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.

The Day I Ditched School - Elijah Made Me Do It (part 2 of 3)

One of the stories I collected that day concerned family of John Hatshorn, Jr. who lived in Haverhill, MA in the early 1700's.  (Correct pronunciation in not Haver-hill, but Hay-vrill: I was once corrected by a local.)  The following is my account from several source documents I read that day.

It was a hot summer morning in the small community of Haverhill, Massachusetts.  The John Hartshorn Jr. family was about its daily chores.  But this morning of August 29, 1708 was one that would have dire consequences for the young family.  Little did they know that the Sunday breakfast they had just finished would be their last together as a family in this life.  The entire community of Haverhill was in a state of commotion due to the fighting of the Queen Anne’s War which had spilled over into the Americas from Europe.  John had taken precautions to provide for the defense of his wife and six children by digging a cellar under his two story home that could only be entered by way of a secret trap door.  In case of attack by either the French or Native American tribes, the family was to hide in the cellar until it was safe to come out.  The raid on Haverhill was lead by French commander Jean-Baptiste Hertel de Rouville who had enlisted the services of the Algonquin and Abenaki tribes.

All was calm until shortly after breakfast.  Then, panic struck the young family when John spotted a war party approaching their isolated house ready to attack.  For reasons known only to John or maybe even his wife, Hannah, John bolted from the house.  Why he did not retreat to the cellar with his family is not known.  Perhaps he felt that if the war party entered the house and saw no one there they would become suspicious and find the secret hiding place. Perhaps he felt he needed to buy some time so that his family could gather in the cellar.  Or perhaps he thought he could lead the attackers away from the house altogether.  Nevertheless, as John ran he was followed by his 11 year old son, John III, and 9 year old son, Thomas. All three were shot dead before they could run fifty feet.  Another son, Jonathan, age 5, also tried to run from the house but was quickly caught and killed by the savage blow of an Algonquin tomahawk.

Inside the house, Hannah was horrified at the massacre of her husband and three sons. But, she still had enough presence of mind to gather her other sons and head for the secret cellar. As she began to pick up four month old David she realized that his crying might give away their hiding place and result in the demise of the rest of the family. So reluctantly she set the infant on the bed in the second story bedroom and covered him with blankets, hoping that the attackers would not go upstairs, and then took the other two boys, Jacob, age 7, and Timothy, age 2,into the cellar to hide.

Shortly thereafter, the Algonquins entered the house and began their deeds of plunder.  Little time passed before the intruders discovered baby David in the second story bedroom.  In an act of the utmost cruelty and disdain for human life, the infant was taken by the marauding warriors and thrown out the second story window. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the attackers left the Hartshorn house only to continue pillaging other residences in the area. Once the carnage of Haverhill was completed, they left to return to their French allies in Canada.  Sixteen people had been killed and 14-24 taken captive back to Canada.  As soon as the war party had vacated the vicinity, John Hartshorn’s father, John Sr., raced to his son’s house to see how the young family fared the attack. His own wife had been killed during the raid.  He was devastated at the sight of his slain son and grandsons outside the house.  As he sped to enter the open front door his eyes caught a glimpse of a pile of clapboards along the side of the house.  Lying on top of the pile was the baby, David.  John Sr. hurried to the pile of boards, his heart pounding in foreboding anticipation of what other tragedy he might encounter.  There, he gently picked up the motionless infant. He examined the baby and found, much to his relief, that the child was alive and only stunned by the ordeal.  Little David soon regained consciousness and was otherwise unharmed.  John Sr. then proceeded to enter the cellar and bring out the frightened mother and children, now forced to endure the difficulties of early colonial life in America without a husband and father.

I was deeply touched by this tragic story of hardship and courage which does, by the way, end on a positive note. The young baby, David, grew to be a man of large stature and great strength. He was also the father of seventeen children; one from which we are directly descended via Grandma Blanche (Blanche Ruby Worthen).

