RECOLLECTIONS OF EUGENE PERNELL GROW

(Henry Grow’s last surviving child by Julia Veach)

by

Richard W. Grow

August 13, 1965

Pernell recalled, “I was born on the corner of 3rd North and 3rd West. Theodore was born right where the Salt Lake Hardware Building is by the viaduct” (North Temple and 3rd West). “I think all the rest of them were (born) on 3rd North and 3rd west.” Pernell remembered his father having five wives, “Well, he actually had four, no, five; Mary Moyer, Ann Elliott, Ann Midgley, then mother, and then Sarah Rawlins.” His mother Julia Veach, “Fourteen children she had. There was six in one family -- that was Mary Moyer -- that I can keep track of. And there were seven in the Ann Elliott family. I think that’s the way it is. There was one in the Ann Midgley family.” he recalled his mother’s sister, Elizabeth Veach, “Aunt Lizzie came to the house several times. Of course, all I know of her is just her coming during conference or to visit. I was never around her.”

When Henry Grow married Pernell’s mother, Julia Veach, Ann Midgley “Pulled out and left. He had three then, and I guess she thought if he wasn’t satisfied with three, it was time to move. And when he took Mother, this Ann Midgley pulled out and went to Nephi to her folks.”

Pernell remembered that his grandmother, Ann Elliott, had 4 children. “Uncle Elliot, Aunt Lizzie, Aunt Jane, and Mother. Dad was their step-dad.” After having her sealing to Henry Grow canceled, Aunt Lizzie (Elizabeth) “married man by the name of Dalton. They moved to Sanpete County, and I always understood that it was Salina. My Aunt Jane (who lived) up in Richmond never came near the place till Father died. Then she came there several times. I went up and lived with Aunt Jane from April of 1892 until October 1893. (It is interesting to note that after Henry Grow died 4 November 1891, Jane had the sealing between Henry Grow and Ann Elliott canceled 24 February 1892, by Wilford Woodruff, and she and her husband, William Crawford Lewis, were proxy in the sealing of Ann Elliott to William Veach on 26 July 1895. Thus, all these things were going on while Pernell stayed with Aunt Jane.)

Pernell’s records indicated that the birth dates for his immediate family of brothers and sisters were as follows:

Theodore: January 11, 1859

Sylvester: August 29, 1861

Mary Ann Grow (Worthen): January 7, 1863

Julia Nellie (Forman): November 21, 1865

George: November 24, 1867

Millie (McKenzie): March 10, 1869

Walter V.: February 2, 1871

Maude: June 15, 1873

William H.: November 14, 1875

Sarah (Maddy): March 29, 1878

Otto S.: May 12, 1880

Eugene Pernell: August 10, 1882

Frank: December 18, 1884

Marco B.: August 21, 1886

He gave the following comments with respect to the death dates: “Well, Theodore was in March, I can’t give the date, but in March of 1902. His was accidental. Sylvester, I’m not positive but it was October -- when is Election Day -- he died on Election Day in 1944, heart attack. Mary Ann, I don’t know. Millie, June of 1920. She was killed -- hit by a train. George, I don’t know the date. Walt, I don’t know the date. Maude was in 1891; I think it was September of 1891. Syl, I don’t remember for sure when Syl was but I think it was about 15 years ago. Otto was on March 12, 1960, I guess it was. Then Frank, he only lived about three or four days, about ten days I think. He died in infancy. Marc was -- now his funeral was on March 25, 1950, so it would be about the 20th or 21st when he died. I remember the funeral because we took her and a friend of ours up the clinic to the doctor’s, and while they were down to the clinic, I went down to Marc’s funeral. That was in March and he was buried on the 25th of 1950. So that’s as near as I can come to that.”

Pernell knew of his father’s baptism in 1842 in a river in the east. Then Henry went to Illinois and Missouri and did building work all through there for the Church. When the pioneers left for Utah, “He was doing all the work back east for the Church. When Brigham Young left there he said they needed him more there than they did here, but when he was ready for him he would send for him. So, in 1850, he sent for him. They came to Winter Quarters in 1850 and laid over in Winter Quarters until April of 1851, and I don’t know what date in April, but it was five months to land in Salt Lake on his birthday, October 1, 1851.” He located in Huntsville and then came down to Ogden and built a bridge. Then Brigham Young brought him to Salt Lake to work here. So he lived in Huntsville when he first came (Pernell thought) for one winter.

