About Bart Applegate
The Applegate Family of Circleville Utah:
Compiled by Rodney Dalton, Ogden Utah. June – 2000
With help from many Applegate Cousins.
My Aunt is Verda (Fox) Applegate, who married Barton Applegate. This is a history of this Applegate family that goes back to William Applegate of England.
WILLIAM APPLEGATE was born about 1534 somewhere in England, probably Yorkshire.
The Applegate of the line are described as having "very large heads and much natural mechanical and mathematical talent" as being quiet stady solid race and were held in high esteem by they’re neighbors. In regard to the surname of Applegate, it is from the ancient Saxon word Applegarth. In England were ancient families named Applegarth, Appleyard and Applewaite all meaning substantially the same "an apple orchard". Applegarth, Applegath, Applegate. William de Apelgart ,circa 1115, buried in Suffolk; Robert Applegarth, 1279,Yorkshire; Richard del Appelgarthe. From Applegarth or residience near an apple orchard. Three red apples on a white shield are the arms of Applegarth.
It is an honor to have had a noble ancestry, but it is still better to be an honor to our ancestors. But regardless of ancestry, "A mon's a mon for a' that." This article will treat of the Applegate family in this country, and especially that branch which settled in New Jersey and to which, belongs George F. Applegate, the optician, residing in the city of Trenton, New Jersey.
Before entering into the history of his immediate family, it is well to review several of the characters found in past generations, both in the old world and those who emigrated to our shores in the past centuries. Lowers' work, published in London in 1860, entitled "Patronymica Brittanica," states that Applegarth is derived from an enclosure for apples, or apple trees, an orchard, and that Applegath and Applegate are corruption’s of Applegarth. Being an author noted for his research into the origin of names, he is accepted as authority. The ancient Saxons and Britons had great respect for trees and groves, in some cases amounting to reverence, and the owner of an apple orchard was looked upon as a fortunate man.
The Applegarths were a noted family of Hampshire, England. Further back Apeliard is found and is doubtless the most ancient form. This was applied to an ancient family in Norfolkshire, England. The last syllable of the name Apeliard, pronounced "Yard," was rendered as Aplegarth and Aplewaithegarth, meaning the same as yard. Nicholas de Apelyard and Robert del Apelgath were prominent men among the first of this origin.
In tracing back the noted family of Appleyard in Norfolkshire, England, there is found a striking coincidence of family names with those of the first Applegates in New Jersey. In 1419 a branch of the Appleyard family, who adopted the orthography of Appleyard, came into possession of the manor of Dauton. Will Appleyard in 1481 bequeathed to his son Thomas and names his mother, Elizabeth, and brothers John and Bartholomew. This Bartholomew died in 1492, but their names, Bartholomew, Thomas and John, were handed down in the family and these were also the prominent given names of the original Applegates of this country. It was not uncommon in the past for names to undergo changes in orthography as they were handed down from one generation to another. Sometimes this was done for euphony, but was generally due to carelessness or ignorance of recording clerks. A number of changes have occurred since the first settlement of the family in America. In 1674 the name was written Applegadt, in the petition of Bartholomew and Thomas Applegadt for leave to purchase land of the Indians. Richard, the son of Thomas, in his will in 1732 gives his name as Aplegate. Some of the descendants of Bartholomew, who settled in Middlesex county, write their names today as Appleget.
Another theory of the origin of the name is that it is a combination of two Saxon words, "Apple," meaning fruit in general, and "Gate," meaning a street or way. For example, if a man lived on a street where fruit was sold, he would be called Applegate, or on a street fronting the south, Southgate, or on a street exposed to high wind, Windgate, or on a street exposed to the cold, Colgate. While this is a plausible theory, the name Applegate is not to be found in any genealogical or heraldic work over three centuries ago.
The first of the Applegate Family that come to America was Thomas Applegate who left Norfolkshire, England and settled in Holland with a group of fellow Englishman during the Puritan disorders. About 1635, he came to Massachusetts Bay Colony and on March 31, 1635, he was licensed for a year by the General Court to run a ferry between Weymouth and Braintree.
Note: More on the Thomas Applegate history is continued later in the text. (RD)
In the Patriot Army in the Revolution were the following Applegates: Daniel, John, Bartholomew, Benjamin, Robert (Capt. Hankinson Co. Monmouth), James, Joseph, Nathaniel, Noah, Robert, and William from Monmouth. Andrew, Asher, Charles, Joseph, Nathanel, Robert, Thomas, William and Zebulon from Middlesex. Daniel from Morris (Matoss, Capt. Huddy's Co. artillery states troops and Continental Army), William from Huntendon; another William from Burlington. Another Daniel of Shelby Co. Ky. b. near Albany, N.Y. 1768 d. St. Louis Mo. 1825. He was a drum and fife boy in Continental Army during the Revolution.
The following work was given to me by my cousin, Don Applegate during a visit to his home in Ivins, Utah, Near St. George, Utah.
It was Sunday November 7, 1 926, Mother and Dad left home in the forenoon to go over the river to see Grandpa Fox and the family. They would visit the farm at least once a week. Their means of transportation was Old Buck, a buckskin horse that rode double.
On this night they accepted the invitation and stayed until morning, There was always an empty bedroom upstairs. As they were getting into bed, Mother asked, Bart, what if the baby should come tonight?
His answer was, in a joking way, “I'll cross your legs and sit on them” About 3:00 A.M. Mother started having pains. Dad was smart enough to time them. They waited a little longer and Dad announced, “I’ll go on home and get a fire started and things ready”
Grandpa was excited and hurried the children to get ready for school. They loaded everyone in the wagon, which served as a School bus and drove to town.
Dad was waiting. He had called the midwife and Dr. McQuarry. He also called Grandmother Applegate.
They’re as an air of anticipation as the young father paced the floor in the humble frame house. From the adjacent room came moans of Mother in labor.
On November 8, 1926, 1 was born of goodly parents, Velda and Bart Applegate of Circleville, Utah. I came into the World with a squeal, brought about by a sound spat from the Doctor. A tear welled up in father's eye as he stood by the bed holding
Mother's hand, looking at his new son held in his young wife’s arms. It isn't hard to visualize the scene as I have been there with each of my ten children.
Naturally, I don’t remember events of this early sojourn upon the earth, so I am relying on recollections from others.
In my mother's words “You were pink in color, with reddish hair. There wasn't much, but what there was I smoothed and combed.
In the small ward Chapel, I was given the name of "Don J Applegate” because my parents liked it. The 'J' stood for my Grandfather Jess and an uncle who was killed in a horse accident. I have always liked my name because it was easy to spell and I could draw Applegate.
Mother tells of my first horseback ride the following summer. I was carried on a pillow to the sheep camp at the base of Mt. Belnap where Dad was herding sheep. Dad loved being in the mountains. He knew every tree in the forest and took delight in naming them for me. He knew the trails and meadows. He was at home on the range. I gained an early appreciation for the out-of-doors from him.
Like most young sprouts, I was loved and cared for throughout the babyhood years by aunts and uncles, grandparents as well as Mom and Dad. The first nephew in an family always gives rise to a great deal of attention from them. I was well received and held often whenever any of them were around, which was often as I have been told. After some boasting about my virtues from Dad, Grandmother Applegate replied, "Every old crow thinks his is the blackest." This statement naturally was uttered out of love from this delightful person.
I can still hear Dad read. His expression was unequaled. Often he would stop long enough for me to picture the scene. The sorrowful look of Smokey as he shivered in the cold, his gaunt frame exposed under a once slick hide; the thrill of Buck breaking the sled out of the ice and pulling the thousand pounds of flour across the finish line.
Father's love of reading to me was evident as he read all of his favorite books to me before I started school. Nothing interfered with us when we were engaged in this special pastime. We were lying on the couch by an open window. There was a gentle spring breeze dancing the curtains before the open window. Dad was reading "Smoky the Cow Horse" by Will James. His pipe was ablaze much to my discomfort. Dad laid the pipe to rest on the windowsill. A moments lull in the breeze let the window curtains lazily rest upon the pipe. Immediately the curtain burst into flame. Without hesitation Dad grabbed the curtain rod and hurled them out on the lawn. We then settled back to finish the session.
A piece of twisted mahogany or scrub oak was turned into a unique walking stick in the hands of Dad. He always carried a sharp pocketknife, which he used to turn an ordinary branch into a walking stick or some other delightful carving. Dad carved pieces of red cedar into rolling pins, butter paddles, spoons, and other handy kitchenware. Mother used a large crochet hook carved by him to crochet rugs together to form attractive rugs. He carved a small rolling pin and ladle for our daughter Mickie. She still has them. In the Spring when the sap rose in the willow Dad would carve whistles for me. He taught me the art and many whistles have been carved for my children.
I was in third grade when the sighting of a plane flying overhead was a quite an event. Even more exciting was the time a plane landed in a field north of town. Dad took me to see it. It was fun to sit in the cockpit and pretend. Dad surprised me a week later with an
Exact replica carved from a piece of white pine. It was complete in every detail. I was thrilled and the envy of the kids in my class. Dad taught me how to carve the body, propeller and wings of an airplane. I displayed my newfound skill to my friends and together we formed a flying club. I wonder what ever happened to the little airplane.
Dad was an excellent gardener and yard keeper. The garden was always free of weeds. The crop yielded an abundance of vegetables for winter storage. The yard was well groomed too.
I took my turn pulling weeds out of the cornrows and feeding the red roots to the pigs. My reward for weeding was often in the form of a corn roast. When the ears were ready my friends and I would build a low fire. As the fire burned down it left nice red embers. We would scratch them out into a hollow. Placing the corn with the husks still intact in the hollow of coals we would wait out the cooking. Often the corn would turn out burned on one side and raw on the other, no matter, it was a great feast and we enjoyed it very much.
Fall harvesting of garden goodies was quite an event. The smell of vinegar and spices as the pickles were made. Corn husking and bean snapping. Soon there would be dried corn to store. Bottled beans for the cellar. The cold winter months found us well fed from the
fruits of the summer.
Dad was a sheep shearer from April through June. Shearing began first in Utah at the shearing station south of Circleville. I returned to the site a few years ago just to reminisce about him. I rehearsed the total operation. Large bands of sheep were brought to the shearing station. For miles around the vegetation was eaten by them. The evidence of overgrazing is still clearly visible. The herd of each owner was driven into a large corral, then shifted into smaller holding pens. From there they were funneled into the chutes leading to each shearer's small catch pens.
