WINNER, Leoni Leoti b. 15 Jul 1857 Six Mile Creek, Pike, Illinois, United States d. 15 Nov 1933 Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah, United States

1857 - 1933 (76 years)

Name	WINNER, Leoni Leoti
Birth	15 Jul 1857	Six Mile Creek, Pike, Illinois, United States [2]
Gender	Female
WAC	11 Jan 1875	EHOUS
_TAG	Reviewed on FS
Death	15 Nov 1933	Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah, United States
Burial	19 Nov 1933	Salt Lake City Cemetery, Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah, United States
Headstones	Submit Headstone Photo
Person ID	I55874	Joseph Smith Sr and Lucy Mack Smith
Last Modified	19 Aug 2021

Family ID F27133 Group Sheet | Family Chart

Family	WILDING, George , b. 9 Nov 1829, Preston, Lancashire, England Preston, Lancashire, Englandd. 26 Jul 1913, Hunter, Salt Lake, Utah, United States (Age 83 years)
Marriage	9 Aug 1857	Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah, United States [3]
Family ID	F27071	Group Sheet \| Family Chart
Last Modified	24 Jan 2022

Photos At least one living or private individual is linked to this item - Details withheld.

Notes

LIFE OF LEONI LEOTI WINNER WILDING
(1857-1933)

Sketch of the life of Leoni Leoti Winner, daughter of James Winner, who was born about 1826 or 1827, in the State of Pennsylvania, probably in Buck County; and Isabella Lambert, who was born September 23, 1836, in New Castle on Tyne, England, and immigrated to America with her parents in 1844, and settled in St. Louis, afterwards moving to Six Mile Creek, Pike County, Illinois, where she was married to my father on the 18th of August 1852.
My oldest brother, Benjamin Lambert, was born on the 22nd of October 1854, at Atlas, Pike County, Illinois.
I was born on the 15th of July 1857, at Six Mile Creek, Pike County, Illinois. My brother, Edward Lincoln, next younger to me, was born on November 11, 1860, At Six Mile Creek, Pike County, Illinois, and died January 9, 1861. He was buried at Dolls Bluff, Pike County, Illinois. Mary Catherine was born April 19, 1862, in Atlas, Pike County, Illinois.
At this time trouble was brewing between the North and South and in April, father, and also mother's brother, John, enlisted in the Northern Army. 99th Illinois Regiment. Captain Mathews and Colonel Baily were the officers in command. In the fall of same year, mother and Aunt Mary took us three children to Pittsfield to have our photos taken to send to father. On the road to town I was taken violently ill, which proved to be a congestive chill. They took me to a friend's house where we were obliged to stay till the next day. We then had our pictures taken and returned home to grandpa's where mother went when father left us, so grandma could take care of us children while mother sewed and nursed to support us children. Aunt Mary taught school.
In the spring of 1863, on April 15th, father was wounded and Uncle John was killed in the battle of Vicksburg. I don't think Uncle John ever had a military burial. They just dug a trench and put the dead in and covered them up. Father was put on the hospital boat, Nashville, and started up the river for home, but on account of heat, dysentery set in and he died on the boat, which put ashore at Millicans Bend, and he with some others were taken up ashore and buried. We never knew for years what kind of a burial he had; but some years later, he with some others we taken up on account of overflow and buried in a military cemetery called Mt. Vernon and were given a military burial.
I will never forget the day Aunt Mary went to Summer Hill (our nearest post office) for a letter; the scene at grandpa's house when she came home with the news of Uncle John's death and also of father being wounded and his subsequent death. Grandpa Lambert fell sick with brain fever and raved for many weeks. He took a turn for the better, but was never the same, and died five years later.
My Uncle Thomas, mother's brother, about fourteen years old, and my brother nine years old, took the farm and did what they could. Mother was working and Aunt Mary teaching, and Aunt Julia, ten years old, and myself taking care of my sister Cassie, and helping grandma what we could and going to school in the winter when weather permitted. Aunt Mary made it some easier by taking me with her whenever she taught.
I will never forget the first pension mother received after father's death. Mother and Uncle Thomas went to Pittsfield, some ten miles away from the house. I guess we were pretty low in circumstances and, oh, (to us children) the wonderful things they brought home. It was then that I, or we, saw the first Kerosene then (coal oil now) was very inflammable, and of dark yellowish color, as it was not refined then as it is now. It smoked the chimney then as we had to clean it real often. It also had a disagreeable smell.
At the time grandpa had a new frame house. It had been built several years, but not finished on the inside. This was in 1865: so he had a carpenter come and finish it....James Burgess, by name. Before it was finished he and mother became engaged. He had, at the time Joseph Smith was assassinated, lived in Nauvoo, but at the time of the exodus of the people from that city gone around and worked as a carpenter. They were married on the 2nd of November 1865. My brother Lambert, then twelve years old, was very angry and preferred to stay with grandpa, who had been appointed our guardian by the government, and grandma who would not give up my sister Cassie, then a little more than three years old. I was the only one who stayed with mother. My stepfather then concluded to go to Keokuk, Iowa, on the bank of the Mississippi River, about one hundred miles distant from our old house, and ten miles below the city of Nauvoo. Here he was pretty well known. My half-sister, Isabelle was born here on September 9, 1866. We did not own a home but moved a number of times. Mr. Burgess soon began to lose his interest in the reorganized church, of which he was a missionary, spending his Sundays traveling and preaching. He always took mother, but seldom took me. We surely had lots of company coming and going, but he wanted to come to Utah. Mother fought it bitterly.