“Some of the (Moyer) children stayed there. Most of the Moyer children were older than Mother. There were Charles and Bill and John stayed up there, then Mariah married a fellow by the name of Worthen and moved down around St. George. I don’t know exactly the location. Then this Lizzie married Hall and first went to Beaver, then they went from Beaver to Vernal. Brig and Uncle Elliott, they left the country.” After Brig left here, he changed his name to George.

Pernell related the following information on the bridges that Henry built, “His first bridge was over the Ogden River from -- they call it Washington Boulevard now. They used to call it Washington Avenue -- down about 14th Street, I believe. I’m not certain. Then he built one across the Provo. Then he went back up and built one across the Weber River, there at what they call Riverdale, and then he built one across the Jordan, what they called the White Bridge. That’s the bridges that he built.”

Pernell told the following story with respect to the tabernacle, “Now, you see, there was a fellow by the name of Angell that was the architect for the Church. Brigham Young told him what he would like to have built -- the self-supporting roof and the size of it. Angell, after awhile, came and told Brigham Young it couldn’t be done They couldn’t do that. Then William Reed was one of Father’s right hand men. When they were coming out of the shop -- they used to have a shop in the Temple Square there all along the east side, excepting the gates, and had shops in there. So they were coming out, and Brigham Young stopped Father and told him and asked what could be done. He says, ’I’ll think it over and figure out what I can do and let you know in the next three or four days.’ So Mother says he would walk, studying, walk back and forth, back and forth. When he was ready, he went and told Brigham Young. He said, ’Now, I can build a building 150 feet wide and as long as you want it with a self-supporting roof, but I wouldn’t want to go over 150 feet wide.’ You see, he could build it as long as you want it, but only 150 feet wide. So they came to a decision between the two of them that the size to that was big enough. Then, Folsom was a stone mason. The Folsom’s were trying to claim the honor of the tabernacle and have done for years. Folsom wouldn’t listen to Father. He was going to do, as he wanted. He didn’t want to do this -- because of the stone work, you see, where those pillars are. So Father went to Brigham Young and told him that block wasn’t big enough for him and Folsom. He said, ’Get Folsom off of there or I’ll walk off.’ So, that was that. So you know who was taken off the block. He built the tabernacle. That is, he was the architect and supervisor of building it. The building was finished. The Folsom generation tries to take the credit but they haven’t got very far with it. One of Folsom’s sisters was Brigham Young’s youngest woman. They had what they called the Amelia Palace. That’s where the Federal bank used to be on South Temple and State before they moved down where they are now. That was a beautiful building."

With reference to other projects, Pernell related, “He built the Salt Lake Theater; when I say built it, I mean he was the supervisor. I think a man by the name of Taylor was the architect. Now, I’m not sure. I think he was though. Then he built the sugar factory in Sugarhouse. Then he built the paper mill up here in Cottonwood Canyon -- this old rock building up there. He had charge of the construction on the temple.” In a picture Pernell had, Henry Grow is shown laying the capstone on the temple.

Pernell told the following story with respect to the Angel Moroni on the tip -- you know, it never sways. It always stands straight. There’s a cup in there -- a bowl, and on his feet is a ball, and on the bottom of that ball is a weight, and that’s Father’s idea.” Henry Grow “was 74 on the first of October and he died the 4th of November. When Father died in 1891, he left 243 grandchildren, and then I can count 63 after he died. He was active and got around, he wasn’t working. He was off on a pension of $30.00 a month.”

Pernell remembered incidents related to his father dying, “Well, I remember him, he wasn’t living with us when he died. I think he had what, in those days, they called kidney complaint. He was living with Sarah Rawlins. When he took sick, he came down and wanted to come to Mother and Mother said, ’No, you wouldn’t stay with me. Why should I take you in now?’ I stood right there, nine years old, when I heard her tell him. He went down to Theodore’s and in three days or four days he was dead. She wasn’t going to the funeral, but they talked her into it in respect to us kid.” (Theodore was Pernell’s oldest brother.)

