Clearfield

538 East 250 South (Cherry Hill)

1959

Transit Man

Surveying Vae View

About this time, my father obtained the opportunity to survey what was to be a very large subdivision between Layton and Clearfield. This subdivision was later called Vae View; and it was rather large. Dad didn't have a lot of money to hire a crew; and he thought he might be able to get sufficient work out of his boys to complete such a large endeavor. I remember the beginning efforts as we surveyed the large fields that would later become homes. The days were dry, dusty, and hot. Nevertheless, we boys responded to our father's requirement; and began to shoulder the responsibilities of a survey crew at a relatively young age. Dad had converted an old ‘woody’ station wagon into a survey vehicle. The back end was built to comprise a number of drawers of varying widths and depths to carry the many tools that were needed to conduct surveying. For example, the sledgehammers needed to pound wooden stakes into the hard clay soil we're kept there. The steel chains needed to measure the various distances to stakes were kept there. Brush hooks needed to clear sage obstacle and growth were kept there. Shovels, picks, steel bars, wooden steaks, wooden laths to mark the stakes, transits and other needed tools we're just a few all the things that were kept in the back of that station wagon. We boys were very familiar with the various things kept in that station wagon because we were often called upon to obtained a given tool for my father. So, we began to work for him in the dry dusty days of summer (sometimes extending to a full day of effort, because he needed us). Hugh, being the oldest was trained to be the transit man. Jay and I were intermittently assigned either to be a rear chainman or the tool carrier that accompanied my father. The rear chainman was assigned to hold the end of the chain on a given mark as my father measured the distance to the next point in the survey. The tool carrier carried a newspaper like canvas bag full of wooden stakes, mails, sledgehammers and anything else that might be anticipated. Thus, the tool carrier had the constant weight as he carried his bag. I was most often the rear chainman and absolutely detested this assignment. I was often on my hands and knees in the hot, dry dirt of Vae View. Dad would often put sever tension on the chain (in order to make & keep it straight), pulling against me while I endeavored to keep it accurately on a single line next to a small nail in a wooden stake. Many a time I was required to perform this difficult maneuver from between the transit man’s legs because the transit was placed atop the stake I was holding to! And my father often ‘whipped’ the chain in order to straighten it. Such ‘whipping’ action too frequently caused the chain, myself or another item to ‘bump’ the transit and another 15-minute effort would be required to ‘reset’ the transit. I would imagine everyone’s assignment included a number of frustrations! But I often felt that few recognized the difficulty that accompanied being a rear chainman! I hated it! We were Dad’s crew for a number of years and grew to dread land surveying because we seldom fully understood the significance of the endeavor. We were simply ‘gofers’ for the surveyor – Dad. It was during this time that my father began to share with others what he had observed his oldest son doing. It seems that every time we stopped the survey vehicle, Hugh would pile out of the car and start picking up rocks and throwing them. If he could throw them into ditch water he would. Otherwise, he'd start throwing at some target he had determined upon leaving the vehicle. My father began to comment to various people that his transit  man was constantly throwing rocks as they worked. In fact, he had a saying that he used to enjoy. And that was “one boy’s a boy, two boys is half a boy, and three boys is no boy at all”! I think he found this to be rather funny; primarily because it was largely true. At various times, my father employed his brothers as members of the survey crew. His brother, my uncle Lyle, worked for us for a time and was taught how to run the transit. Many a time I was on my hands and knees holding the rear chain under uncle Lyle’s spread legs, attempting to avoid bumping the transit. This was also true as my father also employed his brother, my uncle Roger!  Dad's boss on the Vae View effort was Mr. Higley. Mr. Higley seldom found reason to avoid interrupting my father at his home. We knew his face and learned not to like him very much. We became aware of his demanding attitude, and overbearing behavior. As my father's sons, and his makeshift crew, we were very aware of Mr. Higley's flaws. Nevertheless, my father had to deal with Mr. Higley as a primary participant over Vae View. It seems that he really never understood what was really involved in bringing to pass the surveys that were necessary. He only seemed to demand that the surveys be done as soon as possible. Possible was the word in his language that meant “at his schedule and in his way”. No one seemed to like Mr. Higley! 

300' Survey Chain

Car Repair

One day we were all inside our house doing our various things. It was a sunny wait spring day and Mr. Crookston (who lived next door) was working on his car. Suddenly, we heard him calling out and went to the front door to investigate. There we found him with his head lodged between the tire and the wheel well of his car. Apparently, his Jack had given way and pinned his head so he could not remove it. It was a deeply disturbing sight to see this man's head precariously pinned against his front tire. By this time members of his family had also come to his aid; and he was carefully extricated from the disabled car. Fortunately, the car had given way in such a manner that there was just enough room for his head to fit without being smashed. It was also fortunate that he had not been completely under the car when his Jack gave way. Shortly before it gave way he had been under the car and would have been crushed and killed.

