P R E S E R V I N G O U R P A S T
Family Trees Family trees associated with the Jackson family.
Various videos. Most are from my
parent's 8mm library.
Website for the ancestry of Pauline
Guymon, wife of Melvin Samuel Jackson. The Guymon's lived in La Jara, Colorado.
Anna Johanna Gilbert Christensen
[Editing and additions from yet another life history written by Anna are included in brackets by Mary Margaret Hawkins].
Our
home was in Riverton, Utah, until I was about six years old. All I
remember of that was a home with a nice long porch on it. The porch
went clear across the front of it. I remember my
big doll, also a small one I
played with, and my little red rocking chair with yellow trimmings. My
sister Mary and I each had a little chair and our little dolls out on the
porch. Her little chair had arms on the side. It was yellow with red
trimmings. Our best dolls were to look at, pretty ornaments to hang on
the wall of the spare bed room in the house. My sister Mary was born 9
April 1885, so she was not quite three when we left Riverton. I was not
quite six as it was in March when we left. We lived there with Mother and
Father, Lizzy, and an older woman I loved very much and called
"Grandma."
Everyone was sad when we left. My two baby sisters had just died before,
and now we were going without Lizzy and "Grandma." It was very
exciting
for Mary and me to be going on the train, but then we slept most all the
way to the train stop in Colorado. Now the train stop is the town of
Romeo, but then it was just sage and rabbit brush and wind. It was March
in the year 1888. My father, along with others, had been called by the
authorities of the Church to settle the town of Sunflower, further west
of what is now Romeo, over against the foothills. There were five other
families on the same train as us: Brother Nells, Brother Draper, Brother
Kidd, Brother Crump, and my father, Timothy Gilbert, complete with
families.
We were met at the stop by Bishop John Dalton who took care of the mail
and passengers, if any. There were quite a number that day, and his wagon
couldn’t hold all, so the men walked the three miles to Manassa. Mama and
Mary and the other mothers and little children went in Brother Dalton’s
wagon. The older children were left at the stop to wait the return of the
wagon. Being almost six years old, I was one of them. They gave us a good
warm quilt to cuddle up in to keep warm and out of the wind; but we soon
found that it was more fun to all get on one side of the blanket and hold
it out and have it flutter and fly in the wind. I guess it was the
exercise with the blanket that kept us from freezing. The valley has been
noted for its wind, and in March it was bitter cold. I believe in those
early days when there were no trees or buildings to break the wind, it
blew harder and colder. As I grew older, I understood more the reason for
our move to the valley here.
Polygamy had been practiced, but there was a lot of hiding and trouble
for Father as he had three wives. The Manifesto had been signed, and the
men with more than one wife were supposed to pick either the first wife
or the one with the most children and just discard the rest. When the
authorities of the Church decided to divide the Manassa Ward to form
another called the Mountain View Branch, they decided to have a town
built west of what is now the town of Romeo. It was right against the
west foot hills. They asked my father, along with others, to go to
Colorado and build this town of Sunflower, where there was nothing but
sage and rabbit brush and wind.
Father’s first wife, Ann Rogers, was the widow of Humphry Bradley. They
had raised their large family in England. Then after her husband’s death,
she joined the LDS Church and moved to Salt Lake. She had children older
than my father. [When Father arrived in Utah, he was without any money.
He met Ann whom he had known in England. She had sons that were good
friends to Father. She had a farm with no one to work it for her as she
had left her family in England when she had joined the Church. Father was
a good farmer, so he lived there and worked her farm. Later he married
her. She made a good home for him.] When Father married Ann he was
lonely, as his family had disowned him when he joined the Church, but
that is another story. She made a good wife for Father, being both mother
and wife for him. They were married and sealed to each other at Salt Lake
4 April 1863. They had been married contentedly for 16 years when he
married my mother, Johanne Margrethe Stoutz. She had come to Salt lake
City in 1876 from Denmark. She had joined the LDS Church and had been
disowned by her family. She couldn’t speak English and had spent all her
money, but it didn’t take her long to learn the new language and to get
herself a job, as she was very industrious. [Johanne Margrethe met Ann
who took her in to live, while she found a job. They all became good
friends.] On 20 November 1879 (she was past 26 years and he past 47 years
[sic]), they were married and sealed in the Salt Lake Endowment House.
