Thursday, January 24, 2019

Leona Smart Parkinson Monson


Wedding photo 1895 and Leona in about 1923


Mother
My Mother
Leona Smart Parkinson Monson
(March 15, 1877 – March 10, 1930)

My mother was born in Franklin, Oneida County, Idaho on March 15, 1877.  She was the daughter of Samuel Rose Parkinson and Charlotte Elizabeth Smart Parkinson.  Her father was one of the first settlers (if not the first) in the State of Idaho, and was one of the founders of Franklin, the first town in the State of Idaho.  Her mother was the daughter of Thomas Sharratt Smart, the founder of what is now Utah State University, in Logan, Utah.  They were of English descent, the Parkinson line from Barrowford near Nelson, and just outside Liverpool and later Stockport, near Manchester, in England, while the Smart line comes down from Birmingham, nearer London, in England.  The town of Barrowford dates back to the early Romans who occupied England from 42 AD to 406 AD.  Many of the stone buildings, little bridges and cobblestone roads still remain.  The town has not grown perceptibly since its early founding.  Many, like my grandfather and his mother, Charlotte Rose, apparently left and never returned.  It is just that kind of a town, “where the tide goes out and never returns.”  The reason would seem to lie in the fact that this was a textile town, and when the Irish came to Liverpool during the Irish potato famine, wages were driven down, nad those working in the mills were forced to migrate to other areas where they might find better working conditions.  William Parkinson, the father of Samuel was said to have been a part-time minister in the Methodist Church in Barrowford and to have been buried in the little graveyard alongside this church.  

As I visited Barrowford in early April, 1966, I could find no tombstone marking for William Parkinson in this graveyard, nor could I find any marking for Susanna, said to be a sister and buried there, yet I did find a tombstone over the grave of one “Susannah, the Beloved Wife of William Walls of Burnley, Born February 25, 1810 and Died June 27, 1864.”  Perhaps this is the same one, but I wouldn’t know.  I could find nothing on where the family lived in Barrowford, although I might have found this and the burial site of my great-grandfather had I been able to search the church records.  I was pressed for time to take the SS France out of Southampton the next day, April 8th, and, therefore, could not wait the return of the minister who, at the time, was out of town.  The mother and Samuel, then a boy of about five, went to Stockport, near Manchester, ostensibly in search of work, for the mother, a textile work, in the textile mills there.  This too became depressed in later years, as Samuel set off for America. (See Vivian Taylor account).  As I visited Stockport in early February, 1966, I found the library with an amazing record of everyone who had ever lived there since the record keeping practice was started sometime before the Norman Conquest of 1066 AD.  There were volumes on the Parkinson family on the second floor of this fine library, and librarians not only very competent, but very anxious, to help.  One could even find the voting records that were kept on each individual, and how he or she voted.  I,  personally, became somewhat bewildered at the amount of the information brought to me on the Parkinson family, and somewhat frustrated because I did not have the specifics with me to take down particular progenitors in this line, either as to where they lived, what they did, or where they were buried.  I went to the cemetery, and there I had the same experience.  Good records and competent people, willing and anxious to help, but more specifics were needed.  The graves were six deep under one marker and were in very close formation extending literally as far as the eye could see.  I could see.  I could not find any tombstones, records, or places where they might have lived in Stockport.  There is a fine church located in Stockport, which seems to be quite active, so further inquiry might be directed there – and to the library, (as this is written mother’s youngest sister, Vivian, is in England with her husband Wayne B. Hales, and she apparently will check all of this through to complete the records).  Birmingham is a large industrial city, rather dull and drab because of its many old factories all reminiscent of another day.  There is probably no place in all England, however, that produced more skilled artisans than Birmingham.  It was from such places as this that early America, particularly New England, received its first mechanics, those which made it possible to manufacture for the needs of the colonies.  In Birmingham there are many Smart families in the telephone book, and in the library references.  It is, undoubtedly, one of the best families in the area judging from the respect the name is given whenever inquiry is made.  It is said that God must have screen all of England, took the choicest of them all and then planted them down in New England to start a new and great nation.  Certainly, Samuel Parkinson and Thomas Sharratt Smart would place high among the early settlers of America from England and their individual contributions to the building of the west among the most valued.

My mother was the fifth child born to Samuel and Charlotte Parkinson.  Her father was 46 at the time and her mother was 28.  Aunt Annie, the eldest child was born ten years earlier and then came Aunt Lucy, Uncle Jose and Uncle Fred.  After my mother came Aunt Bertha, Aunt Eva, Aunt Hazel, Aunt Nettie, and Aunt Vivian who was born when her father was 61.  This was a fine family, indeed, as were the first and third families in this polygamous marriage.  One naturally finds within ones of the family closer than others, which is natural in any human relationship.  As I was born in Preston and spent the early years of my boyhood there, I found that Aunt Bertha and Uncle Nephi, Aunt Annie and Uncle Leon, and my grandmother were always closest to me.  I do not mean to discount any of the others in the family, for I certainly loved to be with my Uncle Joe and Uncle Fred, and their families, and my very gracious and fine Aunt Lucy and her family, and Aunt Vivian and Uncle Lester in later years.  But Preston held everything for me then, and those wonderful families, including that of Uncle George of the first family, Uncle Ezra and Aunt Olive of the third family, helped make this one of the most beautiful periods of my life.  Later periods, in Ogden, London, New York City and Brooklyn, and Salt Lake City, periods while I was living at home with my parents and reaching maturity, all had their beautiful influences but, Preston and then Ogden were ones of great happiness in my life.

