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Show • • • MARY PALMER GRAVES PORTER Mary Palmer was the daughter of Reuben and Phebe (Phoebe) Palmer Graves. She was born in Concord, Essex County, Vermont, September 13, 1818. She married George W. Bratton in 1835. Five daughters were born to them, but the oldest died young. The other daughters were Elizabeth (Parrish), Laura (Cheny), Eliza (Porter) and Florence (Rich). Mary' s husband was a cabinet maker, and with prospects of increasing the family fortunes they decided to move farther west, and went to Ottowa, Iowa. Here they very given a very good farm, by a friendly Potowatoma Indian. They lived in Ottowa for about two years, and there, their third daughter Laura was born. At the time the Nauvoo temple was being built George and Mary moved their family to Nauvoo, and he began to work on the temple. Mary' s mother was living with them at that time. They lived in Nauvoo about five years, and while there a fourth daughter Eliza was born. During their last year in Nauvoo, the first Mormon train of covered wagons, under the leadership of Brigham, left for the long journey westward. Mary' s mother was very anxious to make this trip as her older daughter, Eliza Graves Rich, had gone with her husband Charles C. Rich in one of the early companies. She felt she could not go and leave Mary with her family of little girls. Mary wanted to go very much, but her husband thought they had gone far enough west . Mary and her mother were sincere in their beliefs, and had suffered so much persecution they were reluctant to remain there. Mary wished to rear her family in a community where she would be free to teach them of God in the way of her church. Her husband could not see as she did. Mr. Bratton had also become interested in another woman. They decided to separate. She and her mother and her family of girls, to go to Zion and he to remain there. Mr. Bratton went with his family as far as Council Bluffs, Nebraska, and soon after their arrival the fifth daughter Mary Florence was born. Her appearance at this time tended to keep the family together a little longer, but it was only a temporary reconciliation. They still owned the farm in Ottawa, the selling of which was put in the hands of Orson Hyde. From the money obtained for the farm a very good outfit of two wagons and ox teams, were procured. Robert Brooks, a seventeen years old boy had consented to drive one of the wagons in payment for his board. The grandmother was to drive the other team, as Mary had her very young baby. In May 1852 a company of fifty wagons left the Missouri River led by Captain Brim. The Brattons were among them. They had a cow as one of a team, and a part of the milk was put in an earthen jar and with the jolting of the wagon they always had a nice pat of fresh butter for their evening meal. After all the members of camp would gather together around a central camp fire, and sing or dance or tell lively jokes or stories. During the prayer everyone knelt with bowed heads in J.JO • • • tribute to their God who had guided them safely on their journey that day . At last they came to the great Rocky Mountains. Just as the sun was setting they reached the mouth ofEmigration Canyon. They arrived in September 1852, and the Bratton's spent the winter in the old Fort, now known as Pioneer Park. The Fort had been erected as a protection against the Indians. The homes consisted of rows of crude houses built together. Many times the women folks were seen cooking over the stove with an umbrella suspended over their heads to ward off the rain coming through the roof (This information was taken from the journal of daughter, Elizabeth). In the spring the Brattons moved into the home of her sister Eliza Graves Rich, in Centerville, Davis County, near the Nathan Porter home where John P. Porter lived with his three motherless sons. It was under these conditions that my grandmother Mary met and married my grandfather John P. Porter. Two children my father Charles Graves and Sarah Ellen, better known as Nell were born to this marriage. My father always said that in spite of the fact that there were three families all under one roof the Porter family was a peaceful happy one, and the later years proved this to be true for one of Grandfather's sons, Joseph married one of Grandmother's daughters, Eliza Bratton. Grandmother was a kindly thoughtful neighbor. When she reached the valley she had with her a small box of precious food. This box contained a little brown earthen quart jar of home made black currant jam, a package of tea and two pounds of sugar. Then grandmother saw the poverty and food shortage all around her she determined that these delicacies should serve the best possible purpose. The were tucked away and used only in cases of illness, when the patient could no longer eat the coarse unpalatable food of that time. Then it was that the little box was brought out. A cup of tea with real sugar and a tiny bit of currant jam was carried to the home of the patient, where it was hoped it would be the means of getting a little nourishment into the poor weakened body. Used in this way only, these meager supplies lasted more than a year. Grandfather took up land in Centerville and after a few years they moved up to Morgan in Weber Valley and staked off a farm in Porterville. The town taking its name from these early settlers. Sanford Porter Sr., and his sons Sanford Jr., Warriner and John P. Porter From the journal of my father Charles G. Porter "We entered the little valley that is now called Porterville and at first I thought it a lovely place to live, but one day a band of five or six hundred Washakie Indians passed our home on horses single file. It seemed hours before the last passed. Some of the squaws had tent poles, one end fastened to a strap around the horse and the other dragging on the ground. All my life I had been frightened of Indians. Now the fear was multiplied many times over as I had seen so many at one time . The depredations of the Indians were ever reaching our ears. At Logan, a little girl • • • playing at her mother' s door, was taken. Her parents Brother and Sister Thurston, were frantic and almost lost their reason over it. Everybody not only sympathized but did everything in their power to locate