The Rest of the Story from Donna Ottley

Time passed... no evidence.... accusations. It's he, no him, maybe that one there. Jesse and Frank were prime suspects.

But, years went by, silence, no ring-a-ling, no bell, just silence.

The time came when Frank wanted to remodel. The 'everything' room had to be changed. No room for the bell. Bell must go. So again, Jesse and Frank armed with crowbar and groans moved down the stairs.

Bell found a new home, but where? The Gang knew and they smiled and smiled.

Time passed on. Talk was of hanging the bell in the park. There was no agreement.

But then time passed on and along came new blood. Jesse's grandson could now share the mystery and unveil the bell and set it atop the Community Center. Frank agreed. Belle agreed. Part of the Gang watched from above.

Again Elba Valley resonates with the sound of the bell.

Frank and Belle listen, satisfied. Ding, dong, ding, dong clangs the bell!

All is well.

Contributed by Edris and Orvil Sears.

The Legend of the Bell provided by Donna Ottley

Sorry that I have not posted for so long. Robert and I went to Boston and then it took a week to get back to rights.

Here is an interesting story.....provided by Donna Ottley

Many tales of daring desperadoes have come out of the West. But none can equal the abduction of "the bell" in Elba, Idaho.

The Bell, about 500 pounds of cast iron, had hung in the school house belfry for years. It summoned scholars to 'larnin' and announced emergencies and fires, and clanged its way as a permanent fixture of the small mountain community.

The school had been closed. Rumors were that the school district personnel were coming to claim the bell.

Word was conveyed to local outlaws who planned in whispers to save the bell. Tension mounted as the striking hour drew nigh.

In the gathering dusk and darkness, Jesse James, (alias Orvil Beecher) and his cousin Frank, (alias Orvil Sears) aided by Belle Star (Debra) and Calamity Jane, (Marilyn) met for the rendezvous.

They scaled the school house walls armed with ropes and a hacksaw, sawed the bolts and loosened the bell from its moorings, and removed the frame and clapper. Then they met the first obstacle. The bell wouldn't slide. It had to be dragged down the steep roof, angled over the south portico and lowered with ropes to the get-away car, Jessie's pickup.

Where to hide it? Suggestions came from a nearly sawmill operator to hide it in his sawdust pile. Choices were few and decisions must be hasty.

It was taken to Frank's house, toted up the stairs by way of crowbar and groans, and deposited in the 'everything' room.

Midnight was nigh and Jesse, Belle, and Calamity stealthily departed. School officials came the next morning and climbed to the roof, but NO BELL!

Speculation ran rampant. Neighbor accused neighbor. One local patron argued that he didn't want to be a part of it and be considered a thief.

Reverberations of "the bell" still linger in this valley and in wild imagination one can detect a clanging of its clapper. "THE BELL, WHERE IS THE BELL?"

But to this day no one has "for sartin" solved the mystery. "The Bell" has never been seen, but by those who were in "the gang!"

Fred E. Ottley's Parents by Ewart Ottley

"I think of our sweet mother and dad but will never know the love, anxiety, compassion, and respect they had for each other and for nine boys and girls.  I try to feel that love when I think of the care they gave us.  How often I was awakened by a sweet mother's touch as she went from bed to bed to see that all was well before she went to bed.  The coming of her and Dad to the side of my bed when I was sick or had the earache was always a comfort to me.  Their getting up at all hours of the night to give medicine and to see that all was all right goes to show their love for us.  I know we are all thankful for them and each other.  We were kids together.  I think of and I believe the sweetest thing I ever saw in my life, at least something that has always stayed with me happened in what we called the front room.  I was about eight or nine years old and was going to school.  I would hurry home from school as Thirza was very sick.  So sick I remember well this night.  We kids were in the front room.  Mother held Thirza in her arms doing everything for her that she knew how.  I heard Mother say, "oh, she's gone."  Everything was quiet.  Father, knew of a greater power which he used.  All was most silent.

A few days later as I hurried home from school I walked over to the cradle where Thirza lay and she looked up and smiled.  I shall never forget her and how I felt.  I still have that same feeling in my heart."

Reminisces of Ewart A. Ottley

Ewart is Grandpa Fred E. Ottley's brother. This is something he wrote about how he remembered his childhood which was also Grandpa Ottley's childhood. Ewart is child number 4 and Grandpa is child number 6.