One by one Dad would grab a sheep's leg and set them up for clipping the wool. As each sheep was sheared, he kicked the fleece aside where the tier would tie the fleece into a ball and throw it to the elevated platform to be placed and tromped into the big wool sacks. I had the dirty job of tromping the wool into the sacks. Each sack would hold about 400 pounds of wool, depending on how tight it was packed. The sacks were stacked in rows three high. A favorite pastime during the break was playing, "King of the Hill" on a stack of wool.
After spring shearing in Utah came to an end, Dad would load the family in the pickup and head for Idaho to finish the shearing session. We made camp in a meadow beside a clear stream in the Soda Springs area in southern Idaho. The creek was clear as crystal and you could see the rainbow trout lazily drifting to and fro. Dad taught me how to snare them with a thin wire loop attached to a willow. He taught me how to snare ground squirrels. We did this by making a loop in a string and carefully encircling the burrow. When the squirrel would come out of its hole we were waiting to jerk the string. Most of the time our snares would come up empty, but once in a while we would snare Mr. Squirrel. After that the trick was to turn it loose again.
We stayed in Idaho through July in order that Dad could work in the hay harvest. Camp was set up in an orchard north of Blackfoot. I returned to that area to work in 1 966. One of the first things I did was visit the places I remembered. Surprisingly the orchard was still there. The fair grounds where Dad took me to see my first horse race around an oval track is still used. In fact I trained my horses at the racetrack from 1968 to 1972. Every time I entered the grounds I recalled something that related to an experience with Father.
Dad was fortunate to get a permanent job as custodian of the high school, consequently the annual treks to Idaho for shearing came to an end. The grounds at the school took on a different appearance during Dad's tenure. He planted trees and grass. Because of his efforts the students enjoyed lawns instead of gravel to play on. It was a welcome relief.
Dad has established a reputation for riding rough stock. His long time friend, Bill Romine, told me this story. "Bart didn't pay any attention to the roughest horse in the string, he would take the horse that no one else would ride.
"There was an especially mean animal in the band that had thrown every cowboy that tried to ride him. He was hard to get on and doubly hard to stick once the rider did get aboard. Bart took the pluck out of him after the saddle was in place by tying his head to the saddle cinch. This caused the horse to get unbalanced and fall to the ground, As soon as he fell, your dad was sitting in the saddle with a firm hold and telling the others to let him up. The horse was surprised to see your dad aboard and jumped to his feet with a lunge. Bart was ready. He put on quite a show, but the horse couldn't shake him out of the saddle. Your dad had conquered a mean one. Thereafter the horse gentled into a good cowhorse. Bill stated, " However, your dad was the only one who could ride him."
I remember being in Marysvale at the 24th of July rodeo and a hat was passed among the spectators to see my Dad ride a bronco that no one else would ride. After raising about $25.00 they put the horse in the chute, saddled him for the show. Dad eased down on the horse and with a nod of his head asked for the horse to be turned out. Everyone was quiet with anticipation. The gate was thrown open and after a couple of jumps, the horse bolted and ran around the arena. Never bucked a tab. Dad declared, "This is the easiest money I have ever made."
I remember with much joy my first hunt with Dad. We planned all the details several days before the opening. Dad had several friends that always counted on him to care for the horses and see to it that the camp arrived safely at the south fork of Birch Creek.
With four head of horses hitched to the wagon, Dad mounted the seat with me by his side. Dad was a master at handling the reins and swinging the leaders wide on the turn in order that the wheel horses could keep the wagon on the narrow road. He would explain how to hold the leaders wide on the turn in order that the wheel horses could keep the wagon on the narrow road. He would explain how to hold the leader's reins between the two little fingers and the wheel horses' reins between the thumb and index finger. By the slightest movement he could control each team. He was a real skinner.
Pausing at the base of the long hill in order for the horses to take a breather, Dad would relax the point out the different plants and trees. He would project our hunting movements by recalling successful hunts he had had in the various canyons and valleys. After resting the horses f or a while, Dad would announce; "Hit em up, let's go!" The horses would brace up and settle into the tugs. Dad would then cluck his tongue and we would start up the final pitch to camp. Tents were pitched among the quaking aspen and pine. The clean, clear air was fresh and smelled good. Soon there was the smell of the campfire mingling with the scent of pine. Lazily the thin stream of wood smoke rose in the air. He sat by the fire listening as the hunters recounted deer stories well into the night. Once I was settled in bed, sleep came quickly.
Up before daylight Dad would build the f ire then water and feed the horses. He would wash his hands and start breakfast. The sizzling of bacon could be heard above the mumur of leaves. Dad could prepare the lightest sourdough biscuits you could eat. He had a special way of turning down the flour sack and mixing the sourdough batter in a hollow he had scooped out in the flour. Gingerly he would cuddle the dough into a nice round ball and drop them lightly into the hot Dutch oven. Placing the lid carefully on the oven, he would put a few red embers on it. By the time the eggs and bacon were cooked, the biscuits were done. He could make any meal fit f or a king over the camp f ire. I t didn't matter if it were apple cobbler, biscuits, stew, or steak everything was devoured.
After, breakfast chores were over we organized the day. Dad and I would head for our favorite place, a little rise opposite a long row of oak and pine. Almost always a nice buck would be driven from his bed and we would go home with the venison.
The first deer I killed was shot just about daylight. Dad kidded me about shooting before I could see my sights. I guess it was a lucky shot. In any event I got a nice two pointer.
When World War 11 broke out the family moved to Layton, Utah. I stayed behind to live with Grandmother Applegate. Dad worked at Hill Air Force Base near Ogden Utah and later for Cudahay Meat Packers. After a year the family moved back to Circleville.
It was in the spring, during my junior year in high school that I talked Dad into signing my papers to join the navy. My mother, didn't like it, but Dad calmly signed and I enlisted. While I was in the navy Dad and Mother went into the shoe repair business. Business was kind or slow so Dad found additional work as a butcher. Dad could butcher a beef faster and cleaner than anyone. His skill was unequaled.
When I arrived home from the navy Dad had a pair of boots as a welcome home present. They were the same brand he always wore. I was delighted with my new Kirkendalls. No longer would I have to wear extra socks and sneak his boots on.
When the summer of '46 arrived, Dad went to work at the sawmill on Beaver Mountain. He was in charge of the horses that were used to skid logs. Dad also trimmed the trees before setting the skid tongs. He could swing an axe with either hand. I learned a lot from Dad that summer, where to find wild strawberries, skid logs, and generally just to enjoy the forest.
At the end of the summer, Dad went into the meat locker business. He could cure hams and bacon with the best of butchers. People would bring their pork for miles just to have them cured with the special apple wood Dad would use.
Dad always looked forward to seeing his grandchildren and they were as happy to see him. They enjoyed going to Grandpa's locker plant and treated to the refreshing orange drink that was ever present.
Dad's life changed dramatically in the next few years. He gave up a life long habit of not living the word of wisdom. His life took on a more spiritual dimension.
I was fortunate to be given the privilege of ordaining my Dad an Elder in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. After this the spirit of genealogy entered into Dad's life. He read and searched out his ancestors. His excitement was magnified upon finding his line went back to the Quakers in Pennsylvania.
I was never happy about an early deer hunt, It didn't seem right to hunt in September and when Dad called to invite me along I made some excuse not to go. For some reason I was prompted to reconsider. Perhaps it was a feeling that this could easily be our last hunt together. I called back to indicate a change of mind.
We were up early that Saturday morning. Not early for Dad, because as long as I can remember he was always up by 5:00 a.m. On this particular day we left his place at 4:30 a.m. and drove to the mountains. It was a beautiful day. The sunrise over the mountains was spectacular. As we drove we talked, mostly about our past and the experiences we'd had. He reminisced about his father. We talked about Old Katie, Grandfather's saddle mule with a hole in her nose, worked by the hackomore. He told me about Grandfather's life in the mountains and how he contracted Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, which killed him the day after my fifth birthday.
We stopped by a small thicket of pine and decided to begin hunting in earnest. Dad took one side and I the other. Soon the flash of a deer was jumping from his bed. One shot and he was mine--a nice two point buck. Together we cleaned it. It was quite a hike back to the pickup. We worked together dragging the deer, but my back gave out so Dad dropped the buck over his strong shoulders and carried the deer to the car, We washed in the creek and had an enjoyable lunch. It was a pleasant time. After a time of visiting, we started home without a deer for Dad. He said it didn't matter because he got enough of deer from so many he processed in the locker plant. Dad seemed a little worn out and so we decided not to hunt anymore.
A week later Dad fell the victim of a heart attack. Corrine and I rushed to the Panguitch Hospital. Dad was death gray with wires hooked to a monitor. Mother stood by his bed holding his hand. The doctor had advised her that he was sure Bart would pull through. I administered to him and asked that the Lord's will be done. In about two weeks he was released from the hospital. Recuperation was slow but steady. Dad and mother spent the following Christmas with us. I can still remember him sitting on the couch reading to his beloved grandchildren.
The following May I received word that dad was dying from a re-occurring heart attack. My wife and I arrived just in time to help put Dad in an ambulance. After it left for the mortuary, I called my aunts and uncles to report, then I broke down and wept. Dad was only 55 years old, too young to die. We buried him on the 21st of May in 1960.
I was by his gravesite on June 22, 1983. As I stood before the grave I had many pleasant flash backs of my boyhood days and Dad. The horses he rode, the hunts we went on, the boots he gave me. For a brief moment I captured many special memories of life with Father. I recalled his favorite song being sung at his funeral. How appropriate that it was "Home on The Range."
Dad loved the mountains so very much that it seems appropriate that my poem “Reaching Heaven” be dedicated to his memory.
Mountains, our very own Crown jewels.
They, create our yesterdays,
enliven our today’s, brighten our
The unspoiled and inspiring
Places in our world.
A paradise amid
Towering peaks, creme de menthe
Forests, spurting fountains
Thundering falls, soaring eagles,
A nature lover's dream.
Mountains, our vision of summer.
We discover our lofty passions
Being elicited by nature.
A grand sensation of liberty
And total absence of fear.
The sage covered slopes
Limpid with sunlight.
Long leaping granite cliffs
Glowing white in the moonlight.
Mountains are sensual with
Sharp outlines, vivid texture
And the warmth of an unhazed sun,
Hypnotic with the dappling of
Sunlight through the pine boughs.