Pernell recalled when Henry died, he was only survived by Sarah Rawlins and Julia Veach, “Mary Moyer was dead then. Ann Elliott was dead. Ann Elliott was dead long before I was born. I believe, if I’m right, Mary Moyer died the year I was born. Now, I’m not positive of that, but I think it was. Ann Elliott died several years ahead of that. (Records show that Ann Midgley was also alive).

When Henry died, Julia had “seven children at home. I was 9 and Marc was 5, Otto was 11, Syl was 13, Lil was 15, and Walt was 17. That’s the one that were left at home. An then the Cleveland panic on top of it. Mother went after Woodruff. He was President. Mother went after Woodruff for something for us kids and he said, ’Sister Grow, you’ve got a nice brick home.’ She said, ’My children can’t eat brick.’ Mother was plain spoken.”

Pernell felt that Henry could have provided better for his family. “He left Mother broke. And he gave -- you know where the Labor Temple is (2nd East between 2nd and 3rd South), he gave that west half of the block there, five acres, to the Church. And he gave ten acres up there at the University of Utah to the Church. He gave 160 acres over there west of the fairgrounds to the Church and left Mother in a destitute condition with seven kids. (There are letters in the Church historian’s office written after Henry returned after being Mission President in Pennsylvania that indicated he had serious financial problems.)

Things were hard for the family; “I was out here on a dry farm fighting the sheep men when I was 13 years old. They were taking up homesteads out there and that was taking the sheep men’s spring and fall range off of them, and I was out there, the sheep was on our wheat and I set the bulldog on them. And Hebe Mackay’s sheep they were. And he was going to come over and clean up on me, and when he came towards me, I pulled a 38 gun and shot at his feet. That stopped him. He said, ‘I believe you would shoot me.’ I said ‘Yes, you damned coward you, ‘ I said, ‘You couldn’t pick on a man, but you would pick on a kid like me, ‘ and I says, ‘If you come any closer, I will shoot you.’ Well, that was the last of Hebe Mackay and his sheep. I had a good bulldog to help protect me. Then I herded cattle up here in Big Cottonwood Canyon when I was 14 -- batched it and rode those ridges. When I was 15, I went out to Fontenelle out from Kemmerer and herded sheep out there. Then I walked from the sheep camp to Kemmerer and beat my way home on the train. That’s how were lived.”

“I worked out here in the Bingham mines when I was 17 for $2.35. You had to board at the company boarding house and they charged you $1.00 per day for your board, furnish your own bedding to sleep in the bunk house, $2.00 for hospital and doctor, and when they gave you your check, you had about $33.00 for a month’s work. She went and mortgaged the home to keep us kids and when I was 20 years old, I went up to Wyoming at the coal mines and worked for $2.50 for 12 hours and no days off, and 18 hours on the chain shift, and paid that mortgage off in 1902 and 1903. I’d send her money every payday; I’d send her what I could. After I got the mortgage paid off and quit up there and came home, the postman wanted to know where these letters were that she didn’t get anymore. She said, ‘My boy has come back home now.’”

Pernell told the following story about Salt Lake when he was a boy, “Over on the east side, when you got up to 9th South and 11th East, it was practically out of town. That is, the buildings. Liberty Park was a hay field south of 9th South was just, you might say, country; it wasn’t built up at all. On the north side of town where we lived, after you got past 5th North, there weren’t any houses until we got way over in what we called in those days, Swede Town. Out on 9th North, I believe it was way below 4th West, it was between the Union Pacific and -- I don’t know for sure -- but anyhow, no, it was east of the Union Pacific, there were three house. One of the parties that lived there was named Potts. I just can’t