In my own family there were, all told, ten children, Elna Rose who died in infancy, Walter, Jr. [Walter Peter Monson’s son was named Walter Parkinson Monson], Venna, LaFayette, DeLysle, Weldon, Blanche, Maurice, Keyne and Richard.  At this writing six remain, Walter, LaFayette, Weldon, Blanche, Maurice and Keyne.  If one were to take the children of all three families of my grandfather and chart their real achievements in life they would see a most impressive record.  They would find an apostle, some heads of some of the nation’s best industries, a Dean, professors, a member of Congress, lawyers, doctors, business men, excellent farmers and dairymen, etc all in turn, rearing fine families, members of which, in turn, are equipping themselves for leadership in various fields.

It is with this in mind that I write about my mother.  It would seem enough to measure her life with the great achievements of her husband and children.  Ordinarily, in today’s society, the rearing of a good family and the establishment of a good name among people in all walks of life, would render to motherhood a sacred, immortal place among good people.  My mother achieved this, without great ambition concerning the acquisition of things of this world, or seeking high office, of pretending a false sophistication in things intellectual, in dwelling on people she might have known with “names,” or of parading false values before others to achieve personal standing, acceptance or acclaim before social groups.  She had none of these tendencies, yet she was admired far above the self-seeker, and not only known, but loved, by those who knew her, and there were many, in all walks of life.  It was because she was so real, so gracious and naturally charming in personality and character, so lovely in spirit, and so generous, that she became widely known and deeply loved.  Her first love was her God; and only after Him came her husband and family.  She walked proudly but humbly through all circumstances, some very difficult, in her life.  She always smiled even under the greatest adversity.  She had courage, always.  Even in her last hours as she lay on her bed at the L.D.S. Hospital in Salt Lake, knowing that she would never return home, or to ever walk again, she knew that my brother Lysle and I, who were visiting her at the time, wanted to see the Montana State – Utah basketball game which was about to start, graciously, even majestically, held out her hand to me, and with Lysle close, said, “now you boys go on to the basketball game and I’ll  just visit here with Vera (Vera Wright of Ogden) who had just come in the room.  That was the last time we saw our wonderful mother alive.  The next morning a blood clot took her away.  She had been living under morphine to kill the pain but she knew, I believe, that her type of blood cancer (myelogenous leukemia) was fatal.  She would say that in lying there it was like seeing the walls close in a little each day until finally you could breathe no more.  She likened this to the action of the spleen within her which grew each day larger and larger, manufacturing more white corpuscles than red, until the latter became so outnumbered that they would band together to fight over the overwhelming number of white, and that would bring about the blood clot.  She spoke of these things always with that beautiful, confident smile.  She spoke ill of no one, and her last words were always words of encouragement and good cheer for others.  If it had a little cold, that would be her concern not her own incurable sickness.  She did not feel sorry for herself at any time, and she never cried.  She was one of God’s choice spirits, and certainly the most wonderful mother one could ever have.

I remember her taking her large family of children on trains to the big cities of far off places.  How she did it will always be a source of great wonderment to me.  In England one time we had just pulled out of a station and my mother starting calling the roll of her family.  I was not on the train.  So the conductor had the train back up to the station and everyone got off the strain and started looking for me.  They found me walking along the sidewalk, looking in the windows, and generally taking in the town.  I was all of six of seven years old and should have known better.

I could relate many instances throughout life just like the above, but I think her greatest character was shown in her last sickness and the period we lived at 1888 South 11th East Street, in Salt Lake City.  It was an old house, with no furnace or hot water, but just a coal stove in the kitchen (kitchen range).  On this meals were cooked, water heated (even for baths) and from this we heated the house.  Under these humble circumstances one might expect discouragement.  But not in this home with mother around.  She made it radiate with happiness and one could feel the rich spirit in the home the moment of entering it.  My mother used to say how much she loved that home and once she told me that she never wanted to leave it, that she wanted to spend the rest of her days there.  Even as she showed the signs of her sickness she never lost her smile, and seemed to feel that her place as a mother, and a wife, was to continue right to the last.  She was not afraid of death.  Her only fear, she told me in the hospital, was that the family would become scattered and not see each other, possibly not even speaking to each other for long periods of time.  I think she knew these things might very well happen – as they have. 

Her devotion to the church was deep, truthful, and sincere.  This was what she and Dad would sacrifice everything for and trust in God for the rest.  The many decisions made in life were always with service to God and to one’s fellow man as the only consideration.  They did not sidle up to authorities for office, or a mission to preside over; the authorities always came to them and they readily responded.  They did not wait until retirement and then, to fill in their time, or to ge the assurance of having the best of the two worlds, go on a mission.  No they did not believe in religion in just this way.  Religion was first, last and always in their lives, regardless of the sacrifice.




[Kris' Note:  2019, In sorting through boxes of Maurice and Bo's family history documents, I found a folder with Blanche's life stories of her parents, Walter and Leona Monson.  I have transcribed and posted it here.]

Walter Peter Monson
Leona Smart Parkinson Monson
Dad and Mother
Their Life Stories
The following account was written by their daughter
Blanche M. Wunderli
From her recollections and information obtained from family sources
April 12, 1995

Dad was born June 30, 1875, to Christian Hans and Ellen Persson Manssen Monson in Richmond, Utah; the fifth of eleven children.  His father was of Norwegian ancestry; his mother, Swedish.