The mind wanders and drifts into the world of spiritual
The silence is eloquent.
Clouds veil the peaks.
Our thoughts ride the winds.
Mountains, the roosting place
The cold stillness of morning
Excites the soul.
In the frosty silence
Time means nothing.
Mountains, places of
Echoes and memories are endless”
Don J. Applegate
MEMORIES OF GRANDMOTHER:
By Don J. Applegate-1989
I have vivid memories of Grandmother Applegate sitting in the parlor peeling apples for her grandchildren. I watched and marveled at the unbroken peel as it spiraled into her apron.
Being the oldest grandchild put me in good standing with grandmother. She was always quick to give me a dime for the movie playing at the show house. Her sugar cookies were always available in the cookie jar. They were delicious.
Grandmother was left a widow when Grandfather died in 1935 just five days before my sixth birthday. I remember sitting on his lap and playing with his handle bar mustache.
Education was very important to her as attested by the fact that eight out of nine children graduated from high school My father didn't, he spent a lot of time at the sheep camp with Grandfather.
I can still see Old Tim, the cat, lying before the cook- stove waiting for a mouse or handout from Grandmother. He was white with some black points. He would always hide in the pantry when the little hands of the children tried to pet him. Grandmother used to sit him on her lap and stroke his fur. He seemed to enjoy her stroking, as his purring would indicate.
Grandmother took a dim view of people making excuses for their children's actions. She always lived her motto, "Sweep your own yard before you sweep someone else's." I never knew what she meant until she explained that we should never judge anyone else or make justification for our own actions. She lived the golden rule.
Grandmother was hired to cook for the first school lunch in Circleville. She would get soup bones from the local store and make soup to go with the sandwiches the children brought to school. She loved to see the students eat their fill.
I am told that Grandmother was a superb horsewoman. She would ride sidesaddle and could jump her horse over the fences.
In the summer you would find Grandmother in the garden at first light. She grew vegetables for winter food. Many times I was involved with bean snapping and corn husking to help her prepare them for canning.
She taught her children to be good workers. Each one worked to help pay for their schooling: A tribute to a special mother as they graduated from High School.
I've often repeated the phrase she always used when she held her grandchildren. As she rocked them she would say, "Every old crow thinks hers is the blackest and best."
Grandmother was a very loving and a very gentleperson. I never heard her raise her voice in anger. The only time I saw her very excited was when I was chased through a barbed wire fence and cut my face. She was very concerned about me. I still bear the sear on my cheek. She allowed I was branded for life
Many quilts were made in the parlor of Grandmother. She made mostly camping quilts. Most of the quilts were given away as presents for young couples starting their journey of matrimony.
Grandmother was short and stocky which belied her quick- ness in housework and gardening. Her hair was always put up in a bun. The graying was slow that I don't remember her with much gray hair.
When Uncle Martel joined the Navy, Grandmother was most anxious when the war started. She hung the banner with a star on it, in tribute to her boy. Always expecting and receiving a letter brought joy to her. As she read the letters over and over, a tear would steal down her cheek. She became very excited when she received the news that Uncle would be coming home on leave.
I lived with Grandmother one year during the war. It was my job to get the wood and coal in every night. If I forgot, she would always get me up to do it. She taught me the
importance of taking responsibility for my assignment.
When I joined the Navy, Grandmother was very proud. She claimed I joined because of Uncle Martel being a sailor. She sometimes would kid me about having a girl in every port, not that she believed it to happen, at least not to her grandson.
The last family reunion I remember with Grandmother was at Aunt Fontella's place. We had a good time playing and eating. Again her sugar cookies were in great abundance. She knew they were favorites of the kids.
Grandmother contracted sugar diabetes, which eventually took her life, but not without a fight. She had to live in Marysvale for a short time in order for Dr. Jenkins to make sure her treatment was helpful. She had chocolate bars handy in case of insulin shock. Of course she was always liberal in giving a sweet treat to grandchildren as they visited her.
I got my share.
One of her special times came when our son, Steven, was born. Grandmother Lewis was still living so we had a five-generation picture taken. It hangs today in our home. I look at it everyday, especially since we now have our first great- grandchild. We are looking forward to a five-generation picture on mine and Corrine's side of the family. It takes a bit of doing to come up with five generations on one side, and we have two sides!
Grandmother eventually died from the sugar diabetes. I remember seeing and visiting her during her last days. She was cheerful as anyone could be under the circumstances. She said, "I am looking forward to being with your grandfather." I'm sure they are together and working out their salvation.
It is with fondness that I remember my Grandmother Apple- gate. She was always so loving and kind to her oldest grandson. Someday I hope to see her again. She will hug me as she often did; I will hug her back and tell her how much I love her. She was the best Grandmother a boy could ever want. I love her with all my heart.
WHAT I REMEMBER ABOUT MY FATHER; By Deane Applegate Davison.
I was born on the 29th of May in1923 in Circleville, Piute Co. Utah to Jesse Applegate and Effie Elizabeth Lewis. I was the youngest of nine children born to my parents.
There were five boys and f our girls, namely; Barton, Jay W., Effie, Fantella, Lewis, Lydia Agatha, Jesse Owen, Vivian June, Martel and Dora Deane.
I was born at home in the log house that later became our kitchen after our house was remodeled and four rooms added. No medical doctor attended my birth but my sweet mother was assisted by a midwife. My father leased sheep from Arthur Whittaker and the busiest time of the year for him were the months of April and May when the lambs were born and the sheep were sheared. Because of this heavy workload my father was unable to be home to greet me on my arrival and I was six weeks old before my father saw me.
I have been told that my father loved to read and when he came home to see me for the first time he had already selected a special name for me. It seems that about the time I was born he had been reading a book about a girl named Dora Deane. It was written by a Frenchman, an so the name is pronounced with the accent on the last "e” in Deane; with the “e” Pronounced "A".
My father's work made it necessary for him to be away from home most of the time so I don't remember too much about him. One thing that I do recall was the time my brother Bart' s oldest child was born, and I was three and one half years older.
On this particular day I had been allowed to see the new baby for the first time.
As mother and I were returning home full of wonder and excitement, I saw Daddy
coming home driving a team of horses with a big wagonload of wood. As I ran to the wagon, Daddy looked down and asked why I was so happy with sparkling eyes. “I informed him, I'm an aunt now, Daddy". I wondered at the time why he laughed.
This incident must have delighted him. This oldest nephew of mine, Don J. was always
like a beloved younger brother to me.
Another incident that I recall with pleasure was a rainy spring day when Don and I were confined to the house. We were restless and having a hard time to find something to do to entertain us until the rainstorm passed over. Daddy came to the rescue and gave each of us a silver dollar. Oh, how big that money looked to us.
Whenever Daddy was leaving to trail the sheep to the winter range on the west desert. He always let me ride beside him on the wagon as far as the main road. It made a little feel important and loved.
By my father's pictures I can see that he was a tall handsome man but the one thing that I remember about his appearance was his mustache. I didn't like to kiss him because the stiff hairs of the mustache touched my face.
I remember the day he died. Father was very ill, suffering from Rocky Mountain Spotted fever as a result of being bitten by an infected woodtick. I was in the second grade and Martel and I was about to leave for school. Daddy must have known the end was near because he asked me to come to his bed and kiss him good bye. That was the last time that saw him alive.
I have been told that my father was a quiet, reserved man who loved his life and family and always worked hard to take care of then. I wish that I could remember more.
A few recollections of my Mother, Effie Elizabeth Lewis Applegate and of my Father, Jesse (Jess) Applegate: By Martel Applegate
Mother was the hardest working woman I have ever known. She was always the first of
the family out of bed in the morning and the last to retire for the night. I have the feeling
that she thought it a down right sin to be in bed in the after daylight or before dark.
In the summer before sunup she was always out in either the vegetable garden or
pulling weeds out of her flower garden, of which she was very proud. She would never let the kids help her care for her flower garden, afraid they would mess it up, I guess.
The vegetable garden was a different matter, however. She insisted that we kids do
Our share of weeding before we were allowed to go play, etc.
In the winter she was always the first out of bed, started the fires in both the heater and in the cook stove and had breakfast started before anyone else made an appearance.
A hearty breakfast every day was the rule at our house.
Her evenings between the supper dishes and bedtime were spent patching the kids clothes, making blouses, making dresses for the girls or shirts for the boys or hooking a rug.
Mother was not a real stern disciplinarian but she had rules that she did not hesitate to enforce. Since our father was gone with sheep herd most of the time it was her job to
keep us kids in line. Thinking back, it seems she did pretty well. She had a pretty good sense of humor too.
I remember one time when I was about 5 years old I did something that displeased her.
I don't remember just what it was. Well, when she reached for me with the intention of giving me a spanking. I jerked away and ran to the back yard. She knew she couldn't catch me so she sent the older kids, Vivian and Owen (Jess) after me. We had a big pole corral and shade in the back yard at the time. The older kids could out run me but I was small and quick and I could squeeze between the poles in the fence and they had to climb over. The result was that they gave out and never did lay a hand on me.
Well, I hid away most of the day in the haymow of the shed. When suppertime came I decided I just as well face the music and go take my licking. Well, by that time Mother had cooled off and I think she thought it was funny that I had eluded Viv and Owen, that I got by without the punishment.
I remember another episode when I was about 9 or 10 years old, Mother and I had been working in the garden when Ma spied one of her laying hens scratching the newly planted peas. She said, "Martel, throw a rock at that old hen and get her out of the garden." Well I picked up a nice throwing rock and let it fly. The rock hit the hen right on the head and she flopped over. Ma said, "I didn't mean for you to kill her but since she is dead you may as well chop off her head and we will have chicken for dinner” I did and we did.
Monday was always wash day. (Clothes washing that is) Sunday night before retiring for the night Ma always put a pot of dry beans to soak. Monday morning as soon as she got out of bed she would pour the water off the beans, wash them and put then in a big cast iron pot with fresh water, ham hocks or bits of ham and a dry onion and set the pot on the cook stove to simmer until about dinner time. The beans along with home-made bread and fresh whole milk and butter from our own jersey cow made a meal that "would stick to your ribs."