her, and if found would get her at any sacrifice. The girl was never found. One day my mother and Nell and I were alone in the house when mother saw an Indian coming toward the house. She locked the doors and took Nell and me out the back door and rushed for the nearest neighbors. But the Indian saw her leaving and ran across the lot heading us off. He caught mother and forced her back in the house. Then he made her open the cupboard and cellar, and give him all the food he could find. He appeared to be mad and handled her roughly. Uncle Sanford had seen the Indian from his field, and ran home for his gun and sent word to the neighbors. Then he hurried to our rescue. He surprised the Indian, drew his gun, but did not shoot. The Indian ran out the back door and was soon out of sight. After a short discussion some of the men were sent to Chief Washakie to report the incident. The Chief and a few other Indians, with a white man who lived with them to act as interpreter, came over and a settlement was effected. The Indians were camped at the edge of the village, south and east of the place where Mill Creek (Hardscrabble) joins East Canyon Creek. Their tents covered an area as large as a good sized farm." In the years of 1863-64 grandfather built a two story brick house. There being a family of eleven in all. The following incident, which occurred while the brick house was being built was told to me by my grandmother. They were living in the little three room log house, and they were very crowded. The log house was just behind the new house, and when the bricks of the new building were just up to the square, Grandma decided to put a bed in one of the rooms. The doors and windows were made secure and a bed was moved to the new building. Three of her daughter were put in there to sleep. One night soon after they had all retired, Grandmother was awakened by a voice called her. It said "Mary, get up and move Eliza." She was instantly awake and lay there wondering about the voice she had heard. Finally she decided it had been a vivid dream, and dropped off to sleep again. But soon the voice called her again and in the same tone said "Mary get up and move Eliza." Instantly wide awake, she arose from her bed, lit a candle and went to the room where the little girls were sleeping. She examined the windows and doors and looked everything over carefully. There was no extra bedding and every bed was full so she decided she was being foolish. She tucked the children in carefully, went back to her own bed and was soon sound asleep again. But while she was sleeping the voice called a third time, and in very emphatic tones it said, "MARY GET UP AND MOVE ELIZA." Lighting a candle, and taking a quilt from her own bed, and coats and shawls from pegs in the wall, she returned to the room where the children were sleeping. Everything was still in perfect condition. But she folded the quilt and laid it on the floor. Then reaching across the other children, she picked up Eliza who was sleeping nearest the wall, and laid her on the folded quilt on the floor. She covered her with a blanket from the children' s bed, then distributed the shawls and coats where they were • • • most needed. Again she returned to her own bed and slept without further interruptions. Next morning she woke early and with the rush of getting the family fed and off to work the incidents of the night were forgotten. With breakfast well under way she went to the little girls room to call them for breakfast. When she opened the door, a terrifying sight met her eyes; one on the walls of the room had caved in and on the bed in the spot where Eliza had been sleeping was a pile of bricks and mortar. The other children had rolled to the front of the bed and were unharmed, but if grandmother had failed to heed the calls, Eliza would certainly have been killed. I remember my grandmother' s clean, warm kitchen. The room was quite large. One side was carpeted with a homemade rag carpet with arms full of clean yellow straw under it. The straw was used as padding to make the carpet last longer, and because the floors were so rough. The carpet was hard to walk on when it was first put down, it was so soft and springy, but in a few days it flattened down considerably. The constant walking on it broke up the straw and finally powdered it and the carpet grew dustier and dustier, until finally came house cleaning day-and what a mess it was. The carpet was removed and given a good shaking and hung on the clothes line. Then with broom handles, sticks or slats the beating began, the men usually lending a hand. And oh, the clouds of dust. Often the carpet was dragged over the lucerne patch, and it left a cloud of dust behind. The walls of the room were all white washed and everything was scrubbed clean. New straw was spread and the carpet brought in. Then came the exhausting job of pulling and tugging to get the carpet stretched and tacked into place. One end would be tacked to the floor. Then if the carpet was new and would stand the strain, a home made stretcher might be used, a light pole nearly as long as the room with a row of nails driven in one end. The loose end was straightened and pulled into place. On one side of the room was a homemade couch. This had a little straw tick on the seat, and the back and arms were padded with sheepskins. It was covered all over with flowered chintz, which grew a little more faded with each washing, but was always kept clean. On the uncarpeted side stood a little open hearth Charter Oak stove, which stood on four shinny black legs. The oven that ran across the back of the stove had two doors so that you could look into the oven from either side. There was a home made drop leaf table that stood under a long, narrow ivy filled window. Against the wall near the stove stood a home-made bench with three shiny brass buckets, one filled with well water, and the other two turned upside down waiting for milking time. Upstairs in the bedroom stood the homemade, hand tooled, four-poster bed. Not a spring anywhere. Holes were bored into the beams that formed the sides and ends of the bed and into the holes were fitted heavy wooden pegs five or six inches apart. A small rope was tied onto one of the corner pegs on the other side and back again, this was repeated until