Mother was born March 25, 1877, to Samuel Rose and Charlotte Elizabeth Smart Parkinson in Franklin, Idaho; the fifth of ten children.  Her parents were both of English descent.

Dad obtained only a limited formal education through most of elementary school, after which his education had really only begun, for as he matured he became an ardent reader, especially of great literature, and his life reflected a high intellect with a wide range of aptitudes and accomplishments.  Mother’s formal education was in conformance with the times and setting.  Her aptitudes and interests, of which there were many, were to revolve around her role as a dedicated wife and mother.

Dad’s father was a carpenter and builder, and Dad, with his older brothers, worked at his sawmill, and learned from him skiolls in carpentry.  Eventually he met Mother, and they fell in love and were married November 6, 1895 in the Logan L.D.S. Temple.  Dad was then twenty years of age; and Mother, eighteen.

When his father died in 1896, Dad took over the responsibilities of his business in Richmond (Monson Lumber Company), supporting his mother and six younger brothers and sisters, where needed.

In February 1898, he was called on a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (L.D.S.) to Oregon, to open the first branch and Sunday School in Portland; his younger brother, Brigham, taking his place at the lumber business, and continuing to look after their mother and family. 

In that period of the Church’s organization, missionaries labored “without purse or scrip.”  A married missionary had to rely on his wife for his basic subsistence.  For herself and family, their provisions likewise depended on her resources.  In Mother’s case, she made and sold sandwiches and ice cream to the construction crew who were building the Oneida Academy across the way.  She was in the sixth month of pregnancy when Dad left on his mission.  Her parents and family kept in touch and helped her in every way they could.

After the Portland branch was organized, Dad was made secretary of the Oregon Conference; and on February 13, 1899, president of the Portland Conference under George C. Parkinson, president of the Northwestern States Mission.  Dad was released February 15, 1900.

At this time, he and Mother had two children:  Water, age three and a half; and Venna, approaching two.  Dad had yet to see Venna and wasted not a moment after his release.

Their third child, baby Elna Rose, was born November 3, 1900, and died at the age of six weeks, of pneumonia.  For Mother and Dad, their heartbreak left them with a longing through the years.

Dad’s plans were under way to open up a lumber business in Preston, Idaho, through the financial assistance of two brothers-in-law, Joseph S. Parkinson and Leon Packer.  It was to be a joint venture with Alonzo Skidmore (Lonnie), another brother-in-law, and the business would be named Superior Lumber Comopany.

The business was launched, and Dad and Uncle Lonnie worked well together.  After a period of the inevitable struggles and paying off debts, their venture was very rewarding; and they now had the agency for Studebaker Iron Works.

Dad built a fine, two-story home, situated on a corner lot, next door to our Parkinson grandparents.  In Preston, four children were born to our parents:  LaFayette (Lafe), DeLysle (Lysle), Weldon, and Blanche.

This was a wonderful era for all of us, with relatives, friends, and a variety of activities.  Being with a contemporary cousin sometimes sparked a healthy rivalry, one on one.  On special occasions we had the Lloyds (Aunt Lucy) from St. Anthony and two families of Parkinsons (Uncles Joe and Fred) from Rexburg.  There were three families of Samuel R. Parkinson.  Of his three wives, Arabella Chandler Parkinson was the first; and years later, he married two sisters, Charlotte and Maria Smart.  Charlotte was our grandmother.

Our parents and the family enjoyed the ward activities.  Dad was called to be first counselor in the Preston 4th Ward bishopric, a position he held for six years.  Mother was active in the Relief Society.  With our close ties to this town, the possibility of us ever moving away never crossed our minds as children.

However, in 1909, Dad was called to fill a second mission, this time to England, as president of the London Conference under Charles W. Penrose, president of the European Mission.  There were sacrifices.  This second mission now left Uncle Lonnie with the full load of managing their thriving business; moreover, Dad was to lose his post as County Commissioner.  But when called, our parents felt that no monetary or worldly consideration should be allowed to stand in the way.  There was not a sacrifice too large when serving our Father in Heaven.

Dad’s assignment to the London Conference included all of England, with headquarters first in Liverpool and later, London, located on the Old Kings Highway, adjacent to the elevated train station at South Tottenham.  After the mission home was relocated in London, Mother and the family joined Dad. [Kris’ note:  From Weldon’s account, it sounds like the headquarters were first in London, and later Liverpool.  I’m not sure which is correct.]

The mission home was a tall building of gray brick with a small brick-enclosed courtyard.  The concrete walk and the courtyard were our playground, as there was only a limited square of lawn at the rear.  Still, we adapted quite well.  There were things we could do indoors.

The thick London fog intrigued us.  Looking out from an upper-story window, the fog would sometimes be so dense that we could see only the headlights of a trolley car.

We enjoyed the missionaries; also the household staff.  There was Frances, who prepared the meals, and Lucy, who took care of the rooms and laundry.  There was also Mr. Dobson, a faithful member of the Church, as were Frances and Lucy.  Mr. Dobson, with palsy tremors in his hands, cheerfully looked after all janitorial needs.  We had him with us at every meal, while Frances and Lucy chose to eat by themselves, and have a chat.  All three lived in.