On November 20, 1868, my brother, Samuel was born. After this time mother's health was pretty poor. We also started to build a home on 14th and Johnson Street, a pretty location, but before our home was finished mother was taken seriously ill. All this time Mr. Burgess was talking Utah. I think it was the cause of mother's sickness. About a year later mother's sister, my Aunt Mary, came to see us and became acquainted with a man by the name of Charles Clark, a widower with four small children. They were soon married and mother was not so lonesome. At the time we started to build, Uncle Charlie bought and started to build also. At this time I was obliged to stop school on account of mother's continued sick spells. I then started to learn the dressmaking trade. I was then eleven years old. I had to serve six months free before I could get a diploma to go out sewing. It took me one year to get six months out of it before I could go out sewing. We were then in our new house--so was Aunt Mary just next door to us. At the time I started to learn my trade there was not much carpenter work in the winter on account of extreme cold and our circumstances became pretty close, so mother and I took in sewing to get some money. We had to sew by hand as there were very few machines and then only in tailor shops and dressmaking establishments. We also had a school for fancy work two afternoons a week. In this Aunt Mary also helped. We had many pupils, old and young. In this way we managed to keep from actual suffering.
On the 16th of May 1872, my twin brother and sister were born. We named then John Mason and Jennie Mason. After they were born mother's health improved materially. This same spring, after waiting for seven years, our pension from the government came, which was of great benefit to us. Mr. Burgess suggested that mother take enough money to buy a sewing machine, which was done. We bought a Wheller and Wilson, which was in the family for more than thirty years. I was surely proud of it. An agent came and taught me how to use it. I soon took it and went out sewing. Mostly, of course, I had to have an express man take it for me. I sewed mostly, of course, for the Jews, who were very nice and easy to sew for and also were very good pay.
It would make my story too long to go into detail--suffice it that on or about the 30th of May 1874, we started for Utah, at 4:30 in the afternoon. On the 4th of July, at 6:30 o'clock we landed in Salt Lake City. Mother, myself, and the children with our satchels and lunch boxes waited in front of William Jenning's residence, then Mayor of Salt Lake City, till Mr. Burgess went to find an old Nauvoo friend, William H. Folson. There was nothing but shanks ponies in those days, with a few hacks and one street car line to the warm springs, and that was on a track drawn by mules. However, it was only one and a half blocks east and we were soon there, tired, dirty and hungry. Brother and Sister Folson received us kindly and we were soon resting.
As we came down Echo Canyon into Ogden City, mother kept saying, "This is what I saw in my vision." Everything we saw right to Salt Lake City, she had seen before, sunset and all.
The next day Mr. Burgess went house hunting. Brother Folson had a very large family, so did we, and mother was very anxious to get settled. He soon found rooms in Sister Hannah T. King's house several blocks distant. Besides her and her husband there were two more small families in the house. We had little money left. Mr. Burgess bought a small stove and that with the little bedding and dishes we brought with us was all we had; but the neighbors were kind and loaned us things so we got along for one week then our things arrived and we were pretty comfortable. I only helped one day then went to work and sewed for Sister Folson. In the house with us lived Sister Fanny Brown, whose husband drove a stage and was home very little. She also had two small children. We soon learned to love each other and to this day, which is fifty-two years next Tuesday, we have been friends. Only yesterday we were together in the Temple and bid each other a pleasant time for the next six weeks. She is now seventy-nine and I am sixty-nine years of age.
Fifty-two years ago on the 11 of this July 1926, I started out to find a Sunday School, going straight west two and a half blocks, when I came to a meeting house. I felt very strange and I guess I looked it. I felt very much like I wanted to get up and run when a young girl sitting close to me asked me if I was a stranger in the city. I told her yes. She said. "I thought so." she then invited me to go to her class, which was the theology class taught by Brother Peter Reed. I was glad to go with her. She asked my name, which I told, asking hers in return, which was Louisa Perry of the Sixteenth Ward. We soon became fast friends and are still friends, but we do not meet as often as we used to. Louisa was just three months younger than me.
Mr. Burgess was not very successful in getting work when we first came to Salt Lake. On the other hand, I had more sewing than I could do, but got only $1.00 a day. I also took sewing home and did cutting and fitting at night and mother did finishing in the day time. We did some moving in the first year, but I could hardly keep things going. Mr. Burgess got very little work for more than a year, then Mother was sick for some weeks and we had to have a girl to do the work, whom I paid $1.25 a week. Then a young girl in the Sixteenth Ward, which I still attended, wanted very much to learn dressmaking, so offered to come and sew and help do the work. She came and I still cut and fitted at night and did stitching. She is still my friend (then Cassie Harmon, now for many years Mrs. Frank Platts of Salt Lake).
Mr. Burgess had a sister, Mrs. Rachel Colemere, and family of Kaysville, Davis County, owing a home in the Nineteenth Ward. She let us move in free of rent until Mr. Burgess could get good work, which he did in about fifteen months. He worked for President Young on the Guard House doing finishing work till it was completed. By that time the St. George Temple was ready for inside finishing and he was called to go down and work on the inside finishing till it was completed. By that time the Logan Temple was ready for inside finishing and he was called to work on it till ready for dedication. In all, the three kept him busy working for ten years or a little more.