Speaking of beans. The dried beans we had was called "Applegate beans" They were a hybrid bean developed by my grandfather, James Applegate. They were pale brown and when cooked looked a lot like cooked pinto beans. It seemed to me that they were meatier and had a better flavor than pinto beans. Ma seemed to have had a phobia about beans. When I was small there were always 2 or 3 fifty pound sacks of dry beans in the attic but every year we would have to plant a patch of beans, tend them all summer, gather and thresh them in the fall and put another sack or two in the attic. I wonder how long it took to use them up after she quit raising them.
Ma really had a tough time of it after Pa died, not that she had any picnic before, she didn't. She took the job as janitor at the elementary school. This was the old rock two story schoolhouse located on the site of the present elementary school. The school was heated by an individual wood-burning stove in each classroom. The 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th grades were in the two rooms an the ground floor and the remaining classes (5th through
8th) was on the second floor. My primary job was to carry the wood for these stoves from the woodpile in back of the school to fill the huge wood boxes in each room and carry out the ashes.
If a room ran out of wood on a cold day, the teachers of the upper grades would designate some of the boys to carry enough wood to get them through the school day.
When I finished carry the wood I would help Ma and the other kids with dumping the
Waste baskets, sweeping the floor, dusting, etc. It took mother and all of us kid’s left at home until past dark to finish all the work at the school. Then Ma would see to it somehow that we had something to eat before doing our school lessons and going to bed.
I still don't know how she did it all.
We always had milk cows when I was growing up. One summer we had a small burro that I would ride to drive the cows to the wet meadow pastures in the north end of Circle Valley. One day as I was returning from the pasture on the burro, (I was riding bareback) I saw my sister Viv walking on the sidewalk by Carl Whittaker’s. I said to her, “do you want a ride” She said yes. So I rode the burro into the irrigation ditch along side the sidewalk and Viv just swung her leg over and sat down on the burro behind me. When we arrived home our Mother was really scandalized to think that her daughter would ride astride and in a dress, no less. You see, in Mother day she rode a lot but she
always rode side-saddle in a riding habit.
Our Mother was a courageous person, she would walk right up to a mean looking, snarling dog and pet him on the head or chase an old milk cow that was on the fight back to the corral with a big stick. But, when it come to mice, it was a totally different ball game.
I remember one night I was in the front room reading after supper when I was startled
By screaming and commotion from the kitchen. I jumped up and run into the kitchen and to my amazement I saw Ma on top of the kitchen table and the two girls standing on the kitchen chairs, all three of them hollering "bloody murder." I said, “what’s the matter?” Ma said, “There’s a mouse. It just run over to the wood box.” I went over to the wood box, lifted up a stick of juniper and there sat the mouse trembling with fright. I whacked him with a stick of wood, picked him up by the tail, took him outside and disposed of him.
We always had milk cows when I was growing up. One summer we had a small burro that I would ride to drive the cows to the wet meadow pastures in the north end of Circle Valley. One day as I was returning from the pasture on the burro, (I was riding bareback) I saw my sister Viv walking on the sidewalk by Carl Whittaker’s. I said to her, "Do you want a ride?" She said, "Yes” So I rode the burro into the irrigation ditch along side the sidewalk and Viv just swung her leg over and sat down on the burro behind me. When we arrived home our Mother was really scandalized to think that her daughter would ride astride and in a dress, no less.You see, in Mother's day she rode a lot but she always rode sidesaddle in a riding habit. Viv said that Pa kind of got a kick out of the whole episode.
Our Mother was a courageous person, she would walk right up to a mean looking, snarling dog and pet him on the head or chase an old milk cow that was on the fight back to the corral with a big stick.
But, when it came to mice, it was a totally different ball game. I remember one night I was in the front room reading after supper when I was startled by screaming and commotion from the kitchen. I jumped up and ran into the kitchen and to my amazement I saw Ma on top of the kitchen table and the two girls standing on the kitchen chairs, all three of them hollering "bloody murder." I said, "What's the matter?" Ma said, “There’s a mouse. It just ran over to the wood box." I went over to the wood box, lifted up a stick of juniper and there sat the mouse, trembling with fright. I whacked him with a stick of wood, picked him up by the tail, took him outside and disposed of him.
The boys of the family called our Mother, "Ma” and our Father "Pa” The girls referred to them as "Mama" and "Papa" respectively.
Pa was a tall rawboned man, 6 foot 4 inches tall and weighed about 190 pounds. He was a quiet slow talking individual, In fact someone said that if you asked Jess a question in the
morning you might get an answer before dinner. This is an exaggeration, of course.
He was not dumb, in fact, he had a pretty good head on his shoulders. When action was called for he was quick to respond, he just didn't talk much.
One of the things Pa was noted for was his walking ability. When he was out on the desert or on the mountain with the sheep. He always had a saddled horse with him, but he walked and led the horse more than he rode. I remember a man in town saying that he saw Jess Applegate walking from the store past Arthur Whittaker's hedge (the hedge was about 5 feet tall) and it looked like a man an a loping horse. The man said he wasn't too surprised because he figured Jess could out walk any horse alive.
Pa died at age 52 from the effects of Rocky Mountain Tick Fever. I was only 12 years old at the time so naturally all my recollections of him are from a young child's viewpoint.
I remember one summer Pa took Ma, Viv, Deane and I to sheepherd on Table Mountain east of Circleville. Deanae was just baby about I year old. I was 4 and Viv, six. Ma held the baby on a pillow in front of her, I rode behind Ma and Viv rode behind Pa. The entire bunch of us on two horses.
We kids, at least Viv and I really had a ball chasing around wild on the mountain.
One day Pa took us into a grove of young quaking aspen near camp. He bent a young springy aspen over and Viv and I took turns getting on the bent over tree. When we were
set, hanging on tight, he would let go of the little tree and we would have a real live teeter-totter. It was really a ball.
I really loved going on the mountain to stay with Pa at the sheepherd. In fact, if I'd had my druthers, I would have spent all summer there. Pa always did all the cooking and I can still taste the delicious sourdough biscuits with peach jam and mutton, makes my mouth water when I think of it.
The summer Owen was 11 and I was 7, we were on Table Mountain with Pa.
We would usually stay on the mountain about two weeks at a time or until it was time to make a trip to town for supplies. Food for people, grain for the horses and mules and salt for the sheep. The supplies were all transported by pack mule. I learned a lot about handling horses and packing mules at an early age from Pa.
One morning Pa told Oven and I to take the horses and mules to the creek to water, a distance of about two miles. He had just moved the sheep to a new location and felt that he needed to be with them until they settled down. He told us very strongly to be sure to lead the bay mare and not drive her with the other livestock as the mare had a bad reputation as a kicker. That seemed like a lot of trouble to us to lead one horse and drive the rest so we disobeyed him. We were riding double and bare on a black burro driving the horses and pack mules. We were doing fine until we were in eight of the watering place when suddenly the bay mare, who had lagged behind the other animals and was right in front of the burro lashed out with both hind feet. One foot whacked Owen on the shinbone and knocked us both off the burro. By the time we got our wits to gather the livestock had finished drinking and started back up the trail to camp. I caught the burro and some how managed to get Owen on the burro. He couldn't put any weight on one leg. I led the burro back to camp, helped my brother onto the bed in the tent and hightailed it to get Pa. I remember that I was rather perturbed that Pa took the news so calmly. He said, "I told you boys to lead the mare. I hope you have learned a lesson about minding what you are told." We went to camp where Pa examined Owen's leg, put a bandage on it and loaded him an a horse. We all three headed for Antimony. Pa used the phone at the general store to call my older brother, Jay to come for us boys. Jay took Owen and I home and Pa went back to the herd.
The next summer I was with Pa when Lew brought word about Owen having a sunstroke. I wanted to stay on the mountain but Pa said "No" So Lew, who had brought a substitute herder with him, took us home in the 1929 Model "A” Ford. Thinking of the Model "A” reminds me that Pa never learned to drive a car. H e tried just one time. The car was parked in front of the house facing south when Pa decided to try to drive it. H e started the engine, let out the clutch and tried making a "U" turn. The engine was revved up pretty good and before Pa could get the car under control it headed up the ditch bank in front of the Meek's house. Pa pulled back as hard as he could on the steering wheel and yelled, "Whoa, Whoa, you son-of-bitch. Fortunately the car stalled out in the deep sand of the irrigation ditch bank. That was the one and only time that Pa tried driving.
When I was 4 or 5 years old I found out I could spit between my two front teeth so I developed a habit of aiming and spitting at everything every minute or two when I was outdoors. One day I was tagging Pa around the yard when he took his plug of horse- shoe chewing tobacco, cut a small slice, held it out to me and said, "If you're going to spit all the time you may as well chew on this and have an excuse to spit” Of I declined the chaw and his remark cured me of spitting.
One day when I was about 5 years old I wandered into the back yard. Much to my consternation the mean old buck sheep that was locked up in the corral was loose in the yard. I whirled around and started for the house as fast as I could run. I didn't quite make It. The buck caught me just inside the front yard and hit me in the back pockets and I really sailed, landing on my hands, knees, belly and face. Just as I landed Pa stepped out the back door. He had been sharpening a single bit ax and leaned it against the house while he stepped into the kitchen for a drink of water. He took in the situation immediately, grabbed the ax, took about three steps and hit the old buck right between the horns. The blow knocked that sheep about as far on his tail as the buck had boosted me.You know what? That old buck got back on his feet, shook and let out a blat and trotted back out to the corral.
Pa was a good hand with livestock of all kinds. Before I came along he ran a freight line from the railroad in Marysvale to points South.
I don't have any first hand knowledge so my older siblings will have to recount happening of those days. I do recall that he was pretty fussy about the horses and mules being well fed and taken care of. If a horse or mule got a saddle or cinch sore he wouldn't use the animal until it was healed. He even had Ma make extra heavy quilted pads for the pack mules. The pads were made from old denim overalls with a cotton filler and quilted with heavy red string of some kind. It must have been some job to make those saddle pads.
I remember how well Pa trained his sheep dogs. The dog I remember most vividly was called "Chum. " He was actually my oldest brother Bart's dog but Pa used him with the sheep a good part of the time. Pa never yelled at the dog, he would just speak quietly and use hand signals. He could stand on an elevation and direct the dog any place he wanted the dog to go to head the sheep in the desired direction.
Pa had the reputation of being the best in the area at counting sheep. One spring we had
the sheep at the separating corral on the flats on the east side of the valley. Some man I didn't know was real interested watching Pa counting the sheep out of the corral. When the sheep were all counted from the corral the man come up to Pa and asked how in thunder he could count those sheep running at full speed. Pa looked at him with a straight face and with that slow drawl replied, "Well I just count their legs and divide by four.