Their first babe was a boy named John, who was born and died 7 January
1881. Then I was born 19 April 1882 at Riverton. Father filled a mission
in England before my sister Mary Georgine was born 9 April 1885. While on
this mission, Father failed to convert any of his family, but he
converted many others including a Cartright family who followed him back
to Salt Lake City.
On 20 May 1886, Father was married and sealed for time and eternity to
one of their daughters, Ruth Elizabeth Cartright. She was 22 [sic] years
old and he was 50 [sic].
I had another sister, daughter of my mother, Harriet Josephine, born 17
April 1887. She lived only a few months and died 4 September the same
year. Then my half-sister Sarah Priscilla, daughter of Ruth Elizabeth,
was born 3 January 1888. She died 7 February 1888 [sic]. This was the
only child "Aunt Lizzy" (as she was known to us kids) ever had. So in
March when Father was called to go to Colorado, he left his wife of 25
years, Ann, who had become very dear to him and all of us (We children
called her "Grandma," as she was the only grandma we ever had.), and
"Lizzy," his bride of two years, who so recently had lost her only
child
and now her beloved husband. It was a sad parting. But I was small and
remember little of this, only Lizzy and Grandma.
There was a small house on Main Street in Manassa (It is standing today
[1959], but is so remodeled as not to be recognized.). At first Mother
had one room of it, and the Draper family, which was much larger than our
family, had the other two rooms.
In the meantime the men were busy planting the farms and hauling logs
from the nearby mountains to build cabins for all the new families. [I
remember the whole country there then was one big rolling prairie, not a
bush or tree, to be seen, only rabbit brush and sage brush and our few
little cabins just being built by the families from Utah. There is
nothing left of the home and farms we built now. Only a few foundations
cover the space now.] Our little cabin was finished as were all the
others, and everyone but us had moved out to "Sunflower" before July,
but
we stayed in Manassa until after 20 August 1888 when my brother, John
Timothy Gilbert, was born. We had the little house to ourselves after the
Drapers left. We moved out to our home in Sunflower soon after the
harvest was in. [With Father, Mother, Mary, my baby brother, and myself,
it was very crowded, but we made it fine.] It was very windy and cold,
and the men became busy organizing the ward. We had no meeting house, so
we held our meetings across the street from our house at the Draper home
as it was the largest in the town. There were no seats, so we children
would hustle logs, rocks and boards for benches for all the sit on. When
the Mountain View Branch was organized early in 1889, my father, Timothy
Gilbert, was set aside as presiding elder. He presided over the branch
until confirmed, and in Manassa, 7 September 1891, he was honorably
released.
In the winter Father bought a home [from Frank Smith] up nearer the
Conejos River at a place called San Rafael. [There were no other white
people, and I remember Mother was always terrified of the Mexicans and
nervous all the time. Timothy raised hay, grain and cattle.] There was
better farming land, land for hay with meadows for the cattle. There was
even a warm spring there from which the cattle could drink in the winter
time without breaking ice. Later when I turned eight years old, I was
baptized in this same spring by my father 20 July 1890. There was space
for chickens, ducks, and a good garden, which Mother took advantage of.
She was very small, under five feet tall, and never weighed to 100
pounds, but was the hardest, fastest worker I have ever known. [Mother
had a light wagon or buggy with one horse, so she soon got a good market
for all her produce. She sold to the county seat of Conejos which was
about four miles away and to Antonito, and as they were mostly Mexican
towns, she was always afraid. She was a very fussy and determined woman.
We always had to have our clothes so perfect and fussy with ribbons and
braid, so she worked and worked.]
[Mary helped Mother in the house mostly, and since I was older, I helped
Father with the heavier farm work. I learned how he had joined the Church
and worked to come to the New World. When he was baptized in England, his
parents were very much against him. He worked hard to earn enough for
passage to New York. When he arrived there, he was broke, so he got a job
milking cows in an underground dairy. Since he was at work before sun up
and worked until after sun down, he never saw the light of day for
several years. At first, his hands were so sore that he had to keep
wrapping them and be very careful so as to not bleed into the milk. They
were very raw. His one eye became sore and was to the day he died. When
he had enough money saved, he left New York for Zion . . . . I remember
he said he walked a good part of the way.]