On August 9, 1975, I was married to George Wilding. Three months later, my chum or companion, Louisa Parry, was married to my husband's old friend, Henry Emery. Our relationship still lasts though we do not see each other so often. On the 12th of June the following year, my first daughter was born--a poor frail little thing of premature birth, caused, I guess, by too constant sewing, for I had a great deal of sewing to do and often sat up late at night. Because of this she had and still has very poor eyesight, otherwise she is well and strong. At that time my health was very poor. We named her Alice Isabelle after her two grandmothers.
In the winter of 1878, we had terrible weather. The fog was so intense and lasted so long without sun or wind that everything was covered with a thick frost, which made small limbs look like big branches and many times we could not see across the street. It was most bitterly cold. At that time the city was grading the road past our house in the Southwest part of the old Nineteenth Ward, and by quitting time the horses were just steaming and the men's beards were white with frost. I will never forget this as it was so bitterly cold we almost froze. On the 21st of the following May, 1878, my second girl was born, but did not live owing to a hurt I got by getting struck in the eye with a piece of wood I was splitting and cut quite severely.
I still was kept busy sewing, for I felt I must be self-supporting to a certain extent, my first child being still very delicate. I had my hands full, working almost night and day. My husband having another family to support, I felt it my duty to help myself as much as possible.
After the birth of my second girl, my health was very poor for some months, but I still managed to attend practice and sing in the Sixteenth Ward choir as long as we stayed in the city.
On the 20th of August 1879, my third daughter was born, who we named Mary Lattille. My life went on in much the same old swing, working and caring for my babies, till November 7th, 1881, when my fourth daughter was born. We named her Jennie Leoni. In two years and two months, or on the 15 of October, my fifth girl was born. We called her Elvira Naomi as mother wished. She also wanted my third girl named Mary Lattilla, as I named her.
In the very early spring or late winter if 1884, my husband, who worked for ZCMI as a packer, quit his job on account of close confinement and small wages, also poor health. Mr. Wilding for years had wanted to go on a farm. When a young boy in Nauvoo and Winter Quarters on their road to Utah, a journey that took some years, he had worked on farms and liked it, but after arriving in Utah he was obliged to work at most anything, finally taking up mason work, He worked at this till he finally got work for Walker Brothers as a packer, and when ZCMI opened there he got work for some twenty-five or thirty years, or till very late in the fall of 1883. In all those years he had not been able to save any money on account of small wages and large family. It became a problem how we were to get along. However, He had always kept a span of horses, a surrey, and some farm implements, and a number of good milk cows; so we decided to try and get a piece of land -- or at least I did -- not having any house of my own. I started on my quest.
There was a brother J. T. Evans, who lived in the Sixteenth Ward for many years, who had taken up a quarter section of school land on the bench Southwest of Salt Lake City, distant about nine or ten miles, and on the North side of the new Salt Lake and Jordan Canal in what is now called Hunter Ward. In talking with him on the subject, he told me he had twenty acres of land he would sell for twenty dollars an acre. I talked it over with my husband, but he was not certain that we could pay for it. There were no buildings and the land had never been broken up or plowed, but I went ahead with it. I wrote to mother, who was then a doctor, having been East to college and graduated, and had been called on a mission for two years by President Young, to Richmond, to tend the sick; after which she located in Logan, to lend me fifty dollars, my initial payment, which she did. Mr. Wilding had on his place in the city a good size work shop, which he took down and hauled out to build a room for us to live in. On the first of January 1884, the weather being very pleasant and the frost out of the ground, he and his son, Harry, went out and plowed and planted grain. Each time they went out they took a load of the old lumber with which to put up the room. This was pretty slow work and the load was quite heavy and progress slow.
On the first day of April 1885, we moved into an empty house -- or we thought it was empty. Our motive in doing this was to give the men more time to put up the room and get in more crops. This place we moved into was one mile East of us and on the South side of the canal, while our land was on the North side. The hard pan was pretty close to the surface, consequently, we did not raise much. We had some grain, put in an acre or two of Lucerne, had a small garden and some potatoes. We had to rent water at one dollar per share, but there was very little water in the canal, consequently, there were some grasshoppers help themselves. About the middle of the summer we moved into our room on the North side, of which we had a porch with no floor. It was necessary for us to move to keep the stock off. We had to haul water most of the time. We never went anywhere but we took a receptacle with us to fetch water in, providing we got there, there was a well. There were not many wells in those days and they were very deep, and our stock most of the years had to be driven to the bottoms to get water. There were a number of families living out there that we knew who had formally lived in Salt Lake. I took in sewing to help out. I did not always get money as it was scarce, but got its equivalent in flour, meat, or anything that was good to eat, which was always acceptable. When we moved out, we brought a very good cow, which went a long way to keeping the table. I many times sold flour, sometimes five pounds of butter a week, which helped, getting from twenty to twenty-five cents a pound, and every little bit helped. Also had a few good laying hens but no coop. We had to keep our animals tied to posts set firmly in the ground. If it stormed they sure got it.
A little later in the fall there were several trips made to the canyon for wood, then we got a fairly good shed up, covered with straw. It kept the cold out and was fairly dry, except when the snow would melt. We had to haul water all winter for many winters, there being very little water in the canal, some times none at all. Some years previous to this time, Bishop Gardner thought there could be a canal dug across the country from Utah Lake to the mountains West, which would put many thousands of acres of land under irrigation. I understand he approached President Young on the subject, explaining how he thought it could be done. President Young told him to go ahead and promised him he should live to see it a success, which he did. Our land came up to the bank of the canal and many times have I seen him in his buggy following the canal and standing on the bank looking up and down the stream taking measurements and studying and thinking. I think Jessie W. Fox did the surveying for it, or most of it. He stills lives not far from my present home in Salt Lake. President Young's promise to Brother Gardner came true as that was forty years ago and both have been dead many years. President Young died about 1874 -- Brother Gardner some where in the nineties.
