Mom's Story Part 12

Sickness: 

            I had the usual run of illnesses.  I had the chicken pox when I was a little over a year old (Nov 1919).  I had whooping cough the next year (Dec 1920).  One disease I remember was the Scarlet Fever.  We were quarantined and cooped up in Mother’s bedroom.  Roscoe and I had the disease at the same time Mayola and Louise were convalescing.  I must have been pretty sick for my temperature went to 106 degrees.  It was during the time Dad was in England; so the boarders had to find lodging elsewhere during this time (Sept. 14, 1923).  A few incidents stand out in my memory.  Roscoe would keep getting out of bed and sneaking to the closet to get some little pink pills. He liked them.  So I was the watchdog and would call Mother.  Mayola and Louise entertained us with putting on plays in the “Sleeping Porch” through the French Doors.  They would have mock weddings marrying the broom and the mop.  We loved it and when the curtains (the blinds) came down on the final act, Roscoe and I applauded heartily.  

  I remember when I was able to leave the bedroom, Mother let us sit on a chair in the hall.  The impression I recall was how clean the floors and the house was.  The fumigation after we were over the disease was also something I remember.  We sat outside in the sunshine while the house was fumigated.  On February 12, 1927 I had the measles.  I remember how bumpy my face felt and how hot I was.  Dad was sleeping with me and I remember him stroking my face and hair.  Mother set up temporary quarters in the Dining Room where it was cozy and warm and dark.  We had a cot in the corner of the room. 

Dad's Story Part 8

Willis and bike

The Lewiston Idaho Period

            In 1924, Dad was transferred to Lewiston, Idaho.  The Continental Oil plant was a little bigger here, and Dad had a larger territory to cover.  Lewiston is a beautiful little city located on the Snake River where the Clearwater River joins it.  The town lies on the south bank of the Clearwater River, and the east bank of the Snake River.  Directly across the Snake River on its west bank is the city of Clarkston, Washington.  Of course the two cities were named for the famous frontier explorers Lewis and Clark who followed the Clearwater River down to it confluence with the Snake in 1805.  They continued on down the Snake and Columbia Rivers to the Pacific Coast. 

            Across the Clearwater River to the north is the famous Lewiston Hill with a winding highway that leads a torturous route from the bottom to the top in about nine miles.  This highway leads to Moscow, Idaho, the home of the University of Idaho, which is about thirty miles north of Lewiston. 

            South of the downtown or business portion of Lewiston is a “bench” or higher portion of ground, which is relatively flat.  The main residential section of the town and the “normal school” or college is located on the bench.  It was at the Lewiston College tennis court that I was introduced to the game of tennis.  I enjoyed the game, and seemed to have a “natural” ability for it.

            It was during this time of my life that I became interested and active in quite a wide variety of sports.  At our first residence in Lewiston, which was on “G” Street, located in the “downtown” part of Lewiston, I became an accomplished roller-skater.  Fortunately, all the streets had cement sidewalks, so I was able to skate from our house to the school, which was about a half a mile away. A year later, when we moved up on the hill, into the house where Frances was born, I became involved in the sports of basketball, baseball, and golf.  A neighbor across the street from us had a basketball standard or basket mounted on their garage.  I spent a lot of time over there pitching “free throws”.

Behind our house was a large vacant lot where the neighborhood boys gathered after school and on Saturdays to play baseball.  I had received a catcher’s mitt for Christmas, so I learned to be a catcher, and played that position most of the time.  There was a golf course clubhouse very near to us.  During our summer vacation from school I learned to be a caddy.  As I remember, we used to be paid fifty cents to one dollar for a round of nine holes.  While working as a caddy, I learned the fundamentals of golf, but never did have the time or money to play much. 

Lewiston was a warm climate because of its low elevation of about seven hundred feet.  One winter, at Christmas time we had roses blooming in our garden.  I also remember the California poppies that grew in front of our house.  Because of the hot summers we used to go on frequent camping trips to the mountains.  One especially memorable summer vacation was a two-week stay at Wallowa Lake, Oregon.  This is a beautiful large lake in the pine-covered mountains of east central Oregon.  We rented a little cabin at a summer resort.  There was a little rushing stream that flowed by the cabin, and lulled us to sleep at night with its musical sound.  The highlight of this vacation was a side trip I was privileged to take with Dad.  Just the two of us started early one morning and hiked to a little lake named Amatol about six or seven miles from our camp.  We took a lunch and some fishing equipment.  This little lake could only be reached by a trail.  This was a great experience to have Dad all to myself for a whole day, one that I will never forget. 