Church services were held in the mission home, during which the missionaries related wonderful experiences; and Dad’s talks were always inspirational.  Not the least of it, our little congregation sang the hymns with great warmth of feeling.

The missionaries loved their work and felt a deep satisfaction in the growing number of converts throughout England, notwithstanding active opposition from other churches toward Latter-day Saints street meetings and distribution of tracts.

The missionaries loved and honored Dad for his great influence; and Mother, for her beautiful spirit.

Following Dad’s release in 1911 was an offer from David Eccles, owner and manager of Eccles Lumber Company in Ogden, Utah.  Mr. Eccles asked him if he would be interested in managing the Ogden, or central, operations of his business.  He accepted the offer, and was very happy to have this opportunity in a business he knew so well.  Eccles Lumber Company was at that time the largest lumber business in Utah.

Dad’s and Uncle Lonnie’s Superior Lumber Company was sold, by mutual agreement, after Lonnie was called on a mission to England.  Their business was bought by the Andersons of Preston; and Anderson Lumber Company has long since been one of the leading lumber companies over a wide area.

After coming to Ogden, we lived on Madison Avenue; and while at this residence, Maurice was born on March 6, 1912.  He was the eighth child.  For all of us, each new baby held a very special place in our lives.

The following month brought the tragic news of the sinking of the Titanic, after striking an iceberg.  On that fateful evening of April 14, 1912, 1,503  passengers were drowned, with only 703 saved.

There were a number of prominent passengers on board, one of them being William T. Stead, an eminent English journalist and writer; and while in London, Dad had the good fortune to meet this distinguished gentleman.  During their conversational exchange, Mr. Stead expressed an interest in the L.D.S. Church and the “Mormon” people, disregarding the opposing forces ever at work.  They became the best of friends and Dad invited him to visit Utah, as his guest, pointing out that his release was drawing near.  Mr. Stead accepted the invitation and, in due time, was on his way, having obtained a reservation on the Titanic.

This luxurious ship, on her maiden voyage, was in the area of Newfoundland when she struck the iceberg.  Lifeboats were in irremediable short supply, even with the time in their favor, for after the impact, the ship stayed afloat and on an even keel for nearly three hours before going down.

Mr. Stead was offered the last seat in the last lifeboat, according to a report, but with no hesitation gave it to the first woman with a child in her arms.  He helped her and her baby onto the seat, carefully wrapped his blanket about them, and wished them well.  Then in his quiet, gentlemanly way he took a seat next to the cabin, and there he remained while the ship made her descent.

The Reverend Ralph Sockman of New York City was as one of this congregation when he expressed shock and grief over the helplessness and drowning of all the passengers for whom lifeboats were not accessible.

He related deed of bravery and heroism which transcended fear.  After detailing Mr. Stead’s heroism, he added that he was not only a journalist of distinction, but was considered one of the influential men of England at the time.  He praised Mr. Stead’s great character; but his real greatness, he said, was shown in the last act of his life – the giving of his own life for others.

Dad had lost a cherished friend.  It was a deep and personal loss.

In the late spring of 1912, we moved into our newly built two-story brick home at 2521 Van Buren Avenue.  Dad had superintended its construction, and Mother’s preferences were reflected in the arrangements, as in Preston; and again, like the Preston home, it held everything for us and was also a natural gathering place for all our friends.

Dad loved his work at Eccles Lumber and, regardless of the business demands, he always found time Church participation.  He was presently serving as second counselor in their Fifth Ward bishopric, while Mother continued to be an ardent supporter of the Relief Society organization, carrying her assigned responsibilities.

David Eccles, now reaching an advanced age, assured Dad not only of a good future there in Ogden, but added that in case of his own retirement or death, his wish would be that the position of general manager of all Eccles Lumber outlets be given to him.

His Ogden position alone was of special significance to our p arents, for they could now envision opportunities for their children, which may not have been that accessible under less favorable circumstances.

However, a new situation was developing.  President Joseph F. Smith contacted Dad regarding “an important matter,” to be discussed in his Salt Lake City office at the Church Office Building.  He asked that Mother accompany him.

It was a calling to serve another mission.

The death of President Ben E. Rich of the Eastern States Mission brought a pressing need regarding his successor.  When Dad was called to fill that role, the thought of leaving a very fulfilling future with Eccles Lumber Company, affording opportunities for each of the children, in whole he placed great store, was just too much.  He had serious misgivings toward uprooting them at this crucial time of their lives.

He suggested to President Smith that a family of seven children might be too large to take into the mission field, but was assured this would be no  problem and their lives would be richer for the experience.

So his effort was to no avail.  And one didn’t refuse a calling from the President of the Church.

Then after a day of prayerful reflection, he and Mother returned to President Smith’s office, and Dad accepted his call, with his wife at his side, loyal and unwavering.  However, as Weldon expressed it, “My father did not want to leave.”

 When he asked President Smith about the number of years he would serve, the answer was emphatic.  As he placed his hand on Dad’s shoulder, he said, “Brother Monson, I want you to consider this a lifetime calling and prepare for it with that in mind.  You will be as near to being released ten years from now as you are at this moment.”

Dad took over the presidency in the early fall of 1913, following a short interval after President Rich’s death on September 13th.  Mother and the family joined him after the house and furnishings were sold and all affairs settled.

Dad was well aware that in trying to fill the vacancy left by President Rich, he would be following in the footsteps of one of the greastest mission presidents the Church ever had.

