.
It is
lovely in California.
It’s
wonderfully lovely in Utah, too, just now.
The natural
eyes, plus the romantic mind, makes any place lovely, especially in youth.
And the
sea, with its heaving and billows is especially attractive to dreamy youth.
And so
you’d like to sleep and sleep and sleep among the poppies. It is enchantment.
Airy nothings.
“These
our actors,
As I
foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted
into air, into thin air……
We
are such stuff
As dreams
are made of; and our little life
Is rounded
with a sleep.” (Shakespeare)
But youth
must not sleep.
“Sleep is
the shadow of the grave.”
“Death’s
image.”
Youth’s
joys, to be of value, must have some abiding. Paul tells us what abides. He
says all things will pass away, except Faith and Hope and Love --- and the
greatest of these is Love. That’s the most effectual and abiding. It overcomes
every obstacle.
With all
this, I can well understand your situation. You’ve been teaching all winter
long. Now you’re thru with it for awhile, there is a natural reaction. Perhaps
the poet expresses it well in the following verse.
“Just for
one hour to slip the leash of Worry,
In eager
haste, from Thought’s impatient neck,
And watch
it coursing, in it’s heedless hurry,
Disdaining
Wisdom’s call for Duty’s beck!
…….
Our souls
require at times this full unsheathing—
All swords
will rust if scabbard-kept too long;
And I am
tired—so tired of rigid duty,
So tired of
all my tired hands find to do!
I yearn, I
faint, for some of life’s free beauty.”
Now, Grace
come home soon. Mother, Father, are awaiting you. Perhaps they don’t quite
understand your longing. They’ve forgotten their own youth’s desires, perhaps.
But always remember. Mother-love, Father-love, is the best there is.
Affectionately
Uncle Charlie
ALFRED SMURTHWAITE
HIS ROOTS
Alfred
Smith Smurthwaite was born at Salford, Lancashire, England, on May 4, 1867.
Since the village of Salford is little known, Manchester has always been
claimed as his official home. He was the eighth child of a family of nine. The
family group sheet supplies all of the vital records of each member as we now
have it. Alfred was born to John Gradon and Ellenor Smith Smurthwaite, both of
whom were born in Durham and were always proud of the fact that the
Smurthwaites dressed the stones used in the construction of the Durham
Cathedral. John Smurthwaite was a newspaper man and as Alfred often proudly
said, “He held the same job for twenty-three years without being late or absent
one time.” He was a skilled violinist and performed often with a string
ensemble. He gave private violin lessons.
Ellenor
Smith was a milliner, a creator of hats, and was running her own business at
the time she and John were married. Her home was orderly and run on methodical
standards. They were a proud couple, and although they were not of wealthy
station, they adopted the living standards, on a humble scale, that marked the
well-situated society of the upper-middle class. Ellenor maintained her own
business professionally until just before her second child was born.
The
brothers and sisters in the main, were skilled in specialized fields such as
music, design, dramatics, and journalism. John, the third son, worked as a
newspaper man, later becoming an editor for the Times,
published in Cardiff, Wales, a position he held for many years. Ellenor
(nicknamed Nellie) was a creative milliner, gifted also in music and dramatics.
It is said of her that her soprano voice was melodious and sweet, having a
perfect tone for the singing of ballads. Lillie was a musician of unusual
versatality. The four oldest children, Mary Ann (Polly), James, Thomas, and
John remained all their lives in England.
Alfred’s
brother, Charles Albert, was gifted in Music and public speaking. He had a fine
baritone voice and a delightful speaking voice. For a number of years he was a
very popular speaker. Henry Gradon, the youngest son, became a professional
musician, specializing in piano and pipe organ. One might say that Harry
(Henry’s nickname) was a prodigy. At eleven years of age he was an organist at
Manchester Cathedral. After coming to America, he studied piano in Boston. He
was the pipe organist at the Logan Tabernacle in August 1908, a position he
held for many years.
Alfred had
many gifts which were not developed to prominence. His schooling was little and
that little was obtained under pressure from his parents. Often he would simply
stay away from school. Frequently his mother would see him leaning against a
tree across the street from his home with the “I am not going to school”
attitude. When his mother called to him, he would pout and shake himself with
determination not to go.
His father
slept days and worked nights, so his mother would call to him saying, “Alfred
has the sturdies again.” His father would hurry after him, cane in hand. Alfred
would run for the school.
On one
occasion the truant officers came after him. They chased him between long rows
of houses. As they did so the boy opened every ash barrel he passed. The
officials had to close them before they could go on. As Alfred dashed up the
marble steps of the Queen Victoria School, he threw his cap at the officer and
fortunately ran into his class room.
No, Alfred
did not specialize; but his experiences were varied and interesting: he
contacted and learned to know people. Freedom of expression and speech had
strong outlets in his character and as a boy the school room, with its
confining disciplinary atmosphere, were distasteful and unattractive to his
nature. The fact that he attended any academic training was due to the combined
efforts of his parents and the school authorities. He received early in his
youth an intelligent knowledge of the fundamental education, namely: reading,
writing, arithmetic. He cultivated in his life a deep appreciation for the fine
arts, music, literature and for well thought-out and masterfully presented
sermons and orations.
In spite of
his unhappy, restless school days, he acquired a fine foundation in the
fundamental subjects. He received a certificate of merit for his beautiful
penmanship. Besides that, his spoken English was fluent, his grammar excellent,
and his written composition good. As the years went by, he became popular as a
public speaker. During his adult life he collected a sizeable library and
enjoyed good reading. He became well informed through reading state and local
newspapers. Besides these, he subscribed to Church magazines; the Literary
Digest, Saturday Evening Post, and the Mentor. Of his own
choosing, his was a practical education, learned in the proverbial “school of
hard knocks.”
Unlike
Alfred, his brother Charles Albert was delighted with school. He it was who
brought home the honors and the citations from the Queen. He decided to become
a secretary. One of his honors marked his perfection in the use of Pitman
shorthand. Charlie was a cripple, being bow-legged. So severly were his legs
bent that he appeared to be very short in stature. Modern doctors, after
examination of his limbs, said that rickets had been the cause of the trouble.