Next week, there's more to this story than this!!



Headstone of John Hartshorn, Jr.



The Day I Ditched School - Elijah Made Me Do It (part 1 of 3)

Although it has almost been 34 years since I was in graduate school at BYU (before it was even called the Marriott School) during my last semester, which would have been Winter 1978, I had an experience that I consider one of the top ten of my entire life.  (Don't ask me to name the other nine).  I am going to dedicate the next three blogs to that experience and its significance.  And yes, to this day, I am convinced that Elijah made me do it.

I distinctly remember that it was a sparkling blue and shimmering white morning.  Days like this presented a serious temptation for me. On winter mornings when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun glistened off the freshly fallen snow, when the only sounds to be heard emanated from the drops of water falling off the icicles hanging from the roof, I could think of several dozen other things I’d rather do than go to class. Most of the time the good judgment I fortunately inherited from Grandpa, who was always at the appropriate place five minutes before the appointed time, usually prevailed and I would go to class. This day, however, was different; although it would take me nearly eleven years to fully realize the significance of what I would discover this day.

I arose as usual and began to get ready for school.  It was a crystal clear winter morning and again Mother Nature had painted a pristine panorama of ice and snow that could easily grace the cover of any Utah travel brochure.  As had been the case on many other days like this, I was sorely vexed to cut class. Today the feeling to stay home was much more intense than ever before, it almost seemed to have a righteous element to it, if that is possible; so I decided to relent, although I must admit that my “good judgment” didn’t put up much of a fight.

So now that I was going to ditch school, I had to decide what I was going to do for the day.  As most of you know, I don't ski and snowboarding was not in vogue yet.  There were not video games and PCs were still on the drawing board.  What to do?  In the middle of breakfast I felt impressed that I should take the opportunity to visit the Genealogical Library in Salt Lake City. I had never been there before. While growing up in the Los Angeles area I had heard people talk about going there and Brother Stephenson in a Genealogy class I had taken said it was a good place to visit, but until today, I was not much interested.  I thought you had to be age sixty-five and retired to get in.  My purpose in going, I determined, would not be to add names to my pedigree charts or family group sheets. Most of that had already been done by other relatives long before I was born. Instead, I wanted to search through the books to see if I could gather stories and other biographical information about any of my ancestors - not just dates and places. I wanted to find out who these people were, what made them tick, what they did for a living, and what they accomplished in their lives. Remember, for the 4 years I lived in Reams Apartments I was voted "Prankster of the Year" and on my last year I never did anything (although I was usually blamed when something happened.)  So this may seem like an odd thing for a somewhat mischievous college student to want to do on a beautiful winter morning; but a still, small voice was whispering from within the depths of my soul that this was something I really needed to do.

I had a wonderful day at the library and was able to collect many accounts of deceased ancestors. But one touched my heart more so than the rest and caused me to spend many subsequent hours in reflection on the events of that day in 1708.

Next week:  The 1708 Massacre of Haverhill, Massachusetts

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Here's a couple of pictures of me from my college days:



Family Home Evening Group.  I am front middle.  Can you spot Richard?




Kim, Me and Cheryl as I prepare to perform in the Belle of the Block contest



Wilda Cash - "Grammie Rampton"

Even though it has been over 50 years, I still have vivid memories of visiting Grammie Rampton.  That was the family name for Wilda Cash Rampton, my great-grandmother.  When she passed away in 1964 she was 91 years old.  Longevity of life seems to be a Cash Family trait.  Her father, Lewis Lundsford Cash was 95 when he died  in 1925.  Her son, Charles Cash Rampton (Grandpa Cash) was 10 days short of being 90 when he died in 1991 which is remarkable considering he smoked and drank most of his adult life.  Grandma (Lois Fae Linnebach) and Grandpa (Charles Cash Rampton, Jr.) use to dress Richard and I up in coats and ties and take us to visit Grammie on Sunday afternoons.  She lived in a large victorian house on at the bottom of the hill on 13th South in Salt Lake City that had been converted into a duplex or fourplex.   Grandpa use to tell us that they would close off 13th South in the winter since it was too steep and icy for cars to make it up in the winter.  I remember liking to play in some curtains that covered one of the walls in her living room.  I also remember getting scolded by Grandma for doing so.