The mission home was a four-story brownstone, located at 33 West 126th Street in Manhattan.  It has long since been part of Harlem.

This was a street of continuous brownstones, identifiable only by house numbers.  We made friends with a beautiful Italian family who lived next door.  They had been friends with President Rich and his family.  Other residents on the street kept to themselves in this urban setting.

When we were enrolled at school, Lysle and Weldon were each put back a grade, on the grounds that they came from “backward schools in the west.”  This only added to their dislike of New York and, given a choice, they would gladly have gone back to Ogden.  However, with new activities, New York gradually became a part of our family’s lifestyle, and we enjoyed many of its places of interest.

The mission home was active with missionaries, or visitors from back home, some of whom were students, some working on careers, and others just visiting New York.

Our church services were held in the mission home.  However, with the increase in membership, it became necessary to obtain a meeting hall.  The final selection was fortunately located near the mission home, above the Apollo Theater on 125th Street.  Baptisms continued to be performed at a rented facility.

During the general conference, the mission presidents each gave a report on the various functions being carried out in their respective mission fields, and the progress that had been made, where needed.  Their testimonies, rich in spirit, reflected a true dedication to their calling.

Here in Manhattan, street meetings were held in the early evenings on varying corners of street intersections.  At first, there were no listeners for the speaker; then passerby, perhaps one at a time as they were returning home from work, would halt their steps to hear about the restored church and its claim to divine authority, with its revealed doctrines of salvation and eternal progression.  After a few people had gathered there, they were invited to ask questions, and Dad and the missionaries joined them in a spirited discussion.  By now, there was a larger group of people out there.  In later years, Dad liked to reminisce about street meetings, and once said that many converts had been introduced to Mormonism from this source.

Together with several branch members, we visited Palmyra, New York, where we saw the Sacred Grove, the Hill Cumorah, the Smith family home, and other related landmarks.  The Sacred Grove, to us, held unusual beauty and tranquility.

At another time, we had a firsthand acquaintance with eastern farm life.  We were thrilled when the Sopers (branch members) invited us, with the missionaries, to spend a day at their home and small dairy farm at Oceanside, Long Island.  On the agreed date, we arrived in our work clothes to help them with all their chores, which in fact included the milk deliveries, horse and wagon style.  All the menfolk, including Lysle and Weldon, pitched hay, rode horses, and had a great time.  The Soper’s hospitality and their savory country cooking were long remembered.

On March 21, 1916, a fine new baby boy came into our family.  He was born in the mission home, and the name chosen for him was Keyne.

Later that year, the newly built mission home and chapel were ready for occupancy.  These beautiful structures were located in Brooklyn; the chapel on the corner of Franklin and Gates Avenues, and the mission home alongside the chapel at 263 Gates Avenue.  Dad had recommended several sites in downtown Manhattan which he felt would be more central to more L.D.S. members, but the one in Brooklyn, “the city of churches,” was selected by the First Presidency of the Church after three representatives had personally inspected the various properties.

The Eastern States Mission at that time comprised the five boroughs of New York City, New York, state, the New England states, and as far south as West Virginia.  Besides being a very large mission, it was considerably active with many new converts in the town and cities, despite strong, organized resistance by some churches.

Dad was asked to take part in a mass meeting, to be held in a public building.  He took his place on the stand with several clergymen who enlivened the proceedings for opening the discussion of Mormonism.  The meeting was well attended, y spectators and interested truth-seekers as well.  Most of the time was spent with questions and answers, during which proceedings one man took the floor and high-handedly asked blunt questions, apparently hoping to confound the featured guest.  However, Dad ha anticipated such an occurrence and stood his ground very well with his more that superficial knowledge of scripture.  The assemblage seemed to respect this Mormon leader who stated his convictions with sincerity and goodwill.

The Church was establishing its place among the recognized churches of New York City, though strong opposition persisted.  The Brooklyn Eagle was obliged, under pressure, to tone it down after reporting that Mormonism was becoming a menace.

Our church was also finding its way into the cultural life of the city, with the Tout family, our true and wonderful friends from Ogden leading the way.  Margaret Tout Browning (Margaret Romaine, stage name) was a Metropolitan Opera star and made herself famous as Mimi in La Boheme; and Hazel (Hazel Dawn, stage name) was a star on Broadway in several top hits.

On Dad’s invitation, the Touts came in from Amityville, Long Island one Sunday to give a musical performance at the evening service.  It was a rare treat to hear Margaret in song, and she chose from the best of her repertoire.  One number included a cello obbligato, played by her brother, Irving.  Venna, whom they adored, was the accompanist, having the sensitivity and touch of a professional.  The chapel, or course, was filled to capacity.

On April 6, 1917, the United States declared war on Germany.

Americans everywhere were committed to serving their country.  Here in Brooklyn, organized groups in the schools and communities worked with zeal, via instructions from the Red Cross, toward knitting scarves, making bandages, etc. for the armed forces.

Our mission home was the missionaries’ second home, and “open house” for all members and visitors.  We were also receiving, with open arms, our enlisted young men.  Their basic training completed, these boys were now ready to leave New York, their point of embarkation, on a trip from which some of them did not return.

Prices rose on the home front, but the financial restrictions regarding the overall mission expenses remained essentially the same.  Our parents continued their careful use of Church money, relying, wherever possible, on self-help.