Charles was
greatly loved by all the Smurthwaites. According to the scriptures, “greater
love hath no man than this that he lay down his life for his friends.” This was
said of the love Hyrum Smith showed in behalf of his brother Joseph Smith, the
latter-day prophet. Alfred Smurthwaite had that type of love for his brother
Charles, to whom he was sympathetic and devoted. “Charlie,” he said, “was in a
true sense a cultured gentleman, proud, sensitive and mentally keen. He was the
most Christ-like man I ever knew.”
During his
adolescence Alfred became acquainted with the Latter-day Saint Church, largely
through the influence of his brother Charles Albert and a very close family
friend, Mary Jane Proudfoot, both of whom were enthusiastic members of the
“Young Peoples’ Good Christian Temperance Society.” The principal requirement
of its members was abstaining from liquor and tobacco.
Mary Jane
met the Mormon Elders and became interested in Mormonism, and it was through
her influence that the Smurthwaite family first heard the Gospel.
Charlie was
first to join the Church. He served as secretary to the Branch President and
recorded the minutes of many important gatherings and meetings. His signature
might be seen throughout the early copies of the Millennial Star edited
in England.
After
Charlie emigrated to Utah in 1882, other members of the family eventually
joined the Church and migrated to America. Grandmother’s attitude is
interesting as it is related in the following incident. About the time of the
Chicago fire a group of printers was coming to America, and Grandfather
Smurthwaite was asked to make the trip. He urged Grandmother to sail with him,
but her reply was, “No, not until they build a bridge that I can walk across.”
Charlie’s being in Utah made all the difference. Eventually his parents and
some of the younger members of the family followed.
Although
Alfred had a dislike for school, he always had a profound respect for spiritual
things. To attend church was, to him, --even when young—uppermost in his heart.
Regularly he attended the Church of England with his family. At an early age
(as soon as the law allowed) he was permitted to leave school and go to work.
He was first employed in a factory where the manufacture of corduroy velvet was
carried on.
In England,
at the time, when a man went into the world of work, he achieved a new status
in his family. He was accorded a respect he had not enjoyed before. Alfred’s
mother always made the home ready for the workers’ return. The fireplace logs
were lighted and each one’s chair was drawn up close with his house shoes
placed in front of it for warming. Ster all, they were the “bread winners!” The
house was tidy; dinner was on cooking. Grandmother herself was “freshened up”
and her work cap and apron exchanged for beribboned pretty, lacy things for
dinner. Alfred basked under the new deference paid to the erstwhile naughty boy
boy of the family. At this time he began to have a better image of himself. He
was baptized May 12, 1883, when 16 years old, full of faith and eager to take
part. Almost at once he was called as a home missionary, from which office he
was released to emigrate to America.
Alfred was
eighteen years old when he and his mother stood at the dock ready to sail for
America. When the brothers and sisters bid them farewell, little did they
realize that they would never see their mother again. When Grandma Smurthwaite
died, her son John (Uncle Jack) wrote to Alfred with sorrow and bitterness that
he had allowed her to be taken away from England. Incidentally, Uncle Jack and
Alfred over the years corresponded with each other and often exchanged
photographs of their families. On that day when “Goodbyes” were said, Alfred
recalled that his brother Jack, the successful businessman who later would
become editor of the Cardiff Times already carried with him an air of
success. He was dressed in the finest-cut suit made by English tailors. He
looked Alfred over and asked, “Are these the best clothes you have?” The boy
felt rather shy and sensitive in his brother’s presence. He was well aware that
his appearance did not match that of his elder brother!
ELEANOR MCTINTYRE
PARKER
Cousin
Nellie Parker emigrated from England somewhat later. She came to live with
Grandma Smurthwaite because she did not fit into the new family after her
father passed away and her mother remarried Thomas Hancock. Nellie was twelve
years old at that time. And came from England to Utah with missionaries who
were returning home. At the time Uncle Jack felt that she was taken away under
fraudulent circumstances—that the Mormons were responsible. The fact is that
Grandma Smurthwaite made all arrangements and paid for her traveling expenses
to Utah. Incidentally, she didn’t travel first class! “Little Nellie” had all
her possessions in a straw case, upon which she sat during that long boat trip
to the United States.
She did
have a good home with Grandma, who made for her a strict schedule of chores.
She taught her to sew and to make hats. Nellie practiced penmanship and
faithfully brushed her hair. When “Little Sweetheart” (pet name given her by
her uncles) was “properly dressed” she wore hat and gloves, and she carried a
nice handkerchief just as she had at home in England.
Nellie
eventually married George Parker of Hooper, Utah, where they and their family
lived for many years. We all loved her; Alfred certainly did. In a letter to
Mary, Cousin Nellie Parker wrote:
When I
married, your father wrote me a letter in which he told me I should always have
a home to come to if needed, and that he was ready and willing to do a father’s
part for me. He was the only one who gave me the consolation that in time of
need I had a real friend and that he would share his last crust with his
children and me.
MARY JANE PROUDFOOT—A
CLOSE FAMILY FRIEND
Mary Jane
Proudfoot eventually emigrated to America, coming to live near her beloved
Smurthwaites. She, like them, had loved busy, crowded Manchester, where they
had found the Gospel; but along with her friends, she felt called to join the
body of the Church in Utah. None of them had known country life or had ever
seen a cow! The new, raw life in Ogden must have been quite a traumatic
experience for them all.
One day
Mary Jane was out on the dusty road in front of the Smurthwaite’s home. Along
the street facing her came an angry bull, bellowing and pawing the ground. She,
knowing no fear, kept walking toward the frenzied animal. Suddenly one of the
children screamed out, “Sister Proudfoot, Sister Proudfoot, come back! Come
inside the fence! Don’t you know that’s a bull?” Mary Jane, shocked and
disgusted at the “brazenness” of American children, stood as tall as her four
feet, ten inches would reach and scornfully retorted, “How (with a silent H)
were I to know it were a bull?”
