Oliver Cowdery Dunford

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About Oliver Cowdery Dunford

Under the Media Tab above, there are other pictures of Oliver and Ida and their family, plus one that was taken when they were on their first mission in New Zealand in around 1889 or 1890, and one of Oliver with one of his brothers and a friend. What a handsome couple Oliver and Ida were!

The following history of Oliver is condensed from Oliver Dunford's Memoirs of Oliver Cowdery Dunford, son of Isaac and Leah Baily Dunford. His autobiography begins, "My parents, Isaac Dunford and Leah Bailey, were born in the beautiful little city of Trowbridge in Wiltshire County, England, declared by visitors and tourists the most picturesque spot in England. In that thriving industrial city, they grew to maturity, met, loved, married, and became the parents of sons and daughters. For a livelihood, they served as expert operators in the great textile factories. They were prosperous and happy. They had many relatives and numerous friends.

Live was running smoothly with them. In the course of time itinerant emmisaries of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ came a preaching in the vicinity. They heard, they believed, they embraced, regardless of threatened consequences which proved to be ostracism from the favor of community, kindred, and employers. Responding to an irrepressible urge, they left their lovely home and all that was dear to them and embarked for the land of Zion, in a crude sailing vessel of that crude period. While in mid-ocean, a baby girl was born. They named it Seaborn. Reaching new Orleans after a tempestuous voyage, they embarked in a river steamer for St. Louis, Missouri. On the way, Seaborn died and was buried in an unmarked grave on the banks of that great river, the Mississippi.

In St. Louis my father was employed in the mercantile business. Here a number of children were born, including Moroni, Albert, Eliza, Parley, and on the 12th day of October, 1863, I came into the world in that great city. I being the eleventh child in a family of thirteen.

A few months later, perhaps in the spring of 1864, the family joined an ox team caravan, bound for Utah. After months of tedious, toilsome, distressful journeying, they reached Salt Lake City where my father, being a merchant, found employment in the store of William Jennings, the earliest and greatest merchant in Utah of that day.

In conformity to the policy of Brigham Young which was to select and send into the valleys of the surrounding country his sturdiest and most stalwart men, my father responded to the call and in company with Hames H. Hart, and others, wended his weary way most laboriously into the then bleak Bear Lake Valley in the month of December, 1864.

Having arrived so late in the fall, too late, in fact, to build individual cabins, a number of families huddled together in one shack and wore out the frigid winter in extreme privation. In the spring our family moved into a house while father and the larger boys were building a lob cabin on the lot where the family home has been and is to this day (and continues to this day, 1996).

Oliver wrote, "I have vivid recollections of the time when a quilt served as a door to that dear old hut and oiled paper as a window, when hay or straw served instead of a floor. When dry-goods and other boxes were our table and chairs, when a flattened piece of timber much like a slab was laid where the most walking was done...I remember with great clarity, stepping off that slab onto some carpet tacks that had been spilled in the straw, particularly when about a million of those tacks stuck into my bare feet..."

In course of time another room was added to this humble abode. Then came doors and windows to make life more tolerable...lumber coming from a pit saw device at which two men toiled, one man in a pit under the log and another on top of the log, pulling the saw up and down, sawing off the slab and cutting the log into the desired lumber. Later a water powered saw mill was installed near the mouth of the canyon, a crude affair but it supplied the lumber to build up the town.

So life proceeded in that rustic little village of dirt roofed houses where new settlers were coming in gradually and establishing themselves as their predecessors were doing. On January 21, 1866, my brother James was born.

I have memories of my barefoot and stick horse days, of chilblains and measles, of sulfur and molasses, of animal cookies and red top boots for Christmas, of Indian scares, of a grass hopper invasion that darkened the sun and left nothing green but a lone bunch of horseradish. I remember the frigid winters and the roaring blizzards, also the merry social parties that were held during those tempestuous nights.

Sure I remember some torrential summer rain storms that caused the dirt roofed houses to leak badly necessitating the placing of pans, basins, tubs, etc. to protect beds and other furnishings from the deluge.

It was about this time that our family sustained a great loss in the passing of sister Eliza, a beautiful and intelligent, sweet-tempered girl of fourteen years. (Eliza was actually eleven years old.) While I was too young to know her well, I later learned from her intimate companions of her charming manners and delightful personality. Her passing was indeed a heart wrenching blow to the family.

When about six years of age I was sent to a private school taught by Old Lady Hyatt and her daughter Sarah. It was primitive of course. About the only item from that school that I have never forgotten was a mild reprimand that she gave me for something wrong that a little bird had told her of. One Friday afternoon a school party was given the children. The music for the occasion was furnished by the teacher who used a comb and paper as her instrument.

Later I attended a school held in an old log house just east of the amusement hall. It was conducted by an old man named Austin who soon after moved away. From then on I had a number of teachers, all of whom did the best they could under the handicap of primitive equipment which consisted of seats made of slabs with the flat side up and the bark side down and without desks, of few books or no books at all, of slates instead of note books, and all in a dingy log room, with rough floor and heated by an unpolished and sometimes cracked box stove.

Then followed the school experience under A.B. Strickland who proved to be a snarly ill-tempered old fellow for whom the pupils had no love at all. His punishments were severe and unjustified. He had the propensity of telling the young lady members of his school how badly their boy friends were conducting themselves who were working in the timbers. On their return the girls told them of the teachers statements. So one night more in the spirit of levity than of anger, a number of them entered the teachers sleeping quarters, dragged him from his bed, took him out into the street and ding-bumped him. Result? No school the next day. "Happy we."

A justice trial ensued. The boys received a reprimand and the incident passed to be remembered in snarly anger by one party, and in the spirit of jubilation by the other. I have known that teacher to compel boys to take off their coats so that the punishment may be more severe. He once punished my brother Parley for some imaginary offense. He had Parley on the floor on his back. With a hand to each ear, he pounded his head up and down on the floor. when he released the boys ears, his fingers were stained with blood. I saw the cruelty and heard my brother screaming with pain. I leaped over a bench thinking to rush to my brother's rescue, but I realized I would only make matters worse and perhaps be well night annihilated myself.

I attended the school taught by R.J.M. Bee, who was an excellent penman, and otherwise quite an intelligent man. While commending a composition that I had written, he pointed out certain features that he says that I would not want to be guilty of when I became a man. Thus drawing attention to the relationship of school work to future usefulness. Of course other teachers had sought to do the same thing, but Bee's encouraging appeal impressed me.

While attending a school conducted by Fred Bunn, I appeared one morning with my right hand in a sling. Would you like to know why? Well sir, I had been bitten by a mad dog. Our neighbors the Waads, who lived just across the street from our barn, kept a dog, a horrid creature, a cross between a greyhound and a bulldog, large, ugly and fierce. She had pups. The pups that were not wanted were supposedly killed and buried in a shallow hole. the warm earth revived them to the extent that the mother dog could hear them. She went crazy with rage.

I happened to be driving some cattle out of our stock yard and across the street when that vicious beast came at me like a demon from hell, frothing at the mouth, fangs gleaming, lashing herself with her tail, every hair on that horrid carcass bristling toward the ears, barking and growling in guttural savagery. I was small and defenseless. Instantly she caught my right hand in her mouth, tore the flesh from my thumb knuckles and put a fang through the center of my hand that left a scar even unto this day. My father informed Mr. Ward who readily gave his consent that the dog be killed. Accordingly, a few minutes later I heard the report of the gun fired by George H. Thornock that killed the beast.

The most lamentable effect of that incident was the fact that older people talked in my hearing of the dangers of hydrophobia. I might go crazy at any time. Some said I might live twenty years and then go mad. I heard such statements not once, but many times, and often from persons I thought knew.

Being young and impressionable, I suffered many forebodings. I'd sometimes wake at night in a fever of excitement, imagining myself going mad. Indeed it is something of a wonder that I retained any degree of mental balance at all.

Happy indeed when a few years later I learned of the viciousness and absolute absurdity of all those cruel superstitions that distressed imaginative children. I have ever since condemned the practice of harping on those ignorant superstitious in the presence of children.

It was along this time that the YMMIA was organized throughout the Church. In the Bear Lake Stake Hyrum Wooley became the first president. In Bloomington Joshua Jarvis was made the first president and my brother Moroni was the first secretary. I was admitted to membership in that first organization.

Meetings were held regularly and much interest taken even though no general programs were supplied. Each association depended on it's own resourcefulness for the quality and kind of its activities. A lively spirit of cooperation was awakened that manifested itself in the building of what was known as the Young Men's House, an amusement hall that was used for meetings and recreation.

