24th of July - Inglewood Style - My Recollections

The last three weeks I have written about and included other people's recollections of our pioneer ancestor, Sarah Pippin Jolley.  It was for people like her that the State of Utah declared the 24th of July,  the day Brigham Young entered the Salt Lake Valley, a state holiday.  At the mouth of Emigration Canyon he declared, "This is the right place.  Drive on."  And from that time on, tens of thousands of pioneers did exactly that,  they drove on.  They drove their wagons across the Great Plains and over the Rocky Mountains to the valley of the Great Salt Lake.  Some stayed in the Salt Lake Valley.  Others were called to settle other areas of the Mountain West.  Henry Rampton went to Sessions Settlement, which later became Bountiful.  Henry Jolley was called to settle Pleasant Grove (I will write more about him next week).  Sarah Pippin Jolley was called to help settle southern Utah.  It is for these people and the tens of thousands more like this that we honor their memory on the 24th of July. 

 There is another person whose memory we honor on that day, Grandma, Mom (Lois Fae Linnebach Rampton).  She, too, was born on the 24th of July, again, a state holiday in Utah where she was born.  And it was the custom of her family to go fishing on that holiday.  Hence, she never had a birthday party with her friends with cake and ice cream and presents.  She never mentioned celebrating her birthday on the family trips, although I'm sure they must have done something.  I'll have to ask Uncle Glen.  I think, for that reason, birthdays were a big deal to her.  But, the 24th of July was also a big deal to her, particularly in her middle age years for reasons I will mention below.

When our family moved from Salt Lake City to California in 1957 we settled in the city of Inglewood and became members of the Inglewood Ward which was part of the Inglewood Stake.  On the week end before the 24th of July the Inglewood Stake would hold a massive Pioneer Day Celebration at the stake center in Westchester.  People of today who did not experience it do not realize how huge it was.  There were games, food, a Country Store and Road Shows.  Oh yes, Road Shows, when they were taken seriously and some did actually go on the road.  As much as I disliked them in my teenage years, in my twenties I starred in two that actually were regional winners and went on tour to other stakes.  I was the bumbling tour guide in a George of the Jungle type production called "The Son of John Lemay."   In the other I set the pattern for Ryan Seacrest as the Master of Ceremonies for the "Great American Talent Contest."  I can still remember original songs from both of them. 

Come gather round us if you dare

And listen to a tale of terror
Of savage natives, please beware.
They stole the son of John Lemay..... away.

It was some twenty years ago

A man, his wife and son did go
Into to jungle full of foe.
They stole the son of John Lemay..... away.

It was a pleasure trip that ended in a scare

Mr. Lemay and his poor wife searched everywhere
But jungle natives never leave a single clue.
They took away... the little boy.  They might get you.

Now twenty years have passed away

And the Lemays returned today
To find those natives, they must pay.
They stole the son of John Lemay..... away.

So come with us to jungle land.

If you're afraid then hold my hand.
We'll catch those natives like we planned.
We'll find the son of John Lemay..... today.

And then the curtain opened there I was, the mighty jungle guide, with Mr. and Mrs. Lemay, in a large pot ready to be eaten.  But I digress.  I take that back, I don't digress because for this production Grandma was the producer.  Steven Purdy may have been the writer, composer and director, but Grandma was in charge.  In fact, she was in charge of many before that and many after that.  She made sure scenery got built and that it could fit in and out of the stage door of the stake center.  She made sure that each participant had a costume.  She didn't do all the sewing, but enlisted the help of everyone in the ward who could.  She chauffeured kids to and from practice and the closer to the 24th the more frequent the practices.  And she was the "Enforcer."  When kids acted up at the practices, they incurred the verbal wrath of Sister Rampton.  It didn't affect Roger and Jim as much as everybody else.  They were use to it.  But no one else wanted to be yelled at.  First, she would give them "the look" and if they continued, they got the verbal tirade, which of course, stopped everything because people wanted to see who she was yelling at.  And, if it ever was Roger or Jim, they got a double dose of it when they got home from Grandpa, although he never yelled.  He, however, had a way of talking to you that really made you feel remorseful.  I know from experience.  And then, she put on cast party the night of the last show.

A few years before Grandma passed away, I bought Grandma and Grandpa tickets to see "Wicked" up at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood.  I got them preferred parking and told them to make sure they got there early, which they did.   As they were sitting in their seats they began to converse with people around them.  One man said he was a producer of TV programs.  Grandpa added that Grandma produced Road Shows.  The man wanted to know what a Road Show was.  I believe Grandpa simply stated that it was a musical stage production.  Then everyone around wanted to talk to Grandma, thinking she was a famous musical producer. 