In the meantime, Father had heard of the neglect concerning his two wives
he had left at Riverton [or Grant (Granite?), Salt Lake County, Utah]. He
had been given to understand that they would be taken care of for life,
but word came that they were being mistreated and starved and reduced to
wearing rags. Ann was 86 years old and ill. So Father made the train trip
to Salt Lake and brought them to our home at San Rafael. Elizabeth, or
Lizzy as we called her, hated the ranch, and being very different from my
mother, it couldn’t work out. So Father bought her a [little] home in
Manassa where she could attend Relief Society and meetings and social
gatherings. My sister Mary spent some time in Manassa with her, but I was
needed on the ranch. Children learned to help early in those busy days.
Ann lived on the ranch with us. When she was well, she was a great help
to my mother.
On 8 February 1890 my sister Louvina Rasmine was born at the ranch at San
Rafael, Conejos County, Colorado. Ann was a great help at this time, but
soon was very feeble. We all loved her, especially me. She was the only
"grandma" I ever knew. My mother was always kind and good to
"Grandma."
She passed away 7 March 1893 at the age of 91 at the San Rafael ranch.
She was buried in the Old Cemetery in Manassa, Colorado.
Right about this time, my mother came into the room where Louvina was
crying and pleading to her brother, "Don’t do that, Shon." She
called my
brother John "My Shon." He was two years older than she, and she
idealized him. "Please don’t tease Vinne." My mother almost spanked
him
for teasing when she discovered he was very ill and delirious and
slobbering. They found later that he had an attack of severe
poliomyelitis. It left his entire right side paralyzed. They didn’t have
much medical help for that then. The doctor put him to bed with orders
that he must not move at all. But as he got better, he wanted to and
would move around, which worried my parents, but a little boy can’t be
still. So the doctor then put his right arm in a plaster of Paris cast.
He wasn’t to get out of bed, but he would wait till everyone was busy and
crawl out of bed and pull himself all over by crawling on his left arm
and leg. Mother spanked him and threatened him to no avail. Then they
found that by his exercising accidentally, the leg was regaining some of
its strength, some improvement. The doctors had all said that he could
never walk or use any of his right side. His speech had been affected,
and he had trouble controlling the saliva. They also said if he lived he
would never learn anything and that he could never be a father. His
mother insisted that he have a patriarch’s blessing at this time, 27
August 1896 by J.C. Barthelsen. He was promised all the blessings that
the doctors had said were impossible. [They . . . promised him that he
would earn his living by using his brain.] When the cast was removed, it
was found that his arm was completely useless. So his parents wouldn’t
allow another cast and allowed him the freedom he insisted on. He wore a
sling on that arm and coddled it. He gradually regained the use of his
whole body except for his right arm and hand. He was educated, filled a
mission, married, and he and his wife had four lovely children. He taught
school, became principal of the school in Manassa, all the things the patriarch had promised him. But I’m way ahead of my story again.
In the meantime, it was learned that Louvina had a rheumatic heart and
would never do much. She and John were younger than Mary and I, and with
their afflictions were not expected to be much help, so it all fell to
Mary and me. I am sorry and ashamed to admit that at times I felt jealous
and put upon. This is one fault I have had to fight all my life, and I
pray my Father in Heaven will bless and forgive me and help me to
overcome this.
There was a lot of work at the ranch, so I took my part helping Father
with a good part of the work I could do, milking, etc. Sister Mary had to
help Mother as she had developed a good market for her farm produce and
chickens and ducks. There was a lot of plucking and picking, washing and
wrapping for market. There was butter to be churned and eggs to take care
of for market.
My sister Louvina wasn’t supposed to be active, so my father bought her a
pony. They were inseparable; he became her feet. She named him Chico.
[She just about lived on its back. She used to talk to it all the time as
if it were human.]
I remember there was an old Mexican who worked for Father. His name was
Tuscarero. San Rafael was a Mexican settlement. The people there belonged
to a sect called the Penitent Catholics. When they could not pay money to
receive forgiveness for their sins, they were required to whip themselves
to pay penance for their sins. When one of their members died, they would
whip themselves to help him gain penance for his sins. Tuscarero belonged
to this sect, and there were many days when he could not go to work
afterwards. Father, with a big grin on his face, would mischievously pat
him on the shoulders, causing the old gent to go to his knees saying,
"No, me pretty sickie in the backie." I went once with some of the
Mexican children. We sneaked over to watch their whipping parties. The
members would emerge from an adobe dwelling called the penitent house
into the yard marching and chanting, "Hay you, hay you," all the while
whipping themselves, first over one shoulder, then over the other, with
rawhide whips. This went on for three nights. Members, all Mexican, came
from all the settlements in the area, Vistas, San Juan, San Rafael, and
others. The men folk were a sick looking lot for days after this
performance. The state humane society has finally put an end to these
performances, or drove them underground.