Wilda Cash was born in Kentucky in 1873 to Lewis Lundsford Cash and Nannie Evelyn Stith Cash.  She was the oldest of their 12 children.  She also had 9 brothers and sisters from her father's first marriage (his wife died in 1871).  They were not members of the church.  However, in 1884 her father accepted the message of the restored gospel and was baptized.  This was a big deal in the South as the church was still not well received.  Five years later Wilda and her mother were also  baptized.   She was 16 at the time.  Three years later her father sent her to Utah to be close to the Saints.  He later moved the rest of the family there.  A few years later she met Charles Hyrum Rampton, a widower with 2 young daughters.  They were married 31 January 1894 in the Salt Lake Temple,  9 months after the temple was dedicated.  She, Charles and her two step-daughters, Alice and Afton lived in Bountiful in a house that Charles had built for her (see photos below.)  Grandpa Cash always used to say that it was the first house in Bountiful to have indoor plumbing.  That house is still in existence today although it is a shell of its former grandeur. 

She and Charles had 6 children of their own, 5 daughters and a son (Grandpa Cash).  The youngest daughter was Elaine, who I mentioned in a previous blog.  Below is a short biography that Elaine wrote about her mother in 1957.  

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

LIFE SKETCH OF WILDA CASH RAMPTON

By Elaine Rampton Marsden

            Wilda Cash was born in Howes Valley, Kentucky, June 23, 1873. She was the oldest of twelve children born to Dr. Lewis L. and Nanna Stith Cash. The girls were Wilda, Rue, Rilla, Lillian, Nanna, and Rose. The boys were Dan., Willoughby, Thomas, Carol, John, and Erastus.

            The course of history of this family was changed a great deal by missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Around 1883 a missionary by the name of Louis Kelch and his companion were tracting in Vertrees, Kentucky. They contacted Dr. Cash’s daughter Betty, a daughter by a previous marriages.  She was singularly struck with the similarity of the missionaries’ message to the philosophy her father had taught her. She told them of her father and his beliefs and gave them directions to his home. When the missionaries arrived they were somewhat skeptical, for they beheld a veritable plantation home and from past experiences knew that such homes were not receptive to the gospel message they had. They were permitted entry and afforded an opportunity to present their message.  Dr. Cash was so interested that they stayed up until one o’clock that morning discussing the gospel.  Several years passed.  All the while Dr. Cash studied the Mormon message.  Finally, he decided that he was ready to become a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and traveled all the way to Utah where Elder Kelch performed the baptism.  After this, Dr. Cash returned to Kentucky to get his affairs in order to move to Utah.  At this time Wilda was sixteen years old.  Dr. Cash wanted to make the trip to Utah with his family intact. Because Wilda was keeping pretty regular company with Striggler Glasscock., Dr. Cash decided that his oldest girl should leave that summer for Utah to attend school. Elder John E. Hansen, who was laboring in the mission field at that time, suggested that Wilda stay with his family in Salt Lake. He explained that it wouldn’t be any burden, for he was to be released in a week and would be in Salt Lake before Wilda arrived for school.  The plans were agreed upon. In August of 1889, Wilda left Kentucky by train passing through Louisville, St. Louis, Kansas City, Pueblo, and Colorado Springs on her way west. Her father wired Elder Hansen that his daughter would be arriving, but unfortunately this telegram was not delivered.  When Wilda arrived in Salt Lake City, there was no one to meet her. The first person she encountered was an Englishman with a heavy English brogue. She asked him for directions to the Hansen home, but wasn’t successful in understanding his English accent.  She was as confused as before, but she still was hopeful of finding Elder Hansen.  As she wandered up the street, two girls of about her age came towards her and passed her by. She kept walking and before too long came to an enclosed yard. There working in the yard was Elder Hansen. Was he surprised.  He hurried Wilda into the house to tell his wife. Mrs. Hansen was very surprised. She threw her arms around Wilda and hugged her as if she were her very own. The Hansens, being the wonderful people that they were., showed this warmth and love to Wilda all the while she was with them. Elder Hansen ran to the road and called the two girls back. One was Mrs. Hansen’s sister, Clara Tate; the other was Clara's girl friend, Mary Lyman, the apostle’s daughter. The girls were most cordial and admired the traveling suit Wilda was dressed in and related how they had wondered who was that stranger was who passed them on the street. They all became warm., close friends.