Back to the Inglewood Stake Pioneer Day Celebration.  Part of the festivities included the judging of vegetables, fruits, jams, pies, cakes, etc. like you would see at a regular county fair.  Many years they gave out blue, red and white ribbons.  Other years they gave out gold, silver and bronze medals with the persons name and category engraved on the back.  This was such a big deal that the medals were handed out in sacrament meeting.  Grandpa was always a first or second place winner for zucchini size.  There was something about the soil in the back part of his yard that zucchinis liked.  He also did well in tomatoes and squash, but never very good in carrots.  Baby carrots were not in fashion back then.  Grandma was also a winner for zucchini size because Grandpa could only enter one and he had many big ones.  But every year that I can remember, Grandma would be the gold medal winner for bottled/canned peaches.  I loved those peaches.  Every year we would take some friends and neighbors and drive out to Pearblossom to the pick your own peaches orchard.  It was a family responsibility to go.  We would pick baskets and boxes full of them, enough to fill up the back of our van or Vista Cruiser.  When we got home, Grandma would take out a few that we could eat raw.  The others got put in the giant pot of boiling water.  I don't remember how long they stayed in there, just long enough to make it easy to peel the skin off.  Then she would cut each peach in half and fill up a Mason Jar bottle with them.  She would also add some sugar and other stuff that I never knew the name of.  Then she would put the lid on and heat up the bottles in boiling water to seal the lid and cook the peaches.  I'm not sure of the exact process, but that is how I remember it.  The bottles were then cooled off  and put out in the garage with the food storage.  And from then, every night for dinner, among other things, we would have bottled peaches.  And they were gooooood!!  I especially liked them over cottage cheese.  Grandpa liked his with vanilla ice cream.  And the judges at the Pioneer Day Celebration always agreed.  Hers were the best.  But, you can't have all those peaches without making peach jam.  She always won first place for that also.  I can still taste the peach jam on the toast she would make us for breakfast.  She knew just how to mix the butter and jam on the bread.

Part of the Country Store was a bakery.  Each ward was assigned to bring so many cakes, pies and cookies each day.  Then those who attended would buy them.  This was a great fund raiser.  Grandma always made apple pies and chocolate chip cookies to donate.  (This was in addition to her work on the Road Shows.)  Grandpa and I would always hang out around the bakery booth at the times the foods from the Inglewood Ward Relief Society were going to be put out.  I bought all the chocolate chip cookies and he bought all the apple pies that Grandma had made.  We should have just donated the money and saved her the trouble of transporting all those delicious baked goods to the stake center.

Her participation in the Pioneer Day Celebration did not end here.  Every year our ward was in charge of the hamburger booth.  I'm not sure what year this began, probably the fifties when two brothers, Kay and Cal Rohner, built a huge grill and put a restaurant quality process of putting out hamburgers in place.  When Kay Rohner became bishop of our ward, people began to call the hamburgers "Rohner-burgers."  Grandpa became bishop after Kay Rohner, but they still remained "Rohner-burgers."  When I became bishop they remained "Rohner-burgers."  The secret to burgers was the thick-sliced tomatoes, crisp lettuce leafs and hamburger meat full of fat.  Every year that I can remember Grandma would go to the produce market in downtown Los Angeles early, early in the morning and compete with the restaurant chefs for the best tomatoes and lettuce.  And she always got what she wanted.  She would then bring them back to the hamburger booth ready to be washed, sliced and served.  Lines would form down the length of the parking lot with people waiting for their "Rohner-burger" which the Ramptons really perfected, but that's another story.  Not only did she do this, but she managed to spend time in the hamburger booth slicing the tomatoes. 

One other thing:  during my time as bishop we did not have her do the Road Shows.  Instead, I called her to be the Primary President in our ward.  Even this calling had a Pioneer Day responsibility.  On the Saturday morning of the celebration was the Primary Pioneer Parade.  The kids from each ward dressed up in pioneer or native American attire and pushed or pulled their wagons and hand carts through the streets of Westchester, many times with a police escort.  Grandma was in charge of making sure each child had a costume and transportation to get there on Saturday morning by 8 a.m.

So, the 24th of July Pioneer Day Celebration in the Inglewood Stake was a big, big deal for the Ramptons, especially Grandma: Road Show producer, food contest winner,  baked goods provider, parade master and quality food purchaser.  That was her 24th of July for most her adult life.

But, we, her sons and husband, made sure she always had a family birthday party, either directly on her birthday if it did not conflict with the Pioneer Day Celebration or if it did, then on the Sunday after the celebration.  Nothing fancy, a nice dinner, cake, ice cream and presents.  Oh yes, and that Happy Birthday sign that she always hung up in the kitchen for all our birthdays was appropriately displayed, even then.

The actual prop I used for the guidebook.  Found it in the bottom of my file cabinet.

Sarah Pippin Jolley - Conclusion

Never did the words from the hymn Come, Come Ye Saints describe anyone as they did Sister Sarah Pippin Jolley:  "...gird up your loins, fresh courage take, our God will never us forsake.  And soon we'll have this tale to tell.  All is well.  All is well."  What a tale Sarah Pippin Jolley had to tell.  I wonder how many times she bore her testimony over the year of the blessings she received for showing courage in the face of trials, losing her husband on the plains, crossing the plains with 8 children, accepting calls to settle numerous parts of Utah.

To David, Travis and Kevin:  In the future there will probably come a time when you are asked to speak in Church around the 24th of July, Pioneer Day.  When you do, I want you to remember two things:  (1) that Grandma (Lois Fae Linnebach Rampton) was born on Pioneer Day and never got a birthday party since her family always went fishing on that holiday and (2) Sarah Pippin Jolley.

