William Carroll Hawkins was the son of Josiah Wilson
Hawkins and Pernecia Jane Lee (Adair). He was born at Hanover, Clinton Co.,
Illinois, on the 4th of November, 1836. He married Henrietta Clementina
Catharina Germer who was born 31 May, 1844 in Hamburg, Germany. Her parents
were Johann Martin Jochim Theodor Germer and Maria Catharina Elsabe Faasch, who
were early converts to the Church. Their children were Pernecia, born 1 Dec,
1860, died 28 Aug, 1863; Mary Matilda, born 26 Dec, 1862; Anna Clementina, born
6 Apr, 1865; Hannah Jane, born 12 Sept, 1867; Gertrude, born 27 Jan, 1869;
Catharine (Katie), born 13 Feb, 1872; William Martin, born 21 Dec, 1876;
Augusta Hope, born 1 Oct, 1881; Edith Myrtle, born 9 Jan, 1887.
The following was related by Mary Matilda to Lovica Jane
Carbine Gruwell.
Grandfather had a little farm near Plain City, Utah. Aunt
Mary remembers going to help fight grasshoppers at Plain City. “We drove them
along with little switches tied together.” On one occasion when the family had
been to Deweyville, Utah, to visit Grand¬father and Grandmother Germer, they
returned to find that everything looked strange. And when they reached Plain
City, they found that the grasshoppers had eaten every green thing. Grandfather
traded his place at Plain City for cows and young stock and moved to Marsh
Valley, Idaho. They pioneered in Marsh Valley, buying a squatter’s right for
the price of $300. It was unsurveyed land and had two cabins about five rods
apart. The place had been claimed by a man with two wives, a wife in each
cabin. The floors were of dirt. Later, Grandfather moved one cabin and put it
beside the other and got slabs of lumber, turned the bark side down and trimmed
the edges and made floors in the two rooms. Aunt Mary says, “I can remember how
happy we were with our slab floor.” “The grasshoppers came to Marsh Valley,
too. On one occasion, when Grandfather was away from home, a drove of young
grasshoppers that didn’t have their wings, came. Grandmother and her small
children drove them down into some low land where there was bunch grass, and in
the evening when Grandfather came home, they carried hay down there and covered
them and set it all afire.” “I remember how glad we were when we saw a cloud of
grasshoppers flying overhead and they would continue and not light, because, as
sure as they would light, they would eat everything.” (Aunt Mary continued)
“Once I said to an Indian woman, ‘You should be glad that the white man came,
because they have fed and taken care of the Indians.’ The woman answered,
‘Before the white man came, God sent grasshoppers and we had plenty.’”
After Grandfather moved to Marsh Valley, the country
around there was declared Indian Territory and they were afraid of losing their
land, but the line was finally placed further north. Later the land was
surveyed and Grandfather proved up on his homestead of 160 acres. It was wild
hay mostly. They planted wheat, potatoes and vegetables.
But their means came mostly from the sale of butter,
eggs, oats and other produce that they sold to freighters en route to Butte,
Montana, from Corinne, Utah, until the railroad came through. Later,
Grandfather had a hotel and store to serve this trade. The Indians also traded
at the store. (Material given in July 1942.)
The following was told to Lovica Jane Gruwell by her
mother, Anna Clementina.
My father was a very good provider. He always had a good
garden. He was a lover of horses and always fed his team the first thing in the
morning, so they could eat while he had breakfast. He was up bright and early,
just as soon as he could see, always. We had such a nice home.
“Oh! How I longed for my girlhood home after I went to
the Snake River.” (Mother’s eyes filled with tears as she continued) “I never
heard frogs croak as they do in Marsh Valley in the evening. There were all
kinds of cranes and ducks. There was one bird that always made a sound like
‘pump-e-tump.’ We called them ‘pump-e-tumps.’” Mother said in a low voice, “Oh!
The sounds there in the evening just filled your heart,” with a sob in her
voice and tears in her eyes.