            The first few days in Salt Lake for young Wilda were glorious. Then the pace settled down and Wilda had more time to think and to contemplate her now environment. Something was building up inside of her. Finally she could hold it back no longer and burst into tears. Mr. and Mrs. Hansen were very upset. They thought that they had done something wrong. Wilda told them that nothing was wrong, but that she just had to go home. She was homesick - dreadfully homesick. A letter was written to her father. His reply was that of a strict southern disciplinarian. “Look here young  lady, I’ve sent you to Salt Lake at great expense. I want you to buckle down old forget about coming home!" This only added to the misery. Wilda just had to go home. Finally, her father consented to the trip home and wired her the money. With this turn of events the sickness subsided never to return. Wilda was to stay!  Clara Tate came to stay with the Hansens to go to school with Wilda.  That winter the two girls had a wonderful time together. They attended school at the Social Hall, the University of Deseret.  James Talmadge was the principal at this time. In addition to school activities, they found time to take in an occasional dance at the 20th Ward with Will Phillips and Charlie Rogers.

School ended and summer set in. With fall, the family arrived from Kentucky.  Wilda joined them in Bountiful where they took up residence for a year before moving north to Cache Valley. During this year in Bountiful, Wilda Cash met her husband to be.   It began on the afternoon of the 24th of July. Wilda had been to the parade with Katherine Rampton and Lizzie Stringham.  The group dropped in at the Rampton home. Katherine’s older brother Charles was at home.  It was decided that they'd all go downtown for some ice cream. Wilda and Charles were paired off, followed by the two girls.  This was the beginning of a beautiful romance. Charles, his sister, Katherine, and Wilda attended many functions together.  Charles suggested that they go up to Farmington to the fair. Wilda              thought that world be a wonderful idea. Charles picked her up in his dapper carriage.  This time, however, something was a little different. Katherine wasn’t along. Wilda was surprised! Had Charles Rampton purposely planned this trip this way?   This seemed like a brazen act. She swore that she’d never have such a man for a husband., but in January of 1894 she changed her mind and was married to the "man she wouldn't have" in the Salt Lake Temple. Wilda had moved with her family to Benson in Cache Valley.  Charles made many trips from Bountiful to Benson during the last part of their courtship.  It was agreed that as soon as Charles could build a home in Bountiful, they would be married.  They moved into the new home in 1894 with two small daughters, Afton and Alice, age eight and nine. The girls were Charles’ daughters.   His first wife had died.

Mr. Rampton ran a dry goods store and owned the Opera Home in Bountiful. He was a successful businessman of Davis County. Tragedy struck February 1909, when the Opera House and the Dry Goods Store burned down. With no insurance this was a blow but they were rebuilt and opened in August same year.  Five years later, almost to the day, the store burned down again.  In May at 1916, Mr. Rampton traded the Opera House for a ranch on the Provo River.  This ranch was sold two years later and the Mackey, Idaho Ranch was purchased.  In 1922 the Mackey Ranch was sold and the home at 969 13th South was received as part payment.  By this time the family had grown to eight children. Wilda Cash Rampton wanted her family to receive an education.  In addition to Afton and Alice there were Vivian, Thelma, who died at the age of five, Golda, Cash, Wilda, and the baby, Elaine.