the end of the bed was reached. Then it was passed around the pegs on the end beams and the process continued. A straw tick was placed on this foundation. It had an opening in the middle where the straw was stuffed in, and you could reach in and fluff it up when it became lumpy. The opening was closed with buttons and button holes. You • • • could also collect plenty of feathers to add. When Grandma made a new pillow she soaped the inside of the ticking to keep the down and feathers from working through. Like most other pioneer women Grandmother valued even the smallest items. When a herd of sheep passed her home she would put on her sunbonnet, pin the hem of her apron up to her belt t make a bag and gather up the bit of wool that might be clinging to the brush and fences. This she carefully washed, then carded to be used as quilt batts or spun into yarn for stocking or mittens. The grease can was a very important item in pioneer homes. In Grandmother's home there were always three cans, first was the can where nice clean drippings were kept and used for cooking. Then there was a big can where surplus fat of any kind even meat rinds, then there was a can where only mutton grease was kept and this was the boot grease can and was used faithfully to keep the shoes water repellent and soft and comfortable to wear. I remember the Dutch cheese . Pans of milk were set in a warm room until the milk clabbered. Then, without disturbing the dabber it was set on the back of the stove and very slowly warmed As it warmed the milk separated forming curds and whey. When only the curd remained it was taken from the stove seasoned with salt and pepper and moistened with sour cream. It was then formed into small balls about the size of an egg. I asked grandma why she formed it into balls, and she said, "Just for a change. We have to eat the same things so often, but we can make it look different. The bread that was used in my Grandmother's home was the good old-fashioned salt rising bread. You could smell it all over the yard. It had such a strong odor. We all though it smelt "awful", But oh how good it tasted when it was done . And after it stood a day or two it was just wonderful for the bread and milk suppers so common in those days. How well I remember the herbs that hung in the attic. Great sacks of hops, they seemed to be so important. We children were instructed in the spring to keep our eyes open for the hops. The grew wild in the fields and along the fences and ditch banks. And there was always the promise of a wonderful hop picking time. It seemed like a big holiday. Long before summer was over we had our vines all spotted. There was an element of competition in it too, which added to the excitement. All the other children in the village were doing the same thing and you knew you'd be lucky if you got to your vines first. Mother always packed a lunch and started us out early so we could pick in the cool. The first day how disappointed we were to reach the vine and find it stripped. We began to speculate which mean kid had beat us to our hops. Two hours late the sun was up and blistering hot. We were wilted and weary. We sat down in the shade and ate our lunch, waded in the cool stream and hoped some of those good kids had found more of our vines. We kept at this job for days and it took a great deal of persuading to keep us at • • • it. The hops were dried and hung in the attic. If you happened to use a little two much the bread tasted of them, but you had to take that chance because you couldn't make the yeast without the hops. They were also used for hot baths and hot foot baths if you had a cold. Sage brush was steeped and used for the same purpose, the more severe the cold the more herb used. Catnip was used for new babies. Then there was the spearmint that grew, along the ditch banks, and yarrow, tansy and horehound. Each seemed to have its special purpose . When the rafters in the attic were all fill with bundles of herbs hung on nails, we were ready for winter. Grandmother said that even the chickens were good pioneers. She told me this story of the big hearted understanding rooster. An old hen had come off with a brood of eight or ten chicks late in the summer. Grandmother was hoping they would get their feathers before winter set it. One day it was decided to have chicken for dinner. Grandma pointed out the doomed chicken and ask one of the boys to catch it for her. Instead of running it down, he got his gun, took aim and fired. But just as he did so the old mother hen stepped out from behind the house and got the shot. The poor frightened little chicks scattered in every direction. And while the family discussed the plight of the poor little brood, and had about decided that to kill them would be the kind thing to do, an old rooster that bad been near and had witnessed the tragedy, started making queer clucking sounds. He soon called the frightened chicks around him. Then he stooped down, spread his big clumsy wings, and gathered the chicks under them. Nor was it just a passing whim. He scratched for them in the days and covered them at night, until their naked bodies were well feathered. Then he returned to his own quarters and resumed his normal rooster activities. When my grandparents grew older my father moved his family into the back part of their home, and grandpa and grandma had the front part. Being so closely associated with them we learned to love them dearly. I remember the steep slivery steps that led up to Grandma's front door. What a refuge those steps became to me as a child. It was there I took all my childhood sorrows and troubles. It was there I went the night burning and sick in the first stages of scarlet fever. My mother was away from home. It was grandmother who heard me crying in the dark on her front steps and came out and took me in and tucked me into a warm bed, and stayed with me until mother returned the next day. But not until Grandmother had passed away did I realize that it was her kind, gentle arms and loving council, and not the steps that always drew me there. Grandmother died on the 18th of June, 1896. She had been a quiet, gentle home loving soul and she was cherished and loved by her family and friends . Written and compiled by Granddaughter ...... .. . ... ... Bessie Porter Brough |