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deal with him when he came to R. W. Frank’s, so when I went to Vernal, I use to go see him. So, Smart’s, that was Mrs. Patterson’s sister and brother-in-law, they usually go with us -- he was kind of curious about how transportation is, so he was asking this Timothy about it; we were talking about transporation, I says, "I've shipped brick by parcel post out -- I forget whether it was Roosevelt or Vernal,' and I thought it was for a courthouse, I wasn't sure, but I packed and crated them and put them on the wagon to go to the post office and this Timothy said, 'That's the Bank of Vernal down there.' he said 'You've got to go down and see that President of the Bank,' So I went down. We had to go there anyhow, and I went in and made myself known. I says, ‘I came here on account of a peculiar errand,’ and he said ‘What’s that?’ I said, ‘I’m the one that wrapped and crated and shipped the brick for this building.’ ‘You are!’ I said, ’Yes.’ ’my gosh,’ he said, ’Am I glad to see you.’ I talked with him, and he said, ’Just think, it’s taken 49 years for us to meet.’ He gave me a bunch of cards, I say a bunch, he gave me a few."

A postcard on the Bank of Vernal prepared to publicize the brick by quoting from Believe It or Not, Ripley, 1932, reads as follows:

“Bank of Vernal. Parcel post bank of the world.

Opened on December 14, 1903. It had bullet-proof

counter and screens for protection and in 1916

moved to the new building for which pressed brick

all wrapped in paper and packed in crates of 50

pounds were transported from Salt Lake City, Utah

by parcel post, 407 miles, yet within 150 mile

zone. As Vernal is without railroad, the mail

contractor’s equipment was inadequate to move the

bricks the last 65 miles, so residents of Vernal

helped. Post Office regulations were promptly

changed as Uncle Sam disliked moving buildings by

parcel post. This bank gives extraordinary serv-

ice and invites you to use it. Vernal, Utah.”

Pernell looked enough like his father that he was recognized on several occasions, “I’ve had three different ones -- I went into a barbershop in Salt Lake one time. When I went in, he called me Mr. Grow. He said, ’You can’t fool me. I partly learned my trade barbering your Dad.’ I went into ZCMI Hardware and there was an old gentleman clerk there, and he came and called me Mr. Grow. He said, ’I’ve waited on your Father in this store many a time,’” Pernell comments further, “No, he was about the same height that I am. I don’t believe there was much more than an inch difference, if any. I don’t believe, as far as I know, I don’t believe there was only one was tall like me. I think all the rest was a little bit shorter. Now, some of them weren’t much, only an inch or so, but the one we call Brig, he was about the same height as I.”

Perhaps some of the family is aware of an exhibit of Henry’s old planes and glass turtles in the old State capitol building at Fillmore. Pernell tells the story of sending them there, “Do you know where Fillmore is? Well, it’s the next place below Fillmore. There’s another kind of a coincidence. We went down there and wanted to go in. So Mr. and Mrs. Smart and I went in. When I went in, I saw a big picture on the wall, and in the center of it, about that size was Bishop Kessler’s picture. Then all of these others around the outside. Bishop Kessler was the captain of the train that our folks came across the plains. What these others were, I don’t know, but I saw Father’s picture among them. So when I came out, I said, ’I saw my Father’s picture in there.’ ’You did, where?’ I said, “In with that group with Bishop Kesslers.’ So we got talking. She said that Bishop Kessler was her grandfather. According to her age, I would figure he was her great grandfather because she looked too young to be a granddaughter. So we to to talking, and I said, ’Say, “I’ve got a couple of old ancient planes, I’ll send them down to you.’ So I had a glass turtle here that was molded in a glass factory right west of the St. Mark’s Hospital between 3rd and 4th West. Mother had some glass blowers for borders. I took their lunch out to them in an old fashioned market basket. When he got through, he picked up this glass turtle, it was so warm he had to change it from hand to hand, put it in the basket, and I brought it home. After I talked about sending these down, Lil and I talked and said, ’That turtle won’t amount to anybody after we’re gone. So I’m going to send it down there.’ I gave her my history with it. I’ve had a couple or three different friends -- it’s been in there since. One of them, in particular, when she saw me was all excited. She said, ’Oh, I saw your turtle down there with all your history on it.’ So one of my nieces, one of Marc’s daughters, was down to California this summer, about a month ago, and they stopped there with three of their grandchildren. They went in, and when they came out, one of them said, ’Oh, I saw Uncle’s turtle in there.’ Who was your Uncle and where does he live?’ She said, ’He lives in Sandy,’ and he said, ’That’s right, go back and take another look.’”