During this time Bishop John Dalton of Manassa got a contract cutting
ties for the railroad from Antonito to Albuquerque, New Mexico. The ties
were cup up in the mountains and hauled all the way by wagon to Antonito.
That took too long, so they found they could cut them in winter and put
them in the Conejos River. The spring thaw would bring them down as far
as our ranch. Some men would follow the logs down to break up jams and
toss them out at our place at San Rafael. The drive by wagon from there
to Antonito was very short. Bishop Dalton had a small commissary at
Father’s place in the spring of 1895.
In 1895 Mother at the age of 43 gave birth to twin sons, Henry and
George. They died the same day and were buried near Ann’s grave in the
Old Cemetery at Manassa. Mother was young at 43 but went through the
change, and there were no more little ones.
The schooling we had was very poor. The school at San Rafael was mostly
Mexican and Mother was afraid we would see too much of them, so she kept
us busy doing work for her as much as possible so we wouldn’t have any
free time. School ran for four months in winter with one room and one
teacher; the only subjects were reading, writing, and arithmetic. Each
year was the same as the one before, so there was no way to advance.
There was a mission preparation school that was about a two-mile drive
from home. It ran for a six-week period after our school was out. As we
didn’t live in that district, we paid one dollar a month. Mary and I
drove there in our buckboard (or one-horse shay) for two winters. It was
far better. We learned more by going there.
But now it was time for John to go to school as he was still lame and
would need the education more than we. I then went to work away from
home, and my wages would help out. I started at 13, and my school days
were over. Father had been getting continually worse. He had suffered for
many years from ulcerated varicose veins in his leg. It became impossible
for him to farm. So they had a home built in Manassa. (This home wasn’t
finished; they lived in two other homes before living in it.) Manassa had
better schools for the others to go to, so they would be better educated.
I worked for the Bailey Mayer family at Antonito for two dollars a week
(a good wage at that time.) Mr. Mayer operated a dry goods store where he
and I had many a wordy conversation as he was an apostate Mormon and
enjoyed contending with me. They had four children, and I did all the
housework and family wash on the wash board. This was an education for
me. After one year of this, I went to work for the Ewald family who ran a
rooming and eating house, and I soon earned a raise from three to four
dollars per week. At first I only made beds and did dishes. Mrs. Ewald
was a very good cook. She soon had me making the pies, and before long, I
was doing all the cooking. I worked there two years, then spent some time
at home in Manassa. I arranged to go home on holidays and my days off and
as often as possible for dances, etc. while working away from home. Then
I took a job in Alamosa for a family. I worked there for two years at
five dollars per week. Then after spending some time at home, I went to
work for Mrs. Meyor who operated the second hotel in Antonito for eight
dollars a week. Mrs. Meyor proved a very hard taskmaster, and this job
only lasted three months. Then I went to work for Mrs. McGregor, a
seamstress who promised to teach me to sew for doing housework, but there
was so much work to do and Mrs. McGregor was so busy that she never had
time to teach me. The shop and home were located above a livery stable
kept by Mr. McGregor. With the smell from downstairs and Mrs. McGregor’s
failure to keep her promise, this job was terminated. I returned to
Manassa to work in Hugh Sellers’s grocery and dry goods store. Now I was
able to go to church and mutual and to join with other young people,
something I had not been able to do before. I was secretary of Mutual for
some time. I was able to go to parties and dances. I dearly loved to
dance. I had met Nephi Christensen before. He proved to be a very good
dancer, and we dated off and on for some time.