"...I think of the front room being the place where nine kids grew up, where they learned to love each other and to respect Mother and Father. (Father for sure.) The place where company was entertained; yes, a place for someone to sleep; often the sick room. This place for kids to play those long winter nights. I think of where the beds were and who slept in them; of times when some one would be sick and where they would have a bed while sick. I think of the walls and how they were covered with paper; not beautiful, designed paper, but just newspaper which made entertainment for kids at times, describing different things on the walls and others guessing what and where it was. I think of coming into the house on those cold wintry nights and how Dad loved to read the newspapers that came two times a week. I think of how the lamps were filled with oil; the chimneys cleaned, wicks trimmed, and how they were carried from room to room.

I think of the toiling hands of a sweet mother that made children ready for school when they got to that age. I think of the anxiety of a loving dad getting them to and from school under adverse conditions cold, snow, mud, rain. I think of the concern of both of them on Sunday morning getting all ready and all going to Church; how old Tom and Ebb were hitched to the white-top, the best way of transportation...."

More tomorrow.

Frederick Edward Ottley 1903 - 1968

Frederick Edward Ottley was born on June 24, 1903 in Elba, Idaho. He was the 6th of 9 children born to Frederick Hugh and Abigail Celecta Lewis Ottley. He attended 8 years of school in Elba. He failed the first year of eighth grade and passed the second but went back a third year for lack of anything better to do, figuring that he couldn't help but improve himself.

He was married twice. First to Vivian Udy and secondly to Inez Bennett.

His children are: Dean, Harold, Leo, Deloy, Hugh, Gwen, Maxine, Vivian, Susan, David, and Robert. All of the children were born when Fred lived in Elba.

When Fred married Vivian they first lived on the Udy ranch and Dean, Harold, Leon and Deloy were born there. The family then moved to a two room log house on Lewis' (Brother to Fred) original old place, then to the home where Antelope Springs is located. A fifth son, Hugh, was born there. Cassia Creek ran diagonally along through this eighty acres, only part of which was suitable for cultivation. After a short time Fred added two more rooms to the house, also a two room log building, and Gwen and Maxine were added to the family. Deloy recalled going to Flat Canyon to get a load of sawdust from the sawmill there. This was used in the attic for insulation. Depression years were lean and Fred and Vivian picked fruit on shares and Vivian sold baked goods at the fairs. Fred had eight or ten milk cows and milk was a cash crop at the creamery in Burley, picked up by truck at Elba farms. The family sold eggs and grew a large garden. It often seemed as if the whole summer was spent in preparation for winter.

Wood hauling was an all day job and Fred's boys, as they grew older, helped out, sustained by lunches packed in a flour sack, to be eaten by the creek. After threshing they would take three days going over the mountain to Oakley with four head of horses with wheat to be ground into flour. This was placed in the attic, suspended on a rack, safe from mice. The old log house was infested with mice who multiplied faster than traps could be set to catch them.

Fred worked for the WPA for a time on road and ditch building. In the early 40's Kraft Cheese opened a factory in Malta and Fred contracted to haul milk for Elba and Almo. Eventually two trucks were in operation with the older boys taking turns driving the routes with Fred, often very early in the morning before school. Bad roads and winter were a constant headache. Sometimes horse, wagon and sleighs were put to use and often the mud-mired trucks were still being dug out long after dark.

In 1944 Vivian Agnes was born. Complications occurred and the mother, Vivian, needed hospitalization. A severe winter and snowdrifts meant a half mile by sleigh to get her to a car and on to Burley, thirty-five miles distant. On April 14, 1944 Vivian died at the age of forty, leaving her husband and eight children, the youngest a month old. Fred was 40 years old also. For a time the younger children were placed with relatives. Dean and Harold went into the Service during World War II. Fred was determined to reunite his family.

After a short courtship, Fred was married in January 1945 to Inez. Hugh, Gwen, and Maxine moved back home. Vivian remained with her maternal grandmother, and the older boys were only at home sporadically, so Fred's desire to unite the family again was never fulfilled.

Susan, David, and Robert were born to Fred and Inez while they still lived in Elba. Life continued.

In 1951 Fred lost the milk route and jobs were hard to find. Leo and Hugh were both married by now, and Deloy just returned from his mission. These four went to Hill Air Force Base in Ogden, Utah to apply for jobs -- successfully. From then on, Fred and Inez and family lived in Utah, settling in Clearfield on a 3/4 acre place where Fred raised a cow, pigs, chickens, and a garden. He always liked to farm. Later a move was made to a larger place and here a rental house and apartment was maintained on the property. Fred was always busy in his spare time.