Mother had the responsibility of managing the mission home.  With her full regime as mission home mother, entailing both church and family needs, she continued to have, as in Manhattan, the needed services of a live-in cook, and a woman for ironing and cleaning, in accordance with Church provisions.  Without family’s participation, she kept the hired cleaning to essentials only.

There was a huge weekly wash, which she took over, with the help of two available missionaries; one for turning the big wheel of the washing machine, which in turn activated the gyrator; the other missionary for feeding and turning the wringer and changing the water when needed.  Mother rubbed the collars, starched, and filled all the lines in another large basement room. 

Under a moderate food allowance, she saw to it that only good, wholesome food was served at all times, regardless of whom any visiting dignitaries might be.  Helen, our colored cook and a gracious lady, did a fine job in preparing homestyle meal.  She had after-school snacks waiting for us, for which we regarded her as a true friend.

Church stipulations regarding our family expenses were essentially as follows:  After we completed grade and high school, any higher education or specialized training was to be paid for by our father, as in our private lives.  Dental and medical bills were his responsibility also.  All clothing, allowances, entertainments and treats of whatever nature were likewise paid for by him.  All else was on a Church voucher.  When Dad went to Salt Lake City to attend General Conference, and any of the family went along, the Church paid his expenses; the balance coming from his own resources.

For Dad, there were no fringe benefits, other than spiritual.  There was no retirement plan, and unless a mission president spent his whole life in the service, as Dad was called to do, his release, in some cases, brought a very difficult adjustment, notwithstanding the customary time allowance granted by the church for making the transition.  In any case, he had lost touch with the business world, after focusing his energies on missionary work; meanwhile, as a minister of the gospel, filling that role with dedication.

Our home life was very progressive.  Walter (Walt) was taking a course in architecture, during which time he was called to serve in the Southern States Mission under President Charles A. Callis, one of Dad’s dearest friends.  He labored in Florida, and served faithfully and well.  Venna was studiously keeping up her good work under a prominent teacher of piano for advanced students.  Lafe, now only about fifteen, was avidly reading scientific material, especially when it related to findings in medical research.  He seemed destined to be a doctor.

Our parents’ aspirations for their children were turning into reality, for which they were very grateful; hoping all the while that the younger ones could get the same chance. 

On March 3, 1918, we were blessed with a new baby brother.  He was born in the mission home and was to be named Richard.  Since all of us had Mother’s maiden name for our middle names, his also would be Parkinson.

At this time, Dad was approaching forty-three years of age; Mother, forty-one.  They apparently had no problems with their health, and enjoyed the love and loyalty freely given them by the missionaries and branch members.

At the Sunday evening church services, missionaries, in rotation, gave impressive talks, followed by Dad’s sermon.  He was an eloquent and forceful speaker and seldom used notes, his only reference being scripture; and he spoke as one in authority.

On occasion following Dad’s sermon, he was asked by someone in the congregation if he would favor them with his singing.  In his gracious, unassuming way, he would oblige.  It might be a melodious, religious classic, or just a favorite song. 

November 11, 1918 marked the end of World War I, when the Allies joined the defeated German government in signing an armistice.  This day of victory was a day never to be forgotten.  The country went wild.

In the same month, on November 19th, President Joseph F. Smith, beloved L.D.S. leader, passed away.  The Church membership was not under the guidance of President Heber J. Grant, his successor.  Faithful members gave their full support to their newly ordained president.  The new leadership brought with it some changes in the Church’s organizational procedures.

For Dad’s part, he received a communication from President Grant, typewritten on his letterhead, with his signature, stating that as of a certain date in that month of April, his services “will no longer be required.”  It figured to two weeks maximum for his termination.

Mother and some of the family members were there when dad read the contents, and his silence told them he was too stunned for comment.  No explanation was included.

[Kris’ Note: I have done research that indicates that President Grant changed the nature of the mission president calling to make it a short-term assignment.  He released all nine worldwide mission presidents at this time.  One stayed in South Africa for another two years and then came home to resume his pre-mission life.  One went back to his mission later and served until his death.  One, Melvin J. Ballard, was put in the Quorum of the Twelve.  The rest had to figure something out upon their release.]

The suddenness of this news as it reached the branch members, far and wide, left them at a loss to understand the reason for this occurrence, particularly in its impact on a man of President Monson’s stature.

Preparations were under way to move to Salt Lake City.  After all matters were taken care of, and as we stood at the depot, we were surrounded by missionaries and other good friends as we awaited the signal to board the train.  There were tears, with lingering embraces.

At this time, our parents were adjusting to a major financial setback which had occurred about a year before, when the Merchants Bank failed, substantially wiping out their life’s savings.

With the Church holding a controlling interest, all indications had been that their savings were relatively secure.  However, the bank’s ultimate failure was largely attributable to bad loans, as reported.

Before leaving Ogden in 1913, our parent’s savings account amounted to some $40,000.  After our nearly six years residence in New  York, the fund had diminished to a figure around $22,000, due to family and miscellaneous expenditures.

When they learned that the bank’s depositors were to be paid only ten cents on the dollar, they had only to make the best of it.  (There was no federal deposit insurance, or FDIC, at that time.)  The adjustment was not easy, but as Mother said, “After all, it’s not the end of the world.”

Following our arrival in Salt Lake City, we occupied, for the time being, a five-room bungalow at 1464 East 17th South.  Dad had acquired this property several years before as an investment, for an advantageous price.

[Kris’ Note:  Weldon said that this home was obtained for them by Walter’s brother, Otto Monson.]