In that hall George Osmond taught school one winter. I had the privilege of attending. His method of discipline were entirely different from those described above. He had the respect and confidence of his pupils and seemed to rule with east b the excellence of his own personality, and by the same means inspire his pupils with the desire to learn.

During the long cold winters when the country was wrapped in ice and snow, most of the men were idle perhaps for months because there was nothing that they could do. My father, however, being an expert weaver, set up a loom and wove jeans and lindsey for the people of the surrounding country who brought to him their homespun yarn. I became his bobbin winder. It was my task to wind the yard from skeins onto a kind of spools called bobbins. These the weaver placed in a shuttle which, by a clever device, he sent back and forth through the warp.

I remember my father complaining to Mrs. Sarah Rich, wife of Apostle C.C. Rich, about the poor quality of the yarn that she brought, stating that he felt it too bad that I should have so much trouble winding the bobbins particularly as I had been kept out of school that winter to do the work.

It was a splendid quality of cloth that my father made, some of it quite ornamental, some in stripes, some in plaids and some otherwise adorned. The cloth he made was used as blankets and many were clad in their Home Spun Jeans. From his account book which I later discovered, I found father had done $1300 worth of business during a rather short time and in the winter seasons when most men were idle.

When I was about eleven or twelve years of age, I accompanied my father and my brother Albert to Salt Lake City. Our wagon was loaded with produce. We were taking down a cow for Uncle George Dunford also a pair of black mares named Kate and Liz and that we had been using. They also belonged to Uncle George. It was my task to ride one of those mares and drive that cow. This I did from Bloomington to Salt Lake City. I have no recollection of a saddle, but of a very bony mare, and the resulting sensations which were somewhat modified by the fact that I soon became as hard and tough as a pony express rider.

Our journey proceeded tediously enough until we reached "Long Hollow" many miles south of Hardware Ranch, when a wheel broke down. We piled our load by the side of the road, placed a wagon cover over it, used a pole in place of the wheel and proceeded to Huntsville, thirty miles away.

in Huntsville we were entertained by Mr. McKay who let father take his wagon to go back after his load which took two days. I was left at McKay's while they were gone. The cow was put in a pasture. In going to milk her I had to cross a creek on a pole. Coming back my foot slipped and I whitened the stream with only a part of the mild. Mrs. McKay gave me dry clothes and made me comfortable. I thought she was the nicest lady I had ever seen. She was so kind to me. The bed I slept in was immaculate.

During the day with nothing else to do with a piece of chalk I printed the name of the town on a wide board that was on the fence. Mrs. McKay commended me quite heartily, but I had left off the final "e" from Huntsville. She suggested that correction.

When father and Albert returned Mr. McKay insisted that we take his wagon on to Ogden where we could have ours repaired. Reluctantly father consented because Mr. McKay would accept nothing for his quite extended accommodations. I hope some day to speak of the incident to President David O. McKay because I am quite sure those splendid people were his parents.

Reaching the city we left the cow and team with Uncle George who entertained us. We visited also with Alma who with Susie his wife, was living in Social Hall Lane. James, then about nine years old, had been with Alma all winter. He had attended school for a while. We remained in the city a number of days. They dressed me up in a suit borrowed from George D. Alder, and had me photographed. It was at this time that I had the privilege of playing on the foundation of the Salt Lake City Temple. Some parts of it were not yet above the ground. On our return home, Daisy the oldest daughter of my brother William went with us to spend the summer.

For several years after the first settlement, hay for livestock was cut with a scythe, and grain was cut with an implement called a cradle. It looked so pretty to see the hay fall from behind father's scythe. It so pleased me that I kept on monkeying with it until I could produce the same effect myself. As a result father took me into the field with him the next two haying seasons to help him mow the hay. The other boys, excepting Moroni, had not taken the same interest. Had not learned to wield the arm strong machine, so escaped the arduous task.

The month of May, 1869, was an important month in our family history, because in that month my sister Leah was born, while we were still living in the log house. She was the thirteenth child in my mothers family. She was the only one of five girls to survive. The only girl also, among five boys who were at home. She was a sweet and dearly beloved girl, who seemed not to have suffered temperamentally to any extent by being the only girl among a lot of rough boys.

About this time my father kept a band of sheep just a few hundred head that he sometimes sent off with other mens flock to a summer range. When not so sent, I had the privilege of acquiring some sheep herding experience.

While attending my flock on the face of the hill west of town, I could see the highway for miles. Sometimes day after day would pass without a team being seen along that highway. One day while playing in the groves near the crest of the hill, climbing trees, a limb broke and I came crashing down through the branches until a sharp knot caught me by the back of the head and held me until Johnnie Hansen and Abe Ward picked me off the limb. I went home with blood running down my back. I carried a lump and a scar for a few years.

I had the experience of training several yoke of steers for work, Brim and Saxe was one of them. I enjoyed the process of subjugating them and making them useful. I am happy to confess that I have always been an admirer of good horses. I have had the pleasure in using them, and in caring for them. It always gave me a thrill to handle wild horses, but never to ride bucking horses as that was not my method of handling them, but to train them sensibly for any useful purpose was my delight.

Comes now about the time when activities were started to the erection of our larger and better home. A Mr. Thomas Smedley, a fine old English gentleman was the brick maker. As part payment for the brick needed for our house, we had the privilege of hauling the wood to burn in the kiln to make brick. It was my privilege to go day after day with Moroni to haul that wood. It required a very long day to get a load from the canyon with an ox team and haul it to the kiln in the field below the mounds south of Paris Creek.

Those were the days before the railroad was extended from Utah points to Butte, Montana. In lieu thereof a stage line was maintained with stations at intervals of about ten to twenty miles, where stage horses were cared for and exchanged for fresh ones to continue on to succeeding points of exchange.

In supplying those stations with horse feed we had a splendid market for our oats and at an excellent price. Hence for several years we freighted our grain to the Snake River country.

After thrashing in the fall, all the people of the town who had oats for sale would form an ox team caravan and set out on the long trek to the stage line stations where the feed was needed. sometimes to Corbet Station where the city of Blackfoot now is. sometimes to Eagle Rock, that is now Idaho Falls. Sometimes to Sand Hole, Market Lake, or other stations up the line. In from five to ten days we would reach our destination, traveling about fifteen miles a day. We would deliver our loads then take up our long trip back home.

There was not city of Blackfoot then and Idaho Falls consisted of a toll station and a few cabins. It was quite an interesting experience to make that trip, with a merry bunch of fellow plodding along in the daytime, camping out at night, cooking our food by the open fire.

Often when in the Snake River Valley we encountered great freight trains of mules or oxen. Think of a mule team outfit with eight or ten span of mules drawing a train of three ponderous wagons loaded to the gunwales. It was interesting to see those oxen assembled and yoked, hitched in place, and started on the way. It required a untied pull to move the load. Remember there was a long line of them, perhaps ten yoke, extending out there for about two hundred yards. Of all the whooping, yelling cursing and searing, with the popping of bull whips, you'd early get the impression that those drivers were not goody-goody Sunday School Boys.

Sometimes it would take a half hour to get underway. The bull whackers became so expert with the bull whip that they could peel off the hair and sometimes the hide every pop. Some of the oxen were scarred up terribly. I once drove a team to the Snake River Country for Old Man Rasmussen, accompanying Pete who drove another team. In the same company was Peter Krogue, Dave Krogue, Dave Nelson, Charley Christensen, Ira Osmond and others.

On nearing home from one of our trips, just for a little diversion, we chained all our ten wagons together, one behind the other, and hitched all our oxen, about fifteen yoke, to the train of wagons making an outfit more than a block long, and thus we drove through the towns, much to the amusement of all observers as well as to ourselves. It might be stated that we had some difficulty in negotiating turns in the road, particularly if a bridge were in the way. All the proceeds from the sale of our loads were sent to George Osmond, who as agent for the company, settle for them. The money thus obtained by my father was used largely in building his operation. And in about the year 1876, that construction work actually began on our new home, which was to be built of brick and proved to be the first two story building in the community.

____________________________________________________________________

Obituary of Oliver Cowdery Dunford, published in The Paris Post, January 28, 1943:

Bear Lake County Mourns Loss of a Pioneer Citizen

On Monday evening, January 18th at Bloomington, Bear Lake County lost one of its most illustrious citizens. The long vibrant life of O.C. Dunford came to a sudden close in the manner that he himself would have chosen--while doing his evening chores about the family home. While for the past several years he has suffered periodically with some chest restrictions, he himself had frequently declared "there has never been anything wrong with me that a good night's rest wouldn't cure."

