Phebe Harding Jensen and her husband, Moroni
In writing this short sketch of my life, I must rely mostly on my memory. We have been asked by our leaders in the Church to keep a history of our lives and those of our children. I am sorry I did not do this long before now.
I remember the family Bible in our home. There was a space at the back where Mother kept all births and deaths in the family—nothing more.
My parents had an interesting life as pioneers of Utah, of which I would dearly love to have a written copy. But since I do not, I will try to write my own and perhaps my family or grandchildren will love to read it in the years to come. Some of the finest times we had were the family get-togethers where young and old joined in the fun. This history will not be altogether about myself, but about friends, neighbors, relatives and conditions under which we were raised, for they were woven in my life’s pattern and they would be hard to leave out. They have helped make my life.
I was born in Provo, Utah, 20 November 1885, being the fifth child of a family of thirteen children—eight girls and five boys. I was born in the Provo Second Ward. Father owned a farm there. Our first home was a log one and as the children were added to the family, he built on more rooms. While living here we lost our brother, Jesse, the oldest boy. He was born in Arizona, Mother and Father having been called to go there by Brigham Young, together with other young folks, later returning to Provo. I can well remember the night he died, although I was very young. He was sitting by the stove making a gun out of a piece of wood. He remarked that he didn’t feel good. At the time he had a bad cold. He got up, crossed the floor to the bed, fell across it on his face. Mother ran and picked him up and called for some water. I ran for some, but it was too late…he was gone. It was a heart attack.
Later the dread disease Diphtheria broke out among the people. There were no doctors at that time who could do anything about it. Sister Bertha passed away.
I remember Father coming to the door and saying, “Mary, she is gone.” No one was permitted to see her. She was taken away in the night and buried. They had tried to feed her some fruit and some was left on the dish. I picked up the spoon and ate the rest. Mother was terrified, but for some reason my life was spared, as it has been many times.
Sister Grace and I were about the same age and were together much of the time in our play. We attended the Franklin School in Provo. About this time, head lice got started in the schools. They were about the size of a pin head. They caused terrible itching. Some children lived in such filth at home; they helped to spread it to others. Every night when we got home from school, Mother went all over our heads to catch them. They laid their eggs on the hairs. A very fine comb was used to comb them out. Mother would kill them by cracking them between her thumb nails.
I now wonder how Mother put over all the work she had to do. Bless her heart! She didn’t get much time to go places. She saw to it that we all got to Primary, Sunday School, Mutual and meetings. We lived about one mile and a half from our meeting house and school. In winter we had no rubbers, so our shoes would get wet and freeze. We would dry them around the coal stoves.
When we were older, we had many different dances…all the quadrilles, such as the Rage, National, Plain, Waltz and the Virginia Reel, Two Step and others. Where the hitching post once stood, now stands the automobile. Old Dobbin was tied to the posts till the dance was over, or the shopping done, and the watering troughs where the horses were given a drink before the trip home.
Father had a white top buggy, which we all rode in when we went places. One big day was when Ringling Brothers came to town. Father took every one of us to see it. Decoration Day was another big day. The day before, Mother would take all of us children to the fields to gather flowers. She would make them up into wreaths, crosses and sprays for Decoration Day. There was always a parade.
On the Fourth of July, Grace and I always had a new dress and a new Leghorn hat. The night before, Mother would braid our hair, which was combed out in the morning and left hanging down our backs. We were given ten cents each to spend. Now that doesn’t sound like much, but we made it go a long way. Grace would buy five cents worth of something and give me half, then I would do the same, and by the time we had bought twenty cents worth of goodies, we had plenty.
To have a new dress didn’t cost much. We would get very pretty dress material for five and ten cents a yard. Mother made all our dresses.
Father was a wonderful gardener. He had bees for honey, pork, chickens, and turkeys enough for our own use, butter, cheese that Mother made, our own flour. He grew molasses, cane, apples, celery, lovely pinkeye beans…there wasn’t anything in the line of food we did not enjoy. Mother dried corn for our use and to sell, also apples and plums.
On Saturday Father would go to town and get a fifty-cent roast of beef for Sunday. He walked the mile and a half, for he said his horses were tired and needed the rest…he forgot he had been trailing all day behind the plow. And of course he had to go to the town barber for a shave and hair cut. Every man had his own shaving mug and brush which was left at the shop on a shelf. Later he ran a large farm for S.S. Jones, a large apple orchard, which gave us all plenty to do. On the farm was a large tough to water the horses in and also to down the cats in when they got too numerous.
One big day we all rejoiced in was the day the threshers came. Their meals had to be furnished for them and they always managed to break down and hang around a day or so longer. Everyone helped get dinner ready. A wash boiler of corn wasn’t any too much…rows of apple pies, rice pudding. It was sort of a holiday for everyone. At meal times one of us had to stand by and shoo the flies off the table with a small limb from a tree. We all took turns. After a meal was over, Mother put the blinds down and we took a dish cloth or towel and shooed all the flies we could to the door and out.