            On some of our summer camping trips there would be four or five other families go with us.  One that I remember particularly was the Phil Schnobee family.  He drove a laundry truck for the C.O.D. Laundry.  His truck was an old Dodge panel.  Phil would frequently take me with him in the summertime to help pick up the laundry bundles.  It was hot work, but my reward was several stops along the way for an ice-cold lemon pop, and then at the end of the morning, lunch at the Elk’s Club.  

Camping trip

Cabin (with a boy up top!)

Mom's Story Part 11

Joseph W Smith Grandchildren

Childhood Friends and Neighbors:

            The dearest people on earth surrounded us; most of them relatives but those who were not related to us always were addressed as “Aunt” or “Uncle” anyway.  Aunt Emma Freeman, Aunt Mae Larsen, Aunt Sarah T Smith, Aunt Rebecca, Aunt Augusta, Aunt Janet, Aunt Louie, Aunt Em – all Smiths—the list could go on and on all over town.  Aunt Dennie Hulet lived just across the street and her home was the most elegant house in town.  Uncle John R., her husband, was very well to do (an extremely wise business man) and he bought the most beautiful toys for his children.  Their playroom upstairs made my eyes boggle.  It was there I first saw a little play piano, china dolls, doll buggies and beds, tiny cupboards with dishes.  Only seldom did I ever get to go up to that wonderful room.  However, one time I slipped a small plaything into my pocket (I can’t even remember what it was now), but the joy was short-lived when I returned home and Mother saw it.  She had me go right back and return it with apologies.  How embarrassed I was.  It was a good lesson. 

            Two of my good friends were Maria Smith, who lived just across the block from me, and Guida Smith, who lived further up the hill.  Maria and I were bosom friends.  We were together constantly.  We had a little signal system set up in a tree nearby.  When we had urgent business we rang our little bell to summon each other.  It was fine until our brothers got wind of it and disrupted our bell system.  Maria and I loved to make playhouses and we would spend hours cleaning out a cellar, a chicken coop, or corner of the barn or garage to make a playhouse in. 

            It was on Guida’s new bicycle that I learned to ride.  She lived up on the hill so we could coast down hill once we got our balance on the bicycle.  That was the most fun, and Mother could hardly get me home.  I suppose it was pretty hard on the new bicycle for I’m sure we had plenty of spills.  Max Butler, the “dream” of all the girls in our crowd lived just over the back fence from us where Kay Hatch lives.  I was madly in love with him.  I used to try to time my chores of feeding the chickens when I knew he would be out doing his chores.  He was a wonderful violinist, later he became the Concert Master of  the BYU Orchestra, and also became a doctor of medicine.  His sister, Merlene, invited me to a birthday party one time and her mother took us all swimming.  Of course, Max was there and in my efforts to impress him, I tried to show him I knew how to swim.  I really didn’t know how, but I worked so hard that day, that I actually did learn how to swim.  When all the other girls left to attend the party, I stayed in the pool with Max.  The old swimming pool was ice cold located above the railroad tracks where the Little League Ball Park is.  Finally, Mother had to come get me.  I got a good lesson in etiquette that day. 

Dad's Story Part 7

 Wieser Years Continued Again

My memories of Church activities in Wieser are rather dim.  There was a small ward of the Church there, which was part of the Boise Stake.  As I remember it the chapel was a white wood frame building, with a recreation hall.  There are only three things that stand out in my memory about the Ward, First, was going to Primary.  The only thing I remember about Primary was making a tie rack for my Dad in our handicraft activity.  Second, I remember being in a program at the Church and singing a duet with another boy.  The name of the song we sang was “Mr. Gallagher and Mr. Shean”.  The third memory was of a play that Mother and Dad participated in.  I remember going to some of the rehearsals with them. 

            A very popular form of home entertainment at this time was the phonograph.  It was a big event when Dad brought home a brand new Edison phonograph.  It had a red mahogany cabinet.  The turntable motor was powered by a spring that had to be hand wound with a crank.  The records were very thick, about 1/4 inch and were about ten inches in diameter.  The Edison phonograph had a diamond stylus or “needle” which was supposed to never wear out.  The machines were very well built and durable.

            Commercial radio broadcasting was in its infancy in the early 1920’s.  It was only a curiosity then, and did not become a popular form of entertainment until in the 1930’s.  I remember hearing the first radio in Wieser.  At that time they were cumbersome machines powered by batteries.  The models to come out did not have a loud speaker to produce the sound, only earphones. 