Disappointment upon arrival in America
Upon
arrival in New York harbor Alfred, had but five cents in his possession. As he
walked about looking over his new surroundings, he noticed a fruit stand
displaying many fruits. One stand idplayed only tomatoes. Since he had never
seen them before, he spent his last coin to obtain one. He experienced bitter
disappointment as the taste was far different from what he had anticipated,
considering the lushness of its appearance.
Another
disappointment awaited him as he stepped off the train in Ogden, Utah: No
sidewalks, well, a few board ones! There were weeds, tumbled-down fences, unkempt
out-buildings and neglected-looking fields. His first impulse was to return
upon the next train to his beloved England. “Why, the English countryside was a
beautiful garden! There were hedges, green grass, birds and flowers in
England.” England was a mother of nations, a ruler of nations! Such thoughts
weighed heavily upon him and his homesickness was indeed great.
Nevertheless,
he found adventure and plenty to do in this new, raw America. In the Church he
found companionship. New experiences crowded his time: The first position of
mention he had here was that of a traveling salesman for the Schocroft and Sons
Wholesale Grocery Firm. This work helped to enlarge his acquaintances and to
build friendships wherever he traveled. During this time Alfred actually laid
the foundation for his future employment. He was a natural for this type of
work. He was an excellent conversationalist and could carry on intelligently
upon almost any subject. Besides being well dressed, he was pleasant,
optimistic and knowledgeable. He won the confidence of prospective buyers and
for a young man did very well financially. Over the years he tried other types
of work, but eventually he would go back “on the road” as he called it.
Smoking, NO, NO!!
Like many
young men, Alfred had his problems: He decided to smoke cigarettes. Some of his
popular friends were smoking. He knew better than to take up the habit, but he
wanted to be liked and felt that if he got on with the popular, prosperous
fellows he would have it made.
One evening
his mother, while walking along a street in Ogden, noticed that Alfred and two
friends were walking ahead of her. They were dressed for an evening “out on the
town.” She noticed also that they were all smoking. Coming up to him she said,
“Ye think you’re a dandy? But you’re not but a coward, too weak to live up to
your own principles. Stamp it out, lad.” So full of the same rebellion and
resentment that so often marked his boyhood, he stamped it out in the
irrigation ditch where he had thrown it.
Christmas
Eve, years later when his daughter Margaret came home from Smithfield, Utah,
where she worked as an English teacher at the junior high school, she found her
father sitting close to heater in the dining room. He had just come home
through a heavy snow storm from doing some last minute shopping. A few days
previously he had bruised his right arm when he had slipped on some ice. He was
cold and tense, so Margaret rubbed liniment on his arm and gently massaged it
to ease his pain. Gradually he warmed up and began to talk more than in
monosyllables.
“You know,”
he observed, “I have found that the closer one lives up to the teachings of the
Gospel, the easier it becomes to obey all the commandments. Once I thought that
I just had to smoke. I told myself that my smoking helped me in my business—you
know, so many contacts smoked. Then I found out that my mother didn’t like my
smoking. Full of resentment, I gave it up, thinking that when I got married I’d
smoke all I wanted to. Well I got married and your mother didn’t like my
smoking, either. So to please her, I gave it up. Since then I have not cared
about it! Giving it up was easier. Living the Gospel gets easier and easier as
time goes on.”
During his
younger years, he was learning and growing. As he was now feeling financial
independence, his clothes began to show new fabrics and the latest styles and
fit. He liked good clothing and was soon considered one of the best dressed
young men in the community. Look at his pictures taken during this period.
Notice the detail and finish of his attire. Note the walking stick, the fancy
vest, the fine shoes and the flower on his lapel. In one of them, notice the
cigarette between his fingers. Oh, yes, he still went to Church, but he wanted
to be popular. He was “feeling his oats!” as we would say today.
Besides his
taste for fine clothing, he was becoming a true connoisseur of foods. He knew
what was good to eat and how it should be prepared and served. He cultivated a
taste for good eating habits and a curiosity for foods of different nations.
English foods remained his favorite. He knew what to serve as a complement: For
roast lamb, mint sauce; for roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and Worcestershire
sauce; for roast pork, apple sauce. Those who knew him best delighted to please
his appetite and tried to make dishes to his liking. He would say to anyone,
usually his daughters who chanced to complain about his fussiness, “I’m the
easiest man in the world to care for: Just give me what I like!”
Alfred did
not demand fancy, elaborate salads or deserts. He learned to enjoy all fruits
and vegetables (even tomatoes) and demanded thin sliced bread or hot biscuits.
Seasonal foods like Christmas cookies and candies, strawberry shortcake,
pumpkin pie, were relished as if they were made especially for him. Often he’d
say when his satisfaction was complete, “God bless the queen and all the royal
family!” All who heard him knew that the queen and royal family referred to was
his beloved wife and children.
He best
enjoyed plain, undecorated desserts: Fruit cake or suet puddings filled with a
variety of fruits and nuts; or more simply with a few currants served always
with lemon dip flavored with nutmeg. He enjoyed equally well pound cake, citron
loaf or or most any cake without icing. He thoroughly enjoyed his snack before
retiring: Usually a glass of milk, a piece of his favorite cake or thin-sliced
bread with blue-damson plum jam or orange marmalade. He liked the relaxing
grace in England of the four o’clock tea hour; but America was too young, too
bustling and too busy for such a time-out custom as that.
There is
little wonder that Alfred’s children were not food faddists. They were taught
to eat all good food and enjoy it. Besides this he had all his children become
acquainted with the unusual: Blood pudding, mushrooms, frog legs, trype,
brains, sweet breads, and chicken feet. He sometimes teased Mother by saying
such things as, “I taught your mother all that she knows about cooking. All
that she could cook when we were married was Mormon gravy.” He did teach her
much, “No doubt about it,” he would often reiterate; but he taught a sharp and
willing student whose love and labor wrought the miracle!
Alfred's Mother—Grandma Smurtaite
One Sunday
while Grandma Smurthwaite was paying her annual visit to the Alfred Smurthwaite
family, our mother asked her to make the Yorkshire pudding that was to
complement the roast beef, saying, “Alfred always complains that my puddings
are never as good as the ones you make.” Grandma made the pudding, and after
Alfred had carved the roast and had served the pudding and exclaimed, “Mother,
I wish you would teach Maggie how to make Yorkshire pudding. Hers is never so
good as the ones you make.” Grandma replied with emphasis, “Come off it, Lad! I
made this pudding myself!”