Grandpa’s sheds for his stock were made of heavy poles,
and in the fall when the wheat was thrashed, he would have the thrasher set so
the straw would fall on the shed so that on three sides the shed would be under
the straw stack. One corner of the shed nearest the center of the stack was
warmer in the winter than any other part. And we had one old mother cow that
wouldn't let any but her own daughters stay in that part of the shed. She would
just drive them out.
We had bins in each corner of the cellar for potatoes,
carrots, turnips and beets. Pa would dig a trench as deep as the cabbage
plants, and turn the heads down in the trench, big leaves and all, and leave
the stocks sticking out. Then he’d cover the roots with straw and dirt. And it
would be so sweet and good all winter. The parsnips were left in the ground,
and in the spring would be so sweet and nice.
We always had our pork. The hams and shoulders were cured
and smoked and buried in the wheat in the granary. He would take grain to the
mill and come back with bran and shorts and flour, enough for a year’s supply.
In those days they didn't have indoor bathrooms. Just an
outside “privy” and a path. Mother said they had a mean billy goat that would
follow them to the “privy” and then escort them back and not too gently. So
Grandfather gave Aunt Mary the task of breaking him of his sport. He told her
to get a strong club, and when Mr. Billy came at her, to hit him on the horns
with the club. Mother said Aunt Mary was pretty gritty and she really gave that
goat what was coming to him and spoiled his sport.
Of her father’s early life, Mother said she didn't know
very much, except that he tied the little pig’s tails together while the mother
was suckling them. And when they were through, each little pig tried to go his
own way and the harder they pulled, the tighter the knot. One usually pulled
the other’s tail off or his father would have to cut them loose. His father
whipped him, but it didn't stop him entirely. It was too much fun to see them
pull and squeal.
My father was very intelligent. He had two law suits, one
with the railroad over ties that he had cut. The neighbors tried to get him to
drop the case. They told him that he would only lose and go in debt but he
wouldn't drop the case. He wouldn't hire a lawyer, but pled his own case and he
won it. He won the other case the same way.
I certainly worshiped my father in my childhood. I
remember one night we were at the table and he was reading. The lamp chimney went
to pieces, and one piece hit Pa on his face and made it bleed, and I thought he
was going to die. I just cried and cried!
The following from Uncle Joe: “When Mother was a little
kid, the Indians came to their place a lot. One young buck came one day and
picked up several things around the place. When they tried to take them from
him, he would jerk around and away from them so they couldn't. Grandpa was
working over in the meadow. Grandma told Aunt Mary to run down and tell Pappy
to come up here, this Indian is trying to steal things. Grandma stayed to try
to keep him from getting anything. Granddad came by the wagon and picked up the
neck yoke and hit the Indian over the head, just one lick, but it almost killed
the Indian.
When he was able to get up, he said, “You come my
father’s wigwam. He want see you.” (I suppose he said it in Indian, though.
Granddad talked the lingo - Joe speaking.) Granddad went, expecting trouble.
There was a tomahawk on the ground. He picked it up and was hacking at the tree
roots. When the chief came, he said, “My son was bad over at your house. I want
you to forgive him. He won’t do it again.” But Granddad had the tomahawk so he
was ready for any ending.” (Joe)
The following from Uncle Will Hawkins on the trip to
Virginia City, May 30-31, 1951.
Grandfather Hawkins freighted supplies from Corinne,
Utah, to Virginia City before the railroad and used to talk about Virginia City
and Alder Gulch. One night he felt that he wasn't safe and went up the canyon
to make his camp for the night. As he came back, through Virginia City in the
morning, he saw men hanging who had been hanged during the night.
Uncle Will said Grandfather was 5’ 11” and at his prime
weighed 190 pounds. Also, he played the violin with his left hand.
Mother said he played for dances and danced, too, with
his partner holding onto his arm.
While visiting with the Marley family in Marsh Valley,
they took me to a reservoir which was built on Hawkins Creek. It is over 900
feet across.