 This is a history written by Sarah's granddaughter.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

History of Reuben Manning Jolley and Sarah Pippin Jolley by the their Granddaughter

 Reuben Manning Jolley, son of Henry and Frances Manning Jolley, was born in North Carolina.  His parents were well-to-do farmers and owned land and slaves.  In 1825 Henry Jolley and family moved to the western part of Tennessee, near Dresden.  Reuben Manning was a young man about seventeen years old, and being the oldest son, was his father's assistant at the time.

Sarah Pippin, daughter of Loftis and Mary Hall Pippin, was born in Franklin County, North Carolina, twenty-five miles east of Raleigh. When Sarah was fourteen years old the Pippins moved to the Western part of Tennessee in Weakley County where she met her future husband.  On January 13, 1829 Reuben Manning Jolley and Sarah Pippin were married.  Both of them were very young.  He was not yet twenty-one and she was several months under seventeen.

Reuben Manning and  Sarah Pippin Jolley settled near Dresden where they, lived for thirteen years and seven of their children were born there.

When Mary Ann was about three years old she put her mouth over the spout of a boiling tea kettle which caused her death February10, 1839. She was buried in Dresden.

It was at their home near Dresden that the Gospel was brought to Reuben Manning and Sarah Pippin Jolley by two Mormon missionaries, who gave them a copy of the Book of Mormon and said they would visit them again.  Believing the marvelous things they had heard to be true, they set about reading the Book of Mormon and were soon converted to the righteousness.  Reuben Manning Jolley and wife Sarah Pippin Jolley were baptized  February 18, 1842.

On April 21, 1842, the family started for Nauvoo to be with the body of the Church. When the command came to build a temple the Jolley family was ready to serve.  Reuben Manning and his older sons worked until the temple was completed.

The family had very litt1e of this world's goods. They had sacrificed and struggled to bring their large family from Tennessee, but they worked hard and were thankful for what they had.

Reuben Manning Jolley was ordained au Elder January 12, 1844. Grandma wrote, in the sketch she left, that she and her husband received their endowments in the Nauvoo Temple, January 5, 1846. She also wrote that after the martyrdom of the Prophet and Patriarch, they were in the crowd which followed the bodies to the Mansion. They were again on the morrow to gaze upon their faces.

When Joseph Loftis was six weeks o1d the family crossed the Mississippi River, May 6, 1846. They stopped at Kaeusuaga, Iowa, where they lived two years.

Henry Gideon, their tenth child, was born in Kaeusuaga, November 28, 1848.

The parents and children worked hard to get means to continue their journey. After twenty days of illness, Reuben Manning Jolley died of pneumonia. April 29, 1849. He was buried in the cemetery at Kaeusuaga, Iowa.

Grandma wrote in her sketch: "I was left with nine children; no house nor home; my babe in my arms and among stranger.  I was broken up.  He told me on his death bed that he was going to leave me for a while but he wanted me, as soon as I could, to go to the valley of the mountains, to the bosom of the Church, and take all of the children with me.  I strove to do so and have ever borne it in mind."

June 2, 1849 grandma and her children started for Council Bluffs, where they spent theWinterof1849.  Grandma wrote that she had a hard time getting food and clothing for her children.  The cholera was very bad; two of the children came near unto death, but the Hand of the Lord was over them and He saw fit to spare them, grandma said.

June 6, 1850, the brave little mother and children started for the Salt Lake Valley, where they arrived in September 1850. They were met on Emigration Street by their grandfather, Henry Jolley, who had arrived in the valley two years before.  He took them to his home.  Grandma wrote that times in the valley were very hard and not much food.

The crickets had devoured most of the crops, but the grandfather had traded a corner of his lot for a cow so the children could have milk.

Later in the year of 1850 grandma and family were called to go to what is now Pleasant Grove, Utah, accompanied by their grandfather. The boys built a smal1 house to help make a fort.

Henry Jolley did not live long but died of pneumonia, December 20, 1850, at Pleasant Grove.

Washington Lafayette was sent to Texas to preach the Gospel in 1852.

Grandma moved in 1852 with her children to Springville, then on to Spanish Fork and then to Payson, where on of her boys was shot by Indians as he stood guard for the to town.  Her son, William, as ambushed east of Springville and shot in the arm.

William recovered but Pelic Berry who was shot in the eye, never got over it and died from its effects November 12, 1862.

In 1862 the Jolley family was called to help settle Utah's Dixie.  Grandma answered the call with her children and suffered the hardships incident to that barren part of the state.  She helped in the planting and cultivation of cotton.  She carded and spun it and, with the loom she had brought with her from Nauvoo, made clothes for her family.

After the completion of their mission, grandma and the younger members of the family came north to Moroni, Sanpete County, where she spent the remaining years of her life.  She studied and became a midwife, which profession she practiced  until she was in her seventies. 

Grandma's little home still stands on the main street of Moroni, where she lived so many years and was honored as a noble mother and held in respect as a superior woman.

Sarah Pippin Jolley remained true and faithful to the Gospel and taught the Book of Mormon in Sunday School many years.  She was loved, honored and revered by her children, among them were missionaries, bishops and patriarchs.  She passed away December 11, 1889, at Moroni and was buried on a knoll overlooking the cemetery.  A tall, beautiful white monument marks the sacred spot.