At the
Christmas dinner Alfred was always excited as he saw Mother enter from the kitchen
with the flaming plum pudding decorated with holly. He was enthusiastic about
the big turkey or the baked suckling pig with a red apple in its mouth.
Grandma
Smurthwaite seemed always to us a little old lady. Her hair was iron gray; she
was very slender and taller than our mother. On her visits to our home Grandma
made herself a part of the family. Bedroom furniture was set up for her in the
parlor. Mary slept there with her so “she wouldn’t be alone.” She helped with
dusting the furniture, drying the dishes, paring the vegetables for supper, and
setting the table. She always wore a black dress with a pretty narrow, white
collar and cameo brooch. On her head she wore a little cap, always pretty.
Alfred's Religious Activities
Alfred’s
religious zeal seemed to be inborn and Sunday was a sacred day for him. Always
he wore his very best, accented with a spotless white or pin-striped vest. He
took an active part in the “Restored Gospel” but maintained an appreciation and
respect for the educated clergy and the righteous endeavor of the church of his
youth. He had a warm-hearted sympathy for all religious faiths and for the good
they endeavored to do. He was interested in the international program of the Salvation
Army and held great regard and respect for their leader, General John Boothe.
Some of his personal friends were among clergyman with whom he enjoyed
visiting. He always went to Church on Sunday. If he was out of reach of his own
church, he went to the church available.
He also
felt it his obligation to be a good citizen of the United States. Alfred
consistently obeyed the laws and was eager to defend the rights of all men. He
worked for worthy causes in and out of the church. While yet a young man living
at home in Ogden with his mother, he joined the Ogden Cricket Team and became a
proficient player. In these days the game was very popular. The Ogden team
played with many out-lying teams in the states.
Courtship and Marriage
One time in
May, 1889, the Ogden team played a game at Wellsville, a town about forty miles
from Ogden, on the occasion of one of the town’s popular May-Day celebrations.
That evening Alfred saw lovely Margaret Ellen Brown on her way home from
school. He fell in love with her at first sight, and determined to marry her,
saying to his companion, Doctor Cook, “I’m going to marry that girl.” Had he
known the opposition he was going to meet from the Wellsville town’s people, he
might have hesitated in even considering the marriage. The people felt that
this young “Foreigner” was not good enough for “Maggie.”
Her mother bitterly
opposed the wedding.
Our mother
said that after the marriage, “Dad purposely and consistently cultivated Ma’s
friendship, extending courtesies and tenderness: for instance; handing her in
or even lifting her out of the carriage. He won her heart! The same way, he won
mine.”
Alfred and
his bride married in the Logan Temple, June 25, 1890. Their son, Alfred
Tennyson, was born December 13, 1891, at the Brown family home. Less than two
years later Alfred was called on a mission to England. Gladly he accepted the
call to carry the message of the restored Gospel to his homeland. Naturally his
first desire upon his arrival to his field of labor was to contact his family.
He visited his brothers James, Thomas, and John, and his sister Mary Ann (known
as Polly), none of whom were interested in the Church. He greatly enjoyed his
varied and interesting experiences. He was an excellent missionary, filled with
sincerity and enthusiasim for the truthfulness of the restoration of the Church
and its teachings.
He managed
to contact his relatives. He held in high esteem Uncle Henry Todd, Aunt Mary
Salter, and Aunt Charlotte Stonehouse, his mother’s sisters. Many people,
converts and contacts, kept in touch with him after his return home. While in
England he had occasion to contrast his homeland with the challenging, growing,
progressing America. He still enjoyed the beauty he saw in many well-ordered
British homes and hoped that some day the way of English living could be incorporated
in his own home in Utah. He especially enjoyed Aunt Charlotte’s warmth and love
and her meticulous house keeping. He was impressed with the snowy-white widths
of covering that centered the walking areas of the beautiful deep-red plush
carpets on the stairway leading down into the spacious room below. He, being
lovable and affectionate himself, naturally responded to Aunt Charlotte’s
attention: the morning paper and breakfast in bed, his shoes polished outside
his bedroom door!
News from
home was eagerly looked forward to. Maggie was a faithful correspondent even
though she was kept busy with her baby and her school teaching. During Alfred’s
two years away, she was finishing her ten-year career as the teacher in the old
rock school-house. After he had been gone for four months, her second son, John
Armand, was born. This boy proved to be a joy and a comfort to them until his
untimely death at the age of fourteen years.
While in
the mission field Alfred’s father passed away. He learned of his passing before
the news arrived from home telling of his death and burial. One evening while
studying at his desk he had a spiritual visitation from his father, an
experience that comforted him and strengthened his testimony. From then on, he
became a still more ardent advocate of the Gospel, filled with sincerity and
enthusiasm for the Church and its teachings.
Alfred the Englishman
Alfred’s
nationalistic feelings and sentiments ran high, and naturally so, for had he
not grown up with his generation under the reign and strong influence of Queen
Victoria and the long line of predecessors? He was reared to believe that to be
born an Englishman was the greatest privilege that could come to any man.
England was the mother of nations, heroes and rulers of the seven seas, the
home of poets, statesmen, conquerors, and of many battles. England, where the
people were probably the most law-abiding on earth. He loved to arouse his
children into argumentation, stimulating in them a love for England as well as
loyalty and undying patriotism for their own country.
When Queen
Victoria died her beautifully hand-woven picture was hanging in its place by
the staircase next to the frame of the double door that led to our parlor. On
that day and for days following Alfred wore a band of black crepe on his arm.
When asked why he wore the crepe, he would reply, “My Queen is dead. Long live
the King!”
Alfred was
very critical of Fourth of July orations that down-graded England, his homeland
and the home of his ancestors. On July 4, 1889, he was in Wellsville for the
celebration. Mother was gowned in flowing white robes and a striking headpiece;
she was the majestic goddess of liberty. On this day she rode in a float
handsomely decorated in the national colors, and with her characteristic style,
sincerity, and dignity Alfred heard her deliver the oration “Ode to the Nation”
written by Moroni Duncan. Some of the tones in the speech were critical of the
mother country. Later that day Alfred let her know that her mention not
favorable to England was objectionable to him.