All within the day of our midmorning arrival were the purchases and deliveries of beds, mattresses, bedding, chests of drawers, chairs, kitchenware, dishes, pans, a washing machine with tubs, and whatever else was needed in basics.  Except for grocery supplies, our parents felt it expedient to put the purchases on credit; and Dad was thankful in being able to find the willing creditors.

Other than the kitchen and bathroom, there were beds everywhere, it seemed.  Of course we used the finished basement to spread out, but we were still crowded.  At any rate, it was a start.

The older ones in the family, down through Lysle, followed every lead for a job until eventually they were all employed.  The pay for these jobs was minimal, but this was expected and understood.

Dad was exploring every possibility for suitable employment, only to find, too many times, that a job for which he was well qualified was given to another with fewer credentials and less, if any, experience.  From his obersvations over a period of time, he apparently wasn’t born in the right family.

In those days, Utah’s job market was tight at best.  Outside businesses were generally not interested in coming to Utah; and for that matter, they were neither being enticed nor invited there.

After the death of David Eccles, Sr., the Eccles Lumber Company was restructured according to the needs and wishes of the members of his family.  Dad had been out of the business world for some years while serving a mission for the Church, and therefore would not be included in their plans.

A temporary opening materialized.  Through the influence of a long-standing friend, Charles W. Penrose, second councilor [sic] to President Grant, Dad was appointed to a recess term on the State Industrial Commission, a position he held for eighteen months under Governor Simon Bamberger, when he was displaced by his successor, C. Rendell Mabey.

Our residence had changed several times.  Soon after our arrival in Salt Lake, Dad traded the 17th South bungalow for an older, two-story brick at 152 South 11th East.  Then later on, he traded this property on a fine home at 3123 South 7th East.  It stood on a large lot with a rose garden in view, and an orchard located beyond the backyard.  The house payments of $40 per month were very carefully considered before the purchase, taking into account the debts Dad was paying off.

Meanwhile Dick, age three, was showing signs of fatigue.  A diagnosis followed, which disclosed his affliction to be myelogenous leukemia.  Everything known to medical science was being done.

After dad’s appointment at the Industrial Commission offices drew to a close, he worked, for the time being, as a salesman for a Montana firm selling fine chinaware.  He was home weekends, but after Dick’s condition worsened he returned home to stay, taking whatever job was available.

On the Sunday evening of December 23, 1923, while giving a talk at Farmers Ward, Dad was suddenly seized with the excruciating pain of strangulation of the hernia he had been carrying for several years.  He was rushed to the Holy Cross Hospital where an emergency operation was performed, and he had a close brush with death.  After five weeks of recuperation, he was released.

After returning home, he went on the road selling for Morrison Merrill Lumber Company and was in their employ for a number of years, at a firm salary of $50 per week plus their coverage of all job-related costs incurred while on the various Utah routes.  He was to write:  “I should be an ingrate should I fail to mention the extreme kindness shown me by the officials of Morrison Merrill and Company.”

Dad was under a doctor’s care for angina pectoris, a disease of the heart for which he was taking medication during recent years.  Hard physical labor was ruled out.

After about two and a half years of our residence at the Seventh East home, it was necessary for our parents to examine their priorities critically.  Knowing our feelings for this home, it was with great reluctance that a change might have to be considered.  Expenses had been mounting for some time, and Dad was faced with a problem as to which way to turn.  With the family’s participation, there was just one solution.

It was agreed that a house in the lower bracket would lessen their stress materially, and we family members went alternately with them to look the market over.

After discussing the pros and cons fo various properties, it was the consensus that the two-story brick at 1888 South 11th East was the most feasible.  This was an old-fashioned house, not too well arranged, but sturdily built; and the monthly payment looked good, at only $20.  This was our last Monson home.

It is very saddening to remember Dick’s long-suffering affliction leading to his death on March 2, 1924.  He died the day before his sixth birthday.  We could never forget his forbearance and his courage, against all hopes, to the very end.

Seven weeks later, on April 11, 1924, Dad’s mother died, at age 73, in Preston, Idaho.  Dad had a veneration toward this little mother of much wisdom and self-sacrifice.

During this period, Keyne underwent a radical mastoid operations, performed by his brother, Lafe, a prominent ear, nose and throat specialist in San Francisco.  Ther results were the best that surgical skill could produce.  Mother had worried that this ear was not clearing up under and ear specialist’s instructions, which she followed so meticulously.

Three years had passed after Dick died, when Mother learned that her lessening of physical well-being was a symptom of leukemia, of the same type that he had suffered. 

For as long as she was able, she tried to keep everything as normal as possible, taking one day at a time.

One April 11, 1929, her mother died from a second recurrence of a stroke.  She was seventy-nine years of age, and an incredible woman.  Her life story tells it best.  Grandpa Parkinson had died ten years before; a victim of the 1918-19 flu epidemic.  The date of his death was May 23, 1919, and he was eighty-nine years of age.  Dad gave a wonderful talk at the funeral, which was held in Preston, our grandparents’ hometown.  We had been back west only about a month, and it was nice to see so many relatives who had come from all directions to pay their respects to this great man.

As to our Parkinson grandparents, their youngest daughter, Vivian, has written accounts of their lives, also accomplishments, some of which were significant to the early history of Idaho, and others as they related to the progress of the Church, along with community development.  Their helping hands, wherever needed, knew no limit.  Vivian related her father’s inherent inclination toward farming, yet his success was in business enterprises, centered mostly in Franklin, the first permanent settlement in Idaho, and the Parkinson home grounds for many years.