A short time before his body was discovered by his grandson, Harold Dunford, he had left the house to be about his evening chores. He had romped with his grandchildren just before leaving and except for complaining that the terrific cold was telling upon him, he made no complaint of feeling distressed.

He leaves surviving him, his widow, Ida Dunford, six sons, Rao B. Dunford, a teacher at Georgetown, William Stanley Dunford, District Attorney at Provo, Utah, Ralph O. Dunford, a beautician of Alameda, California, George O. Dunford, principal of Shelley Stake LDS Seminary, and Isaac Dunford, who for the past number of years has supervised the ranch at Bloomington, and who at the time of his father's sudden death was employed by the UPM Co. Contractors at the huge steel plant at Provo, Utah; four daughters, Hazel D. Haddock, engaged with her husband in the mercantile business at Paris, Idaho, Mabel D. Woolley, a beautician of Oakland, California, Maud Della Briscoe, engaged in a laundry business with her husband in Oakland, California, and Ida D. O'Brien, Accounts Receivable Clerk for Cotant Truck Lines in San Francisco, California. One brother, James L. Dunford of Paris, is the last surviving member of their family of thirteen splendid children. (Editor's note: Oliver's son, Alma Teller, was inadvertently omitted from this obituary.)

O.C. Dunford, since he was a year old, at which time his parents brought him to Bloomington from St. Louis, Missouri, his birthplace, has resided in the old Dunford home. But in his activities as a teacher, a public officer and a rancher, he has acquired an unusually wide acquaintance throughout the southern part of Idaho, northern Utah, and the "Bay Region" of California.

For more than thirty years Mr. Dunford was a teacher in the schools of Bear Lake county, and at some period or another in his long career, has taught in most of the school districts of the county. In all places where he taught, he was interested in church and community activities. Since he quit teaching to devote his entire energies to his rather extensive ranch, he has held numerous positions of trust in the Latter Day Saints church, through all of which he has made friends and acquaintances with practically every person in the valley.

Mr. Dunford was essentially a pioneer. His greatest desire was to subject to use forces for good which had not been theretofore employed. He counted any man a success who could make "two blades of grass grow where only one grew before," and proceeded in his progressive spirit in everything he undertook. Many acres of land have contributed to the welfare of the country because he broke them out of the sagebrush and reduced them to their first service.

He assisted in the first incorporation of the Village of Bloomington, laying out the town and designating its boundaries, and became the first clerk of the village board. He figured prominently in every forward looking activity of the community thereafter.

He was always sincere in his religious convictions. On October 28, 1889, after completing arrangements to study law at Ann Arbor, Michigan, he willingly rejected these plans in favor of a call for missionary service from his church, and he and his bride left their home in Bloomington and took passage for the islands of New Zealand. After over three years in the islands, during which time their first son, Rao, was born, the young couple returned home to find such multiplied burdens of family life and debt that he was compelled to finally abandon his ambition to make law his profession. Long years later, after his family had reached maturity, he was called to fill another mission in the Eastern States.

Mr. Dunford was a splendid traveler and had the capacity to enjoy far places and new experiences. He had a fine command of language and a willingness to write, and many of his friends were carried along with him in his travels by his vivid description of strange and distant scenes.

A field of his written expression, which possibly is not as well known as his travelogues, is poetry. He was somewhat modest where his verse was concerned, and while in his speaking and prose writing he frequently made use of his poetic compositions, he was always careful not to disclose their origin. He leaves many gems of his pen which reflect the effervescent joy of his living.

To his large family of children and grandchildren and great grandchildren of which there are forty-eight, he was always a model of cheerfulness, industry, devotion, ambition, determination and good fellowship. The large number of the general public who knew him as friend felt his sterling qualities. He was a warrior against evil, sordidness, and gloom, and many friends and strangers experience the uplift of his cheerful, kindly nature.

The devotion of relatives and friends was evidenced at the funeral services held in the Bloomington chapel January 22nd. Even though the weather was somewhat forbidding, the house was packed.

Bishop J.P. Patterson presided at the beautiful and impressive services. George H. Ward pronounced the invocation.

The ward choir, under the direction of a. O. Christensen, sang "Oh My Father"; Max Haddock sang "In My Father's House"; a male quartet composted of Max Haddock, Melvin Hulme, Ray Piggott, and Hulme Dunford sang "Lead Kindly Light" and "The Teacher's Work is Done." Words of tribute and condolence were spoken by President A. A. Hart, G.E. Hulme, Letha D. Maden, and Bishop Patterson. Benediction was given by A.O. Christensen.

Interment was in the Bloomington Cemetery with the grave being dedicated by T.R. Ward.

In Appreciation

To the many relatives and friends who called at the home and who contributed beautiful floral pieces and who otherwise aided and assisted us during our recent bereavement, we take this method to express our heartfelt thanks and appreciation.

Mrs. Ida Dunford and family.

Endnote

I.A. Rex and James D. Dunford are grandsons of Oliver through his son Alma Teller.


Obituary of Oliver Cowdery Dunford, published in The Paris Post, January 28, 1943:

Bear Lake County Mourns Loss of a Pioneer Citizen

On Monday evening, January 18th at Bloomington, Bear Lake County lost one of its most illustrious citizens. The long vibrant life of O.C. Dunford came to a sudden close in the manner that he himself would have chosen--while doing his evening chores about the family home. While for the past several years he has suffered periodically with some chest restrictions, he himself had frequently declared "there has never been anything wrong with me that a good night's rest wouldn't cure."

A short time before his body was discovered by his grandson, Harold Dunford, he had left the house to be about his evening chores. He had romped with his grandchildren just before leaving and except for complaining that the terrific cold was telling upon him, he made no complaint of feeling distressed.

He leaves surviving him, his widow, Ida Dunford, six sons, Rao B. Dunford, a teacher at Georgetown, William Stanley Dunford, District Attorney at Provo, Utah, Ralph O. Dunford, a beautician of Alameda, California, George O. Dunford, principal of Shelley Stake LDS Seminary, and Isaac Dunford, who for the past number of years has supervised the ranch at Bloomington, and who at the time of his father's sudden death was employed by the UPM Co. Contractors at the huge steel plant at Provo, Utah; four daughters, Hazel D. Haddock, engaged with her husband in the mercantile business at Paris, Idaho, Mabel D. Woolley, a beautician of Oakland, California, Maud Della Briscoe, engaged in a laundry business with her husband in Oakland, California, and Ida D. O'Brien, Accounts Receivable Clerk for Cotant Truck Lines in San Francisco, California. One brother, James L. Dunford of Paris, is the last surviving member of their family of thirteen splendid children. (Editor's note: Oliver's son, Alma Teller, was inadvertently omitted from this obituary.)

O.C. Dunford, since he was a year old, at which time his parents brought him to Bloomington from St. Louis, Missouri, his birthplace, has resided in the old Dunford home. But in his activities as a teacher, a public officer and a rancher, he has acquired an unusually wide acquaintance throughout the southern part of Idaho, northern Utah, and the "Bay Region" of California.

For more than thirty years Mr. Dunford was a teacher in the schools of Bear Lake county, and at some period or another in his long career, has taught in most of the school districts of the county. In all places where he taught, he was interested in church and community activities. Since he quit teaching to devote his entire energies to his rather extensive ranch, he has held numerous positions of trust in the Latter Day Saints church, through all of which he has made friends and acquaintances with practically every person in the valley.

Mr. Dunford was essentially a pioneer. His greatest desire was to subject to use forces for good which had not been theretofore employed. He counted any man a success who could make "two blades of grass grow where only one grew before," and proceeded in his progressive spirit in everything he undertook. Many acres of land have contributed to the welfare of the country because he broke them out of the sagebrush and reduced them to their first service.

He assisted in the first incorporation of the Village of Bloomington, laying out the town and designating its boundaries, and became the first clerk of the village board. He figured prominently in every forward looking activity of the community thereafter.

He was always sincere in his religious convictions. On October 28, 1889, after completing arrangements to study law at Ann Arbor, Michigan, he willingly rejected these plans in favor of a call for missionary service from his church, and he and his bride left their home in Bloomington and took passage for the islands of New Zealand. After over three years in the islands, during which time their first son, Rao, was born, the young couple returned home to find such multiplied burdens of family life and debt that he was compelled to finally abandon his ambition to make law his profession. Long years later, after his family had reached maturity, he was called to fill another mission in the Eastern States.

Mr. Dunford was a splendid traveler and had the capacity to enjoy far places and new experiences. He had a fine command of language and a willingness to write, and many of his friends were carried along with him in his travels by his vivid description of strange and distant scenes.