On the 23rd of March, a little more than eleven months after moving out to Hunter my daughter Rhoda Lambert was born. At the end of ten days I had the misfortune to take a chill which finally settled in my teeth. I suffered greatly for some weeks till the weather got a little warmer and the roads dried up, then I went to town and had four teeth extracted, after I was much better. A half sister to my children took very good care of me all this time. We were pretty poor all this time. Mr. Wilding went to town to do some work, which relieved us some. That summer I had a very nice cellar dug and rocked up to the square then nicely covered over. It was sure nice and cool. The porch which I spoke of was closed in the fall before and made a pretty good kitchen, but a little small. This made it much more comfortable for us during the winter. The cellar is in good condition yet after forty years. We often had and do yet have very heavy winds, which was my particular terror and my house being small I have many times taken my little children and quilts and pillows and spent the night in my cellar, the house shaking till I thought many times it would surely blow away. I say spent, for I could not sleep, as you may know what my good cellar meant to me.
In this same year there was a bill introduced into the Senate in Washington called "The Edmonds Bill". Our enemies had done everything they could think of to persecute the people. This infernal bill, which aimed at the peace of our very homes was passed by Congress, then our troubles and sufferings began. This was in 1887 or 1888, which ended in my having to take my family of five children and leave my home. The deputies got my husband, who had left home and gone to the city to work, so if they came out to my place he would not be there. They hauled him into court, and in order to keep me out of court he pleaded guilty to having two families. But that was not enough to satisfy the hounds, They also took me to court. I acknowledged my position, which gave my husband six months in prison, which ended in March 1888. While Mr. Wilding was in prison, I had to go home and take care of the animals during the winter. It was sure a winter, but God blessed us. Everyone tried to help us. My oldest girl, Belle, was twelve, my youngest, Rhoda, two. I had to haul all of our water two miles and if there was a snow I had to haul for the stock, some five or six head. I guess sometimes they went pretty thirsty. I remember on one occasion my wagon got dry and a tire came off. There was nothing to do but wait till someone came that could fix it for me. I used every drop of waste water for my chickens and pigs to drink. Anything not fit to use for them was put on sacks and laid on the wheels to dry and keep then from shrinking; so the day the tire came off there was nothing for me to do but take the horses and two buckets one and a half miles across fields to Brother Rushton's where I water the horses and carried the buckets home full of water to my family. I was surely tired when I got home. I could get water for home use at Brother Larson's one half mile from home, but could not draw for the stock, so the children had to drive the cows to the bottoms, which was somewhat risky on account of loose stock and not many fences where they could get out of their way.
That afternoon, Brother Issac **** came down and brought Mrs. **** to get a dress fitted. I told him of my predicament and while I fixed the dress he fixed the wagon and got me two barrels of water, which I appreciated. I had many such experiences. On another, two boys of the Ward, Axel Jones and Dave Jones, took my team and went to the canyon and brought me a large load of dry wood which did me all winter for kindling. In the very worst of the winter, I had occasion to go to Ben Rolfe's place, two miles East of me to see about some sewing, When I went out to go home, my wagon was loaded down with wood. I also had some meat and flour, but even with all these helps and kindnesses, my winter was hard. Without these kindnesses, I do not know how my family would have fared. When March came, that was when Mr. Wilding came home, I had no where to go except to take my children and go to mother's in Logan, where on the 14th of May 1888, my only boy was born, whom we named George Lambert Wilding.
I remained with mother and my brother Samuel, till the following February 1889. Previous to that time the officers got so ashamed of their dirty work and the church fought the injustice done the saints who were treated in such inhuman manner. Homes were broken up and many deaths resulted through exposure and grief. It finally resulted in the Edmund's Bill being amended to the extent that husbands were allowed to provide for their families. It could not be otherwise according to law, and we were only a territory anyway. We had been trying for statehood for many years, but without success. But our leaders never gave up till they accomplished their purpose and finally on January 4, 1896, our or their perseverance was rewarded and we were admitted to statehood. It was a long and bitter fight. I was chosen as a delegate from our district to attend the convention held in the old theater, where we were finally victorious. It was an all day meeting, with a very short recess at noon.
But I am ahead six years in my story. As I said, I came home with my six children in February 1890 and, oh, such a homecoming. I was glad in my heart to come home and thought I never could be unhappy again. Well, I tried to be happy, but imagine coming home on borrowed money which I had to pay back afterwards -- everything upset and in disorder -- very little in the house to start on. I don't just remember how I did get on, but soon my sister, Belle, came to see me for a while, which cheered me up. But I found in my years absence much debt had accumulated. Mr. Wilding had not been able to do much. His health was poor through worry and confinement, but he got on somehow.
I was proud of my only boy, but as time went on it soon developed there was very little in common between him and his father, nor ever was, which was a great grief to me.
Things were very unsettled in our fight for statehood. Officials were very cruel in many instances, and for a time I had to leave home and go on the "Underground" as it was sneeringly called by many.