            Wilda Cash Rampton has lived at 969 East 13th South, Salt Lake City, Utah, for thirty-five years now. The last twenty-two have been spent alone, as her partner was taken from her in 1935.  Since that time Wilda Rampton has continued to lead a most active life; active in her church, especially the Relief Society of her ward., keeping up and caring for her home and apartments and taking care of her grandchildren and great grandchildren (six and ten respectively), and traveling.

            One of the outstanding trips in later life taken by Mrs. Rampton took place in 1939 at the invitation of her daughter Wilda (Mrs. Roy A. Legge).  They left Salt Lake in late September and journeyed by train to Chicago, where they were met by daughter Golda (Mrs. Fred J. Miner). After spending some time visiting many friends and all the sights of Chicago, the two daughters and the mother took off for the two great cities of eastern Canada, Montreal and Quebec.  From Canada they traveled down to Boston where they Golda’s husband.  They toured New England, visiting all the old early landmarks of the pilgrims and taking in all the modern sights of the old town.  Mrs. Rampton and Wilda went on down to New York and stayed at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel (This was quite a change for the lady who as a beautiful blond, blue-eyed sixteen year old had trudged up the street in Salt Lake City not knowing where she was going to sleep if she failed to find the Hansen home.  But a loving husband, a son, some wonderful daughters, many wonderful friends, a real character herself over the years and a kind Providence had willed life to be good to Wilda Cash Rampton, she thought, as she rested in the world’s finest  hotel).   Following thrilling days in New York., the trip took them on down through Philadelphia., Washington, D. C., New Orleans, across to El Paso, Texas, around by Los Angeles, where daughter Wilda insisted her mother go on to San Francisco and visit with her for a month.  Always time runs short in San Francisco for Mrs. Rampton where she divides it between daughter Wilda and daughter Vivian (Mrs. Gilbert Cheney), the grandchildren and the great grandchildren.

            Another trip of memorable reflection in the mind of Mrs. Rampton took place in 1948 when she again visited her daughter Golda in Chicago. With Golda and Fred planning a delightful trip, she traveled to her old home State of Kentucky to visit her old friends and see the old landmarks she grew up with.   She had been away for 59 years. This was a wonderful trip for her, filled with childhood memories.  Many things were quite the same.  Many were changed.  The people were extremely glad to see her. The exchange of family ties and connections were the main topics of conversations whether at night, morning, or midnoon.

                                                               

            Perhaps the most thrilling trip ever experienced by this oldest of the "Cash" girls was her maiden air voyager via United Air Lines to the Hawaiian Islands in January 1953.  (This flight does not compare, nor should it of course with the thrills of the young lovers Wilda Cash and Charles Hyrum Rampton riding in and around Bountiful behind the high stepping heels of    well groomed, fancy horses.   Nor, perhaps, when the young wife Wilda a little later on, harnessed, hitched and drove old Prince on the iron tired carriage with her brown-eyed brood alongside.)  Leaving Salt Lake and the snow and January chills, Mrs. Rampton flew to San Francisco.  After visiting Vivian and Wilda and families once again, she soared off over the Pacific Ocean in company with her daughter, Wilda Legge, son-in-law, Roy Legge and their daughter Barbara. Life at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Honolulu for six weeks was the culmination of a life well deserving of such a trip and richly enjoyed by this charming 79 year old gray haired lady.