A field of his written expression, which possibly is not as well known as his travelogues, is poetry. He was somewhat modest where his verse was concerned, and while in his speaking and prose writing he frequently made use of his poetic compositions, he was always careful not to disclose their origin. He leaves many gems of his pen which reflect the effervescent joy of his living.

To his large family of children and grandchildren and great grandchildren of which there are forty-eight, he was always a model of cheerfulness, industry, devotion, ambition, determination and good fellowship. The large number of the general public who knew him as friend felt his sterling qualities. He was a warrior against evil, sordidness, and gloom, and many friends and strangers experience the uplift of his cheerful, kindly nature.

The devotion of relatives and friends was evidenced at the funeral services held in the Bloomington chapel January 22nd. Even though the weather was somewhat forbidding, the house was packed.

Bishop J.P. Patterson presided at the beautiful and impressive services. George H. Ward pronounced the invocation.

The ward choir, under the direction of a. O. Christensen, sang "Oh My Father"; Max Haddock sang "In My Father's House"; a male quartet composted of Max Haddock, Melvin Hulme, Ray Piggott, and Hulme Dunford sang "Lead Kindly Light" and "The Teacher's Work is Done." Words of tribute and condolence were spoken by President A. A. Hart, G.E. Hulme, Letha D. Maden, and Bishop Patterson. Benediction was given by A.O. Christensen.

Interment was in the Bloomington Cemetery with the grave being dedicated by T.R. Ward.

In Appreciation

To the many relatives and friends who called at the home and who contributed beautiful floral pieces and who otherwise aided and assisted us during our recent bereavement, we take this method to express our heartfelt thanks and appreciation.

Mrs. Ida Dunford and family.

Endnote

I.A. Rex and James D. Dunford are grandsons of Oliver through his son Alma Teller.