And the back-house, or privy, as it was called, was some place of interest. The old Sears-Roebuck catalog hung on the wall.
I attended school at the Franklin also the Timpanogos. One summer I started to attend the summer school at the Brigham Young University, but didn’t get much out of it and had over two miles to walk there and back, so gave up.
I lived with my Grandmother Harding while attending the Timpanogos School, and I had to help her in the evenings. One Christmas while I was staying at Grandma’s I made some little gifts fro all at home. I made Mother an apron out of a sugar sack, crocheted popcorn lace on the bottom, and worked a design in each corner. I bought a red handkerchief for Father, made a doll bonnet for Rhoda and some home made cookies and apples for the rest. I borrowed a little express wagon from the neighbors, put every thing in it and started for home. I had two miles to walk in the dark. I didn’t let them see anything until Christmas morning. When I handed it around, I remember the tears running down Mother’s face. I have found out many times since then, it isn’t always the price one pays for a gift that brings the most joy.
Mother knit our stockings until our legs grew too long, cooked everything, made rag carpets, braided rugs, made all the soap she ever had and turned the washer by hand. And they took time to take us on trips to Provo Canyon, and the Provo Lake resort for a swim.
Another important time which stands out in mind was the Scott Reunions. What a wonderful time we had! As far back as when I was a child, the family of Andrew Hunter Scott held reunions every year at the Scott’s home. We children loved to be allowed to go up in the attic and go through all the old trunks, dress up in the old dresses and hats, shoes, canes we found stored away. Grandmother Scott (Sarah Ann) was a grand woman. One picture that hung on the wall in her home was Joseph Smith preaching to the Indians. I have sat many times and looked at it and read the verse on it.
I worked together with my sister, Sarah, at the Provo Woolen Mills until the time I was married. It was while working here that I started going out with my husband, Moroni Jensen. His people lived in the same ward as I did.
We were paid at the Woolen Mills every two weeks. I made somewhere around nine dollars in the two weeks. At the time Rone (Moroni) and I decided to get married. He had been working for Charley Taylor, but decided to rent a piece of ground and grow some beets himself. We were married in the Salt Lake Temple on 23 April 1902.
In the spring of 1904, Uncle Will and Aunt Sarah Lewis were moving to Garland, Utah to work for the Utah-Idaho Sugar Company. Rone got the job of gong along to help with the cow and three horses. From then on he stayed with Uncle Will until I came to Garland to live in the summer of 1904. Donald was born 22 October 1904.
Some time later Rone ran a large farm for the sugar company called the Indian Farm. After that Rone went back to Garland to work. We had quite a nice little home, with sheds in the back end of the lot. We had a cow and chickens, a pig and a team of horses. Evan was born 17 May 1900. Sometime later Rone and his brother, Parl, rented a farm east of the sugar factory. Rone had been given the new job of field man for the sugar company in the Garland district.
In January of 1911, we moved to Elsinore, Utah, where Rone became Agriculture Superintendent for the sugar company. Harding, Gilman and Whitney were born in Austin. When the children were old enough to go to high school, we moved to Richfield.
In October 1931, Rone was sent by the sugar company to St. George to take over the segmenting and growing of beet seed, and for fourteen years, we have lived part time at Richfield and St. George.
The boys all attended Richfield High until they graduated from there. Donald went on a mission to Germany and spent three years. Evan attended the Utah State Agricultural College at Logan, Gilman and Whitney attended the Brigham Young University at Provo, Harding the University of Utah.
Earlier in my life I always spoke of Provo as home and hoped some day to go there to live, but I have found that home is where one lives most, and where one’s children are raised and where memories are dear to us.
As this is the centennial year of the west, everyone is trying to make this year and outstanding one in the lives of the people for beauty and friendship. It is now one hundred years in July since the Saints came to the Great Salt Lake Valley. If people today in all lands had sought the guidance of the Lord in the things they do, we could have avoided all the suffering in the world today. If we want lasting joy, we must have the spirit of love, good will, which is the spirit of the Savior to guide us.
Editor’s Note:
We have taken excerpts from Phebe’s interesting history which was written 10 March 1947. She has 13 pages of wonderful experiences. She passed through some years of poor health but through all her trials she showed great faith. Phebe died 15 March 1964 and her husband lived until he was 93 years old. Moroni was born 24 October 1880 in Odense, Denmark. He came to the United States in 1883. At the time of his death he was a member of the Stake High Priest Quorum and held many LDS positions. He served on the Sevier County Commission from 1926 to 1932. He supervised the development of a blight resistant sugar beet seed in 1924. He was an employee of U and I Sugar Company for 45 years. He also superintended the construction of the Elsinore Plant for U and I. After he retired he owned the Jensen Motel in Richfield which bears his name to this day.