            But trips away from home are not all the thrilling events for Wilda C. Rampton.  Seeing her only son succeed (C. Cash Rampton is vice-president of Walker Bank and Trust Comply) business-wise and seeing her daughters, grandchildren and great grandchildren well and happy, is her most thrilling experience in life.                                                           

            Celebrating her 80th birthday four years ago at a party given at the home of her youngest daughter Elaine (Mrs. Milo S. Marsden) on June 23, 1953,  holds a warm spot in the heart of Mrs. Rampton. Friends and relatives from far and wide came to wish her many more happy days.  Practically all of the 150 callers - young as well as old - marveled at her youthfulness for eighty years. Now., some four years later, we her family, glory in her rich life of the past, relish her love and sympathy of the present, give her our sincerest and deepest love of every passing hour and pray God’s blessings upon her.

                                                                                  Elaine Rampton Marsden



Wilda Cash Rampton




Wilda Cash Rampton and her son, Charles Cash Rampton




Wilda Cash Rampton with six of her children, left to right: Charles, Vivian, Elaine, Alice (step-daughter), Golda, and Wilda



Charles Hyrum Rampton

On 20 Aug 2006 David and I drove to the Bountiful City Cemetery and photographed some of the old family headstones.  One of them taught me an important lesson about my name.  Charles is a very common name in Rampton genealogy.  Henry Rampton had both a brother and uncle named Charles.  He named his third son Charles Hyrum Rampton.  I always wondered why Grandpa Cash (Charles Cash Rampton) was not Charles Hyrum Rampton, Jr. since I had always assumed that he was the oldest son of Charles Hyrum Rampton.  That day at the cemetery I learned different. 

Charles Hyrum Rampton was born 30 March 1860 in Bountiful, Utah.  He spent most of his life in the blacksmith business, following in his father's footsteps.  He also spent some time in the ranching and livestock business.  In 1882 he married Amanda Pace and within three years they were the proud parents of two daughters, Alice and Afton.   However, in 1888 tragedy struck the young family when Amanda died in child birth along with the infant son.  They were both buried in the Bountiful City Cemetery, each with a separate headstone.  Amanda's read, "Amanda Rampton  1863 - 1888".  The headstone next to hers' read "Charles H. Rampton  1888 - 1888."  Although I have not seen any written record, I assume that is Charles Hyrum Rampton. 

Six years later, at age 34, Charles Hyrum Rampton met and fell in love with a young girl who had just moved to Utah from Kentucky, Wilda Cash.  They were married 31 January 1894 in the Salt Lake Temple.  Their first three children were girls.  But then on 24 December 1901 they were blessed with their first and only son.  Charles wanted to name the new son after himself, but could not use the name Charles Hyrum Rampton again.  So, they decided to change the middle name in honor of Wilda's family.  Hence, Charles Cash Rampton, Grandpa Cash.

note:  one of Grandpa Cash's older sisters, Amanda, married Charles Rendell Mabey, who later became governor of the state of Utah and poet laureaut of the state.  He also spoke at Grandpa's (Charles Cash Rampton, Jr.) missionary farewell along with George Albert Smith.



Charles Hyrum Rampton age 25




Charles Hyrum Rampton age 60




Charles Hyrum Rampton and Wilda Cash Rampton




Grave Marker of Charles Hyrum Rampton in Boutiful City Cemetery




Grave Marker of Amanda Pace Rampton in Bountiful City Cemetery




Grave Marker of Charles Hyrum Rampton, Jr. in Bountiful City Cemetery




Home in Bountiful, Utah that Charles Hyrum Rampton built for Wilda Cash Rampton,  rumored to be the first home in Bountiful with indoor plumbing.



Same house a few years later with Wilda Cash Rampton standing in front

 


Obituary of Charles Hyrum Rampton



Eliza Stratford - Third Wife of Henry Rampton

Several years ago, David and I visited the Bountiful City Cemetery to take photographs of the Rampton headstones.  In the area around the headstone of Henry Rampton was a small stone with a simple engraving:  

Eliza S.