In October of 1968, at age 65, Fred suffered a heart attack and apparently recovered, but in December he had a second fatal attack. Only the day before he died he had talked about his plans to visit a grandchild and to go see R. M. Maxfield, an old friend in the hospital.

Inez survived Fred and continued living in Utah and California until she passed away in May of 1980.

In 1984, Fred's family had grown to 121 souls. It will be interesting to see how many have been added since in the following quarter of a century.

It is said that Fred was easy going, liked practical jokes, and was quick to laugh. He would stop by his mother's home for a chat after doing the milk run and it is said that Grandma Abigail would get annoyed, not because she didn't want to see him, but because he smelled to high heaven of whey spilled on his clothes. Fred never paid any attention because he had no sense of smell.

His brothers and sisters claimed that Fred, when his father was away from home for any length of time would make a beeline for Fred senior's bedroom. Alice remembered him playing with the razor and having nicks and cuts all over himself. Etta recalled that Fred took apart his father's watch.

More rooms in the house that Grandpa Ottley grew up in.

Just inside the south door to the left was Fred and Abbie's room.  It too had rag carpeting over straw on the floor, a south-facing window, and white lace curtains.  A large wardrobe served as a closet, and there was a chiffonier and a bureau.  A treadle sewing machine must have also been in this room.  On the wall from an oval frame Aunt Matilda looked down, holding a child, Freddie who was Abbie and Matilda's younger brother - drowned in childhood.  Pressed flowers from his grave were mounted under the glass in a corner of the frame.

Kitchen and Summer Porch

Going from the front room to the kitchen through a door just past the stairway wall, one met a hubbub of activity at all times.  This was where the family truly lived from sunup to sundown, winter and summer.  Here, it seemed, Grandma (Abbie) was always present, the center of magical aromas from roasts or chickens cooking, bread baking (everyday) and often fruit pies underway.  The wood-burning, ornately patterned, silver and black cast-iron cook stove was a functional marvel.  It held warming ovens above the huge cooking surface which heated irons as well as food, a reservoir kept water hot for dish washing, laundry, and baths, and the cook stove had an enormous, yawning mouth of an oven for baking.  There was a firebox on one side and an end grate for removing ashes or warming cold feet.  The burning coals were soothing to watch from the nearby rocking chair while being rocked on a mother's aproned, lap.  Simmering in a kettle on the back of the stove some days were be Grandpa's (Fred H.) grain mash for the pigs.

A large table, besides being used to serve meals, was used to mix bread, can, preserve, prepare fruits and vegetables, stack ironing on and wash and rinse dishes in two metal dishpans.  During school time it was used for homework and family prayers were said around it.  The kitchen also held a tall dish cupboard with drawers for "silverware."  A wash bench and table held a bucket of water, dipper, and wash basin.  All water was carried from a pump installed near the well. Above the bench hung an ornate tin comb and bush holder, a shaving mirror, roller towel bar, and Grandpa's razor strap.  In summer the wash-up corner was moved to the summer kitchen and at times the cooking range was there also.

A large open walk-in pantry ran along the west kitchen wall.  It had a tall window and storage cupboards.  Dishpans hung on the wall, the flour bin had a hinged, slant top, and an indoor dirt potato pit was dug under the floor, opened by double hinged doors.  A pie tin safe was used to keep butter, eggs, milk, and cheese fresh.  Floors were covered with linoleum and were always scrubbed each Saturday.  The walls were originally papered with newspapers and the children would play guessing games about a word, subject, or drawing from the newsprint.  A lean-to porch was enclosed to make what was called the summer kitchen.  It held milking buckets, separator, outdoor clothing on  nails, a table for meat-cutting and food preparation, the wooden washing machine, washboard, copper boiler, and galvanized tubs.  In summer washing was done out on the small open porch adjacent, where lye soap was also cooked in tubs.  Often the family sat here to snap beans, pod peas, and scrape new potatoes.

Upstairs

Above the closed-in, short and steep staircase was a tiny landing papered in a red/maroon color.  A turn to the left entered the girls' bedroom and to the right the boys' quarters.  Also to the right of the stairs was a curtained storage area where rags and rug materials and old clothes were kept.  Earlier, nails had sufficed for hanging clothes and a box was used for a lamp table in the girls' room.  Then a dressing table-shelf with a chintz skirt was added and a curtained closet.  Boxes were used to store treasures and keepsakes under beds.  Etta and Alice shared one bed.  Teggie and Celecta shared the other.  Thirza took turns sleeping in both beds, having no assigned spot.  A window faced West here.  In the boys' room in wintertime sometimes the stove pipe would get red hot, but this was backed by a wall made of brick.  Fred and Henry's bed was in one corner and Lewis an Ewart shared the other bed.  The window in this room faced East.  In both bedrooms beds held straw mattresses, feather pillows, and bedding entirely homemade.  Again, newspapers covered some of the rough limber walls, later replaced by wallpaper and floors were bare wood.