                                  by Lydia Jolley Sheffield (grand-daughter)

Obituary of Sarah Pippin Jolley

We all go through trials and tribulations.  And if we haven't, we will.  That is just part of life.  In fact, it is part of why we are here on this earth.  For me, this lymphoma thing is a trial.  For Grandma (Lois Fae Linnebach Rampton) most of her adult life was a trial with one health issue or another.  We have these trials to see how well we endure them.  In the Liberty Jail, the Lord said to the Prophet Joseph Smith; "My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine  adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;  And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes."  The key is enduring well.  I believe that Sarah Pippin Jolley was one who endured well.  I include one more section on her next week.  But here is an obituary written by Jane Bailey who was the Relief Society President in Moroni, Utah when Sarah died at the age of  77, the last 50 years spent as a widow.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Died at Moroni, Sanpete County, Utah.  November 9. Sarah Pippin Jolley, wife of Reuben Manning Jolley

Deceased was born May 9, 1812 in North Carolina.  Moved with her parents to Tennessee, Weakley County, in 1842.  The Gospel was carried to them by Elder Clapp and others.  They received the  Gospel message and with a family of five children emigrated to Nauvoo, Hancock County, Illinois.  They were living there at the time of the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith and Hyrum Smith.  Were driven with the Saints from their homes and started for the Rocky Mountains but were advised to remain on the other side of the Missouri River on account of the delicate health of the family.  It was at this place, April 29, 1849 that Reuben Jolley became a victim to death through the hardships and exposure with which they passed.  Now Sister Jolley was a widow with ten children.  Brother Jolley told his wife to continue the journey and follow the Church.  After laying her husband away and marking the place with a beautiful headstone, she started with her children once more for the West and came to Council Bluffs and the next year 1850 came to the Salt Lake with all her children but one son who married and remained behind.

After arriving in Utah she struggled hard to make her family comfortable and passed through many trials.

There are eight children and over two hundred grandchildren and great grandchildren to mourn her loss.

Sister Jolley was one of the first members of the Relief Society, labored as a teacher and for many years as a Counselor to President Jane Bailey.  She was also a Sunday School teacher for years.  She was an excellent nurse among the sick.  Sister Jolley spent her life in usefulness and has worked considerably in the Temple for the dead.  May she rest in peace.

written by Jane Bailey

Sarah Pippin Jolley

The last few months much of my Sunday activities involve watching BYU TV.  Because of my immunity issues I am not able to go to church.  So this has been my Sunday worship activity:  Music and the Spoken Word, History of the Saints, The Joseph Smith Papers, Discussions of the Book of Mormon, and Discussions of the Pearl of Great Price.  All are very uplifting and informative.  Recently, on History of the Saints, they were talking about the Saints being driven out of Nauvoo.  It was interesting to note that not all the Saints left at the same time.  Not all of them camped at the same place.  There were Saints camped all over Iowa and Nebraska.  Many of them stayed in those little communities for 2 to 3 years.  They built cabins and planted crops.  They readied themselves to move to the Rocky Mountains.  These programs become all the more meaningful when you realize you have ancestors who experienced these times.  One such woman was Sarah Pippin Jolley,  born Sarah Pippin on 28 May 1812 in Louisburg, North Carolina.  In 1829 she married Reuben Manning Jolley.  They had 10 children.

Almost every July that I can remember, Grandpa (Charles Cash Rampton, Jr.)  would be asked to speak in Sacrament Meeting and tell pioneer stories.  And every time he did, he would tell the story of Sarah Pippin Jolley, great-grandmother of Grandma Ethel (Ethel Frances Jolley.) 

At some time in her life she wrote a short autobiography.  It was not very long, but it gives us some insight into her life and the life she had to endure as a pioneer mother in Utah.  Here is her writings:

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Autobiography of Sarah Pippin Jolley

I was born in North Carolina, Franklin County, twenty-five miles east of Raleigh, on the 28th of May 1812, My parents lived there until I was about fourteen years old. Then they came to Tennessee; the western part to

Weekly County. There I married to Reuben M. Jolley, on the 13th of January1829.

William G. Jolley was born the 8th of November 1829 in Tennessee. Then Washington L. Jolley was born May 16, 1831 in Tennessee, Weekly Co. R.B. Jolley was born March 16,1834 in Tennessee, Weekly Co. Sarah Ann was born December 18, 1838 in Tennessee, Weekly Co. Marion Jolley was born April 9, 1841 in Weekly Co. Tennessee. Reuben M. Jolley was born in Illinois, Hancock Co. Nauvoo, June 4th, 1843. Joseph was born in Illinois, Hancock Co. Nauvoo, March 24th, 1846. Henry Jolley was born November 28th, 1848, Iowa, Anuran Co. Sarah G. was born in Utah Co. the l7th of September 1862 at Payson City.

We lived in Tennessee, Weekly Co. until 1848. My husband and myself, we embraced the gospel and were baptized on the 18th of February in 1842. The 21st of April the same year, we started for Nauvoo. We lived through the troubles while Joseph and Hyrum were murdered at Carthage jail. My husband and myself were there to behold that bloody scene. I was one that was one in the company that followed the corps to the Mansion, when we all went home and came on the morrow to see them, which was a sight to behold. Then the word came to build a temple. My husband and the boys worked on the temple until it was done. Many days they worked and had nothing to eat but bread and water, but it was good. I did not complain. I had the privilege of going through the temple with my husband, so I was paid in full for all my troubles.