& baby

Jan. 20, 1838

Apr. 25. 1863

This, along with a few sentences in Henry Rampton's journal were all the earthly writings concerning this young woman that I was aware of.  In a way, that made me sad.  Here were the earthly remains of this young woman, third wife of Henry Rampton, and we hardly knew anything about her.  So recently I set out to find out all I could about her.  She, like Henry was a convert to the Gospel in England and immigrated to the Great Salt Lake Valley.  One of her older sisters was the wife of Charles W. Penrose, who later became a member of the Quorum of the Twelve and a member of the First Presidency of the Church under President Joseph F. Smith.  A younger sister with whom she traveled to the United States was the wife of William Budge who had baptized Henry Rampton in 1853.  I assume Brother Budge was the one who introduced Eliza and Henry.  At any rate, I decided that I would take all the information I found and report it in the form of an obituary.  I was also able to find some old photos of her father, mother and one older sister. 

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

Monday, 27 April 1863

Dozens Mourn Eliza Rampton

Bountiful Woman Died in Childbirth

Dozens of mourners, including family and friends gathered today at Bountiful City Cemetery to pay their final respects to Eliza Stratford Rampton, wife of long-time Bountiful resident, Henry Rampton, who died Saturday in childbirth along with her baby son.  She was 25. 

Eliza Stratford was born 20 January 1838 in Malden, Essex, England, daughter of George Stratford and Eliza Barwell.  Her father was a cabinet maker and would sometimes take his daughters to work with him.  She learned of the restored gospel while in her early teens.  Her mother was baptized on 17 April 1851.  Within two months the rest of the Stratford family who were of age entered into the waters of baptism.  Like many of the converts in England, the Stratford family desired to migrate to the Great Salt Lake Valley, but were of limited means.  Eliza left England on 11 May 1860 with her sister Julia and Julia's husband, William Budge, who seven years earlier had baptized Henry Rampton.  They sailed across the Atlantic on the ship William Tapscot along with 730 other saints arriving in New York City on 15 June.  They were detained in quarantine for 5 days due to cases of small pox that had broken out among several of the passengers, although none proved fatal.  Previous ships bringing Saints from Europe had sailed to New Orleans and then up the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers to Florence, Nebraska at which point they headed west.  However, because of the outbreak of the Civil War, that more direct route was no longer available.   From New York City Eliza traveled up the Hudson River to Albany and then westward via train to Rochester and Niagara Falls.  How thrilling it must have been to cross the suspension bridge into Canada and witness the majesty of the American and Horseshoe Falls.  Her group continued to travel west until they re-entered the United States and took a steamboat down to Florence, Nebraska where they finalized their preparations to head to the Valley of the Great Salt Lake.  Eliza's brother-in-law, William Budge was assigned to captain the wagon train that left Florence on 20 July 1860.  It was a blessing for Eliza to be able to travel with her sister and brother-in-law in a strange land and through formidable territory.  She was also blessed in that the wagon she was assigned was the lead wagon, preventing her from having to breathe the dust from the other wagons.  The wagon train arrived in Salt Lake City on 6 Oct 1860.

A year later Eliza's father and mother would embark for Utah.  Tragedy struck the Stratford family when her father, George died during the journey and was buried on the plains of Nebraska.

Sometime during the first two years after her arrival in Utah, Eliza was introduced to Henry Rampton, noted blacksmith in the Bountiful area.  They were married in the Endowment House in Salt Lake City on 29 March 1862. 

 
Eliza is survived by her husband, Henry, his wife Frances Dinwoodey Rampton, her mother Eliza Barwell Stratford, brother, Edwin Stratford (Mrs. Marianne Crabb Straford), and sisters Lucetta Penrose (Mr. Charles W. Penrose), Julia Budge (Mr. William Budge), Anne Robinson (Mr. Oliver Robinson) and Emily Stratford.

Eliza Barwell Stratford - mother of Eliza Stratford Rampton



Headstone of Eliza Stratford Rampton and her baby



George Stratford - father of Eliza Stratford Rampton

Lucetta Stratford Penrose - older sister of Eliza Stratford Rampton