Oliver Cowdery Dunford (1863-1947), October 26, 2014, authors: A. Rex Dunford and James D. Dunford (Source: The Story and the Ancestors and Descendants of Isaac and Leah Bailey Dunford, by the Isaac and Leah Bailey Dunford Family Association, 1996.) The following history is condensed from Oliver Cowdery Dunford's "Memoirs of Oliver Cowdery Dunford, son of Isaac and Leah Bailey Dunford." All original spelling and punctuation have been retained as much as possible. My parents, Isaac Dunford and Leah Bailey, were born in the beautiful little city of Trowbridge in Wiltshire County, England, declared by visitors and tourists the most picturesque spot in England... In that thriving industrial city, they grew to maturity, met, loved, married, and became the parents of sons and daughters. For a livelihood ,they served as expert operators in the great textile factories. They were prosperous and happy. They had many relatives and numerous friends. Life was running smoothly with them. In the course of time itinerant emisaries of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ came a preaching in the vacinity, They heard, they believed, they embraced, regardless of threatened consequences which proved to be ostracism from the favor of community, kindred, and employers. Responding to an irrepressable urge, they left their lovely home and all that was dear to them and embarked for the land of Zion, in a crude sailing vessel of that crude period. While in mid-ocean a baby girl was born. They named it Seaborn. Reaching New Orleans, after a tempestuous voyage, they embarked in a river steamer for St. Louis, Missouri. On the way, Seaborn died and was burried in an unmarked grave on the banks of that great river, the Mississippi. In St. Louis my father was employed in the mercantile business. Here a number of children were born, including Moroni, Albert, Eliza, Parley, and on the 12th day of October 1863, I came unto the world in that great city. I being the eleventh child in a family of thirteen. A few months later, perhaps in the spring of 1864, the family joined a ox team caravan, bound for Utah. After months of tedious, toilsome, distressful journeying, they reached Salt Lake City Where my father, being a merchant, found employment in the store of William Jennings, the earliest and greatest merchant in Utah of that day. In conformity to the policy of Brigham Young which was to select and send into the valleys of the surrounding country his sturdiest and most stalwart men, my father responded to the call and in company with James H. Hart, & others, wended his weary way most laboriously into the then bleak Bear Lake Valley in the month of December 1864.... Having arrived so late in the fall, too late, in fact, to build individual cabins a number of families huddled togather in one shack and wore out the frigid winter in extreme privation. In the spring our family moved into a house...while father and the larger boys were building a log cabin on the corner lot where the family home has been and is to this day. [and continues to be to this day, 1996.] Oliver wrote, "I have vivid recollections of the time when a quilt served as a door to that dear old hut and oiled paper as a window, when hay or straw served instead of a floor. When dry-goods and other boxes were our table and chairs, when a flattened piece of timber much like a slab was laid where the most walking was done...I remember with great clarity, stepping off that slab onto some carpet tacks that had been spilled in the straw, particularly when about a million of those tacks stuck into my bare feet...." In course of time another room was added to this humble abode. Then came doors and windows to make life more tolerable....lumber coming from a pit saw device at which two men toiled, one man in a pit under the log another on top of the log pulling the saw up and down, sawing off the slab and cutting the log into the desired lumber. Later a water powered saw mill was installed near the mouth of the canyon, a crude affair but it supplied the lumber to build up the town. So life proceeded in that rustic little village of dirt roofed houses where new settlers were coming in gradually and establishing themselves as their predecessors were doing. On January 21, 1866 my brother James was born.... I have memories of my barefoot and stick horse days, of chilblains and measles, of sulphor & molasses, of animal cookies and red top boots for Christmas, of Indian scares, of a grasshopper invasion that darkened the sun and left nothing green but a lone bunch of horse-radish. I remember the frigid winters and the roaring blizzards; also the merry social parties that were held during those tempestuous nights. Sure I remember some torrential summer rain storms that caused the dirt roofed houses to leak badly necessitating the placing of pans, basins, tubs etc to protect beds and other furnishings from the deluge. It was about this time... that our family sustained a great loss in the passing of sister Eliza, a beautiful and intelligent, sweet-tempered girl, of fourteen years. [Eliza was actually eleven years old.] While I was too young to know her well I later learned from her intimate companions of her charming manners and delightful personality. Her passing was indeed a heart wrending blow to the family. When about six years of age I was sent to a private school taught by Old Lady Hyat and her daughter Sarah. It was primitive of course. About the only itim from that school that I have never forgotten was a mild repremand that she gave me for something wrong that a little bird had told her of. One Friday afternoon a school party was given the children. The music for the occasion was furnished by the teacher who used a comb and paper as her instrument. Later I attended a school held in a old log house just east of the amusement hall. It was conducted by an old man named Austin who soon after moved away. From then on I had a number of teachers...All of whom did the best they could under the handicap of primitive equipment which consisted of seats made of slabs with the flat side up and the bark side down and without desks, of few books or no books at all, of slates instead of note books, and all in a dingy log room, with rough floor and heated by an unpolished and sometimes cracked box stove. Then followed the school experience under A. B. Strickland who proved to be a snarly ill-tempered old fellow for whom the pupils had no love at all. His punishments were severe and unjustified. He had the propensity of telling the young lady members of his school how badly their boy friends were conducting themselves who were working in the timbers... On their return the girls told them of the teachers statements. So one night more in the spirit of levity, than of anger, a number of them...entered the teachers sleeping quarters, dragged him from his bed, took him out into the street and ding-bumped him. Result---? No school the next day. 'Happy we'. A justice trial insued. The boys received a reprimand, and the incident passed to be remembered in snarly anger by one party, and in the spirit of jubilation by the other.... I have known that teacher to compel boys to take off their coats so that the punishment may be more severe. He once punished my brother Parley for some imaginary offence. He had Parley on the floor on his back. With a hand to each ear he pounded his head up and down on the floor. When he released the boy's ears, his fingers were stained with blood. I saw the cruelty and heard my brother screaming with pain. I leaped over a bench thinking to rush to my brother's rescue, but I realized I would only make matters worse and perhaps be well nigh annihilated myself.... ...I attended the school taught by R.J.M. Bee, who was a excellent penman, and otherwise quite an intelligent man.... While commending a composition that I had written, he pointed out certain features that he says that I would not want to be guilty of when I became a man. Thus drawing attention to the relationship of school work to future usefulness. Of course other teachers had sought to do the same thing. But Bee's encouraging appeal impressed me. While attending a school conducted by Fred Bunn, I appeared one morning with my right hand in a sling. Would you like to know why? Well sir, I had been bitten by a mad dog. Our neighbors the Wards, who lived just a cross the street from our barn, kept a dog-a horrid creature-a cross between a greyhound and a bull-dog-large ugly and fierce. She had pups. The pups that were not wanted were supposedly killed and burried in a shallow hole. The warm earth revived them to the extent that the mother dog could hear them. She went crazy with rage. I happened to be driving some cattle out of our stockyard and across the street when that vicious beast came at me like a demon from hell, frothing at the mouth, fangs gleaming, lashing herself with her tail, every hair on that horrid carcus bristling toward the ears, barking and growling in guttural savagery. I was small and defenseless. Instantly she caught my right hand in her mouth, tore the flesh from my thumb knuckles and put a fang though the center of my hand that left a scar even unto this day. My father informed Mr. Ward who readily gave his consent that the dog be killed. Accordingly, a few minutes later I heard the report of the gun fired by George H. Thornock that killed the beast. The most lamentable effect of that incident was the fact that older people talked in my hearing of the dangers of hydrophobia. I might go crazy at any time. Some said I might live twenty years and then go mad. I heard such statements not once, but many times, and often from persons I thought knew. Being young and impressionable, I suffered many forebodings. I'd sometimes wake at night in a fever of excitement, imagining myself going mad. Indeed it is something of a wonder that I retained any degree of mental balance at all. Happy indeed was I when a few years later, I learned of the viciousness and absolute absurdity of all those cruel superstitions that distressed imaginative children...I have ever since condemned the practice of harping on those ignorant superstitions in the presence of children... It was along this time that the Y.M.M.I.A. was organized throughout the Church. In the Bear Lake Stake Hyrum Wooley became the first president...In Bloomington Joshua Jarvis was made the first president and my brother Moroni was the first secretary. I was admitted to membership in that first organization. Meetings were held regularly and much interest taken even though no general programs were supplied. Each association depended on it own resourcefulness for the quality and kind of its activities. A lively spirit of cooperation was awakened that manifested itself in the building of what was known as the "Young Men's House", an amusement hall that was used for meetings and recreation. ...In that hall George Osmond taught school one winter. I had the privilege of attending. His methods of discipline were entirely different from those described above. He had the respect and confidence of his pupils and seemed to rule with ease by the excellence of his own personality, and by the same means inspire his pupils with the desire to learn. During the long cold winters when the country was wrapped in ice and snow, most of the men were idle perhaps for months because there was nothing that they could do. My father, however, being an expert weaver, set up a loom and wove jeans and linsey for the people of the surrounding country who brought to him their homespun yarn. I became his bobbin winder. It was my task to wind the yarn from skeins onto a kind of spools called bobbins. These the weaver placed in a shuttle which, by a clever device, he sent back and forth through the warp. I remember my father complaining to Mrs. Sarah Rich, wife of Apostle C.C.Rich...about the poor quality of the yarn that she brought, stating that he felt it to bad that I should have so much trouble winding the bobbins particularly as I had been kept out of school that winter to do that work. It was a splendid quality of cloth that my father made, some of it quite ornamental, some in stripes, some in plaids and some otherwise adorned. The cloth he made was used as blankets and many were clad in their "Home Spun Jeans". From his account book which I later discovered, I found father had done $1300 worth of business during a rather short time and that in the winter seasons when most men were idle... When I was about eleven or twelve years of age, I accompanied my father and my brother Albert to Salt Lake City. Our wagon was loaded with produce. We were taking down a cow for Uncle George Dunford also a pair of black mares named Kate and Liz that we had been using. They also belonged to Uncle George. It was my task to ride one of those mares and drive that cow. This I did from Bloomington to Salt Lake City. I have no recollection of a saddle, but of a very bony mare, and the resulting sensations which where somewhat modified by the fact that I soon became as hard and tough as a pony express rider. Our journey proceeded tediously enough until we reached "Long Hollow" many miles south of Hardware Ranch, when