Reward

One day Aunt Marzetta came to visit. She had enjoyed a birthday several days earlier; and I decided I wanted to send her a birthday card. So, I prepared one and did. She was my mother's only sister and therefore my only aunt from the Ford side. I liked her a lot and she was very kind (though she had had a very difficult life). Upon walking in the door, she approached me in such a way that no one else could hear and thanked me for sending her the birthday card (which I had forgotten). She then explained that she had left me a little something in our mailbox near the front door. Without alerting anyone else, I retrieved the object from our mailbox. I found that she had left me (and me alone) some money! I'm sure she didn't want my mother to know that I had been “rewarded” or my thoughtfulness. So, I kept the money she had wanted me to have to myself. It was not and awful lot; but it was so unexpected. And it was appreciated that she had appreciated my birthday card! 

During the fall of that year, we happened to be driving in Salt Lake and heard on the radio that John F Kennedy would be stopping at the Salt Lake airport for a short visit. My parents seemed to be intrigued by this; and decided to make the side trip to the airport. Upon arrival, a small crowd had gathered near an airplane that had just landed. My parents along with their children joined the crowd and patiently waited for the door to open and Kennedy emerge. I was tall enough that I could see everything; and watched as Kennedy and his wife emerged from the door at the top of the stairway. He and his wife only stood on the stairway next to the door,  and waved to the crowd that had gathered. As he prepared to make a few remarks, a man directly behind us hollered out “Yay Nixon!” and stood there seemingly proud of himself. I suppose I'd never been to a political gathering; and I remember being very irritated at the man's disrespect of a presidential candidate. Being a conservative (even at that age), I didn't appreciate the man's boisterousness. Later on, as an adult I would recognize that John F Kennedy had been a liberal candidate in a conservative community. Thus, when he was elected (and Nixon defeated) I took no particular notice of his political leanings.  At school, his election (and subsequent acceptance speech) was roundly represented highly by some of the teachers I knew!  Their political leanings were hidden to their students.  The teachers simply wanted to exemplify and promote citizenship and allegiance!

Sheep Creek

It was near this time (during the summer) that Jay and I joined the Boy Scouts. We had a particularly enjoyable outing with them to Flaming Gorge reservoir. The dam has been built a few years earlier and the reservoir had been filling for a couple of years. Our troop decided to go fishing in the reservoir for about 3 days. We had decided to fish at an inlet called - Sheep Creek. Upon arriving there (following a long drive), we took up a location alongside the water. Soon we found that the fishing was absolutely marvelous! There was hardly a cast we made that we didn't hook a fish. This is one of the few times that I've ever fished with a bare hook. Obviously, most of our fishing was achieved with bait; and it was taken rather readily by the many fish that were in that inlet. Just to test the comment some had made I threw out an un-baited hook into the water. To my surprise, the hook was taken; and I caught a fish on a plain hook! I performed this feat once or twice and was able to catch fish. Obviously, our troop came home with a great many fish. Upon arrival at home, we were notified that a flash flood had occurred the day after we left. It had washed away and killed several fishermen that were still there. We all knew that we had been fortunate to not have been they're fishing the day of the flood!

Kite Flying

Kites

As stated before, we found various activities to take place in the sandlot near our street. In the fall of that year, we took up flying kites. We could fly our kites from across the street; but we risked having our kite entangled with the roofs of the houses. So, we migrated to the sandlot where we would have lots of space to fly our kites; and get them airborne. I remember a number of evenings when we had flown our kites to dizzying heights from the sandlot. We would often tie one end of the flying kite’s string to a new school of kite string. Thus, we were able to fly the kite even higher with longer string. I remember the longest string that I knew of was 3 spools of kite string. The string would often go almost horizontally from its flyer; and eventually curve upward to the flying kite. Thus, we needed the room available at the sandlot in order to get our kites to fly very high. After hours of flying kites, we would sometimes be called upon to rewind our kites as the evening shadows grew. Therefore, it was not entirely uncommon for us to be rewinding our kites in the early darkness of the evening. I remember this as being a rather enjoyable experience as I walked home with a big the ball of wound kite string and a well-performing kite.