Hardships were not remembered when the "children" in their seventies and eighties were interviewed about their home.  They recall the good times, the love, and the closeness of a life whose style is gone forever.  As Ewart said with tears in his eyes, "Our real heritage is the memory of those dedicated parents who made it a home to us all."

Friday, 5 June 2009

Sorry for not posting tonight. We went to a wedding reception and I also helped serve and clean up afterwards. It is the start of a new family. And that is what it is all about.

Maybe I can post double tomorrow.

Ottley Family Homestead - Part II

Picture this home as you read the following. Remember, it is the place where Grandpa Ottley, Frederick Edward Ottley was born and raised.

"As families grow and change, so does the house they inhabit. Memory is selective in all of us. Everyone recalls a time and a place differently. From 1893 when Fred and Abbie Ottley began married life in a two-room log house, to 1927 when they left, 34 years passed away. The time chosen to describe the home is 1910 when all the children were born and were still at home.

Living Room (Front room)

Facing South, the front door opened into what was always called the "front room." Two hug tubs of oleanders bloomed there and facing the entry were narrow, enclosed stairs leading to two upstairs bedrooms. Under the stairs was a "cubby-hole" storage area for laundry and medicines. A mammoth walnut pump organ stood alongside the staircase. It had been ordered from a Sears Roebuck catalog whose packing box was used by the children to play "store." Two windows faced South and East, geraniums growing in pots on the windowsills. Curtains were of starched white lace and dark green pull-down blinds kept the room cool and pleasant in summertime. There was an oblong black heating stove on the East wall whose stovepipe went through the ceiling heating one upstairs bedroom. Along the north was was a wire cot with drop-leaves covered with quilts. This was used for company, as Grandad's resting place and for sick children.

In one corner were wall shelves holding precious plates from England and a white porcelain hen atop a nest. These shelves had fancy napkins placed on them, three per shelf arranged to show a pretty border. Above two doors hung embroidered samplers which said, "Home Sweet Home" and "Welcome." Photographs on the wall in old gilt frames were of Grandad's mother and Granmother's father. In early days log and board walls were covered by a heavy cheesecloth-like fabric called factory. Then "whitewashed" with a lime solution but later beige colored wallpaper was purchased and hung. Ceilings were whitewashed and the paper had a narrow border, usually of flowers where walls and ceiling met.

Wood floors in the front room were covered in carpets made from saved rags. These Grandmother would sew together in long strips and two children would sit beside the sewing machine on the floor -- one to cut threads and the other to wind the lengths into large balls. These would then be sent to Liza Chandler who would weave the carpeting. Grandmother was very creative, often using the children's color crayons to achieve the combination she wanted Liza to make.

Spring housecleaning was a glorious upheaval and meant days of hard work. Bed ticks (mattresses covered in heavy canvas ticking) were filled with fresh straw, pillows with new feathers. Carpets were taken up, cleaned, and new straw placed on the floor. Then the carpets were refastened with tacks over this fresh padding which was wonderful to walk on for a long time. the stove would be taken out by the menfolk to reside in a shed or granary and a tin "plate" painted in a pastoral scene was used to cover the stovepipe opening. Curtains would all be washed, blued, starched, stretched, ironed, and re-hung at just-washed windows.

Pictures of the Reunion T-Shirts

The cost of the shirts is $7.00 each and they are available is Youth and Adult Sizes.

 

Youth XS (2-4) S (6-8) M (10-12) L (14-16)

Adult Women’s S-XL

Adult Men’s (S-6XL)

 

Please have the orders sent to Julia Layton at juliaL@amazingscreenprinting.com or phoned in to her at:

 (801) 656-5601. 

She will send everyone that submits an order an e-mailed confirmation.  If you don’t receive an e-mailed confirmation of your order --- please resend or call. 

Be It Ever So Humble

Soft hills in the background are covered with blue-gray sagebrush and willow trees marked creeks, one of them Cassia Creek which meanders all through Elba and in to Malta, flowing past what became the second Ottley home in 1927, some 10 miles away.