In 1846, we left Nauvoo, crossed the river, on the 5th of May. In Iowa, Anuran Co. there we lived a little over two years. We all were working to get something to come up to the Church. We had traveled around until we had not much to travel with but a large family. We were getting ready to start to Salt Lake when my husband was taken sick. He was sick twenty days and died on the 29th of April 1849. There I was left with ten children, no house nor home; among strangers, a babe in my arms three months old, I was broke up. When he was on his death bed he would talk and tell me what he wanted me to do a little at a time until he told me he wanted, he said he was going to leave me for a while, but he wanted me, as soon as I could, to come to the valleys of the mountains, to the basin of the church and bring the children all with me, so I strive to do so. I have ever born it in mind. I buried him the first day of May, at Keasackway grave yard, Anuran, Co., Iowa. In 1849, 2nd. day of July, my children and me started for Council Bluffs. There we wintered. Next spring, the 6th day of June we started for Salt Lake. In 1850 I had a hard time with my little children, but the hand of Lord was over me and children and all we had with us, Cholera was very bad that year. Two of my children came near unto death, but the Lord seen fit to spare them.

I arrived in the valleys on the 27th of September in 1850. I had not much to live upon, times were very hard for the grasshoppers and crickets had eaten everything up.

Grandfather Jolley came on before we did. When he heard we were coming he met me and the children on Immigration St. He took us to his home. We stopped there a few days. He said he was going to move to Utah County, to a place called Pleasant Grove. He moved there about the 15th of October. Then my boys moved a little house to help to make a fort. On the 20th of December, grandfather Jolley died and was buried at the same place. I then felt as if I was I was lost again, but had to so the best I could.

In 1852, Washington L. Jolley was called to go on a mission to the states to preach the gospel. The Indians proved to be very bad. In 1853 I had. two of my boys shot. One never got over it, the other is living but is a cripple in his right arm.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Below I will insert the only known picture of her.  I assume it was taken near the end of her life.  The lines and wrinkles are indicative of the trials she went through.  I do not believe that she ever remarried.  She was faithful in whatever she was called to do in the Church including settling Pleasant Grove, Springville, Payson, Spanish Fork and St. George.  Following the last assignment in Saint George she moved to Moroni, Utah where she spent to rest of her days.  Next week I will include her obituary and some other notes about her.

Recollections of My Grandma - Blanche Ruby Worthen

Blanche Ruby Worthen was born in 1901 in the Marmalade District (located just north of Temple Square) of Salt Lake City, Utah.  The house she was born in and grew up in is no longer there, having been demolished for the building of the Conference Center.  She was the loving mother of my Dad and Aunt Janet.

My earliest recollections of Grandma Blanche (that's what we always called her) involve he house she lived in on Harvard Ave. in Salt Lake City.  At this time she was married to Grandpa Russ (Russell Brewer Bean.)  She and Grandfather Cash had divorced when my Dad was in his early teens.  It's interesting that no one in the family ever talked about what happened there and apparently they both made every effort to avoid each other thereafter.  My wedding reception in 1981 at Grandma Ethel's house was a good example:  Grandma Blanche had to leave out the back door when Grandfather Cash and Virginia came in the front.  When our family would visit Salt Lake City every summer this is where we stayed because of all the room - two story house with a finished basement, which is where Richard and I always slept. I remember sleeping on a bed next to a cabinet with all the bridge trophies the Grandma Blanche and Grandpa Russ won.  The backyard was a well manicured lawn and garden.  When we were there in the summer Grandma would always have me go out in the garden a pick ripe red tomatoes, large ones and the cherry kind.  I have another strange memory of her house:  I was playing with the dial telephone one day and for some reason dialed the "O" for operator.  I quickly hung up but for the next several days felt the police were going to come and arrest me. 

Grandma Blanche seldom called me Charles or Charlie.  It was always Charlie Dear, even when I was in my twenties and thirties.

When I was in the 4th or 5th grade Grandma Blanche took me on my first airplane ride.  She and Grandpa Russ had driven to Las Vegas from Salt Lake City and while there flew to Los Angeles.  She took Richard and I back with her.  We flew out of the original LAX on Aviation Blvd.  Grandpa Russ was the owner of Mountain States Fire Sprinkler Company and he had a contract to put fire sprinklers in many of the new hotels, including the Flamingo and Stardust.  It was rumored that he and Bugsy Siegel (the gangster who built the Flamingo Hotel and brought the mob to Las Vegas) were well acquainted.  I don't recall how many days we stayed in Las Vegas.  I do remember being told to get out of the casino area of the Flamingo while Grandma Blanche played bingo.  I also remember being allowed to put a dime in a slot machine at a drug store .  I won.  The drive back to Salt Lake City was interesting, no I-15 and Grandpa Russ was a speed demon.  Had I known then what I know now about Grandpas Russ I would have been really scared.  You see, Grandpa Russ was a really good man, but he was also and alcoholic.  By this time Grandma Blanche and Grandpa Russ had moved to a house on Harrison Ave. in Salt Lake City.  My birthday happened while I was there and Grandma made me a chocolate cake decorated with lollipops and candy canes.  Breakfast at Grandma's was always special with cantaloupe, honey dew melons and orange juice, things we didn't get at home.  Grandma also gave me my first experience to prime rib and Yorkshire pudding.