Cherry Hill

Snowballs

One particular experience I remember rather well. A bunch of us boys had gathered at the sandlot in the midst of winter. Cherry Hill was a hill paved so that cars could go down the hill and into the Cherry Hill subdivision. It bordered our sandlot; and fell beneath the observable surface if one was some distance away from it in the sandlot. We boys were doing just exactly that! We were back from Cherry hill; and would pack snowballs from the recently available snow (which was about 3 inches deep). Upon observing a car turning to go down Cherry Hill we would get ready and launch our snowballs such that they would hit the traveling car down the hill. There were about 10 of us boys there; and as you can imagine, if we timed it right all 10 snowballs wood would strike the car at about the same time! Thus, the driver (though they could not see from whence it came) would experience a number of snowballs hitting their car as they drove down the hill in snowy conditions. We'd been able to toss are snowballs at unsuspecting cars several times. Because we knew we were distracting the drivers, we thought we were having great fun (and we were). However, one of the drivers stopped after being hit by the rain of snowballs; and began searching the sandlot and its accompanying swamp area to see if they could see the source of the snowballs. We boys being caught off guard by this, scrambled to avoid being seen in the cars headlights. We scrambled over the edge of the hill; and into the long grass of the swamp. Nevertheless, the headlights shone out and revealed some of the various boys scrambling for cover. We Davis boys (Hugh, Jay and I) scrambled toward the houses opposite the swamp. Observing the drivers searching headlights, we decided to take a circuitous route to go home. We were fairly certain that we were being sought by an angry driver. Finally, after taking an unusual route home, we were approaching our house from across our street. Just as we approached the crest of the hill, a grown man rose up and questioned us boys where we were coming from. We offered and excuse; but it was not accepted, and the man said he was going to tell our father (because he worked with him). He left us alone to enter our house; but we were very nervous for about two days thereafter. We never heard from our father about the event; and eventually forgot about it. Though it was great fun to throw the snowballs; it caused us to avoid any similar events in the future! 

Clothespin Match Gun

Brush Fire

One particular Saturday, I had been playing with a clothes pin “gun”. If one worked it right, they could take an ordinary close pin and adjust it so that it would fire a wooden matchstick! I'd been shown how to do this; and I did exactly that. I formed a matchstick gun from an ordinary clothes pin. We had a number of wooden match sticks; and I was intrigued to fire the matchsticks. Observing their travel and fire, I was somewhat entranced by the behavior. I was doing this where no one could observe me in our yard, firing the matchsticks into our green grass (which was not very flammable). Because someone else came out of the house; and into the yard, I thought I had better find another location or risk discovery. So, I went across the street (because I didn't think I'd be discovered there); and began shooting the flaming matchsticks into the dry june grass that covered the area. Of course, the long dry june grass would start fire; and I would stomp it out before it got very big. This was about two or three feet in diameter! I did not make note of it at the time; but I was in cut offs and exposed my leg hair to the brush fire. Because the fires were so small, I didn't experience any real trouble; and had shot 5 or 6 match sticks into the dry grass. While doing this, I decided to see how big the fire would get before I could no longer stomp it out. (Apparently I wasn't very bright!) Naturally, as I allowed the brush fires to get bigger, one eventually got away from me; and started a sizable brush fire! While attempting to stomp this out, I began to singe the hair on my legs; and eventually abandoned the effort. The brush fire had gotten too large! Because I was starting these fires in the june grass near the orchard, the brush fire that I had started began to move toward the orchard. Also, because the smoke was now very observable, I ran home to avoid detection. I quickly discerned that I had to report this now serious occurrence to my parents. Apparently, they were asleep in their bedroom with their door closed. (It being Saturday afternoon.) I timidly knocked on the door (endeavoring to wake them); and opening the door slightly, reported to my parents what I had done. The brush fire had significantly grown during this time. Just as I was reporting my foolishness, a fire truck headed up our street, blaring its presence and siren! I said, “Do you hear that siren? It's for me!” By this time, I had opened the door so I could see them. And I watched my father awaken, here are my report, and roll over with a despairing sigh! I was certain that my father had every right to end my life! In retrospect I suppose he actually did nothing because he was afraid of what he might do once he got started on me! I figured there wasn't a court in the land that would defend me. I was certainly guilty of foolishness. The brush fire had progressed to the point where it was beginning to enter into the orchard; and had actually started burning several trees. Fortunately, the fire truck was able to put the fire out rather quickly; and I never heard of who started the brush fire from any of our neighbors! But I knew! 

Wasatch Elementary School

4th Grade School Picture

4^th Grade

I had Mrs. Harvey for my 4th grade teacher. I remember that she was a very nice teacher and I think I was taught a fair amount under her tutelage. I remember one day (I was sitting in a front seat) when my former teacher – Mrs. Olson came into the room. She was discussing something with Mrs. Harvey and I decided to brag to her that I had completed my timetables finally. As she was walking to the door, I blurted it out that I had learned my 12 times table. To this she quickly replied, “OK what is 12 X 12?” Being put on the spot, I did not immediately report an answer; and the rest of the class found this rather humorous, beginning to laugh. Mrs. Olson just walked out of the room; and I sat there with ‘egg on my face’. I never forgot this embarrassing occurrence and my dislike of Mrs. Olson continued. 