Just the
same, Alfred learned to love America. He became a loyal citizen, gladly obeying
the laws and seriously studying the state and national issues. He constantly
supported the Democratic Party, unfailingly voting in elections. He even sang
“America the Beautiful” and loved it!
Grain and Seed Business
Alfred
continued his desire for church service after he returned from his mission. He
moved his family to Ogden, employed as a traveling salesman for the Schocorft
Company. Here his daughters Margaret and Sarah were born. Maggie’s attending
physician was Doctor Hyde, a long-time friend of the Smurthwaites. Alfred
finally left Schocorft’s employ and became the partner as a branch manager and
buyer in the newly formed enterprise of “C. A. Smurthwaite Grain and Seed
Company.” His brother Charlie was manager. Eventually he transferred to Salt
Lake City. After one year he moved to Wellsville and operated a branch seed and
grain store in Logan.
During the same year Alfred
purchased the old Brown home-stead from Grandpa Brown. Maggie, elated, said,
“This is my last move. I’ve counted; I’ve moved twenty-three times in my
married life!”
This
actually was a fine old home, built by Uncle Sam Mitton. Alf and Maggie
remodeled the old house into a very livable, lovely, comfortable home with new
furniture throughout. Paradoxical as it seems, most of the furnishings were of
Alfred’s choosing! Maggie was content with that. Her job, she knew, lay in the
heart of the home. She trusted his judgment and he tried to please her. There
it stands today, located on several acres of land on the eastern side of the
townsite, four blocks from the public square—the center of town. To Alfred
Smurthwaite, the dreamer, the idealist, it must have been a place to love,
cherish and cultivate. So it became; but not without labor, love and
heartaches.
The
pictures that Alf brought home, he chose with great care for particular places.
They were professionally framed. On the stairway, just before the turn that lead
into the upstairs hall, hung the gold-framed picture of Durham Cathedral. All
of us loved that picture, with river water lapping the foundation of the great
building towering above it.
Our cousins
were also interested in this picture. One night Melba Gunnell wanted Sarah to
go and stay overnight at Aunt Sarah Ann’s. After considerable coaxing she said
to Mother, “Aunt Maggie, if you’ll let Sarah go, I’ll never ask you again until
this water comes to Wellsville.”
Most of the
pictures Alf chose were of interest to all of us. One pair was entitles “Queen
Alexandria, Her Grandchildren and Dogs,” another “The prince of Wales and His
Horses.” “The Charge of the Light Brigade” fascinated the boys, while the girls
liked “The Little Princess At Work.” A pair of striking pictures was in
magnificent oak frames. One pictured Christ on a donkey, making his triumphant
entry into Jerusalem , the other one was Christ before Pilot.
Probably
our most loved picture was that of Saint Cecilia with her hands on the keyboard
of the organ, presumably playing music so beautifully that the angels above her
were showering down roses in her honor. This picture hung above the handsome
little cherry-wood piano where the Smurthwaite children could hopefully
practice and become musicians.
Mary was
the one who loved to practice. Saint Cecilia inspired her. She practiced before
going to school. She loved that piano and thought of the “piano chair” as her
own. This instrument Alfred bought from Aunt Nellie Nickson and it is thought
to have been the first one in Wellsville. As a result the piano was moved to
the town hall, to the Church, or to individual homes to help with the
entertainments. Alfred and Mary were our musicians at heart, he with his
whistling and humming of tunes and his singing of solos and duets with Maggie;
she with her piano and voice.
This estate
furnished an ideal place for children. The hills sloped down to the lower level
pasture and the “Little Creek.” Here and there were springs where watercress
grew and where great willow trees grew to be climbed and “tamed” for swinging.
The calf pasture was behind the house and was perfect for playing active
games—“London Bridge,” “Work Up,” “Pomp, Pomp, Pull Away.” The chicken coop,
near the house, was perfect for playing “Anti Eye Over,” and “Hide and Seek.”
Because he
envisioned a gigantic chicken business, he built with the aid of Walter Aylett,
a trestle connecting the first hill (where the out-buildings were located) and
the second hill. On the north side he planned chicken coops and runs. The
venture prospered. He shipped in the finest day-old chicks from Peteluma
California. Alf became a showman; he took many a blue ribbon with his poultry.
One time
after bathing a grooming a pen of white Plymouth Rock Chickens (it being January)
he spread papers on the kitchen floor and left them inside for fear of having
their combs frost-bitten. The next morning early he had made a roaring fire in
the cook range and the rooster, a beautiful bird, singed its flowing tail as it
brushed the stove. The Logan Journal made quite a story out of it, which
caused much gossip and fun by the natives of Cache Valley. On one occasion, he
had a pen of beautiful white hens and a handsome rooster, fully qualified as to
breeding and pedigree, to enter the County Fair for judging. The night before
the chickens had been brought to the spacious kitchen to be bathed and groomed
for the next day’s showing. After each had been given the final touch of
Vaseline rubbed into its comb, which brought out the color and made them
glisten, papers were spread for their convenience. The next morning the usual
fire was built in the kitchen range and not anticipating the movements of the
stately rooster, Alfred found his attention occupied by other duties of the
morning. Later when he came to place the chickens in the shipping crate, to his
disappointment and amazement his prize rooster had scorched his billowing white
tail feathers. Needless to mention the feelings of the proud owner, the Country
Press not willing to let this incident go by without a story, featured a
humorous article in the Logan Journal which brought fun and laughter to
his competitors. Here Alfred realized the value of a sense of humor.
Alfred's Love of His Work
The chicken
venture was just a side issue. Alf lived in Wellsville and operated a branch
seed and grain store in Logan, branch of the C. A. Smurthwaite Grain and Seed
Produce Company located in Ogden. He traveled all over beautiful Cache Valley,
made friends with the farmers, many of them his lasting and devoted friends. He
traveled by team and buggy to his place of business in Logan and it was always
a source of delight to the children when Billy and Molly came galloping down
the dugway, the screams accompanied with the ring of, “Here comes papa, here
comes papa,” was a thrilling welcome that any father would love to have. In
winter time he wore a full-length fur coat, having deep pockets usually heavy
with treats for everybody. These years of business activity and service proved
to be the most carefree and the happiest of his life.