It was also during this summer that Grandma Blanche took all her grandchildren to see the movie, "Music Man," starring Robert Preston and Shirley Jones.  This is still my favorite movie of all time.  My Dad later bought the soundtrack and we played the record over and over again, to the point where I had almost all of the songs memorized.  At family parties my Mom made me do the number "Trouble with a capital T and the rhymes with P and that stands for pool."

During my high school years, after Grandpa Russ had passed away, Grandma Blanche would drive her Chevrolet Impala down to the Grand Canyon and work as a desk clerk at the Grand Canyon Hotel.  She did that for several summers and was always very proud of the fact she was able to make that drive and remain independent.

It was also during this time that she moved from her house on Harrison to the Carriage Lane condominiums on 45th South.  It was a very nice place.  I remember she always paid the gardener extra to plant petunias outside her residence. 

In 1971 I received my mission call to Japan.  I did not know of this at the time but later found out that she insisted on paying half the cost of my mission.  When asked why she did this she answered that she wanted the blessings that came from supporting a missionary in the field.  She faithfully wrote me a letter every month.  At the end of my mission I bought an elegant Japanese doll wearing a silk kimono in a large glass case and had it shipped back to her.  She said it was too much and I said it was not enough.  She proudly displayed it in her living room.

During my college years I would frequently drive up to Salt Lake City on the weekends and go out to lunch or dinner with her.  After the first few times I made sure that I did the driving when we went out.  She would drive 45 mph in the fast lane of the freeway, bless her heart.

Speaking of cars, several years after I had graduated from college and moved back to Inglewood, I decided to buy a new car.  I had my heart set on a black and silver  Datsun 200SX that I has seen at the car show.   There were no in Los Angeles, but there was on in Orem, Utah.  I made arrangements to drive up and buy it.  When Grandma Blanche found out about it she let me know she wanted to buy my Impala  and she insisted on a price that was well above what the dealership would have given me.  She drove that car the rest of her life.

At the end of her life, when her health began to dwindle, she went to live with my Aunt Janet and Uncle Judd.  It was with some sadness and yet with some rejoicing that we go word on December 9, 1986 that Grandma Blanche had passed away peacefully in her sleep.  I was honored to be asked to speak at her funeral.  My most distinct memory of that funeral was a Christmas tree.  Someone, and to this day we do not know who, instead of sending flowers to her funeral, sent a fully decorated Christmas tree.  And so, every Christmas season when Charlie Dear puts up his Christmas tree, he thinks of all the good times with Grandma Blanche.

Recollections of my Grandfather, Charles Cash Rampton

  

My Grandfather (we never called him Grandpa, it was always Grandfather) was extremely proud of his names: Rampton from his father, Charles Hyrum Rampton, and Cash from his mother, Wilda Cash.  He was born in Bountiful, Utah in1901 but lived all his adult life in Salt Lake City.  And that is where my earliest recollections of him begin.  My family lived there until I was five years old when we moved to Southern California.  I have vivid memories of Sunday dinners at his house on Virginia Ave.  There was a big dining room with a long table which I could not reach if I sat on a chair.  But, a large unabridged dictionary placed on the seat of the chair boosted me high enough so I could access the plate. 

After we moved to California we would come back to Salt Lake City every year for vacation;  and I do mean every year from when I was five until I went on my mission to Japan.  One of the things I looked forward to the most was visiting him at his office at Walker Bank where he was a vice-president.  He always had great bank souvenirs that he would give us each time we visited.  I still have one of them today, a small bank in the shape of a book.  There is something inside, but I have no idea where the key is today. 

I always thought is was great that he worked in a bank and had the name, Cash.  That is the name he went by his adult life.  He began working for Walker Bank in his early twenties and retired as Senior Vice-president after 41 years of service. 

Grandfather, and my step-grandmother, Virginia loved to travel, many times going on world cruises that departed from the Port of Los Angeles.  Our family would always go visit them on the ship before they departed.  For some reason, my younger brother, Richard, and I always had to dress up in Sunday clothes for the visits.  In my pre-teen and teen years I collected stamps and always enjoyed the ones they sent me back from their many destinations.

In 1970 I entered Brigham Young University in Provo.  Once a month he would drive down from Salt Lake City and take me to dinner. The first time was at the restaurant of a local hotel not to far off of campus.  I don't know the reason why, but at the end of dinner he left a larger than usual tip for the waitress which she did not forget.  Sometime later, I took a date there and was given the royal treatment by the same waitress, free dessert.  That was a big deal for a college freshman, trying to impress his date.

One Sunday he stopped in on campus at the house of the President of the University, Ernest Wilkinson and introduced him to me.  They had been friends for many years.