            At this time a very popular form of entertainment was the “silent” movies.  The “kids” would usually go on Saturday afternoon.  Some of my favorite actors were the cowboy star Bill Hart, Fatty Arbuckle, Harold Lloyd, and the “immortal” Charlie Chaplin.                  

Charlie Chaplin

Mom's Story Part 10

Dad’s Mission:

            One important part of my brother’s life was tied up with my story, for he was born two months after my father was called on a mission to England.  I can never understand my Mother’s willingness to let Dad accept that call when she was seven months pregnant, but that was the caliber of woman she was.  Dad had had some very successful road contracts, which had netted him a good sum of money so he had the means to keep himself three years in the mission field, but the burden of caring for the family and paying the bills at home rested on Mother’s shoulders.  The home was paid for, and much of the food was raised in the garden, but still there were expenses to be met.  She did this by keeping boarders in our home.  Many of the schoolteachers needed places to stay, as did students from other towns such as Joseph City and Heber.  The Westover boys all had a turn living in the basement of our home while they attended High School.  Their job was to do the chores – milk the cows, haul and cut the wood and keep the wood boxes full, and the fires burning and in return, they received their room and board.  Earl Westover still claims I’m his little sister.  Then there were the girls who lived upstairs who helped Mother set tables, do some of the cooking, wash the dishes and clean up.  Mother fed as many as twelve to fourteen extra people three times a day besides keeping her own little family.  Our family occupied the Sleeping Porch and her bedroom; the rest of the house was filled with Boarders.  It must have been quite an experience for Mother.  She gives a full account of it in her journal. 

            When the three years of my Father’s mission were up, Mother took a wonderful trip to New York City to meet Dad.  I have often tried to imagine that meeting.  Mother said she was standing on the top of a staircase at the Mission Home where she was staying, when Dad came in.  He looked up and saw her, and she said it took about three steps for him to reach her and gather her into his big strong arms.  What a reunion that must have been!  Mother was always the “light of his life”.  He adored her. 

            Scully was born while Dad was gone so he had never seen his little son, also Aunt Margaret had given birth to Waldo, just a month before Scully, so the Aunts dressed the two little boys up alike to have Dad choose which was his son.  It may have been a difficult decision, but Scully saw his mother coming up the walk and the look of recognition gave away the secret. 

            One of my earliest remembrances was in connection with my father’s mission.  I had been playing with a little strand of shell beads, which I dropped in Dad’s pocket during Church just before he left for his mission.  The beads accompanied him through England and often he said he took them out of his pocket and shed tears of lonesomeness over them.  When he returned he gave me back my little beads, I remember how overjoyed I was to get them. 

            I remember the beautiful wide-brimmed black velvet hat and high-heeled high-topped shoes Mother bought in New York.  The hat had feathers on it.  It was beautiful, and was used in plays for years as a costume.   The high-heeled shoes are on display at the Memorial Home.


Dad made many lasting friends while on his mission.  David O. McKay was the Mission President and Ezra Taft Benson was one of his companions.  These two great men kept in touch with Dad all of his lifetime.      

 **editorial note** I found this picture of family members gathered on the day Marion Rogers left for his mission.  I think he has his arm around Mayola and Leonora is standing on the right side of him looking so so sad.  I think Mom (Bess) is being held by a woman on the left side of the photo and Louise is the dark haired child in the front row.  ** if any one can help identify the other people it would be appreciated.**

Dad's Story Part 6

Eating Watermelon

                 The Wieser Years (continued)

None of the streets in town were hard surfaced in those days.  In order to keep the dust down, every day a sprinkler wagon would come around to wet down the streets.  We would get on our swimsuits and await the arrival of the sprinkler truck.  When it came we would go run behind it as far as we could getting a free shower bath.  

Bathing suit

Another interesting and cooling summer time treat was to jump on the back step of the “Ice Wagon” and scoop up chunks of chipped ice while the ice man was gone into a house delivering a big twenty-five to fifty pound block of ice to put into the ice refrigerator.  There were no electric refrigerators in those days.

Little Willie

            The younger generation may be interested in how the ice deliverymen operated.  In some communities where there was no ice plant where ice was manufactured, ice blocks were sawed from frozen lakes or rivers and stored in insulated icehouses for use the next summer.  I think Wieser had an ice plant where big blocks of ice about four feet long, two and three feet wide and about on foot think were frozen from pure water. The “ice man” would load his ice wagon, which was a horse drawn vehicle with solid sides and a roof over the top.  Only the back end was open.