These relatives, who are descendants of Grandfather’s
only sister to live to maturity, had a very high regard for Grandfather. They
gave me an account of the History of Marsh Valley written by Nathan Samuel
Coffin. In it, Mr. Coffin gives the names of those who settled in the valley. The
following is part of what he said about Grandfather: “W. C. Hawkins was also an
outstanding character. He had no schooling, but was a self-educated man.
Working his own way through Ray’s Higher Mathematics.’ In character he was
outspoken, had a heart as big as an ox. He helped many a man who needed help.”
It was through his leadership that Marsh Center (Hawkins Creek) Reservoir was
built, furnishing men in provisions who otherwise could not have remained on
the job.
He had considerable business ability. He engaged in the
mercantile business and also did contracting.
It was he who, under contract, built the Mink Creek ditch
which furnished water for Pocatello. This work was done in 1892 under
supervision of Jim Murray of Montana.
When I visited Joan, Uncle Joe’s daughter in Pocatello, I
told them about the reservoir and they wanted to see it, so we made a trip to
Marsh Valley, and John drove quite a ways up the canyon by the lake above the
dam. It was really quite a sight. All the water backed up by the dam.
We also visited the graves in Marsh Valley but the
mosquitoes almost ate us up. That wasn't so pleasant. But the cemetery then had
a sprinkling system and is quite green and pretty. It was dry when we visited
it with Uncle Will and Aunt Gussie and Aunt Mary.
In a visit with Aunt Gussie, she related a few things
that she remembered about her father.
She said he was always kind to his father-in-law, her
grandfather, and always treated him with respect.
She said that during her father’s last illness, she spent
some time with him, and he expressed his appreciation for her kindness. In
their conversation, she said they discussed the possibility that he might pass
away, and she asked him where he would like to be buried. He said, “Where does
your mother want to be buried?” She replied, “She has said that she would like
to be buried in Marsh Valley by her children.” And he said, “That is where I
would like to be buried, too.” This wasn't too long before he passed away. And
Aunt Gussie told his wife what he had said. And she said, “Well, he didn't tell
me that.”
So she had him buried in the Pocatello Cemetery. His
grave is quite close to the entrance on the end next to town about in the
center. He shares a rather tall stone with one of his wife’s children.
Grandfather William Carroll departed this life on the 26
July, 1906.
When I was with Sibyl in Logan, a sister of Gwen Marley
Lewis came to visit. Her name was Lydia, and when I first saw her, she looked
so much like Mother I wanted to cry. She told me the following story.
She said both Josiah Wilson Hawkins, her grand¬father,
and William Carroll Hawkins, her uncle, were on guard at Echo Canyon. Her
grandfather cooked for the men and was called “Betsy.”
She said that there was an old gentleman among the men
who had no shoes, and there was snow on the ground. William Carroll had a pair
of new boots. He took off his boots and gave them to the old gentleman and
wrapped his own feet in burlap sacks.
They are both of record in Early Church Files in the
Library. It gives the Priesthood Quorum.
A rather amusing incident was told me about our two
grandfathers. They both lived around Slaterville, Utah. They were
acquaintances, but not friends. One time Grandfather Hawkins had a party and
said “Billie” Carbine was not invited. So Grandfather “Billie” dressed in the
worst clothes he could find and “crashed” the party.
Aunt Mary related the following to me when I visited her
in Salt Lake City. We were discussing those early days, and she said that one
day she was waiting on an Indian man in her father’s store and was chatting
with him as she put up his supplies. The Indian’s wife was standing by
watching. Finally, the Indian woman walked up beside Aunt Mary and said most
menacingly, “You talk too much!”
A ROAD SIGN
As I returned from Pocatello on the freeway I noticed a
highway marker on a road leading off the freeway down into Marsh Valley where
Grandfather pioneered and where Mother spent most of her girlhood. The sign in
large letters said HAWKINS ROAD. I was interested and thought others would be.
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