 Grandfather Cash (that's what we called him) was never very active in the church, especially after he and my Grandma Blanch divorced when my Dad was in his early teens.  But he was still supportive of me going on a mission.  I enjoyed the few letters he sent me in Japan. They were always encouraging.  So it was with some interest that just a few years ago I found the letters he sent my Dad on his mission in Canada.  The content is precious.  He never handwrote the letters, rather he would dictate them to his secretary.  She would type them on Walk Bank stationary; he would sign them; enclose the monthly check and put them in the mail.  It was in these letters that I learned that he did not approve of my mother-to-be, Lois Fae Linnebach.  He felt my Dad should finish his education before getting married.  (My Mom, apparently, had their wedding all planned out before my Dad finished his two years in Eastern Canada.  They were married two months after he got home.)

When I returned to BYU after my mission he would frequently invite me to lunch at the Alta Club in Salt Lake City, of which he was a member.  I always wondered why all the women went in a different door than the men; but apparently that was the custom.  The women congregated in one part of the club and the men in the other.  This is where I had my first "Shirley Temple."  Later we all met in the dining room.   It was a great lunch.  At the end Virginia got up to go to the ladies room and Grandfather went to speak to Senator Jake Garn.  While I was sitting at the table by myself, the waiter brought a small silver goblet filled with water to each seat.  I had no idea what I was suppose to do with it, so I drank it.  Grandfather saw me do it and started to laugh.  He later told me that was a fingerbowl in which I was suppose to rinse my hands off.  I was indeed embarrassed. 

In the early 1970's Grandfather moved from his house on Virginia Ave to a fancy apartment/condominium building on North Temple in Salt Lake City.  My Dad loves to tell the story of how he and Grandfather were riding in the elevator down to the parking area when President Ezra Taft Benson got on with them.  Per my Dad, President Benson said, "Cash, you could have been a great mission president."

But instead, Grandfather Cash chose to devote much of his time to public service.  His list of public positions included President of the Salt Lake Chapter of the American Institute of Banking, Chairman of the Salt Lake County American Red Cross, President of the Salt Lake Chamber of Commerce, Chairman of the Utah Commission for the Hoover Report, Member of the Board of Trustees to Administer the Utah Public Employees Retirement System, Chairman of the Civil Service Commission, Member of the Salt Lake City Planning and Zoning Commission, Member of the City Board of Adjustments, Member of the Federal Jury Commission (appointed by Judge Willis Ritter),and Co-Chairman of the Citizens Advisory Commission on Airport Improvements at Salt Lake City International Airport. My Dad would always tell us that the expansion of Salt Lake International Airport to its current status was in part due to Grandfather's vision of the future.  We always considered him the second most famous Rampton politician in the family, behind Governor Calvin Rampton.  That is before we learned that the husband of his half-sister, Amanda, was Charles Rendell Mabey, also a governor of the State of Utah.  So maybe he moved down the list one notch.

In 1952 he was a candidate for the United States Senate seat from Utah.  That was the same year that as President of the Salt Lake City Chamber of Commerce he spoke at the Golden Jubilee dinner at the Hotel Utah along with President David O. McKay and Irving S. Olds, Chairman of the Board of United States Steel Corporation.  When my Dad graduated from the University of Utah in 1957 with a Masters Degree in Civil Engineering, his first job was with United States Steel.  I wonder if Grandfathers connections had anything to do with it?

After retirement, Grandfather and Virginia would spend many of their winters here in Southern California, either in Palm Springs or San Diego.  I always questioned the safety of two seventy year olds making the 700 mile drive from Utah to California in their Chevrolet Caprice Classic (which my Dad inherited, was stolen after several years and used in several bank robberies before being recovered.)  It was always fun to go visit them in their resort-like surroundings.  By this time Grandfather's opinion of my Mother had changed 180 degrees.  He would always tell her that my Dad could not have done any better than her for a wife.  But she still was always a little intimidated by him.

In December of 1991 I was saddened to learn that Grandfather had passed away, just before his 90th birthday.  I was honored to be asked by my Dad and Aunt Janet to deliver the eulogy at his funeral.  Governor Calvin Rampton was the other speaker.  He was later buried at Mt. Olivet Cemetery in a family plot he had purchased years earlier.  Today, my baby sister and mother are buried there along with Virginia and my Uncle Judd.  The two remaining plots are for my Dad and Aunt Janet.  It was important to Grandfather for the family to be close in life and death.

Grandfather especially loved my oldest son David, born in 1983, probably because David's middle name is Cash.  When David was an infant Grandfather would send him letters and David would reply (via his mother.)  In one of the letters Grandfather included this poem that way very dear to him:

YOUR NAME

You got it from your father

It was all he had to give.

So it’s yours to use and cherish

For as long as you may live.

If you lose the watch he gave you

It can always be replaced.

But a black mark on your name,

Son can never be erased.

It was clean the day you took it

And a worthy name to bear.

When he got it from his father

There was no dishonor there.

So make sure you guard it wisely

After all is said and done.

You’ll be glad the name is spotless

When you give it to your son.