a wheel broke down. We piled our load by the side of the road, placed a wagon cover over it, used a pole in the place of the wheel and proceeded to Huntsville, thirty miles away. In Huntsville we were entertained by Mr. McKay who let father take his wagon to go back after his load which took two days. I was left at McKay's while they were gone. The cow was put in a pasture. In going to milk her, I had to cross a creek on a pole. Coming back my foot slipped and I whitened the stream with only a part of the milk. Mrs. McKay gave me dry clothes and made me comfortable. I thought she was the nicest lady I had ever seen. She was so kind to me. The bed I slept in was immaculate. During the day with nothing else to do-with a piece of chalk-I printed the name of the town on a wide board that was on the fence. Mrs. Mckay commended me quite heartily, but I had left off the final e from Huntsville. She suggested that correction. When father and Albert returned Mr. McKay insisted that we take his wagon on to Ogden were we could have ours repaired. Reluctantly father consented because Mr. McKay would accept nothing for his quite extended accommodations. I hope some day to speak of the incident to President David O. McKay because I am quite sure those splendid people were his parents. Reaching the city we left the cow and team with Uncle George who entertained us. We visited also with Alma, who with Susie his wife, was living in Social Hall Lane. James, then about nine years old, had been with Alma all winter. He had attended school for while. We remained in the city a number of days. They dressed me up in a suit borrowed from George D. Alder, and had me photographed. It was at this time that I had the privilege of playing on the foundation of the Salt Lake Temple. Some parts of it were not yet above the ground. On our return home, Daisy the oldest daughter of my brother William went with us to spend the summer. For several years after the first settlement, hay for livestock was cut with a scythe, and grain was cut with an implement called a cradle. It looked so pretty to see the hay fall from behind father's scythe. It so pleased me that I kept on monkeying with it until I could produce the same effect myself. As a result father took me into the field with him the next two haying seasons to help him mow the hay. The other boys, excepting Moroni, had not taken the same interest. Had not learned to wield the arm strong machine, so escaped the arduous task... ...The month of May, 1869, was an important month in our family history, because in that month my sister Leah was born, while we were still living in the log house. She was the thirteenth child in my mothers family. She was the only one of five girls to survive. The only girl also, among five boys who were at home. She was a sweet and dearly beloved girl, who seemed not to have suffered temperamentally to any extent, by being the only girl among a lot of rough boys. About this time my father kept a band of sheep, just a few hundred head that he sometimes sent off with other men's flock to a summer range. When not so sent, I had the privilege of acquiring some sheep herding experience. While attending my flock on the face of the hill west of town, I could see the highway for miles. Sometimes day after day would pass without a team being seen along that highway...One day while playing in the groves near the crest of the hill, climbing trees &c, a limb broke and I came crashing down through the branches until a sharp knot caught me by the back of the head and held me until Johnnie Hansen and Abe Ward picked me off the limb...I went home with blood running down my back... I carried a lump and a scar for a few years. ...I had the experience of training several yoke of steers for work, Brim and Saxe was one of them. I enjoyed the process of subjugating them and making them useful... ...I am happy to confess that I have always been an admirer of good horses. I have had pleasure in using them, and in caring for them. It always gave me a thrill to handle wild horses; but never to ride bucking horses as that was not my method of handling them, but to train them sensibly for any useful purpose was my delight. Comes now about the time when activities were started to the erection of our larger and better home....A Mr. Thomas Smedley, a fine old English gentleman was the brick maker. As part payment for the brick needed for our house, we had the privilege of hauling the wood to burn in the kiln to make brick. It was my privilege to go day after day with Moroni to haul that wood. It required a very long day to get a load from the canyon with an ox team and haul it to the kiln in the field below the mounds south of Paris Creek. Those were days before the rail road was extended from Utah points to Butte Montana. In lieu thereof a stage line was maintained with stations at intervals of about ten to twenty miles, where stage horses were cared for and exchanged for fresh ones to continue on to succeeding points of exchange. In supplying those stations with horse feed we had a splendid market for our oats and at an excellent price. Hence for several years we freighted our grain to the Snake River Country. After thrashing in the fall, all the people of town who had oats for sale, would form an ox team caravan and set out on the long trek to the stage line stations where the feed was needed. Sometimes to Corbet Station where the city of Blackfoot now is. Sometimes to Eagle Rock, that is now Idaho Falls. Sometimes to Sand Hole, Market Lake, or other stations up the line. In from five to ten days we would reach our destination, traveling about fifteen miles a day. We would deliver our loads then take up our long trip back home. There was no city of Blackfoot then and Idaho Falls consisted of a toll station and a few cabins. It was quite an interesting experience to make that trip, with a merry bunch of fellows plodding along in the daytime, camping out at night, cooking our food by the open fire. Often when in the Snake River Valley we encountered great freight trains of mules or oxen. Think of a mule team outfit with eight or ten span of mules drawing a train of three ponderous wagons loaded to the gunwales...It was interesting to see those oxen assembled and yoked, hitched in place, and started on the way. It required a united pull to move the load...Remember there was a long line of them, perhaps ten yoke, extending out there for about two hundred yards. Of all the whooping, yelling, cursing and swearing, with the popping of bull whips...you'd early get the impression that those drivers were not goody-goody Sunday School boys. Sometimes it would take a half hour to get underway. The bull-whackers became so expert with the bull-whip that they could peel off the hair and sometimes the hide every pop. Some of the oxen were scarred up terribly. I once drove a team to the Snake River Country for Old Man Rasmussen, accompanying Pete who drove another team. In the same company was...Peter Krogue, Dave Krogue, Dave Nelson, Charley Christensen, Ira Osmond and others.... ...On nearing home from one of our trips, just for a little diversion, we chained all our ten wagons together, one behind the other, and hitched all our oxen, about fifteen yoke, to the train of wagons making an outfit more than a block long, and thus we drove through the towns, much to the amusement of all observers as well as to ourselves. It might be stated that we had some difficulty in negotiating turns in the road, particularly, if a bridge were in the way. All the proceeds from the sale of our loads were sent to George Osmond, who as agent for the company, settle for them. The money thus obtained by my father was used largely in his building operation. ...about the year 1876 that construction work actually began on our new home, which was to be built of brick and proved to be the first two story building in the community. Father, being very precise, had Joe Rich, a surveyor, lay off the foundation with his instruments, so it would be exactly true to the compass, north and south. Moroni and Albert got out the logs from which the lumber was made at a near by lumber mill. The rock for the foundation came from a quarry north of the big grove in Birch Spring Hollow. Hauling the brick from the kiln was an interesting duty. We usually hauled 1000 brick to the load, as that many would nicely fill a single bed wagon box. As each brick would weigh four pounds, they made a 4000 pound load, and that was enough considering the roads. Sometimes two or three of us boys would go together for a load. On one occasion, I went alone, Heber Smedley, pitched the brick to me out of the kiln, while I placed them in the wagon. My team was Old Buck and Roudy, a yoke of large durham oxen. On the way home, I stopped to arrange some brick that were loose in the box. In starting up again, I jumped onto the back of Old Buck, the nigh ox, as I had often done before, but, on this occasion he jumped forward and I fell behind him, lighting on my feet. The wheel caught my coat and pulled me down. The marvel is, it did not crush the life out of me. The wheel ran over my right leg, but I was just able to jerk myself away before the hind wheel struck me. How it was that a two ton load could pass over my leg without breaking it, is still a mystery. Painfully and with some difficulty I climbed back onto the load and lay there and drove home, the oxen obeying my commands. Reaching home I was assisted off the wagon and into the house. I suffered severely that night, but said little of it, knowing that if I complained, I would not be allowed to go with the outfit that was to leave for Snake River the next day, wherein I was to drive a team. When we were out on the road & well under way, I suffered intensely. My leg became black, where the wheel had passed over it, but I endured it as stoically as I could, because I was out on the road with a number of men and rough boys and I didn't want to be regarded as a sissy. As I remember it, I speedily recovered and enjoyed the trip throughout.... [Oliver would have been about 13 years old at that time.] ...It was during the summer of 1877, while my brother Dr. Alma B. Dunford, was doing missionary work in England that his wife Susie Young Dunford, daughter of Brigham Young, with her two daughters, Leah & Bailey spent the summer with us in Bear Lake. It was while she was with us that a telegram announcing the death of her father, Brigham Young, was received. Father read the telegram to President J. H. Hart, who was then on the roof finishing the shingling of our house. President Hart remarked "Well, Well. There will be enough tears shed to float his body". Father, perhaps thinking the expression a little extreme answered, in a somewhat lighter vein, "Well, he's no better man than I am". President Hart, manifesting some surprise, father hastened to add "Only as he has done better". It was not so long after this, while Alma was still in Europe, as a missionary, that his wife wrote to him requesting a divorce. President Joseph F. Smith who was then presiding over the European mission, immediately released Alma, with the advice that he return home to care for his interests. Alma's home was then in St. George, to which place he had been sent by the Church to build up that country, and to practice his profession among the inhabitants of Utah's Dixie.... ...The decree of the court in the case awarded Alma the girl, Leah, and the guardianship of the boy, Bailey... ...For several years after their separation, Alma's daughter, Leah lived with us in Bear Lake. She was not quite so old as my sister Leah, but they were great companions, and grew up together under the tender care of our mother. In due course of time our new home was completed and all the spacious, immaculate rooms ready for occupancy. The old house that had been our abode for years was forsaken and later demolished. It was not without tender emotions that we saw the dear old house taken out of the picture to become a part of the sacred bye gone.... Early in October 1879 father and Mother, taking James, Leah and Leah Eudora with them set out for Salt Lake City to attend conference, going by team. On reaching Fishaven, they thought of something they had forgotten for which father should return home. So leaving mother and the children there, he came back and did not leave again til the next day. Picking up the folks at Fishaven they went on to Meadowville stopping with their old friend Bishop Tuft. They then continued from there on via the Danish Dugway and the Hardware Ranch, then owned by, and known as Kertise's Ranch down the wild Blacksmiths Fork canyon. It was becoming late in the evening and they were jogging along merrily, hoping to reach the meadows, where they intended to camp for the night. They had reached that point in the gloomy canyon where the mountains are the highest, the wildest, and the most precipitous, where the road was just wide enough for a wagon between the jagged cliffs and the roaring river. Father, who had been singing hymns much of the time, as was his custom, happened to be giving hearty voice to the inspiring strains of "O, Ye Mountains High, where the