How he
enjoyed his little Ford car! He did not like driving alone. He was never a
loner. He enjoyed the company of Charlie B. and the boy enjoyed his
ever-spirited and cheerful father, who, always fair and square with people,
earned their confidence. His business flourished. He increased his business
territory to include adjoining counties.
Many of
this Englishman’s dreams were materializing. No wonder he hummed or whistled as
he worked! After remodeling and refurnishing the old house in 1906 and 1907, he
made it into a lovely home which was always shared with many friends and
relatives that chose to come there.
Alfred was
house proud! Often he’d say, “A man’s home is his castle.” He felt that way and
was never through working at his. He frequently bought new things or had them
delivered from Logan. When Harry C., our youngest brother, was born, he brought
home for Maggie a beautiful rocking chair, upholstered in green velvet. He
purchased the library table that centered the west end of the big parlor, and
the handsome table lamp to go on it. He was the one who brought home the wicker
baby carriage for our new baby, Mildred—that gorgeous carriage with its
impractical white parasol with white net and its still more impractical
upholstery in pale blue silk with tiny pink flowers. When he told our practical
mother the cost of the carriage, she answered with her oft-used cutting remark,
“They saw you coming!”
The house
lay within walking distance of the church, schools, stores, blacksmith shop,
and eventually the theatre; and even Aunt Sarah Ann’s house was only six blocks
away. Old Bill was a favorite horse. He knew when he was near home and would
quicken his pace from the easy lope to a gallop! The little girls, not able to
prevent his increase in speed, hung on to his mane for dear life to avoid
falling off as he made his left turn and sped into the driveway.
Christmas
ALFRED WAS
THE PERFECT SANTA CLAUSE! His was always the biggest Christmas tree. There was
fire in the fireplace, stockings filled to the brim, toys of the finest for
both the boys and the girls. All of the holidays throughout the year, even from
St. Patrick’s to the 4th of July, were made important to his family;
but much more preparation and celebrating took place with greater ferver and
enthusiasm for the coming of the bells of Christmas.
Well in
advance of the festive day, Alf carefully selected cards for his many friends.
The following excerpt from his “Missionary Journal” show his concern: “Dec. 4,
1893 Christmas cards to Ethel Watkins, Priscilla Brown, Rosella, Pollie and
Veda Gunnel, Mary’s baby and our baby, one to Maggie, Nellie Nixon, and Grandma
Brown.”
It was
Christmas eve in Wellsville, December 24, 1903. A few days previously we had
decorated the huge Christmas tree. Alf, as usual, had done most of the
decorating after struggling with the wooden base that supported it and held it
firmly in place. He always had trouble with the boards and nails and hammer! Of
course all the children helped by handing him the long strings of popcorn and
of tinsel, telling him just where to place the favorite ornaments—the beautiful
angel “on the very top.” Finally they handed him the candle holders and then
the candles of the “right color” to go in each one.
Grace was
only two years old and Mary four, but they were helping too. Sarah, six years
old, was really useful in handing things for the right place, and Margaret, all
of eight, was rejoicing as the chief director! Tennie and Armand were outside
feeding the chickens and throwing hay down from the loft to feed the cows. All
this happened three nights before. The candles had not yet been lighted. The
tree still looked good, except just a bit less than perfect on the lower
branches!
After Alf
had bathed each one of us one by one in the round galvanized wash tub in front
of the kitchen range, had put “Camphor Ice” on our faces and had brushed our
hair to shining straightness, we trooped up to bed, Grace in Alf’s arms, Mary
on his back, and the other two following behind. From the kitchen Mother
called, “Remember to say your prayers.” After Dad turned out the light he
admonished us to “Get to sleep now!” And, “Old Santa will not come until you
are sound asleep, every one of you.”
Guess what?
When we trooped down the stairs before sun-up on Christmas morning, the tree
was gone! The chatter and noise we made brought Alf in a minute. The house was
warm; the flames shinig through the windows in the big heater were cheerful to
see. Alf must have been up very early—something he hated on a cold winter
morning! “Be quiet now,” he said very quietly. “Come in here and see your new
baby brother!” (Charles B. was born on December 24).
Guess what?
We didn’t even see the baby brother!! All we saw was the tree in front of the
south window—the tree alight with gleaming candles, surrounded by doll
carriages and doll beds and dishes, a wind-up train and balls and a bat and a
sled and, oh, everything we had been dreaming about!
Then came
the questions at once. “Did Santa move the tree?” “Did he light the candles?”
“Did any ornaments fall and break?” (that from Margaret). “No,” Alf had
answered to every question. “I brought the tree here so that Mam Pam (his pet
name for Mother) could see the tree and all your pretty things.” Our mother
looked beautiful in her light blue bed jacket, leaning back on the pillows with
the “hand-knitted lace.” Not until then did we see the baby brother—the first
boy born after four girls in a row—cradled in her arms so that we could see him
and examine his hands and feet, his hair and eye lashes.
After the
two proud brothers had come in and set up their train, they proposed that they
go out on the hill and try the new sled on the hill. Alfred, however, proposed
breakfast first. “Laura (Leishman) says it is ready in the kitchen.” Alf
dreaded the Christmas season to be over. He’d say to us at bedtime on New
Year’s Eve, “Old Santa will be around here tonight on his return to the North
Pole. If you are asleep he’ll leave a little bit of something—his New Year’s greeting
to you. Next morning we girls would always find small gifts on the dresser in
our room—maybe a bottle of heliotrope perfume.
On Sunday
after church and on many different special occasions our Dad would take us
driving in the “surry with fringe on top.” Mother sat in the front seat with
the two little ones. On the back seat remained his “back-seat drivers,”
energetically, persistently telling him where to go: “Go to the big creek! Go
through the water. It’s not too deep.” No matter what his planned destination
was, we always got to go through the water first! How we loved Mollie and Bill,
that team of spirited bays—the carriage horses.