The Day I Ditched School - Elijah Made Me Do It (part 3 of 3)

After my day in the library, I put the story of the John Hartshorn, Jr. family in my file along with the other information I gathered. And there it sat....  Several years then passed. During this time, I graduated from BYU and moved back to Los Angeles to embark on my career in personnel management at Hughes Aircraft Company in Culver City, California.  In those years when I made a concerted effort to keep the Sabbath Day holy, not that I still don't today, one of the Sunday activities I would undertake might seem very strange to you.  I would take family group sheets from my Book of Remembrance, interweave the dates and places with my knowledge of history, and then try to conceptualize what actually happened to the people on the family group sheet. On one sheet I saw an 1840 birth date of a child which took place on the Atlantic Ocean. I empathized with the mother who probably suffered great hardship during her pregnancy and childbirth at sea. Morning sickness is bad enough by itself. But, when combined with sea sickness, it must have been almost intolerable. On another sheet I were saddened to see the death date of a small baby girl in Winter Quarters, Iowa only six days after her birth in 1847. The joy the family felt at the birth contrasted with the pain of the death made me appreciate even more the two children, David and Travis, with which the Lord had blessed me.  Kevin's birth was still two years away.

One Sunday evening in 1987 Judy and I were looking at the family group sheet of the John Hartshorn Jr. family I had copied from the Archive Records of the Salt Lake Genealogical Library while I was still in college.  Seeing three death dates on the same day, Judy asked me if I knew what had happened to the family?  I thumbed through my files and found the account of the massacre at Haverhill. After discussing the tragedy that beset the Hartshorn family, trying to imagine how we would have reacted in a similar situation or how we would have dealt with such misfortune, I returned the history to my files and retired to bed for the evening.  About three o’clock in the morning I suddenly awoke.  Like lightening from a summer thunder storm, an overpowering realization flashed through my mind that something was wrong on the John Hartshorn Jr. family group sheet. So profound was the thought, that I had to get up right then and go look. I took out the family group sheet and immediately noticed that the year of death of the first-born son, John III, was 1699, making him two years old when he died. Hence, no temple work had ever been done on his behalf except sealing him to his parents. He had never been baptized or endowed. I rushed to open my history of Haverhill, Massachusetts to compare dates and, sure enough, there was a discrepancy. The history of the massacre said that John III was eleven years old when he died. This meant that temple work should have been performed for him.  I was now faced with the problem of determining which date was correct. The only way I could do this was to again go to the Genealogical Library and review the materials that contained the early vital records of Haverhill, Massachusetts.  I was excited to check the records and see which date was correct. Here was the potential for an opportunity I had been working toward for years - to finally be able to do the temple work for a deceased ancestor. I was fortunate in that there was a Family History Library situated on the grounds of the Los Angeles Temple. If the library had been open at that hour, I would have rushed straight there. But it wasn’t and so reluctantly I had to wait.

Inasmuch as my discovery had taken place in the wee hours of Monday morning, I was once again faced with a perplexing dilemma. The library did not open until 9:00 a.m.  But, I had to be at work at 8:00 a.m. Again, the temptation to take a day off was literally tearing at the very fiber of my being. What should I do? An overwhelming desire to verify the correct date was burning within me. On the other hand, I held a position of some responsibility at my place of employment and had a family to support.  I went to work; but, as soon as I could, I raced to the Family History Library. At least I wanted to race there. But rush hour traffic on the Los Angeles freeways makes speeding anywhere next to impossible. Sitting on the freeway was frustrating and only heightened my craving desire to get to the library. After what seemed like an eternity on the freeway, I arrived on the Temple grounds. I hurried inside the library and began my search. Finally I found it, the documentation that confirmed that John Hartshorn III was killed with his father and brothers in 1708. I almost shouted for joy.  Before the night was through, I completed all the necessary papers to have the temple work done and sent them off to the Genealogical Department of the Church in Salt Lake City.

Several weeks later I received a letter back stating that the name of John Hartshorn III had been cleared to have all the necessary temple work done. The letter added that his name had been sent to the Los Angeles Temple where I could go and perform the work on his behalf. What a thrill! And yet at the same time a quiet peace came over me and caused me to reflect back on all of the circumstances that resulted in this letter and the ultimate performance of these eternal ordinances. I am convinced, and no one can make me believe otherwise, that the immortal spirit of John Hartshorn III had reached a certain point in the spirit world where it could no longer progress. The ordinances of baptism, confirmation, bestowal of the Priesthood, and the endowment, all of which can be performed in the temple for deceased individuals who did not have that opportunity during their mortal existence, needed to be performed on his behalf so that he could continue on in his pursuit of Eternal Life. The time had come for this to happen and I was blessed to be a part of it.

While still reflecting, I vividly remembered that sparkling winter morning some eleven years past and the prompting I had to visit the Genealogical Library in Salt Lake City. Suddenly, it became clear just what it was that influenced me that day to cut class and drive to the library where I obtained my first knowledge of what had happened to the John Hartshorn Jr. family: it was the “Spirit of Elijah” that the Prophet Malachi wrote would “turn the heart of the fathers to the children and the heart of the children to their fathers...” (Malachi 4:6)

With this scripture in mind, Joseph Smith taught: “...this is the Spirit of Elijah, that we redeem our dead, and connect ourselves with our fathers which are in heaven, and seal up our dead to come forth in the first resurrection.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, pp. 337-338)

Yes, Elijah made me do it.