clear blue sky arches over the vales of the free" etc., when suddenly the wheel struck an unobserved rock with such violence as to throw mother across in front of father and clear of the wagon. Father in his effort to save mother, slipped and fell behind the horses. One of them kicked his head, the wheels passed over him, crushing his chest. When mother got up from where she was thrown, she discovered father lying there the blood gushing from his mouth and nose. She called to him, he simply gasped and all was o'er. Mother was all alone, it was now dark. She could hear above the roar of the river, the wagon rattling down that narrow dugway, hurled along by a run-a-way team of horses, and those three children in the wagon, entirely at the mercy of inexorable fate. When the children who had been dozing in the wagon back of the seet, awoke, the little girls attempted to jump out. James then about thirteen years of age, with the presence of mind, akin to inspiration, caught one under each arm and held them both while he called "whoa" to the maddened team. As the horses had been traveling, all day, they were tired, and being in a strange wild country they heeded his call, and coming to an up grade in the road they quieted down to a slow trot. James then released the girls, ran in front of the horses and stopped them. In the mean time, Leah had jumped out of the wagon and was quite badly hurt. James unhitched the horses, tied them to the wagon, and the three children walked back to learn what had happened to father and mother. Needless to say, they found mother wringing her hands in despair, yes in the very agonies of lamentation, but O, the return of the children whom she had naturally concluded would be killed, thrown into the river or badly mangled was certainly a mitigating circumstance. Well, there they were in the dark and gloom of that woeful canyon! The raging river, the moaning wind... All added to the depths of their despair. They were twelve miles down the canyon from the Hardware Ranch. They knew of another team that they had seen earlier in the day. Would that team be coming on down the canyon so late in the evening? It was decided that mother and the little girl, Leah Eudora, remain with father's corpse, while James and sister Leah, walk back up the road for help. It was pitch dark. Would they meet that other team coming down, or would they have to trudge back that long, lonely twelve miles to the ranch?...Finally they heard the faint rumbling of a wagon. It came nearer. Sure enough it was Bro. & Sister Long and their two boys, John & Levi. On arriving at the scene of tragedy, the boys went down and got fathers team. Placing father's body in the wagon, they all returned to the ranch. The next day Mr. Kertis brought the folks to Meadowville, from there Bishop Tuft brought them on home. It was Sunday evening Oct. 5, the birthday of Parley also of Alf Osmond, they with a number of others, were at our home, planning to celebrate the event, when a rap came to the front door. Albert opened the door and greeted Bishop Tuft, who thus broke the dreadful news to us. "Prepare yourselves boys! Your mother is here, the children are here. They are safe, but your father is a corpse in the wagon." Stunning was the crash of that appalling statement. With incredible swiftness the news of it spread throughout the community, and our home, though it was late in the evening, was soon crowded with sympathizing friends & neighbors, anxious to extend aid and comfort. I shall never forget the statement of my mother when I entered her room the next morning after a sleepless night. Although racked by her tragic experience, and crushed by her overwhelming loss, she said "Oh! My son, my son! How thankful we should be!” The statement rather shocked me, because I could see nothing at the time to be thankful for, but when mother hastened to mention the miraculous escape of the children from an awful death, I could understand. Ever since that dark day, the atitude of my mother has been an inspiration to me. If she in that tragic hour, could see something for which to be grateful, I have concluded that surely the "Gloomiest mountain never cast a shadow on both sides at once". So I have always tried to look on the brighter side of every vicissitude, realizing the wisdom of the statement that "what can't be cured should be endured in the most graceful & sensible way possible. A sample of father's favorite adages: Be sure you're right, then go ahead. It is better to suffer wrong than to do wrong. If you can't speak well of a person, don't speak of him at all. If you want your work done, go, if not send. There being five of us boys at home after fathers demise, Moroni, Albert, Parley, myself and James, we were fully able to take care of mother and sister, Leah, and to manage the farm, livestock, and all other business matters. It was about this time that Moroni planned, and with the help of the other boys, built the new back part to our home to replace the old temporary log kitchen... In the autumn of 1882, while mother was visiting in Salt Lake City, knowing that I was anxious to attend school, she spoke of the matter to Uncle George Dunford, whose second wife Eliza Snow was the daughter of President Lorenzo Snow. Uncle George told mother that his brother-in-law, Alvirus Snow, who had just graduated from the University of Deseret, was going to teach school in Montpelier, Idaho that winter, and it might be possible for me to attend school there. It so happened that a Mr. Dave Young of Montpelier, while electioneering in our community, stopped at our home and stayed over night. He stated that his circumstances were such that he would be glad for me to live at his home and do chores for my board. Thus the opportunity had come...and so passed an interesting winter... The following summer was spent at home with the other boys, attending to our usual farm duties.... ...My brother, Alma...while at home...in the summer of 1883 learned of my interest in school...he told mother that I might live at his home in Salt Lake City and attend the University of Deseret. A glorious opportunity!! Alma had a horse and buggy and a cow, a lawn, etc. etc. to care for besides there would be other ways that I would be useful to compensate for the privileges conferred. In the fall, when farm work was over, Moroni, with a team and buggy, drove me to the city... ...It was two weeks after school had started, that I entered. I shall never forget the morning when Vinnie, herself a graduate from that school, took me down and introduced me to Dr. Park, before a whole class that was in session at the time. Yes, she introduced me to that great educator, father of the University of Utah,... Alma, whose friends were numerous among the best people. All the leading citizens manifested the highest regard for him. He did their dental work. He and Dr. Park were particularly friendly. It was therefore through his influence that Dr. Park granted me the great privilege of attending two years without paying tuition. He was able to do that from the fact that the Legislature had provided that each county of the state might have two normal students trained at the state's expense to become teachers. The Doctor had me admitted as a representative for San Juan County, although I was from Idaho.... ...While my home life had always been on a high plane...yet the fact remained that I had grownup among the sagebrush and snowdrifts of Bear Lake Valley in pioneer days. Many of my fellow students were the children of the well-to-do in Salt Lake City, Ogden and elsewhere... ...Certainly, to them I looked strange, my clothing was perhaps, not in the latest fashion, no doubt, I acted strangely and surely I felt strange. I took a seat in the remotest north-east corner of the room followed, as I could feel, by the withering glances of critical students. There crouched in bewilderment as to how I would make out in that new environment. My first participation in class activity resulted about as follows: Among the studies for which I registered was elocution, taught by Prof. Paul. At that particular time, we were studying the manner of rendering: It snows, cries the school boy! Hurrah and his shout is ringing through palace and hall! The teacher had illustrated how it should be given. Some of the pupils had tried it. Then, "Mr. Dunford, you read it." The sound of my name frightened me. I think I had never heard it before in such a connection. All the room turned and looked in my direction. I suppose I got up, book in hand, but I couldn't see a word. instead of beginning "It snows cries the school boy! Hurrah and his shout, &c" To the top of my cracked voice, I shouted "Hurrah! cries the school boy!!" I could get no farther, as you see. The whole class, even Prof. Paul laughed uproarously. Well, I went down. The teacher called for criticisms, as was his custom. One of the girls got up and said, "I think the gentleman put on too many airs." That was the last straw. In my mind, I was uttering maledictions toward the whole situation...and resolving that I would never try again, but I checked myself and instead said to myself, "Darn you! I'll show you!!" I thereupon changed my seat from the remotest corner to the one up nearest the teacher, that I might the better hear and understand, and commune more closely with the soul of the teacher... ...Evan Stephens taught music...He had a school chorus, and a glee club, in which I was a member. I usually sang tenor. We frequently sang in assembly, and on many other occasions...On a number of occasions we sang to audiences in the great tabernackle. Evan Stephens, though a musician of wonderful ability and world wide fame, was the most jovial and democratic man imaginable...Ever since those memorable days I have been able to play one chord on a piano or organ. That's not important; but the fact that it was taught to me by Evan Stephens himself, has always been important to me... My life in Alma's house was pleasant indeed. Sister Vinnie was a wonderfully sweet woman, a real lady in every sense of the word...It was always a great pleasure to me to help her in any way possible... I had complete charge of the horse, buggy and the jersey cow...It was always my pleasure to care for the home and baby--later babies--when Alma and Vinnie would go to the theater or wherever or whenever they wished to be away... When not otherwise choring, I would spend much time in the office, and soon became able to do helpful work in the laboratory. So proficient did I become that I could finish up a set of teeth from the vulcanizer. Young George Ellerbeck was an apprentice in Alma's office for years while I was there...We were intimate friends...He spent a summer vacation with us here in Bear Lake. A photograph of himself, with James and me returning from a hunting trip, appeared in the Deseret News. When the school year was over, I returned home and worked as usual on our farm.... When I appeared for registration the next year, my grand old teacher, Dr. Park said to me, "Well, Mr. Dunford, I have been successful in holding the place as normal representative from San Juan Co. for you again this year..." How could I express my gratitude?...By trying to make good, I suppose.... The aforesaid jersey cow [Alma's, which Oliver cared for], had a bull calf. Of course, such a calf in the city was not worth anything, So when I came home, I put him in the wagon and brought him to Bear Lake. The first pure bred Jersey bull to be owned in town... Toward stocking his ranch [Alma's ranch which he bought in Ovid, Idaho, not far from Bloomington], Alma bought...a holstine bull and a heifer...It was my task to haul them to Bear Lake in a wagon. This was in the spring of 1885. Thus they were the first pure bred holstines ever brought into the valley. It seemed to me that every time I went home from school on my vacation I would take some live creatures with me...guinea fowels...white fan-tailed pigeons...a pair of bantam chickens.... Many times I have witnessed great performances in the Old Salt Lake Theatre, and participated in some festivities....a temporary floor was constructed over the parquet circle level with the stage, making an extensive dancing floor on which I had the thrill of seeing the tall, handsome, graceful, President John Taylor lead the march, followed by Wilford Woodruff, George Q. Cannon, O. F. Whitney and other stellar lights of the church, and their ladies; in which also Bell, Vinnie's sister, and I joined. I'm telling you that was some memorable evening. Another time I witnessed Shakespear's Great tragedy, Macbeth...I have Seen Ward and James in Othello. I have sat in the dress circle with Alma and Vinnie...I have seen Salvinii the world famous Italian tragedian... It happened one time that the city was placarded advertising the prospective appearence of John L. Sullivan [boxer]....I had heard and read so much of that great pujulist, that I particularly wanted to see him. So, although the price of admission was $1.00, I couldn't resist the urge to ask Alma for the money, which he freely gave me....The whole evening was devoted to sparring and boxing....I had seen the great John L. Sullivan