Pa never had to yell at any of the kids to obtain compliance with his wishes. If he was displeased, all it took was one look with those steel gray eyes, and believe me the recipient of that look would shaped up. I remember only one exception in my case. Ma, Pa and some of us kids were sitting in the kitchen sort of visiting. I started teasing Deane and she started crying and ran for Ma’s lap. Dad reached out with his left hand and gave me a swat on the butt. It wasn't a hard blow but it just about broke my heart. That was the one and only time I ever knew him to lay a hand on any of his kids.
Pa was my boyhood idol. To me he was all the Zane Grey heroes and Gary Cooper rolled into one.
June 11, 1989.
My Father, Jesse Applegate, by Agatha Applegate Nay.
My father, Jesse Applegate, was born in Parowan, Iron County Utah on May 12, 1878, to Rachel Hadden and James Applegate.
He was away from home a great deal of the time. When I was small he freighted from Marysvale to Kanab. When I was older he ran sheep for Whittakers. When he freighted
there were several men who freighted with him, but the one I remember most was
Eb Parker. Each man had at least four horses on his wagon. They hauled freight from Marysvale, through Panguitch and down through Tropic entering Kanab through Johnson. I remember one time when Dad came home and was driving into the back yard, one of the horses bulked and he had a hard time getting it to move. It laid down in the harness and the other horses couldn't go until Dad got the horse up.
Another time I remember was my fourth birthday, Dec. 4, he drove the team and wagon into the front yard, south of the house, where we grew corn and potatoes in the summer, he came into the house and had me go out to the wagon with him, where he climbed on the wagon and uncovered the load so he could get my birthday present. The present was a little red rocking chair.
As I grew older I remember he spent most of his time at the sheep camps. He leased the sheep from Arthur Whittaker and run them. The boys, Bart, Jay and Lew, helped him, Lew was there the most. He also hired other men, some Mexicans and some white men. In the winter he was on the desert out in Wah Wah Valley. In the summer the sheep were brought to the East Mountains. Fontella and I went out to the herd for our vacation
when were young. It was all right for a few days but I didn't like to camp out for very long. Other members of the family would go out for a trip. When the lambing season was on there were always dogies that were brought onto our home and Mother and the ones who were home fed them. We used to teach them to drink milk by putting our hands down in the milk and letting the lamb suck our finger. One time a black lame was brought in with a hurt back, I think it was broken, Owen and I made a swing out of a large gunny sack and tied it to two big trees on the front path, then placed the lamb on it. We fed it and it grew to be a big sheep but it always wriggled it's hind parts when it walked, so it remained at home when the other lambs were taken to the herd.
One time Dad told me I could paint on of the sheep wagons. He let me choose the paint, I chose the brightest blue paint you could imagine. I don't see how any one could sleep in it, but Dad said I did a good job. I remember seeing the wagon a few years after and wondered how I could have chosen that color.
When I was small we had scarlet fever, Mother almost died with it and I had it very bad too. Bart was the oldest and a good cook, so he took care of us, Jay did the and Bart helped him as much as he could, when he had time. Mrs. Mary Meeks, our neighbor, would come to the window and tell Bart how to take care of us, she couldn't come in
because we were quarantined. Some one sent for Dad to come from the desert. It was in the winter, and very cold. Dad came by horseback over Lake and Circleville Mountain. When he received the word to come, he rode one horse from the desert to Greenville, Beaver County, then changed to another to come over the mountain, when he arrived home his mustache and beard were covered with ice and he was almost frozen.
He was a great outdoors-man and knew the desert and mountains as well as he knew main street; but one time, out on the desert he was caught in a blizzard when he went around the sheep to see that they were safe for the night. He was on old French, a horse that had been bought from the army and had been trained for hard work, it was go that the horse was strong because Dad said that the horse kept going around and around until he found the camp.
I remember Dad would come home from the desert to spend a few days with us, he liked dramas and movies. Traveling shows used to come to town, we were always allowed to go and if he was home he went too. He went to movies in Milford and would tell us about it at the dinner table. He could tell them so well that you felt as if you were there. Ebb Parker would come visit him and the two of them were very entertaining with their stories of when they were boys and when they freighted.
My father helped build the Piute Reservoir and Dam; he worked with team and scraper as did many others.
He hauled large loads of stove wood, from the hills south of town, for burning in both the cook stove and the heating stove. After he trailed the sheep to the winter range on the west desert, he would take time off. It would be about the first of October he would haul wood until deer season then go hunting, he always got his deer and Mother would take care of it. We would have it to cook, kept cool by hanging it on the north side of the house at night and wrapping it tight and putting in a cool place in the house during the day. Mother corned some, it tasted like corned beef, and she made her lovely mincemeat, for pies, from it. Often we children would go with Dad when he went for wood and while he got the wood we would gather pine nuts.
I remember when he wrote us letters mailed New House out west of Squaw Springs on the West desert, now a ghost town.
A few times he decided to try farming. Once he rented the Al Haycock place and another time he rented the Wilson farm over the river. For a time he was City Marshall of
Circleville. But he went back to the sheep because he knew that work best and was always wanted there.
On March 23,1931 word came for Lew to go to the desert and get Dad because he was ill He had the Rocky Mountain Spotted Tick Fever. He was ill for months. At that time the serum for tick fever wasn't available. I graduated from high school in May and helped Mother with the housework and children. I also helped to take care of Dad. I rubbed his back a lot, he said I did a good job. Sometimes in the night, when he couldn't sleep. I would rub him. Once when I was sitting with him, I thought he was asleep, he looked so pale and thin that I cried. He awoke and saw me, he said " Don't weary over me". He told me he was going to get well and that I was to go to beauty school as planed. But it didn’t turn out that way. It made me feel good when I could help him. We all did everything we could. Jay was around to take him to the Doctor. Lew took care of the sheep and saw that the herders did as they should. After Dad died, Lew still went to the herd for Whittakers and helped Mother what he could until he went to barber school. Jay and Bart continued to look out for her, but she was very independent and soon got a job.
Dad didn't recover and died November 9. 1931 at home and was buried November 12, 1931 at Circleville Cemetery.
Here is a recent article taken from the Deseret News, May 2000. By Carma Wadley.
It mentions Agatha Applegate Nay, the author of the above history.
On a late summer day when Agatha Applegate Nay was nearly 12, she was sent out collecting money for the newspaper her family run in the little town of Circleville Utah. One of the homes she stopped at was that of Maximilliam Parker, a red brick house in the center of town. Mr. Parker-his wife was dead by then-stepped into the kitchen, and then here came his son, Butch, said Nay, who at the age of 84 has lived in Circleville most of her life. “He stood over against the wall and he started asking all about my family” She remembers Butch as being rather short. “My father was a tall man, but Butch was short. He was nice looking. He wanted to know all about the Applegate’s.
This would have been 1925, long after the outlaw had supposedly killed in Bolivia. “I know for a fact he didn’t die there.” said Nay. But she never told her mother about seeing Butch. “Mother told me to hurry back and I was late getting home. I was afraid she’d ask me where I had been. But she didn’t. I’m glad she didn’t ask, I couldn’t have lied” Nay, in act, never did tell he mother, never told anyone for a long time. “The Parkers were good people” said Nay.
My cousin, Blaine Applegate wrote the following article. (RD)
MEMORIES OF GEORGE BRAINE APPLEGATE:
I was born August 3, 1935 in Circleville, Piute County, Utah to Barton Applegate and
Elvirda Fox. Was born in a two room log home, which was to be my home, off and on, for the first 13 (thirteen) years of my life. The home was really unique and something I will remember. The floor in the front room and kitchen, combination, tilted towards the center where the chimney was and I can remember letting my cars, trucks and train run down the hill, so to speak. I would even get on my roller skates, at the top and then coast to the center of the room. It was great fun. Something that was even more exciting was at mealtime. With the floor tilted, the table was not even. People sitting on the one side would wonder if the food would stay on the table or end up in their laps.
My biggest job during childhood was seeing that the firewood and coal was brought in. Also there was no running water in the house, so buckets of water was brought in from a tap outside side, that had to be kept filled for hot water. The cook stove had a reservoir on the side, which had to be kept filled for hot water.
The home had a nice front yard with plenty of space to play. It was located in the south west corner of town and faced east. On the south side grew two gooseberry bushes, which the neighbor kids and I would like to pick and eat green. Boy! Were they sour. There also grew two lilac bushes and a yellow rose bush in the south east corner of the lot. In the back grew a large tree that the neighbor kids and I liked to spend hours climbing. Dad had tied a rope to one of the limbs which was fun swinging on for hour after hour. There were also currant bushes in the back, which had a few berries on occasionally. Every year my folks would plant a large garden, which supplied us with vegetables for the winter months. Next to the woodpile a cellar was dug where potatoes, carrots, and a few bottles of fruit were kept. It was fun going down into the cool atmosphere and get the things needed for dinner.
While we lived in the log house, Dad built a nice corral north west of the house. We had a few pigs, a couple of cows, (old Jersey and Star), chickens and a few rabbits. I was responsible for taking care of the rabbits and feeding the chickens.
Mother had an unfortunate happening while at the home. She had been cleaning out the
chicken coup and had burned the trash. The fire had gone out, or so we thought. A small breeze began to blow, starting the rubbish burning. It then spread to the haystack, chicken coup and shed. Circleville didn't have a fire truck at this time so a bucket brigade was formed from the ditch. Didn't save much except the shed, which was pulled away from the fire with a tractor. This was a lesson that taught us to make sure a fire is definitely out before leaving it.
A hole was dug behind the home for a basement, which was apparently intended for a new home. This, however, was never completed.
One of the early incidents in my life happened when I was around two years old on about
December 12th. This is something I cannot remember, but what I heard growing up. My Uncle Ed Betenson, on my mother's side, had a horse in the pasture next to our home. Mother had put my sweater and cap on me and let me outside to lay. I was to play in the front yard where she could keep an eye on me. Before too long, mother looked outside, but couldn't see me. Finally looking in the pasture, she saw me lying on the ground and climbed through the barbed wire fence and ran to me. Just as she got to me, I raised my head and blood was running down my face. I had apparently hit the horse with a stick and he kicked me in the chest and rolled the skin off my face. Mother picked me up and carried me back through the fence to the house where she opened the door shouting, "Bart, our baby!" Dad was on the couch resting. When he heard mother, he jumped up, and took me from mother. Mother rushed to the neighbors, got a man who was sawing wood and they took me to the doctor, who was holding a baby clinic at the grade school.