Paul Jensen's Home

Paul Jensen

Because me and my friend, Paul Jensen, had found some coins at the side of the hill bordering the City Park; we decided that we would search the grassy area for more coins. For several days we combed the area for any loose change that might have fallen there. We found a fair amount; and that caused us to continue to search. We would spend a good deal of our recesses searching that grass while attempting to conceal our search from any other children that might join our search. Paul was a good friend and we spent a fair amount of time together at his house. On several occasions, he would have me stay overnight as his house; and I would sleep in my sleeping bag on his floor next to his bed. We spent a fair amount of play time rolling a plastic bowling ball toward plastic bowling pins set up at the end of his basement. We would also play a game of one-man football in his front yard. His mother was my Cub Scout den leader. He was an only son with an older sister; and often didn't have enough friends in the neighborhood. We were good friends to each other. His real name was Ardell Jensen; but I called him Paul (which was his nickname).

Roller Skating Advertisment

Roller Skating

I remember it was about this time that my parents arranged for all of us to go to Berthana’s roller skating rink in Ogden. It was in an upstairs on 24th street and we boys were not real old at the time. It was inexpensive; and actually, a lot of fun. We watched my mother and father skate around the room rather well; and we ourselves he came a little better at skating on wooden floors. We went there several times in my youth, and I learned that my mother and father spent a fair amount of time during their courtship skating at that rink. I suppose we went there about three or four different times over the course of a season; and enjoyed the music and gathering of people who enjoyed skating. I suppose this had a pretty big influence on my ability to enjoy skating up and down our street on the sidewalk. Little did I know that I would end up with a broken kneecap! 

Farmington Location of Barbershop

Haircuts

Around this time, my father had been receiving haircuts from a barber that was down the street from him in Farmington. He was an older gentleman; and my father went to him from time to time to obtain a haircut. Apparently, he could use the business; and provide us kids with a reasonable price for a haircut. Thus, we began to go all the way down to Farmington; and my mother would wait in the car as we children would file into his barbershop to obtain a haircut. Four of us would file in at the same time and present him with a backlog of haircuts to do. Because his rates were so low, we would travel all the way to Farmington to obtain periodic haircuts. The first couple of times that we were there, he cut our hair without incident. That is to say, we were all able to get haircuts and go away freshly shorn. Unfortunately, after a few visits like this to his barbershop; he began to display a measure of irritation with us as we waited for our haircuts. We were very well behaved; and sat quietly watching him cut others while waiting for our turn in the chair. On this particular excursion, the barber expressed irritation at having to cut so many heads of hair at one time. We had little recourse as children; and sat there absorbing his diatribe. Upon completing our haircuts that time, we reported the barber’s disdain of us children to my mother. As we drove away that evening, she commented that we would never go there again! She commented that he had no right to express his derision to us children; and should have come out to the car and expressed himself to my mother. Thus, we only went to that Barber for about six months to a year and thereafter took our business elsewhere! 

The Orchard

After we'd lived in Clearfield for three or four years, we had become rather familiar with the orchard that was just across the street and up a little bit. We occasionally climbed amidst the orchard trees. This was an apricot orchard; and we took a number of apricots as they began to ripen in the late summer and early fall. It was not uncommon for us to abscond with several handfuls of apricots; take them home; eat them; and crack their nuts for the apricot nut contained within. One particular summer, the irrigation of the orchard got away from its caretaker; and one corner of the orchard flooded with water up to 5 feet deep. A number of the older neighborhood boys took delight in swimming in this temporary reservoir. I didn't because I found the water to be absolutely covered with weeds and other debris. However, because the ditches between the trees were fairly deep, we boys would find ways to float makeshift boats in what we would dam up between trees. At the lowest corner of the orchard (just across the street) was a tree of a different kind. It was not an apricot tree! Rather it appeared to be an olive tree; but it had not produced in several years. One particular day, my brother Hugh decided to chop at that tree. Because no one seemed to stop him (or us) from chopping at the trunk of that tree, our chopping gained momentum. After an hour or so of chopping, the tree (which was rather tall) fell toward the street. It was tall enough and large enough that it blocked the entire street. The occurrence was extremely evident to anyone at all. With this development, we boys scattered for home; leaving it somewhat dubious as to who had chopped down that tree. A crew from the city arrived within hours and began chopping up the tree and clearing the road. Though we boys knew who had chopped down the tree (because we all took a turn), it was never broadcast about as to exactly who had been involved in chopping that tree down. Clearly us neighborhood boys were destructive on occasion!

Milkweed for Butterfly Chrysalis