This house looks peaceful, quiet, and unpeopled. Yet we know that people lived here and long ago it must have looked very different. Between the house and the sheds would have been sounds of busy life as children played, tended to livestock, gathered eggs, chopped wood, sharpened mower knives, or pulled cold buckets of water from the well. Grandma Ottley (Abbie) might be in the garden gathering radishes, onions, peas, or new potatoes for dinner, while Grandpa Ottley (Fred) would be busy on the plow or out in the field.

Grandpa Ottley bought this place, 80 acres, in Elba, Idaho, in 1889 from a man named Sam Wood. It cost $1,000 and the down payment was 25 head of cattle. At the time he was not yet married; four years later he and his new bride came to live here. In the early days, remembered by the older children, the house was a two-room log building, with a dirt roof which leaked, and on which purple flowers grew in the spring. There was a dirt floor later replaced by rough boards. More rooms were added, logs were added to make an attic, and a shingled roof replaced sod. The addition was boards, not log. Grandpa's brother, Edward, (Uncle Ted) came from Utah to help with carpentry work.

A photograph cannot describe the smells of a summer day of barnyard and horses, leather, sagebrush after rain, wild roses, or new-mown hay. Nor can one hear the lazy hum of bees, the sound of robins, meadow larks, killdeer, and sparrows whose nests would be in trees, not seen in an orchard to the south, were planted. There were apples, pears, peaches, and plums, as well as strawberries, raspberries, and currants. The vegetable garden across the road yielded peas, potatoes, squash, onions, carrots, and turnips, some of which were stored in the earthy-smelling cellar at summer's end. Extra food grown was taken to nearby towns to be sold. The fruit cellar held a multi-colored assortment of bottled fruits, jellies, jams, and pickles, all products of long hours of labor over a hot stove on hot days.

At night, bathed in moonlight and shadow, the glow of coal oil lamps would be a bright orange pinpoint of light from windows, and the sounds of crickets, frogs, a hoot owl, or coyotes on the hill would be heard by those venturing out of doors to the outhouse, to do late chores, or arriving home in the horse-drawn buggy.

Another whole landscape is possible, imagining the house in winter, when tree limbs would be bare of leaves and paths through the snow go from the house to barns and sheds. The odor of woodsmoke reminds of warmth by the fire and the house would look altogether different under a blanket of soft white where fences might be completely buried under deep drifts of snow. The silence here would be broken only by the creak of frozen tree branches and the crunch of ice underfoot as one plodded to do chores and tend to restless animals. Children muffled, mittened, and scarved against winter winds would call in voices sharp and clear on the frosty air. In the space between the house and outbuildings there might be a large circle drawn in the snow for playing fox and geese. Older children might be just returning from Parishes hill, pulling homemade sleds.

Nine children were raised here. By 1904 there was a kitchen, living room (front) and bedroom downstairs, and enclosed stairs led to two bedrooms above, one for the boys and one for the girls. Life was good to the family who grew up here. Their lives were enriched by many happy, shared memories through the years. The house, empty of voices now for long years, has fallen into disuse and no longer looks like the one in a photograph which hung on the wall for years, taken by an itinerant photographer. Yet the place lives still in the hearts and minds of the brothers and sisters who called it home.

Moving into the 20th Century

Around 1888 John Darrington donated land for a Relief Society building. It was made of red brick and is still in use (1984) across from the Church house. Local women raised funds from projects ranging from selling eggs and butter to holding box socials. The building was dedicated in 1902. Sophia Ottley was the first president. In 1876, Brigham Young requested the Relief Society women to undertake a grain storage project. Granaries were built and the congregation saved whatever they could spare in specially made bins. During World War I this supply was sold and the money placed in the Burley State Bank. Unfortunately, the bank went broke and the Relief Society sisters were $600 out of savings. The little one room building has undergone some change through the years...it has a different entrance, a new fence, a fireplace, and has been wired for electricity, all financed by persons in the community.

During WWI fifteen men from Elba went into their country's service and there were fifty-eight enlisted boys and girls serving in WWII. Two were killed in action.

In November 1940, the Rural Electric Association brought electricity to Elba, Almo, and Malta, and coal oil lamps were no more. This modernization revolutionalized living for most residents, bringing lights, new style washing machines, refrigeration, and electric cookstoves.

Elba's cemetery lies East of town in a fenced area surrounded by sagebrush. When Etta Hull remarked once to her mother how forlorn and desolate it seemed to be buried there, Abbie said, "I can't think of a more beautiful sight on resurrection morning than to see this valley and these mountains." It has become the final resting place for many Ottleys and their friends and neighbors.

Abbie passed away May 22, 1952 and was buried in the Elba Cemetery.