I was unconscious for two weeks, because of a bad concussion, and they didn't know if I
would live or not. The doctor told my folks that when I came around not to scold me. I must have been a little demon after that. Mother said I would pull things off the table, break things, tip chairs over and really cause cain, but everything worked out okay. It was through Mother's faith and prayers, the work of the Elders that I was able to live.
Another incident happened when I was about four. My father had to attend a peace
Officer training school in Richfield, Sevier Co., Ut. We went with him along with Sheriff Hoyt Morrill and his wife.
While Dad and the sheriff were at the meeting, mother took Elva Morrill and me window shopping. While in Penny’s, mother bought me a truck and on the way out she found a string on the floor to tie on the truck so I could pull it. I would pull the truck ahead of mother so she could keep a close watch. We had to cross the street to get to Riteway. I pulled the truck all the way and even around the store. The manager watched me and when we left the store, he came running out. He came up to mother and Mrs. Morrill, shouting, "Say lady, did you pay for that truck?" Mother was really upset. She turned around and said, "I most certainly did. I bought it at the J.C. Penny's store across the street." The manager then turned and went back to his store. Mrs. Morrill said, when the manager got to his door, “Why, of all the nerve!" He didn't even apologize, They were certainly mad.
People must have really thought I was an odd duck. Mother had to send me to the neighbors to borrow an item needed, occasionally. I don't know why, but I certainly liked the taste of vinegar. Mother sent me to Ester Whiteshire's, which was only across the street, for a cup I of vinegar, Before I got home, I had drunk half the vinegar. It is a wonder I wasn't pickled.
Another time when she needed to borrow a cube of butter, she sent me to Floss Peterson's, which was a block east. I got the butter and also Floss gave me an old dress. Since I liked to dress up, I stopped on my way home, put on the dress, and began to dance. Mother could see me from home and said I was really putting on a show for the pigs in the field.
In growing up, I did things that were not all good, nor all bad. One thing that was humorous to me, at the time, but was not to the other person involved was when was outside watering. This happened when in about the fifth grade. I was in the front yard watering the flowers and lawn Not only was the flowers and lawn getting sprayed, but also the windows, roof, and even inside the screen door. Mother told me to stop it. I went on and when mother started towards the door, I ran away from the home. She came out and then I let her have it. She really got wet, but didn't suffer as much as I did. She spanked me and made me stay in doors the rest of the day.
Before going on with my life experience, just a little note about my father. He was a very
talented man, although he did not complete school. He was a good carpenter, sheared sheep, a butcher, a shoe repairman, and could do a lot of other occupations. There was even a time when he wanted to become a forester, taking the test and passing the highest. However, do to the fact he did not have a high school certificate, the job was given to another. Still he was able to provide a good living for the family.
It was the year before I was born, that dad, mother and my brother Don went to Billings, Montana to shear sheep. Don was seven years old and when they got home mother was expecting me. This was in 1934. Again in 1940, our family went to Soda Springs, Idaho with Uncle John Fox and his family to shear. We all had to stay in tents. Don and I slept in the back of a pickup truck. On our way back home from Soda Springs, and near the prison in Salt Lake, the truck vapor locked. Dad thought it was out of gas. He left us there and started for Lehi to get gas. Mother wouldn't let Don go to sleep, because she was frightened (It was about nine o'clock at night). After awhile, mother was able to start the truck, so we headed towards Lehi. Don was to watch for dad. Before long, we met him carrying a can of gas and everything turned out okay.
In the spring of 1950, dad went up on Parker Mountain to herd sheep for Douglas Q. Cannon. When school was out I went and stayed with him for a few days. This was great fun, sleeping in the tent, watching the dog keep the sheep in toil, and just sitting quietly observing the scenery. Dad would fix sourdough biscuits and sheep meat for our meals. It was a very good time in my life.
Sometimes, Dad would shear sheep in town. There was a holding pen on the flats south of town where sheep owners would bring their sheep I also helped by stomping the wool down in big sacks. Several men would spend days shearing. Every night, dad and I had to check all over our bodies for ticks. Sometimes, the ticks would bite and mother would have to put alcohol on them to get them off. The ticks would burrow their heads right through the skin and was a little difficult to get them out.
One thing that happened around the fourth of July one year while dad was away shearing, that made me feel ashamed, was when mother sent me to't6wn for us a treat. The stores were about seven blocks from our home and took time to walk or even ride a bike. I went to the store, got some bottles of pop and then the clerk wanted to know if she should open them. I said yes. On the way home, I drank all of mine and not being satisfied, drank about half of mother's. I had done that, I thought what she would say if she didn't get her bottle. So before I got home, I stopped and filled the bottle with water. Mother thought it was funny, but it wasn't really, drink was warm and pretty tasteless.
My school years in Circleville were a lot of fun. I really liked school. I can remember my first year in kindergarten. Mrs. Janet Jenkins was the teacher. She was from Kingston and really a wonderful lady. We played games and had a real fun time listening to stories were sometimes we even bobbed for apples.
Some of the parties held in grade school were really something. The teacher I had in the fifth grade was really nice. Miss Carrie Allen was the teacher, and did have some odd customs, when it came to refreshments for parties. Every party we always had raisins and peanuts mixed. It wasn't a bad deal, but sometimes tiring. Some of the stories told about Miss Allen may have been true and some my not. A few people said she was real mean, broke rulers over people's heads, cracked knuckles, and threw chalk. But I can't remember this ever happening while in her grade. There were times she became angry, but the students brought this on themselves. One thing I can remember was a saying she would say when provoked - "Oh! Shaw!" and then stomped her foot. Her glasses fell down on her nose, which appeared quite humorous to me. But I didn't laugh out loud. Didn't want her wrath to come down on me.
When I was in the third grade, mother, dad, and I moved to Layton, Utah where dad had
a job at Hill Air Force Base. Mother worked at O.P. Skaggs as a clerk and running a cash register.
We lived in Layton from about December 1942, to Sept. 1943. Don stayed in Circleville with grandmother Applegate. We lived in a small trailer west of Layton and on the road towards Hill Field.
It was a lot of fun while in Layton. Since mother and dad worked during the week it was
and I saved it in a quart bottle. When we moved I had saved enough to buy a $18.75 war bond, which came in handy a few years later. After I had cleaned the trailer I would walk to town, which was a couple of miles away and help mother in the store, by putting items on the shelves or carrying out trash. Dad would also go to the store on weekends and cut meat. Sometimes I would go to the matinee show with the manager's son or he would invite me to his house to play. A show that I saw with him (Call him Bob - do not recall his real name), was "'The Woofman” This show had its effect on me for years after. Bob had seen the show three times and was able to watch it with no apparent fright. The part where the man changed into the ugly hairy Woofman scared me so much that I slumped down in the seat and covered my eyes until the man changed. I did peak through my fingers to see what was happening. Couldn't see how Bob could stand to watch it. This experience frightened me so much that I had nightmares up into my high school years. Any noise at night, a dark shadowed street, or tall trees always made me think of monsters. The slightest noise, dog bark or strange movement would make me run for home.
Mother took me to the school in Layton to get enrolled. It was an interesting experience,
being in a large school. The first day was exciting. And I believe this was my first encounter with here on my interest in girls arose.
Layton was a very nice town to live in and sometimes I wish we had stayed there. Dad had a good job both at Hill Field and the store where mother worked. The last job could of worked into something real good and my family would have been financially better off.
In about September 1943 we moved back to Circleville so I could get in school there. Don was a junior this year and stayed in school until after the junior prom then joined the Navy on the 4th of May 1944. He was on a destroyer, U.S.S. Strong, which was going to open the way on the last one of the Japanese bases at Okinawa when V.J. day was announced.
Shortly after Don joined the Navy, Dad, Mom, & I moved into Grandmother Applegate's house. She had moved to Layton to be with Uncle Owen, dad's brother. The house was larger, with more room that we liked. There were two bedrooms upstairs and one down with a front room. The two-story part had board siding and then there was the kitchen in the north side, which was the original house. This part was made of logs. The yard was large with ample space for a garden, flowers and bushes. It was located closer to town and next to the high school grounds.
Grandmother had, to me, the most beautiful place in town. I really enjoyed going to her home. She was really quite the gardener and grew the most beautiful peonies in town, which, people really admired.
While Grandmother lived there, we used to go to her home for big family dinners. All her children would be there that could and it was quite a festive occasion. There was a big get together on her birthday, which was Dec. 24th, and some of us were clowning around. Lester Peterson, a cousin, and I had been goofing at the table while we were eating. We kept it up until I blew milk all over. I was drinking my milk and Lester started me laughing. The milk came out of my nose and mouth making it taste funny. Mother was upset with me but I had to go to school just like I was. This was good for me because I learned the dinner table is no place to play.
We lived in Grandmother's house for a year or two. While there, Don and Corrine Jolly were married. He had come home from the Navy and they were married in the St. George Temple Jan 31 1945. After living here for awhile we moved back to the log house.
Dad ran a shoe shop for awhile which was located on main street across from Carl Beebe's home. It was an old billiard hall. Soon after we had moved back to the log house, transaction was made with Uncle Cleon Fox, Mother's brother, to trade our property for a small piece of his near town. The sale was made and we obtained the new property across from the high school to the east. Dad then built a two-room building with a small lean-to on the back for a bedroom. The room at the south end was the shoe shop and the other room was our living quarters. This move was made while I was in the eighth grade or soon after. I lived in this home for four years until I went to college. Mother was in hopes of making the room we lived in into a dress shop if we ever moved again (a basement home was to be built later behind the small home.
It was during the summer of 1947 that Dad and Don worked at Robert Lay's saw mill at Puffer Lake on the Beaver Mountain, west of town. This was an enjoyable summer for the whole family. Mother did cooking for Robert Lay and his sons. Before we went to the sawmill, Dad had to build a small cabin for us to sleep in. I remember going up with Dad after he had the walls up and sleeping with a canvas tarp over the bed. After Dad got the roof on, mother came up. Dad took the springs from a camp cot, strung them between two pine trees, placed the canvas tarp over the top like a pup tent, and this was where I slept, until it got too cold, then they moved me into the large cabin where Ervin C. Lay and his dad stayed.