By this time my two oldest girls, Belle and Luttie, were fifteen and twelve years old and had to keep house for their father and do the best they could. Previous to this we had gotten up two good adobe rooms on the East of our old room. They were not finished, but we could live in them quite comfortably. just as Mr. Wilding finished, the foundation ready to start laying the walls, Jennie, then nine years old, had the misfortune to fall from a load of hay and break her arm. She got up laughing and saying, "I've broken my arm, I've broken my arm," and sure enough she had. Her father set it and splinted it up. Next day I took her to town to a doctor who pronounced it set all right, so it was left, and when her father laid adobes she carried more than half of them to him. My seventh daughter was born, whom we named Elizabeth Wilding.
While I was gone and left the girls to keep house for their father, he started to have a well dug, so there were two extra men to cook for and not much to cook with either. Our well was not much of a success. It was 175 feet deep when they struck water and cost two hundred dollars. The men digging it were very anxious to go to dig a well for a man who would pay cash, promising to come and get more water for us, but Mr. Wells, the digger, was killed with foul air from the bucket generating foul air underneath it and when it was moved Mr. Wells was dead before they could get the bucket to the top. Then the well had to have a fumigation before they could get the body, so our well was never finished and soon went dry. We could get no one to go down to finish it. The old well is still there partly filled up. Up to this time we had suffered much with the grasshoppers owing to the canal not having enough water. Towards fall it would get low and sometimes go dry.
About this time things began to look a little more cheerful. We were able to live a little better, the canal was worked on and made wider and deeper and we began to get more water form Utah Lake, but first it was necessary to build a long concrete reservoir or flume in one place as they discovered the ground was very porous and the water fell away diminishing the stream greatly. we used to have heavy storms which would break the bank away and we would lose water in this way. When this was remedied, we began to get more water. We did not own water then, but had to rent it, paying for each share. One share was supposed to water one-half an acre. We only rented twenty-five shares. We had a nice orchard started and many times the children would carry barrels and barrels of water from the pools of water left in low places in the bottom of the canal and in that way we saved the trees and other things from drought and grasshoppers. We would also fill every tub and many receptacles with water just as long as there was a bit. Many times I have washed and then saved the suds to scrub the floors and saved the rinse water to bathe the children in, and then carried the rest to a tree or bush. Every bit of hand water the same -- and dish water for chickens and pigs.
On the 4th of October 1893, my ninth girl was born, whom we called Erma Estella. She was almost one year old before I was able to get anything to have her blessed in. Up to that time she wore just whatever I could get. Things went on in much the same way -- sometimes better, often worse -- till 1899. We still had drought and grasshoppers. Sometimes I felt I could not stand the struggle with poverty any longer -- but what was to be done? We could not sell. No one would buy. Some were almost giving their homes away and moving to Canada where a mission was being established, which was presided over by Brother Card. This was good stock country, is now good for most any kind of farming, and was a boon to many. We sewed, wove carpet, wrestled with drought and grasshoppers, bought most all of our hay, flour, and chicken and pig feed. We always tried to keep two pigs so as to have a little meat. Sometimes they did not get very fat but they helped to fill up anyway.
The older girls being 17, 13, 11, and 9 years old, I left then in charge of the home in the care of their father and did quite a lot of nursing. it was not so hard on me as sewing. I still did sewing when not nursing. We still suffered from drought. Finally, the two older girls went out doing some house work for a dollar and fifty cents a week. This was some easier as there were not so many to feed, but this was offset by having company. The girls were growing up and being pretty lively we used to have lots of company. I would always rather have the young folks come home than have mine go away, as I knew where they were. Mr. Wilding was a good singer and leader of the choir. In this way we spent many pleasant Sunday evenings. the children went to school, working hard of evenings preparing carpets for loom, winding warp and rag for the loom. After all, our loom saved us as it brought cash for payments of interest and taxes as well as many necessities. In this way, three more years passed when Leoni Leoti, my 10th girl was born. This was May 11, 1896. At this time my oldest girl was twenty and went to town to stay with Auntie Wilding, going out nursing, thus keeping herself nicely, and also a little home. But scarcity of water and grasshoppers were our curse. It just seemed as though people could not live under such conditions much longer.
About this time we had a new Bishop. He was from Kaysville. I guess he just have been sent by the Lord to buoy up our drooping spirits, as there was surely nothing else to draw him our way. He was soon put in as Bishop and started to buy one of our God-forsaken farms. Maybe it was a little better than some others, having a little more water and east of where there were so many hoppers, which seemed to think there was more to eat in the house than out, so our curtains and clothes soon became their prey. They chewed holes in curtains and clothing, underclothes and outside clothes, pillow cases. tablecloths, etc.
Our ward was organized, I think in 1897. Our old meeting house was in a dilapidated condition, have been used for many years for a school house too. Some years before, maybe three years, the county built a nice brick school, one and a half stories, consisting of one large room down stairs and a smaller one above. When our Bishop came we tool new heart and tried again. We got permission from the school trusties to hold meetings in our new school house while the old building was razed in order to start a new meeting house. this must have been in 1898 or 1899. Our meeting house basement was started and proved to be nothing more than hardpan and very little could be done, only by blasting. I remember in 1900 our basement was not yet finished and the brethren undertook to do this just as they had time, making the work rather slow. We, as a people of Hunter Ward, Belonged to the Salt Lake Stake of Zion, which I think was all of Salt Lake county, with Joseph E Taylor, President and George B Wallace and Angus M Cannon as Counselors. This sake was getting so many people, it was too large to be handled, so the Presidency thought it better to divide it and make more stakes with Presidents, so as to relieve the pressure on so few and give more religious duties to more idle Saints.