Compassion
Alfred
Smurthwaite was diligent in magnifying his priesthood. He was a member of the
ward choir and cheerfully served whereever
he was called.
As Sunday
School Superintendent of the Hyrum Stake, he served faithfully and well. His
good influence he left wherever his visits were made. When called to speak, he
often sang a favorite hymn to put over a point. He was gifted with a sweet high
baritone voice. Some of his favorite songs were, “Put Your Shoulder to the
Wheel,” “Scatter Seeds of Kindness,” “Count Your Blessings,” “Let Us Oft Speak
Kind Words,” “There Is Sunshine in My Heart Today,” and “I Know My Heavenly
Father Knows,” which he loved to sing.
During the
number of years he served on the board, he was constantly striving to improve
the ward Sunday Schools. His excellent and efficient board members loved him
and responded eagerly to his youthful spirit and encouragement.
Friends
His friends
came from all walks of life. He was considerate and generous to a fault, would
offer money, hospitality and assistance to those who came for it, many times
assisting them when it was a supreme sacrifice to himself and family.
One early
autumn day, a lone man riding in a light buggy drawn by a tired gray horse,
rode to the Smurthwaite residence. He was past middle age, wearing a wide
striped coat, shabby trousers, and a well-worn hat. He alighted and tied his
horse to the hitching post and, coming through the gate, asked the curious
children, “Does Alf Smurthwaite live here?” This Englishman became a member of
the household, willing to share any inconvenience if he might be housed. Tome
Kirkup was crippled in one of his legs because of a wound received while
serving in the British Army. He got about with the use of a cane which made his
usefulness of little value to this household of many duties. His stay was many
months and, notwithstanding the inconvenience his stay brought this family, he
was treated with respect, and Alfred’s sympathy for his was such that he
couldn’t tell him to leave.
Sister
Wilson and her son, Willie, were two of Alfred’s English converts. They stayed
with us a full year in Wellsville. Willie went to school with us, and Sister
Wilson helped Maggie about the house. Before the cold winter set, she knit
beautiful woolen scarves and mittens for the boys, and handsome “fascinators”
for the girls.
Among Alf’s
many friends and acquaintances Tom Rowley remained the most loved. Where they
met or how long ago we may not know, but Tommy had also emigrated from England
and found himself in Cache Valley. He and his wife lived in our house in
Wellsville for one season while Alf and his family lived in Logan, where Alfred
was there establishing his business. They were caretakers, but at the same time
appreciated the housing. Tommy was a man of small stature , and had a rather
positive step. His hair was thick, dark auburn and very wavy-rather wirey in
texture. He had a manner of blinking his eyes much the same as does a chicken.
Also the tilt of his head resembled that of a chicken when it listens for
insects. He had a keen mind, unspoiled wit, and genuineness of purpose. Tommy
was not well to do, nor was he schooled in the school training of the day;
nevertheless, his knowledge and understanding in the field of horticulture was
an inspiration to college professors and scholars alike. They came to him with
their problems and sought his advice and respected his counsel.
Tommy lived
on Canyon Road in Logan Canyon, surrounded by many fruit trees, honey bees, and
poultry. His six sons and daughters were a constant pride and joy to him. He
gave them nicknames such as “Buff,” and “Tiger Lilly.” “Tiger Lilly” looked like
her name, with her thick hair and freckles to match.
Tommy had a
rare gift for originality of expression. For example, he would refer to college
professors as “white-collared artists.” Of certain men who pretended, he might
say, “Why he doesn’t have money enough to buy a mosquito belt!” When explaining
a decision, he would often say, “I’ll tell you for why.” In describing
Margaret’s tall fiancé, he quipped, “She looks like a period after a long
sentence.
Dad never
wearied of Tommy; they would sit far into the night, discussing and exchanging
thoughts and idea.
Always at
Christmas and Thanksgiving there came to our house dressed poultry, or a box of
shining Jonathans from Tommy’s “plantation.” This true friend was at Alf’s
bedside a few days before he passed away. His presence was thoughtful, quiet
and comforting. He spoke of the time when Alf would be well. He would put a
tent in his orchard for him to regain his strength. There would be pure canyon
breezes and warm sunlight that would strengthen and invigorate him. Tommy’s
feelings were deep and sincere as he sat quietly at the bedside of his friend,
the two of them still bragging about the accomplishments of their children.
No children
could have had a more wonderful daddy than ours, or a happier childhood. Alf
was not so good as the father of teenagers. He found it difficult to reconcile
himself to the fact that these teenagers just naturally are meant to mature
into independent freethinkers if ever they are to be able to assume adult
responsibilities. Intellectually he accepted this; emotionally he could not.
Very often his reactions to their disagreements were explosive. As his stresses
in life became more severe and his financial problems more acute, his temper
would flair more quickly. If someone crossed him, he reacted without thinking.
Naturally teenagers could not understand his anxieties.
For
example, at times he would yell out, “Well, I’ll be jumped up!” and then enter
into a flow of harsh cutting accusations. The children would fly back at him
and would soon be in tears. Alfred, quick to flair up, was just as quick to
calm down and become gentle and lovable.
Taking a
bath was a major production to Alf, and actually t the whole family. He would
never take into the bathroom everything he needed. Any or all of us who
happened to be home would be enlisted in the job, “Bring me the soap.” “Throw
me a wash rag.” “Go up stairs and get my white shirt from the dresser drawer.”
“Toss me the cuticura soap, I don’t like this kind.” “Thanks, doll, now hand me
those suspenders from my clothes closet.”
One day
daughter Margaret, who had now just about
“had it,” what with running up and down stairs, said to her mother, “I
don’t see how you can stand Dad! How on earth did you ever come to marry him?”
Maggie came out of the pantry angry, assumed her customary fighting stance and
replied, “Now I’ll tell you something. When you marry, if you do half as well
as I did, I’ll be satisfied.”
Maggie, Alf
and all the family suffered when he was overwhelmed by financial reverses. He
invested one thousand dollars in a furniture business in Logan. The next day
the owner declared bankruptcy. He recovered from that in time; but when the C.