Don had a cow he took with him on the mountain that summer. They fenced in an area with electric wire close to the cabins to pasture the cow. The milk was enough to keep the camp supplied. There were six or seven families working at the mill. Corrine came up later in the summer to stay with Don in another cabin south of mom and dad's. A few of the experiences I had while at the sawmill will be described in brief. Some of the children that were there were about my age. One day we wanted to go hiking so we started off down a trail towards home (Circleville). This trail went from Circleville directly to the sawmill for horse riders.. It was in the afternoon and was rather late when we got back to camp. We hiked down to where the mountains begin to level off into Circleville valley before we started back. It was a long way and did we get the dickens when we finally made it to camp.
Another incident was when some of the girls were out playing house and had boards fixed for walls. I came along and knocked some of them down. One of the girls, Anna Gas, told her mother. Anna had a brother named Larry, a year younger than me. Mother sent me down to the creek for water and on my way back, Larry stopped me, giving me a poke in the face. I just stood there with a bucket of water and bawled. When I got to mother and told her, she asked why I didn't pour the water on him. I never was a bully or fighter!
As I mentioned, it was an enjoyable summer. As kids we didn’t always agree, but yet we had fun. There was a place where the men dropped the sawdust after cutting lumber, which proved to be a fun place to play. It was a large area and pretty deep. We all spent hours playing in it, jumping off logs into the sawdust.
Larry and I liked to try and catch chipmunks. Horses were used to pull the logs out of the
trees to where they could be loaded on trucks. The place, where the horses were kept, was ideal for catching chipmunks We would stand behind a tree and try to put a string around the chipmunks neck while it ate grain the horses spilled. The string had a loop in it to snare the chipmunks. We were successful and also received a few bites on the fingers. I did have a chipmunk for awhile when we went back to Circleville, but it soon died.
While we lived in the small home, that dad had built on Uncle Cleon's property, I had a slight accident. Paul Fulmer, Lester Peterson, and I were over to Grandmother's home, (this was southwest, a quarter of a block from us), having a water fight on the lawn. We were in our swimming suits and really having a ball. In the excitement I stepped on a Spam meat can cutting my big toe and the bottom of my foot. I didn't think anything had happened, so went on playing. Paul and Lester told me my foot was bleeding and sure enough it was really letting the blood flow. Uncle Owen was working in the flower garden and came over to me. I was bawling and nearly passed out. What a boob! He carried me home. Mother had her 4-H girls in the house and had to let them go home. Mother called Grace Reynolds and they took me to Marysvale to Dr. K.L. Jenkins. My foot had to have seven stitches and was awfully painful. When we went into his office, I began looking at a funny book. I still had the book when put on the table so Dr. Jenkins could sew my foot. He had to deaden my foot, three times with a needle to freeze it. Boy! Did I put up a fight. Mother had to hold me down and so did the doctor. That was quite an ordeal.
Dad, besides the shoe repair business, had another job. He worked at Ervin C. Lay's locker plant butchering and cutting meat. He had leased the business. This last job took more time and the shoe business was pretty much run by mother. Mother soon had to give this up and the shoe business was sold. It was fun working in the shoe shop. I learned to half sole shoes, sew them and put on heels and taps. A fellow in town, John Betensen, always had me saddle soap and shine his boots. The electric shoe machine really put on a shine. Mother had quite a job sewing tents, canvas dams, and even had to make a sort of bag out of canvas with a plastic window for people working on balers or combines to wear over their heads to keep out dust.
Something I have over looked is my pets. I love dogs, cats, rabbits, all animals.
As a youngster living in the log house, I had two dogs over the years. There was one black and white dog named Spot. Another one, all black, called Panel. These two dogs were a lot of fun to play with. Panel was the first dog I owned. He started chasing sheep with other dogs in the neighborhood and got poisoned. Spot was with me for a long time, even after we moved into the small home on Uncle Cleon's property He was eventually run over by a car. Another pet was Floppy Ears. This was a white rabbit that I played with from the time living in the log house up to when we lived in the small house Dad built. This rabbit was always in trouble. She would get out of the pen and dig holes all over the place. Her favorite place was under the outhouse (we didn't have a bathroom so had to go outside to go use the bathroom) Floppy Ears died after having her for 8 years or more.
The year Dad herded sheep, he brought home an orphan lamb. I raised it for awhile until
it ate some poison weeds and died. It would follow me all over the yard and I couldn't keep it in the pen. Mother really didn't like cats, but I did. The only cats we had were strays. She didn't like them because one of her sisters had put one on her back and got scratched real bad .
Like in most small communities, there was no Junior High. Grade school went right up to the eighth grade and then there would be graduation before entering high school. Something happened about two weeks before graduation. I become very sick having severe pain in my stomach. Mother called the doctor and he said it was appendicitis. So I was taken to the Richfield hospital for a week. This was an experience, having nurses give me shots in my bare bottom. When I got feeling better, I would ride in a wheelchair down the hall to the sun porch to look at magazines. I got home in time for graduation. Mother said I was still quite pale when getting my diploma.
A few of the events that happened in high school be long remembered. One event was playing in band. My freshman year I learned to play the trombone. Mr. Carling D. Allen met with a number of students interested in band and before too long we were practicing. The next year I changed from trombone to a sousaphone, a large bass horn. This I played for the next three years in high school and also two years in college. It was during my junior year that we received our band uniforms. Many of the mothers of band students worked hard with bake sales, band concerts, etc. to raise enough money to buy uniforms.
Mother was president of the Band Mother's organization with Alice Morgan, Secretary; Wilma Luke, Vice President; and Treasa Simpkins as 2nd vice President. I remember the problems and hard work mother that went through in order to keep the people interested in the undertaking. The uniforms had bright gold colored jackets, blue trousers with gold trim. There was also a gold colored cap. The uniform was very striking.
An event that took place while playing in the band was performing at the Brigham Young
University in Provo, Utah. for their homecoming game. There were several bands and excitement was evident. The bands marched down the field doing various formations and then there was a mass band number where all the bands played a fast march together. After the performance and on our way home, three of the band members, including myself, had the notion to buy apple cider. We bought a gallon and a half. I never had so much cider. All the way home we kept the bus driver hopping, stopping the bus for little emergencies. It was rather humorous, but also taught us a lesson.
During my senior year at Piute High, I was a cheerleader along with Camilla Whittaker (a
cousin), Bonnie Bird, and Natasha Thomas. When we would practice it would be late at night when we finished. We would turn out all the lights in the auditorium except a couple near the stage, sit on the floor and tell ghost stories. One night we were in this mood and really telling a thriller when we heard the stairs creaking that went down into one of the dressing rooms. We stopped and listened, heard nothing and then went on with our story. Again the stairs creaked, sounding closer. We moved closer together. This really added spice to that story. Finally we got up the nerve to go and look. We didn't find anything, but just the same we didn't want to take the chance of seeing some unwanted guest, so we quickly left. This was quite the experience.
While being a cheerleader, something happened that was very embarrassing. It happened during one of our big ball games. The auditorium was full and it was half time. There was one yell where Bonnie, Natasha and Camilla would start at one end of the floor and I would start at the other, meeting in the middle. We were doing great when the inevitable happened. I was going down doing a half split when the seat of my pants ripped. It was near the center of the hall and I just knew everyone saw what had happened. We finished the yell, with me doing a rather sloppy cartwheel, and then I dashed off the floor. The girls were surprised, but continued with the next yell we do in the middle. I would generally sit Indian fashion, beat a tom, tom while the girls did a dance around me.
This night, Bonnie had the honor of beating the drum. After the girls finished, I, told them what happened. This made me sad for I was unable to do more yells for the rest of the game, which was a very exciting game. The cheerleading outfit was made entirely by my mother. It had a full Indian headdress, long sleeved blue satin shirt with gold fringe, and blue corduroy pants with gold fringe on the legs.
My outfit was even worn by the people carrying the flag when the school band performed in parades. In making the headdress, mom and I had to collect a lot of white turkey feathers to be dyed. It took time, but I was proud of it.
Before going away to college, Dad and Uncle William Thomas had started on the basement home. It was made of cinder blocks and cement. While at college the home was completed and my folks moved in. I came home for a weekend to see the home and a funny thing happened. I was in the bathroom when I saw steam coming from the toilet. In checking, mother and I found that when Uncle Cleon had put in the plumbing, the pipe from the hot water tank was connected to the toilet. We thought it quite humorous and wondered how people would like getting a hot seat.
This last home was the best of homes for my parents. They had great plans to eventually build on top, but Dad did not live long enough to see this dream come true. He died of a heart attack on May 19th, 1960.
The basement home had a front room with a partial partition between it and the kitchen. There was a bedroom for Mom and Dad next to the bathroom and a fruit room used as another bedroom. This room was my bedroom when at home. Here we also enjoyed having a large garden. The neighbors really enjoyed getting the extra corn, peas, or other vegetables we raised. There were a lot of rabbits we had in pens, chickens, and even a pig. They thrived very well on the leftovers from the garden.
My folks did not always have the most outstanding items to live with, but still they were energetic and could make the most of the situation. For quite a number of years we had to bathe in a number three tub, heating water on a coal stove. We did have a truck during my junior year. My family also didn't have all the finances they needed, but we leaned to do with what we had. Mother would bottle fruit and vegetables, sew dresses, pants, shirts, or other items to help the family.
Mother and Dad taught me honesty. During the summer of 1952, 1 worked at Bryce Canyon in southern Utah. This was fun and I will always remember trekking down the trails through the canyon. After the summer was over and I was packing to go home, I thought how nice it would be to take a few of the park towels. I got a few and put them in my suitcase. When I got home, mother was most unhappy. For a long item after this my conscious kept bothering me. Finally I could stand it no longer. I figured how much the towels were worth and the next trip to Cedar City, where the park headquarters were, I went to the office, told the people what I had done and paid for the towels. This was a big trip, but I will always remember - "Honesty is the best policy."
Below is the Pedigree report of the Applegate family of Circleville Utah.
The first Applegate we have found is William Applegate, born in England. The first of our Applegate ‘s that come to American was Thomas Applegate, born 1604 in Norfolkshire, England. Thomas died about 1662 in New Jersey.
Descendants of William Applegate of England:
Generation No. 1
1. WILLIAM APPLEGATE was born about 1534 somewhere in England, probably Yorkshire.
Child of WILLIAM APPLEGATE is:
i. JOHN APPLEGATE, b. 1560, Yorkshire Co. England.