Accordingly, in the spring of 1900, it was decided to make a new stake. This being decided on, the Granite Stake was formed. When the boundary lines were decided on and made public, Hunter Ward was left outside on the West. Bishop Layton could not stand this so he went to the President, Brother Joseph F Smith, and begged to be admitted into the mew stake to save our lives, so to speak. This desire was granted and we became part of the Granite Stake, with Brother Frank Y Taylor as President, Brother Cannon of the City, and Brother Fred Bennion as he Counselors, with Brother William Winder as President of Granite Stake Mutuals. We were holding meetings in our new school house and it was here we entertained our new Presidency when it came our turn to have them visit us. We had a lovely morning session. All the officers of the new stake were present with their wives and husbands. I do not remember all their names, having lost a page or two of this particular part of my manuscript, but I remember Brother or President John R Winder was present and that Sister Cannon, President of the Young Ladies Mutual, was also present. Well, wee furnished dinner for all and at two o'clock all convened for the afternoon session, at which President John R Winder spoke. (In the morning session mention was made of our discouraged condition.) As soon as he got up he spoke a while, and then started to prophesy. He told us not to get discouraged, or sacrifice our homes. He said the time would come, and soon, when we would be so prospered that men would not care to till their land, and would hire it out to be cultivated. He said our meeting house would stand as it was built as a rock. If ever a people went home and felt encouraged, it was the people of Hunter Ward that Sunday Night.
About this time 1900, it began to be whispered that there was going to be a smelter built out west around the point of the mountain. It seemed that some men were already buying up some land quite cheap, and we began to feel as though something was going to happen, but we could not imagine anything like a smelter. At this time our only boy, George Lambert, was ten years old. His father wanted to buy him twenty acres of land adjoining us on the East, belonging to Stephen H. Love, a son-in-law of Mr. Wilding, who had bought it at the same time we purchased ours. He had the farming fever at that time, but other things came along which caused him to change his mind, so would sell it to us for the same price as he gave for it. He concluded to take it, thinking when our son was old enough he would help pay for it. In this we were very much disappointed. In order to get cash we mortgaged our home, which was paid for, also twenty acres to get the cash. At eight percent interest, this was nearly our death blow. After the age of twelve, Bert seldom stayed home. But with the idea of a smelter being built things looked a little brighter and with our being accepted in the new Stake, also with the knowledge that they must have water from our canal, everyone was more or less elated, as we were sure this would give us more water and therefore less hoppers. In one way we counted without our host as people who had plenty of shares, but little land began selling to the smelter folks very cheap. But when Mr. Wilding found it out he was very angry. At that time my oldest girl was twenty and they ranged down till the eighth girl was two years old. The girls fell to with a vim and we soon had more weaving than the girls could do.
On the 7th of November 1898, another daughter was born whom we named Clara Cornelia Wilding. All this time I took in sewing and my girls and I helped with the farm work. I sewed and they wove carpets. It kept us busy paying the interest on the mortgage, paying taxes on the now forty acres ant at times we still had some trouble with the drought and hoppers, though not bad. As the water seemed to increase, also the amount of the shares. At this time, we rented water from Dr. Anderson, who owned water but no land, so would sell his shares.
On February 15, 1900, Jennie Leoni, my fourth girl, then past eighteen, was married to Walter St. John Rushton, who was called on a mission to the Southern States. About this time it was very evident that we would have a smelter west of us. Things began to boom and land went up to $100.00 an acre and still rising.
On the 22nd of February 1901, I had another daughter born, whom we named Evelyn Winner Wilding. Well, we all worked at the time. My oldest girl, Isabella, who was the twenty-four years old, was nursing in Salt Lake; Luttie, the third girl, had gone to college in Logan, living with mother; Jennie was married. I still sewed, milked cows, and sold butter and the younger girls wove carpets and went to school. After we had had our loom a year or two, Mr. Wilding would sometimes weave a little to help out. His health was not very good and he would sooner stay indoors than go out in the cold. It soon transpired that what the girls and I could not do we had to hire done -- Mr. Wilding soon got to be a master hand at weaving. He could beat it in so much harder than the girls and could, so stayed at it constantly.
About 1898, Luttie took up practical nursing, and she and my oldest girl, Bell, and Jennie, who was married, took two rooms in town and lived there, going out nursing and day work as it came along.
On the 14th of August 1903, my boy Bert, then fifteen years old came home from work sick and proved to have typhoid fever. After being home about two weeks he took a backset and we surely thought that he would die, but he still lived. At that time. Lizzie, who was living with Jennie was taken sick and was brought home on the 18th day of September. She also had typhoid fever. She just lived twenty-one days and died very suddenly at eight o'clock at night on the 9th day of October. Bert was still a raving maniac. Lizzie was buried on Sunday on the 12th of October. My oldest girl was just ready to be married. My Mother, sister and brother and wife came down from Logan to the funeral; and as they were anxious to go home she was quietly married to George Fox at her home in Salt Lake City on Tuesday, October 14th, 1903, by Brother George R. Emery, after which we spent a very quiet evening. Upon returning home we found Evelyn had walking typhoid and was very sick for several weeks, at which time Clara came down with the same malady. Belle and George then insisted I take her to town to their house where I could get the attention of a doctor, which we could not get in Hunter. We had to go to town every day to report and get ice, which it was impossible for us to do. Luttie gave up her work in town and stayed home and nursed while I went to town with Clara. At this time Bert was a little improved. I had only been in town about two weeks when, sitting by the window one Sunday evening, I saw our team turn the corner and stop in front of the place. I thought I should die as I knew there was trouble. They carried Erma into the house almost dead than alive. She too had the fever and had taken a backset. At that time it was getting near the New Year. On Christmas Eve I took Clara home, Luttie coming to town to take care of Erma and me going home to Bert, who was just sitting up, and Evelyn, my baby, then three years old. About the middle of January, Clara again came down, this time with pneumonia, and came near dying, but through the goodness of my Heavenly Father she pulled through. At this time Erma was home again and Luttie had gone to work again, but still Bert did not get strong. Again in February, Clara was ailing and soon developed whooping cough. they had all had it except her and Evelyn. Again I took her to town to the girls and fled to the mountains with Evelyn, where I stayed till danger past. All this time Bert did not get strong. Two years before this time he had herded sheep for Brother Ted Bennion of Granger, and in the spring when it was time to take the sheep out west, Brother Bennion came to Mr. Wilding and I and asked us to let him take Bert out with the sheep for the summer. Said he, "I am going with the sheep myself and will bring your boy home well. Give him good warm clothes and warm bedding and I will do the rest." And it was even so -- Bert came home well. Blessed be Brother Bennion. this was the summer of 1904. Things went pretty well during the summer and on the 17th of August, Luttie married William Hadfield, a widower with five children ranging from fifteen year down to five years of age.