My sister Mary had married William Jackson and was sealed to him at the
same time in the Salt Lake Temple 20 March 1901. Our parents had taught
us the principle of temple marriage, and I had made up my mind to be
married in the temple, the House of the Lord. Since I was three years
older than Mary, I decided I should be thinking about marriage. I had had
some proposals for marriage, but I thought I didn’t want to settle down
just yet. One young man especially I liked. Most of them would say, we
can go to the temple later, but I wanted to be married "for time and
eternity," not "till death us do part." And if I was blessed with
children, they would also be ours through eternity. Some do go to the
temple later, but sometimes it takes years and years, and some never go.
My sister Mary had two children by this time, a little girl ElVera Mary
Jackson, born 29 September 1902 and William Gilbert Jackson, born 8 March
1904, both born at Manassa.
I had finally learned to sew and made my own wedding dress. When Nephi
wanted to marry me, I insisted on our temple marriage. When we got our
recommends, we traveled by train to Salt Lake with two other couples and
were married in the temple 13 April 1904, just before my twenty-second
birthday. We were married and sealed, and our children had the privilege
of being born under the covenant. We enjoyed our children and raised all
ten until they were grown. I had several still-born children, poor babes.
When we returned to Manassa from our wedding trip, my husband’s mother
let us have two rooms of her house to live in. She had some land for
farming. Her other children were all married, and it was up to Nephi to
help with the farming and care for his mother. There wasn’t much money,
and my first baby was on the way. So I went out to work. Nephi could stay
with his mother and take care of her farm. So I went to work for a dear
old friend. They had a hotel, and she did the cooking. She was a very
good cook. I went to help her, and she needed help because she was
getting old, but it wasn’t long before I had taken the kitchen all over. She was glad to get the rest, and I was glad to get the pay, twenty
dollars per month. But I couldn’t stay there long. It was too near baby
time. So I went to our home and prepared for the new babe.
On 6 April 1905 my baby sister, Louvine Rasminne, died of heart trouble.
It grieved us all greatly, even though we knew all her life of this
trouble. Especially my father who had lived all that time and had
suffered so much with his bad leg. Louvine had been such a comfort to
him. His leg got so bad he couldn’t get any rest in the day or sleep at
night. [He asked that the elders come again and administer to him just so
he could maybe get a little sleep, he was so worn out.] He had the elders
before, and they were some help. He asked that they come again and
administer to him according to his wishes. Elder Henry Gibson and others
came. He asked that they administer to him that he could get final rest
or be cured. Then he told them, "It is my leg that is my trouble, not my
head. They always anoint and bless my head." Mother removed the bandages
from his leg. There was a raw sore from his knee down. I remember so
well. Mother stood on one side of the bed and I on the other, as
witnesses. Elder Henry Gibson took the bottle of oil and poured it on
Father’s leg, full length from knee down. They crossed their hands over
his leg. Brother Gibson blessed him that he should have sleep and rest,
and that he should get well and enjoy his last days. And Father thanked
the elders. He was tired as soon as Mother replaced the dressings. He
went to sleep and rested. It did take some time for something like that
to heal, but it did. It improved very fast from then on and healed
completely. He was able to get around again, and he and Mother went into
the Salt Lake City Temple and did some work for their dead relatives to
give them another chance when they are ready to take it. (They did a lot
of work dated from 10 April 1906 to 20 April 1906. This added more to my
testimony.) [After they returned, Father’s leg remained well until he
passed on.]
My first child, a son, was born 12 June 1905. He was blessed 6 August
1905 by Hugh L. Sellers and was named Frederik Nephi Christensen.
After my baby was blessed, I went back to work for Mrs. Ewald at the
hotel again. When I needed help caring for the babe during serving time,
there were always some of Mrs. Ewald’s daughters on hand. I worked there
until "Papa" Nephi could get some money from the farm produce. My baby
was getting older and wanted to move around, not satisfied to sit in his
cradle and play any longer. So I had to give up my hotel cooking. And
there were prospects of my second child, and I had to see about sewing
and preparing for that. My sister Mary had had her third child born 31
January 1906, and she had been named Louvina Jackson and was blessed by
my father, Timothy Gilbert on 13 May 1906. My second child, Anna Lucille
Christensen was born 29 September 1906. By this time I was secretary of
the Relief Society and was quite busy with my home. I was glad that I had
learned to sew and to use the sewing machine. That came in handy for all
needed something for wearing. I soon learned how to make all of
"Papa’s"
shirts. I made all the clothes we wore except "Papa’s" pants and
overalls, so I could afford more than if I had to pay for ready mades.