Generation No. 2
2. JOHN APPLEGATE was born 1560 in Yorkshire Co. England. He married MRS. JOHN APPLEGATE. She was born about1565 in Yorkshire Co. England.
Child of JOHN APPLEGATE and MRS. APPLEGATE is:
i. THOMAS APPLEGATE l, born in 1604, Norfolkshire, England; died, 1662, Middlesex Co. New Jersey.
Generation No. 3
3. THOMAS APPLEGATE l, was born 1604 in Norfolkshire, England and died, 1662 in Middlesex Co. New Jersey. He married ELIZABETH MARY WALL. She was born about 1605 in Norfolk, England.
THOMAS APPLEGATE was born in1604 in NORFOLKSHIRE, ENGLAND. He died 1662 in NEW JERSEY, MIDDLESEX and was buried in GRAVESEND, LONG ISLAND, NEWYORK in the OLD DUTCH CHURCH.
Source: Genealogical and Personal Memorial of Mercer County, New Jersey. This volume was published in 1907 under the editorial supervision of Francis Bazley Lee.
The founder of the Applegate Family in America was Thomas Applegate who left Norfolkshire, England and settled in Holland with a group of fellow Englishman during the Puritan disorders. About 1635, he came to Massachusetts Bay Colony and on Mar. 31, 1635, he was licensed for a year by the General Court to run a ferry between Weymouth and Braintree Massachusetts.
However, he lost the license when the canoe he was using as a ferry overturned and several persons were drowned. The following was taken from the official records of the Massachusetts Bay Colony.
The spelling is original.
Thomas Aplegate was "licensed on Sept. 2, 1635 to 'keepe a fferry between Wessagascus and Wolliston for which he is to have jd for any persons iijf a horse'".
Thomas Aplegate was discharged of "keepein a fferry of Waymothe and Henry Kingman lycensed to keep said fferry at the pleasure of the Court".
At the Quarter Court held Oct. 14, 1638, it was decided that, "Aplegate wch owned the canooe out of wch the 3 psons were drowned & it was ordered that no canooe to be used at any fferry upon paine of 5' nor no canooe be mad in or iurisdiction before the next General Court upon paine of 10'". Also an order was appointed to be given to Richard Wright to, "have that canooe our of wch these persons were drowned". At the next Court held on March 5, 1639, Willi Blanton, Willi Potter, Robert Thorpe, Henry Neal, John Fitch, and Thomas Aplegate, appearing, were discharged with the admonition not to adventure too many in any boat. However, the record is confusing as Thomas Aplegate's canoe was ordered to be staved in by the court orders making it unusable; then the Court ordered that Thomas be given 29 shillings for his canoe, provided that he returned the arms he had borrowed and that they were in good condition.
Stillwell (An early writer in Mass.) cites trouble that Elizabeth Applegate, Thomas' wife had in the Massachusetts Bay Colony as follows: "She appears to have been one of the unfortunate persons who suffered from the ecclesiastical tyranny of that Puritanical age, for she was 'censured to stand with her tongue in a cleft stick for swearing, reviling, and railing"(Boston Court Sept. 6, 1636).
These experiences were obviously too much for the Applegates and they left the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1640 and went to Rhode Island. There, Thomas appears to have engaged in several real estate endeavors and was identified as a weaver. Thomas was also involved in several Court suits. He sold his 15 acre farm on May 5, 1644 and probably left Rhode Island and came to New Amsterdam where he settled briefly at Flushing, Long Island. He was one of the original patentees there receiving a patent on Oct. 10, 1645. Thomas sold this patent and secured a patent of land on Nassau Island at Gravesend on Nov. 12, 1646 where he apparently remained the rest of his life.
At Gravesend, both Thomas and Elizabeth were caught up in court cases as they were apparently strong minded and believers in free speech. According to Stillwell, "This brought them (the Applegates) oppressive punishment from their neighbors. But such was the habit of the times. Few or none escaped from conflict of this sort. Their isolated life gave small opportunity on mental development on wholesome and broad lines, and their talk degenerated into gossip of a dangerous, personal nature, readily embellished and circulated over the convivial cup at the tavern. The habit grew in the community till it became customary to air the most petty grievances in court, and the contest savored much of a pastime.”
So great a nuisance did it became, that the court finally for its own protection, passed a rule laying the expenses of a suit upon the plaintiff in the event of his failure to successfully prosecute his case". One such reference is the following:
"One Thomas Applegate of Gravesend owned a farm there but seems to have spent much of his leisure in the public stocks on the outside of Lady Moody's door. Scarcely had Stuyvesant returned from Hartford with his suite when Applegate was brought up for trial on a charge of slander. Sergeant Hubbard, who had accompanied George Baxter on several expeditions against the Indians, was “plaintiff in ye behalf of his wife against Thomas Aplegate in an action of slander in saying ye plaintiff hath but half a wife”
Aplegate hee utterly denied that hes ever spake such wordes.' Thus the issue was joined and the Court consisting of George Baxter and his two fellow magistrates, call for the witnesses. Robert Clarke (whose daughter Bridget Clarke married Thomas Baxter ) being deposed saith that Thomas Aplegate, Sr., being some time at Manhattan, there waiting three days to have ye company of ye said Robert Clarke to ye plantation of Gravesend, on ye way as hee, his wife and said deponent come long, ye said defendant said: 'Heare' said hee, 'ye Governor Stuyvesant hath laved out your daughter for Ensign Baxter, but I hope you will be wiser'. 'Why' said ye deponet. Ye defendant replyed saying: 'hee is a beggerly scabb and most of his maintainance he hath in the place we are going to; and when he is there ye Serjant Hubbard hath but halfe a wife. Ye wife of Mr. Clarke of ye age of 48 being deposed witnesses the same. The defendant being questioned by the Court why and wherefore hee had given forth such slanderous reports and where hee could prove the truth of it, hee answered and said that hee never spoke ye words. Notwithstanding this, the Court directed him to stand att ye Public Post during ye pleasure of ye Court with a paper on his breast mentioning the fact that hee is a notorious slandalous person. 'Now is Open Court hee has confessed ye wrong done her in raising reports and was sorry for it and desired her to remitt it and pass it by; and she did and he gave her thanks'.
The magistrates who sat at this trial were George Baxter, Nicholas Stillwell, Sergeant Hubbard and Robert Clarke, all interested persons. Poor Thomas Applegate did not have a chance; he gave a bond of 500 guilders to speak no more scandal. The very next record (1650) in this court is another complaint against Mr. Aplegate for slander, charged by Nicholas Stillwell who claimed that he had been maligned since Aplegate stated that if he (Stillwell) paid all his debts, he would have nothing left.
On Jan. 8, 1651, he was again before the magistrates, charged by Mrs. Robert Clarke with slander for saying Governor Stuyvesant took bribes. Mr. Robert Clarke, assistant magistrate, testified: Thomas said,'I cannot have my rights, ye Governor is bribed'; but said hee, 'now the Governor is going in to ye North (to Hartford) and if time would permit, I would goe in to ye North and I would lay him up fast and there I should have justice though I could have none here'. This being at ye same time ye Governor was in Hartford. "Bridget Baxter(Mr. Robert Clarke's daughter) being deposed witnesseth that this Thomas Aplegate, Sr., said in effect as her father abovesaid hath declared. Ye defendant said he never spake any such words. The court therfore do adjudge ye said Aplegate deserves to have his tongue bored through with a redd hot iron and to make a public acknowledgment of his great transgression therein, and never to have credit in way of belieff in any testimony or relation and meantime to lye in prison until further order from ye Governor. The above sentence being publicly read in our General Court in ye presence of most of ye inhabitants, ye said Aplegate did then and there publiquely acknowledge and confess he had slandered ye Governor in his untrue charging of him, and took ye blame and ye shame of it upon himself and did humbly request forgiveness of ye said Governor and that ye Court and ye town would intercede for him hoping it would be a warning to him and to others not to offend in like kind".
Fortunately for Thomas, he was pardoned by the Governor. Thomas married Elizabeth Wall. He purchased land from John Ruckman, one of the 39 original lots into which Gravesend was divided in 1646.
“Thomas Applegate, an Englishman, who was among the early settlers of Gravesend, and Nov. 12th, 1646, purchased of John Ruckman, a plantation in said town. Many of the early settlers of this town removed to New Jersey”
On Dec. 29, 1650, he sold half of his farm in Gravesend to Thomas Southard and his wife, Anna VanSalee. He apparently died either late in 1656 or early in 1657 as his wife was listed in the tax records in 1657.
Source: by Hugh E. Vores, P.O. Box 857 Charles Town, West Va. 25414
Children of THOMAS and ELIZABETH WALL are:
i. THOMAS APPLEGATE ll, born about 1632, England; died February 01, 1698/99, Nutswamp, Middlesex Co. New Jersey.
ii. HELENA APPLEGATE, born 1621.
Notes for HELENA APPLEGATE:
Helena Applegate, born in 1621; died in 1652. She married (1) Thomas Farrington. (2) on Aug. 15, 1646 to Louis Hulot. (3) to Carl Morgan, died before 1652. She had a child by her last marriage.
iii.BARTHOLOMEW APPLEGATE, born in 1620; died in 1690; married
Notes for BARTHOLOMEW APPLEGATE:
Bartholomew Applegate, born in 1620; died probably in the 1690's. He was probably the oldest child. He married in Oct. 1650 to Hannah Patrick of Gravesend, daughter of Capt. Daniel Patrick (killed in Stamford, Conn. by Hans Frederick) and Anneken VanBeyeren Patrick. died Apr.1656 in Flushing, NY. After Daniel Patrick's death, she married Tobias Feacke.
In 1650, Bartholomew completed with William Wilkins, a tide mill on Strom Kiln. Over the next 25 years, Bartholomew's name appears from time to time in the records of Gravesend. One of these records indicated that his wife Hannah and child were apparently abducted by the Indians and were ransomed with red cloth. On Mar. 7, 1674, Bartholomew Applegate, Thomas Applegate (Bartholomew's brother), and Richard Sadler were granted permission to purchase lands from the Indians, near the Neversinks, in East Jersey. However, this was contested in April by John Bowne and Richard Hartshorne who filed notice that the grant was an infringement of their patent. The Council ordered them to prove their claim with six months, but by that time, the English had taken over the country and it was necessary to reapply for a new warrant from those in power. In 1684, Bartholomew wa