Things went on in the usual way -- we farmed, sewed, wove carpets, took butter and eggs to town. Times became gradually better, the smelter being and land was advancing in price, water getting more plentiful and grasshoppers less numerous, but the weevil in the Lucerne threatens its utter destruction. The colleges took the problem of extermination and finally succeeded to some extent in saving some Lucerne with the help of the farmers. About this time, too, the autos began to come into use. Also about this time there was much work and money began to be more plentiful. Boys and men somewhat neglected their farms. what with poor crops and drought people were very far behind in circumstances. This money helped many to save their homes, as there was lots of team work at the smelter. Bert got a good team and went out for himself. It now became evident he did not care for the land we were striving to get him and it kept us somewhat drained to pay taxes, rent water, and pay interest on the mortgage.
This went on till 1907, when on June 18th, Rhoda was married to Levi Albert Reed of North Point. As the smelters were nearing the time to begin operation, Brother Bennion came to hunter to Sunday Meeting, saying he had felt impressed upon to warn the brethren to stay with their farms and also try to keep their boys home by raising food, fruit, and anything with which to feed the multitudes and not work in the mills as it would be very dangerous, and urged the people to stay on the farm and let the outside element work the mills. In a short time he came again to warn the people and also to urge them to buy dry farmland and raise wheat. He said there would be money in it for the people and the sooner they bought the cheaper they would get the land, but this warning was not heeded very well.
Nina's husband had had poor luck and being very fond of machinery got a job in the first unit that was started, as an oilier oiling the works. This unit was not yet finished, just a loose floor laid and no guards to keep from being caught in the machinery. He had only worked there a month or two when he came to our house one day and my husband tried every way he could think of to persuade him to leave the mills but could not succeed. He said he would be careful and he must have work as he was so far behind in his payments. Mr. Wilding followed him out to the buggy and tried again to persuade him to quit but it was of no use. A few nights before this as we were sitting down to supper I stepped into the front room to get a chair. The organ stood on the East side of the door. As I opened the door into the dark room there stood Ira, his elbow resting on the organ, his head resting in his hand. He had on new canvas gloves and a light hat, The moment the door opened he disappeared through the Southeast corner of the room. It gave me an awful start, but in an instant I thought, "Oh, nonsense, it is someone after Bert's money." His box was standing in that corner and a few days before he missed a small amount of money. I thought of this and tried the front door which was locked. I then thought of the cat and went into the kitchen and got a match, but there was no cat. I then became convinced I had seen Ira. It troubled me. I could not eat, but said nothing as Mr. Wilding did not take much stock in such things. And I was afraid he would laugh at me; but I must tell someone, so next day I went over to Jennie's and told her. That gave me some relief. On the morning of the 5th of February, I went to sew for Sister Cora Bertosh. About four o'clock her phone rang and Sister Larson asked for me. I went to the phone with fear in my heart and she told me Ira had been hurt. He was caught in the machinery and killed. His body was badly mangled. We always felt as though there was something wrong about his death, but, if there was, all evidence was removed before we could find anything out. It was a terrible blow to Nina. She never got over it. On the 27th of August, six months later, Nina's fourth child, a boy whom we named Raymond, was born. The next day after Ira was killed, we brought Nina and her children home to Hunter. We were surely thankful that we could do so. Many times her father said while watching the children play around, "I am so glad we could take Nina home." The company was very good to Nina, bearing all funeral expenses, also all expenses for her sickness, and giving her thirty dollars a month for a number of years.
That same fall, September 2, 1908, Bert was married to Emma Pertersen of Cache Valley in the Logan temple. This proved to be a very sad marriage as his wife was sick for about five or six years, but he stayed with her through thick and thin, proving himself a man. About this time we concluded to sell fifteen acres of our forty acres and pay up our mortgage and buy water. Land was raising in price -- so was water. This sale proved successful. we paid our mortgage, got twenty-five shares of water and had enough money left to build us two nice large brick rooms with bath and pantry, and we were free from debt -- the first time in more than twenty years. Oh it was lovely -- and nice large four room house to live in and all the old rooms torn away! our old buggy then gave out and Nina and I bought a surrey so we could take all the family at once. We still wove carpets, weaving many carpets for people of Forest Dale as well as all parts of town -- also around our own home both East and West, and I still sewed.