Pernell recalled the following incident about his Mother when he was a boy, “Later on, I wouldn’t say just how old I was because I was only a little kid, there were 11 that got caught in a snow slide up there (at Alta) and Joseph William Taylor had an undertaking parlor about where the Temple Square ramp is right now, and where the Temple Square is vacant. He had them all stretched out on boards along the north side of the building, the eleven of them. Mother went up to see them and I was along with her. I didn’t look very much but I was with her. Mother lived for automobile days and she told Joseph William Taylor one day that she didn’t want him to put her in one of those old automobiles and see how quick they could get her up to the cemetery. he said, ’Well Julie, you’ll have to die pretty quick if you don’t want that.’ She died November, it was in 1922; I think it was November 20. I’d have to look it up to make the exact date, but it was in 1922. She lived with us for about two years after we came from Idaho and she died at our place. When she was sick, she used to say to her, ’Well, Lillie, you’re strewing my path with roses while I’m alive, not waiting until I’m gone.’” Pernell and Lillian described Julia as being as cute and as witty as she could be.

With respect to the granite for the temple, Pernell recalled, “They hauled a lot of that in here by oxen. It took them two days to go out to the quarry and it took them two days to get back. So you see how long it would take to get one big rock in. If you’ve noticed -- I don’t know whether it’s still there or not -- they built a canal out of Big Cottonwood Canyon, and it ran along the east side of Highland Drive right there where that outside move is by Murphy’s Lane, then across through there and went out through Sugarhouse and around, and finally wound up down on 6th East and 2nd South, I believe it was, and across down to the temple. They were going to float them down on that. Then when they got the raft to float them, they weren’t big enough, they would sink from the weight of the rock. Once they got a rock that they could float, it wasn’t big enough to do anything. So all that work, in one way of speaking was wasted, but afterwards they used it for irrigation. The canal actually wasn’t big enough to carry the load. Then, in later years, they built a railroad up there; they called it Wasatch. They loaded them on there and took them down and unloaded them at the railroad yards and hauled them from there by team; we called them drays in those days. There was a flat bottom about that high off the ground. The axle came underneath, then up and out for the hubs. That’s the way they got the wheels on them but the body was right low. Then, at the very latest, about the time they were just about through, they had the cars go right up in the South Gate into the temple grounds.” Lillian recalled, “I remember when I was a little girl, about four or five years old, we lived on 2nd South and 3rd West. These drays would come along with these oxen and a piece of granite, and it would come along 3rd West. It was so low, us kids would get on it and ride up to 2nd West. With oxen, I guess it would take an hour to go that block. It was so low, you know.”

Pernell made the following comparisons between the cost of living when he worked for the Parker Lumber Company: “Things are a lot more expensive today than they were then. Not by the hour. You figure a man’s wages by the hour. I worked 10 hours in Parker Lumber Company for $2.00. They were awful good to us and they let us off Saturday at 5:00 o’clock instead of 6:00. Instead of working 60 hours, we worked 59 hours for $12.00. That same kind of work today is paying $18.00 for 8 hours, time and a half for overtime, and double time for Sundays and holidays. I used to pay $3.50 for a pair of work shoes, a napatan work shoe. That meant I had to work almost two days for a pair of shoes. That same shoe you can buy today for $12.50. So it’s cheaper today. The dollar doesn’t go as far today as it did those days but the work in hours. That job I had at $2.35 out here in Bingham and we worked every day, we didn’t have any days off -- that kind of work out these today, mining out there is paying around $30.00 a day. You’ve got to figure by the hour, the man’s hourly pay. When I went to work at the coalmines in Wyoming in 1902, that master mechanic was getting $125.00 a month. Mast mechanic mind you. A master mechanic today is getting around $500 to $600 a month.”

Pernell died November 22, 1971 at the age of 89 years old. He was the last surviving child of Henry Grow. He was survived by his wife Lillian Habish Grow, who was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Later-day Saints on Wednesday, August 9, 1972 in the tabernacle.