Ice man 1920s

  There was a step on the back where the iceman stood to chip off with an ice pick a smaller block from the big block of ice.  Then there was always a spring scales attached to the back of the wagon where the chunk of ice hanging from the ice tongs could be weighed.   The ice man always had a heavy leather shoulder protector that was draped over their shoulders and hung down in the front and back to below the waist to serve as padding and keep the wet ice from soaking through their clothing.  The ice customer who needed ice would hang a sign in their window showing the number of pounds of ice they wanted. 

 Pratt Ice wagon

The ice man who soon became skillful in knowing the right size chunk to make certain weight would split a piece off with his ice pick.  Grab it with the ice tongs, hang it on the scales, and then throw the piece of ice onto his shoulders and trot into the house where he would place the piece of ice in the “ice box”, as they were commonly called. 

  Another thing I enjoyed doing in the summer time was to ride around the milk route on the horse drawn milk wagon with our milkman.  When he arrived at our house, I would run out to meet him.  He would usually invite me to climb aboard.  After a few trips around the route he would let me run into the houses with the milk bottles.  This gave him a needed rest, and made me feel real important.  An amazing thing about the milk route was that the horse knew where to stop without being told.  

Horse drawn milk wagon 1920s

            Another deliveryman that I used to ride with was a future relative of ours, Willard Ibey.  He drove a little two-wheel meat delivery cart, which was also horse drawn.  This cart was built something like a chariot, with a platform in the back to stand on.  In the front of the platform and between the two large wheels was a box with a hinged lid where the packaged meat was stored for delivery to the customers who had ordered it from the meat market. 

Mom's Story Part 9

Four Rogers Children
Louise, Mayola ,Bessie, Roscoe in front

My brother was named Marion Roscoe Rogers for his father.  He was born November 19, 1921.  As a child he was called “Roscoe”, but he didn’t like the name when he grew older.  In Snowflake all the kids in town had nicknames, and many of the nicknames in the Smith family came from my Uncle Lawrence, Mother’s youngest brother. Roscoe had dark brown hair that was more straight than curly and he tried to encourage his hair to lay down in a pompadour, but there were stubborn locks that refuse to conform, so mother made him a skullcap out of an old silk stocking.  That did the trick, so by plastering his wet hair down and keeping it there with the skullcap, he obtained the “in” look he was trying to achieve.  Uncle Lawrence soon dubbed him “Scully” and to this day that is the name he is known by.  He lives in Hawaii and operates a big real estate firm there, but the only name his friends know him by is “Scully”; even his stationery has the name.

Scully's Family
David, Lu holding Randy, Scully holding JeriLu, Scott (Suzie came later)

            I never remember, “fighting” with my brother and sisters.  Our home was very peaceful.  Scully loved to tease us, but he always knew how far he could go with our parents.  He was always lonesome for a brother and so adopted many of his cousins as “bosom buddies”.  He kept the trail well traveled from Uncle Jesse and Aunt Louie’s house to ours.  He, Roy, Earl, and Leland were together a great deal of the time.  Milo, another cousin, was a little younger.  His Rogers cousins also played an important part in his life.   He had a great capacity to attract friends and had hosts of them. 

Painting the fence...Scully on right

              We always had young calves in the corral.  One day my brother dared me to ride one.  He held the calf while I mounted it.  Then he gave the animal a twist of the tail and I went streaking out the corral with the calf bucking and kicking.  We headed down the lane at the barnyard, at break neck speed, out the gate, and down the street.  I can’t remember who rescued me, but I clung on for dear life.
     There are many experiences that crowd my memory about my brother; too many to relate, but one stands out clearly in my memory.  Scully was on his way down the sidewalk to play with Earl and Roy, when out of nowhere there appeared a little man with a white beard.  We knew everyone in Snowflake – but Scully had never seen his before.  He stopped Scully and said:  “Son, do you know the song, ‘I am a Mormon Boy’?”  “Yes,” said my brother.  “Sing it to me”, said the stranger.  So Scully, a little boy of six or seven sang the song for him, there on the sidewalk.  They said goodbye after the stranger patted him on the head and said:  “Always remember that.”  Scully ran on the extra half block to Aunt Louie’s house and told her about the incident.  She went out immediately, but could see no one.  No one else in town ever saw the stranger.  Scully always felt it was a visit from one of the Three Nephites left on the Earth from Book of Mormon days. 

            Another short remembrance of Scully was when President Heber J. Grant was staying in our home.  He sat Scully on his lap and said, “Son, when you get to be a man, tell your children you sat on the lap of President Heber J. Grant.”  He was only seven or eight years old. 

           I don’t want to dwell more on my brother and sisters even though they played an important part in my life, for my story will be too lengthy.  

M Roscoe Rogers in the Navy

M.R. Rogers 1940