Included in Vivian’s write-up of her father were were the various callings, or positions, in the Church; also his conformity to the authoritative recommendation that he enter into the celestial order of marriage, also known as plural marriage or polygamy.  Charlotte, the second wife and our grandmother, was the only surviving wife at the time of his death.  Arabella, his first wife, died in 1894; and Maria, his third wife and Charlotte’s younger sister, died in 1915.

In June 1929, Dad suffered an attack of acute dilatation of the heart.  He was at the L.D.S. Hospital for medication and treatment, and then released after a short stay.

Always active in the Church, Dad was a member of the Grant Stake High Council (formerly known as the Granite Stake), and filled many speaking engagements throughout the wards.

At that time there were marriages in the family and, aside from the lovely grandchildren, our parents experienced both joys and heartaches, not being among the parents who were a hundred percent lucky.

We were a family of music lovers.  On an evening when the boys were at home, Dad liked to have them join him in singing the old songs.  Their voices blended well, Dad picking up on the tenor, with Venna or Blanche accompanying.  Mother was reminded of a similar scene back in the old Richmond home where dad and his brothers sang together.

When Lysle and Weldon were away, our parents followed their progress with pride and joy.  Lysle was serving a mission in England under President John A. Widtsoe, and giving it his best.  Weldon was in the vicinity of Washington, D.C., attending Georgetown University on a football scholarship for undergraduate law studies, satisfying scholarship requirements on the football field; also working at various jobs on the outside.

As time went by, and Lysel’s mission was now within three weeks of his release, Mother’s condition, which had been gradually deteriorating, was not worsening and she was taken to the L.D.S. Hospital.  Lysle was given an early release and made the trip from Birmingham, England, to Salt Lake City in ten days.  Rushing to his mother’s bedside, words of endearment followed.  However, after twenty blessed minutes together, Mother lapsed into a coma, which lasted about ten days.  After returing to consciousness, she murmured in her extremity, “Mother – Mother,”  and momentarily passed into eternity.  Her merciful release overshadowed our sense of indescribable loss.

Mother’s date of death was March 10, 1930, and she was only fifty-three years of age.

In August of the same year, Lysle was sent home from work with what was thought to be the flu.  Dad, returning home from his Morrison Merrill route, found him in bed very ill, which prompted an immediate diagnosis, resulting in an emergency operation for intestinal complications of typhoid fever.  The onset of peritonitis, for which there was no antibiotic at that time, was fatal, and he succumbed on August 19, 1930.  Lysle was just twenty-seven years of age.

For Dad and all of us, losing Lysle to typhoid was a wrenching experience; and six months had not yet passed since Mother’s death.

During the following year of 1931, Maurice was called to serve in the East Central States Mission, under President Miles L. Jones.  Laboring in Virginia, he enjoyed his work, encompassing the responsibilities of district president for twenty months.  As he wrote home about his work and the fine friends he made, Dad lived it over again, with an added interest in the proximity of Virginia to West Virginia, which was part of the Eastern States Mission in his day.

Among Dad’s acquaintances was Rosetta Grover of Morgan, Utah.  For many years, her invalid father was under her watchful care, along with rearing a niece from childhood after her mother had died.  Her life was thus full of responsibilities as she waited on customers at a Morgan store.  She had never married.

After her father’s life came to a close, she became better acquainted with Dad; then following a months of endearing friendship, they were married in the Salt Lake L.D.S. Temple on June 10, 1931.

As we came to know her fine attributes of character, we felt, along with what we imagined to be Mother’s view, that this chapter in Dad’s life was providential.  When they were married, she was “Aunt Rose” to us, and she had our gratitude and love.

Her niece, Helen Thackeray, a fine young lady, was working on her home economics major at the University of Utah.  She lived there at home and blended very well.  One could hardly not get along with Helen.

Because of Dad’s unstable heart condition, his doctor advised him to get a job with less stress than he was encountering on the Morrison Merrill routes when driving along narrow dirt roads.  Within his possibilities, he took every precaution.  Subsequently, on the recommendation of P.H. Groggin, Commissioner of Parks and Public Property, he was appointed Chief Building Inspector of Salt Lake City.  Having been a builder, he was well-suited for the work, despite an infrequent flight of stairs to climb.  However, he made it up the stairs with due caution.  They liked him, and he was in his element.

During an early morning hour on February 12, 1935, we had a call from Walt saying that Dad passed away shortly before, at about 2:30 o’clock.  We were deeply shocked over our sudden loss.  Aunt Rose was as his bedside when the end came.  The doctor’s official death report stated:  “Due to cardiac arrest, associated with angina.”

Aunt Rose mustered up all her courage in facing life without him, and we shared with our mutual closeness, love and sympathy.

Dad was approaching fifty-nine years of age when he was called home.  We loved him,  for his sweet spirit, and for all that he had meant to us.

After about three weeks of trying to make the adjustment, Aunt Rose was stricken with the flu.  It soon worsened and she was taken to the L.D.S. Hospital, where she was immediately under specialized treatment for pneumonia.  When medical skill was to no further avail, she passed way on March 12, 1935, at the age of fifty-two.

It was a very sad loss, for Helen and all the family.

~~~~~






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