In 1910, the Copper Company paid Nina a final $400 as the were making some changes in their business and going under a different name. With this she was advised to set up a store, which she did. She bought a piece of land from Petter Larson -- one-half acre, I believe -- and built a small store, this being close to the school. The Ward then moved her house down, which had previously been moved from Magna to our place, thus she had two comfortable rooms in which to live adjoining her store. Sometime before this, we let Bert have a piece of land East of us where he built two rooms in which they lived for a while, but not long on account of Emma's health. He was compelled then to move to town where he worked.
Nina stayed with her store and did pretty well for a year or two and had her children with her, but her health began to decline and it wasn't long till she had to be operated on -- the girls having to take charge of the store, the children coming back to me to take care of. When she came from the hospital she had to come home until she would be strong enough to go home again. Soon after this her two girls, Ida and Edna, and my youngest girl, Evelyn, came down with scarlet fever, with one case of diphtheria. Evelyn had it, but the doctor gave her antibiotics and she soon recovered. It became necessary to isolate the children, so we moved stoves, beds, and all -- everything to make them comfortable -- to Bert's house and Nina stayed and took care of them, we carrying their food and other things to them.
It soon became evident that Nina could not stay out in Hunter on account of asthma, so was obliged to go to town where she had very little trouble with her throat. Some two years before this, Luttie's husband took charge of the Wandamere grounds as florist and lived in the small house in the park. Others who worked there lived in the big house in the corner. Here Nina rented two rooms on the ground floor and went to work clerking in Auerbach's Store. Erma was very restless staying at home, she then being nineteen years old, so then she came and stayed with Nina. Also, Ida, Nina's oldest girl, stayed with her mother, going to school, she being nine years old. That left Lena and Clara, ages sixteen and fourteen, respectively, who took entire control of the store.
At this time my husband's health was quite poor. Nina and Erma would sneak out on Saturday nights to see the children till Sunday night or early Monday morning, when they would have to be at work at 8:00. Some of us would bring them to 33rd South and State Street where they would take the street car to town. In coming home they would always bring something nice to eat for a late supper and always something for each of us to wear -- something we needed to wear -- or a piece of music or something. Father usually retired quite early, but at this time did not eat supper or go to bed till the girls got home about 9:30 PM. On expressing surprise that their father was up, he would say, "I have been waiting till you came for I thought you would bring something tasty for supper." Which they always did, not getting supper themselves till they got home. On the 6th of May 1913, as usual, the girls came home Saturday night and as usual there was a little something for all except Father. He pretended to cry, saying "You got something for everyone except me." Sure enough they had forgotten him. The girls felt bad and Nina said, "You shall have something next Saturday -- what do you want Father -- what do you need most?" "Well," he said, "I couldn't go to stake priesthood last time as I had no decent shirt." Nina kissed him and said, "You shall surely have one for your next monthly meeting." The shirt, a nice white poplin, came all right, but her Father was unable to go to meeting in June -- also in July it was the same.
Father had a niece come from Mexico by the name of Trueblood, who was very anxious to come out and see her uncle, so on the day after the 24th of July one of the girls was in town with the surrey and brought her out. It was afternoon when they got there so we had lunch and in the evening when it was a little cooler he and his niece went out to look around and to see the lovely view there was from our place. When they came in Sister Trueblood took out her book and pencil to take down genealogy and an account of his and her aunt's journey across the Plaines in 1852, in a wagon with an ox and milk cow for a team. They also brought two little children with them -- George and Alice -- both of whom died long ago -- also Aunt Elizabeth, father's first wife. By that time the girls and children came home from the store. After supper we had music and singing, Lena playing the organ, the rest and he singing bass in clear loud tones. Then he said, "For my favorite song and we'll go to bed." We then sang "Robin Adair." His voice was clear as a bell singing the bass. We then retired and slept soundly till 3:00 when he awoke me and said he was very sick. With one accord we were all up, Sister Trueblood helping to build fires and get hot water to try and relive him but at ten minutes to 4:00 he passed away without speaking. I bless his niece to this day, other wise my three girls and three little grandchildren would have been alone, as there was no time to get help and no telephone available. That was on Thursday, July 26, 1913.
On this January 15th 1959, I, Clara, will endeavor to complete mother's story to the best of my ability and memory from continued constant association with her.
First, I would like to state that Mother, in her modesty, left out many very interesting facts I would like to relate. She was first a wife and mother of the highest order. Then she was doctor, midwife, nurse, advisor, and comforter when and wherever she saw the opportunity to serve. She was also, to a very great extent, the community undertaker, as in those days the law did not require undertakers. For many years she was visiting teacher and Secretary of the Hunter Ward Relief Society.

Sources

[S32] Unknown, (Online publication - Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com. Original data: Family Tree files submitted by Ancestry members.), Ancestry Family Tree.
http://trees.ancestry.com/pt/AMTCitationRedir.aspx?tid=32128504&pid=29421
[S232] Ancestry.com, Unknown, (Online publication - Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2006.Original data - Thirteenth Census of the United States, 1910 (NARA microfilm publication T624, 1,178 rolls). Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29. National Archives, Wa), Year: 1910; Census Place: Hunter, Salt Lake, Utah; Roll: T624_1605; Page: 1B; Enumeration District: 0084; FHL microfilm: 1375618.
[S876] Ancestry.com, Unknown, (Ancestry.com Operations, Inc.).

WINNER, Leoni Leoti[1, 2]

WINNER, Leoni Leoti^{[1, 2]}