A. Smurthwaite Grain and Feed Company failed and Dad’s partnership was
dissolved, he never did again recover. The farmers who sincerely loved and
respected him lost faith in the company when C. A. Smurthwaite was
excommunicated from the Church. This happened when the children of both
families were more demanding for school expenses and for cultural
opportunities.
Truly it
could be said of him as Stephen Vincent Benet said about Miles Standish, “He
was a little cannon soon fired.” On the other hand, the children found it hard
to get over their hurts and Alf, noticing their eyes red with crying, would
ask, “What’s the matter around here? What’s all this crying about?”
Away from
home he was always pleasant and cheerful. He liked approval. So characteristic
was his good humor that the older town kids called him, “Uncle Happy.” Cyrus
Bailey said of him, “If Alf had only two cents and a few screws in his pocket,
he’d jingle them and be singing and smiling.
One day
Sarah said to him, “Dad, how is it that when you’re away from home you are so
happy and when you are home you get so mad?” Rapping his knuckles on the table
he shouted, “If a man can’t get mad in his own house, where can he get mad?”
Yes, he was naturally warm hearted and affectionate and happy in spirit. He
needed approval, especially from his family. Mary, who stayed at home with Maggie
and Alfred after the rest of us were married, said, “I quarreled a lot with
Dad. I often said mean, cutting things to him. That has been hard for me to
bear.”
Maggie and
Alf often “battled it out.” She would assume her dramatic stance with no
uncertain terms. It is said that she didn’t often remember the words of her
patriarchal blessing: “You will marry a man who will greatly appreciate your
love and affection.” She said one day shortly after his death, “If I had shown
my love and spoken the love that I always felt for your father, I could have
twisted him around my little finger.”
It was sad
that Alf was forced to move his family to Salt Lake City, this move being
motivated by the accident suffered by his youngest daughter, Mildred. This was
a very trying experience for all the family, that the family home was sold to
others outside the family heritage. This move was accomplished with much
heartache. How strange it was that Alf Smurthwaite was never again to know the
freedom of soul and the peace of mind that the years in Chache Valley had
brought him. Cache Valley, where he was know and respected, and loved. From
then on always accident, or destruction, of one kind or another threatened his
peace of mind and his rest. But with it all, he retained his youthful spirit.
He never lost his faith in God, and his testimony of the Gospel was made
strong. One of the last things he did was to visit his sister Lilly who had
been away from family contact for many years. He felt impressed to make this
visit and so , though ill, he trangeled alone in his small car to Oakland,
California, where he endeavored to renew her faith in the Gospel message.
She was not
in mind or heart to receive his counsel and message kindly. Her two daughters,
Eva and Ellen, scoffed at the idea of their mother’s renewing her affiliation
with the Church. However, while he lay very ill, she wrote him a letter,
revealing a humility of soul and expressing appreciation for his visit and his
interest in her welfare.
Never again
was Alf free from debt and anxiety. Time after time he mortgaged his home or
sold it and replaced it for one of less value. Finally he was forced to lapse
insurance policies. He took any kind of a selling job he could find. This
constant stress and heartbreak finally turned his former dreams of grandeur
into a barren waste. During his final lingering illness he continually fretted
about leaving Mother “penniless.” Her having to live in the Gordon Place home
was a final blow to his pride. Maggie, on the other hand, accepted graciously
this, their last home which she described in a letter to a dear friend, Ella
Kvist:
After a long and arduous search for a
desirable place to live in, having searched among the inviting and uninviting,
in Logan and it seemed from end to end of this city, trying chiefly to fit our
pocketbook and have a little cleanliness and desirability thrown in, we at last
hit upon our present location, between Main and State and half a block north of
North Temple, five rooms, and small in comparison to other seven and
eight-roomed houses we have always lived in. We could not get all of our
furniture in, but enough to make us cozy and comfortable, and handy to town and
to the temple and library, also to the 17th ward chapel Mary, too,
is pleased, as to her walk to and from work is short. Harry will have to take
the streetcar to school. He will, however, walk one way.
During his
final lingering illness Alf continually fretted. Cousin Nellie said that a few
days before he died that, at occasional lucid moments he would glance at the
picture, “Christ before Pilot,” and would speak as if addressing the central
figure. His mind seemed always to be upon Maggie.
While
looking intently at the picture, he would ask, “What would you do? I must
provide for Maggie. Give me just ten years more. I know I can do it in that
time.”
And so it
was that on March 31, 1932, he passed away in Slat Lake City, Utah. Members of
his family have received beautiful manifestations that he is happy in the
spirit world. They have received much comfort from this knowledge. He has left
to each of his children a heritage of honesty, generosity, faith and devotion
to the good, the true and beautiful of life.
Alfred,
when describing people often quoted Sam Walter Foss:
“They are good, they are bad
They are weak, they are strong
Wise, foolish, so am I.”
Alfred was
one of such people. His children revere his memory.
Epilogue
Our mother
and our brother Tennyson arranged for our father’s funeral service in
Wellsville, that town that had come to love him, Alf Smurthwaite.
As one
would expect, many of these loved people named below are members of the Brown
and Baily families. Others were Church leaders with whom he had labored in the
wards and stake.
FUNERAL SERVICE
Hymn -------------------Though
Deepening Trials
By
choir
Prayer-------------------Bishop
Charles B. Gunnell
Duet---------------------Laurence
Bailey and wife
Address-----------------S. B.
Mitton
Address-----------------Bishop E.
R. Owen
Solo---------------------Scatter
Seeds of Kindness
By
Laurence Bailey
Remarks----------------Bishop John
J. Hendry
Hymn--------------------I Know
That My Redeemer Lives
By
choir
Benediction------------President
James Quinney
Dedication of grave---Peter M.
Maughan
Choir Director---------Lamont
Allen
Organist----------------Gilbert
Thorpe
Just before
the service began our sister Mary requested that she be given the privilege of
singing a tribute to her father. None of us remember just where in the service
her number came, but we shall never forget our thrill as she accompanied
herself at the grand piano and in perfect voice and emotional control sand
“Beautiful Dreamer.” It expressed a perfect tribute from his entire family.
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