champion of the world, in action.... ...George Ellerbeck was a member of the gymnastic society. I very often visited the place with him. I got much pleasure out of boxing with the fellows. Billey Breeze, the champion light weight of Utah, went there for his daily work out. For some time he used me as his sparring partner, or rather, his punching bag. However, I learned many points from him, and became a bit efficient myself. When I returned home that summer, I took a set of boxing gloves with me. As might be expected, some of the people in town looked upon me as an evil genius, destined to cause quarreling and fighting among the boys. Instead we experienced many a jolly occasion when we got real exercise. Sometime before the 4th day of July 1885 Bishop William Hulme, called me to him and said, "Oliver, we want to hold a 4th of July celebration this year; and I'm going to put the matter in your hands. You take charge of it. Select your committees and go to work." Having seen an industrial parade in Salt Lake, I felt such a parade not only possible, but would be a fine feature of our celebration. Accordingly our program was made to include, such a parade, a patriotic meeting, games and contests, a childrens dance, a ball game, to conclude with a grand ball in the evening. All needed committees were appointed and worked faithfully to the end that the day was a success.... Autumn of 1885--Back to school again. As it had been arranged for James to attend the University this year, and live with Alma as I had done. I...boarded for a few months with George M. Cannon, later with Mr. and Mrs. Bywater... One of the first men I met on the sidewalk was Professor Evan Stephens...he greeted me, and hastened to tell me that my paper on the science of music had won first place, and had been presented to Dr. Park as the most meritorious paper from the class.... At the beginning of this year, I entered again upon the study of book-keeping, determined this time to understand it as I went along. [Oliver had started the class the previous year, but had dropped it after a few days when he felt that he was not understanding it and felt hesitant to ask for help.] The first lesson contained elements that, to me needed fuller explanation, I asked about them. Professor Toronto made a superficial explanation...I asked for further light. I admit I was persistant, but I held him to the subject, until he impatiently remarked, "It is supposed that students know something when they come to a University." That remark nettled me. I said, "I came here to learn. Had I known that subject I wouldn't be taking it now,, and you are here to teach. So I feel that my position is consistant."...I got along very well with Prof. Toronto... ...At the end of the term, when the examinations were over...it was found that only seven pupils out of a class of seventy odd had graduated. I felt I owed my success to my determination to understand the subject as I went along.... ...after studying botany, though walking over the same hills and vales where he had all his life before wandered, ones eyes are opened to see and enjoy a world of plant life never dreamed of before. The same is true in the animal kingdom after studying zoology. We might say the same with regards to tones in music after studying the divine art. Also with regard to shades, hues, tints, and blendings after studying the solar spectrum and its illuminating effects upon the colorings in nature. And so we conclude that one of the glorious rewards of learning, is its effect upon our capacity to see, to understand, and to enjoy and grandeurs, and the beauties all around us.... School life was delightful. One became acquainted with so many fine young people. In time you felt at home with the students, with the professors, the library, the museum, in fact the entire institution. And when you became a senior, you could show kindness and render assistance to pupils who were passing through experiences like unto those of your own early days.... ...During later years, I have had former classmates express their gratitude to me for my kindness to them in their early school days. A typical case was that of President Duckworth of the Blackfoot stake, who had become a wealthy sheep owner. He told me of the time when as a timid lad he had just arrived from Scotland and entered the University. His feeling of timidity, bashfulness, & loneliness well nigh overcame him. but he said, I acted as a self appointed caretaker. I took him under my wing, as it were; rendered him the assistance needed, and made him feel at home. He was profuse in his expressions of gratitude. Strange as it may seem, I had not the slightest recollection of him or the incidents he spoke of. I therefore protested that perhaps he was mistaken...but he avered positively that he was not mistaken and that he would never forget my kind treatment of him. Other similar cases have occured to delight me. Truly kindly services, bring future rewards. Sometime before the close of my last year in school, Alma told me that George Ellerbeck was about to leave his office and for me to suit myself, but if I liked, I might take his place and study dentistry. After due consideration, I concluded to continued on with school, as I had the prospect of graduating...That decision was, no doubt, a turning point in my life.... ...I was admitted to graduation along with only nine others out of a class of seventy odd members...This was in the month of June 1886... The news papers published a detailed account of the commensement proceedings, giving the names of, and commending the graduates. Johnnie Hunt told me later, that he was in Logan when he read of our graduation. He said he was impressed as never before. If we, Alf Osmond and I, of Bloomington could graduate and receive such distinction as was accorded to us in the news papers, why couldn't he. Thereupon, he resolved to enter the University, which he did, and in two years was a normal graduate, who after taught school successfully for years... Who knows how many others were similarly effected, I don't, but I do know that Alf Osmond and I were pioneers in the field of modern thought and method in teaching in Bear Lake Co. and I do know that from that date, began the impetus that placed Bloomington in the front rank as an educational center, when the little erudite community was occasionally referred to as the Athens of Idaho, or the Boston of Bear Lake, because she was supplying three fourths of the teachers in the county as well as prominent leaders in other lines... And so, I come to the end of three perfect school years in the University of Deseret, whose name was soon thereafter changed to the University of Utah. I had completed the normal course as a representative from San Juan County of Utah. As such representative the state payed my tuition, as previously explained. That county had the right to require my services as a teacher, but as they made no request for the same I returned home...and [was]granted a certificate [teacher's] on the strength of my Normal Diploma.... ...I made application for the school in the Paris Second Ward...They allowed me to teach, but as there were no public funds for school purposes, I was to be paid by rate bill, collected from the patrons. The customary charge being $3.00 per pupil per quarter, or in other words $1.00 a month for each child. If 25 pupils were in attendence my salery would be $25.00. It was on the 20th day of October 1886 that my teaching carear began. It began in the crudest kind of a building, equipped with crudest and most primitive furnishings and appliances...I was the only teacher and therefore had all grades, even though the attendence became quite large and included men and women of my own age as well as infant beginners... ...I sometimes suffered mental anguish from the lack of accommodations and equipment, and from the conglomerate make up of my school that precluded the possibility of my giving needed time and attention to the large pupils, or to any of them for that matter.... For some time during that first winter I boarded with the Findlays, which was an unnecessary thing to do. I should have gone home evenings, and let my mother have the money that it cost me to live at Findlays. Just prior to this time, there came into the county from Alsace Loraine in Germany, a professor of music, G.L.G. Hessel...he visited my school, sometimes spending an entire session...He finally told me of his purpose in coming. He had in mind the establishment of a high school in the county to be known as the Bear Lake Academy, and to be patterned after the BYU in Provo. Having seen me in my work as a teacher, He wanted me to join him in the new venture... The commissioners gave us the use of the county court room, which we divided by means of a partition into two departments...It was in October 1887 that the first High School in Bear Lake County was opened....in a short time we had a good attendence of fine young people...and we spent an interesting winter with students who came in from all the surrounding towns...The first year of the Bear Lake Academy was pronounced a success... During the summer of 1888, I taught a three month's summer school in Montpelier. Prof. Hessel on his own initiative, arranged for that school for me... ...My school work in Montpelier was very pleasant. I stayed with James and Eliza at night. They were managing Alma's ranch in Ovid.... My means of transportation was a horse and buggy. I would drive to Ovid each night and back to school the next morning. My horse was a yellow charger names Ned, a beautiful traveler...He and I got along joyously together. He liked what I liked. He liked speed and so did I...We were companions for years... ...Late in the summer of 1888...Professor Hessel died after a brief illness...As the professor had no know relatives in this country, and I being his closest associate, and partner in business, it became my task to take charge of the arrangements for his interment...I called for contributions from friends and former students, and together we secured an appropriate stone monument which to this day marks his grave in the Paris cemetary... ...I reported to the Stake Presidency the work done during the first year [at the Bear Lake Academy]...the church did become interested, did appropriate money to assist in its maintenance, did employ George Osmond of the stake presidency, a former student of Oxford University to succeed the late Professor Hessel, and did employ me at a salery of $60.00 per month to continue on with my share of the enterprise. Look here! You needn't smile at that. $60.00 per month for that was considered a lucrative emolument in those days....The name of the school was changed from the Bear Lake Academy to the Bear Lake Stake Academy.... As in previous years when the winters work of the second school year of the Bear Lake Stake Academy was ended, I returned to the farm...all to the one end in view, that of entering the Michigan law school that fall. To that end also I had saved what money I could, sold what animals I had, and knowing of my plans, sister Vinnie, my brother Alma's wife, a lovable and most gracious lady...told me that her husband had allowed her so much money each week to pay for help in the home. As she had done her own work, she had that money and wanted me to have it to help me reach my objective, stating that I might use it freely and return it at some future date when able. Thus equipped, I began laying plans for my departure...Charles H. Hart, Alfred Osmond, and James E. Hart had been to Ann Arbor the year before and were going again. James E. and I arranged to go together on a cattle train as far as Chicago...We were within eight days of our departure, when to my consternation, I got a letter from the then notorious Box B, calling me on a mission to New Zealand to leave for that remote island in seventeen days. Thus was my dream shattered and my plans frustrated.... ...As I looked upon a call of that nature as something spiritually important, I abandoned my university ideas and turned my attention to other points of the cumpas. I fully knew that it meant a change in environment from that of a student in a great university, mingling with great professors, and ambitious students in eurodite subjects, to that of mingling with the aboriginal inhabitants of a distant island of the sea.... At this time I was 26 years old. The mission term in New Zealand was three years in duration. I knew there had been cases where elders had taken their wives and as I had been keeping company with Miss Ida Osmond for sometime, the idea occurred to me, "Why not have her called on a mission". We would then get married and go together. At this time President Wilford Woodruff, George Q. Cannon, and their private secretary George Reynolds were in attendence at our quarterly conference. I presented my plan to Brother Reynolds with the request that he bring it before the President of the Church. He asked me many questions as to Ida's qualifications, her integrity, who she was &c, Have you spoken to her about this, and is she willing?" "No, I haven't mentioned the matter to her, or her parents." "Then what is the use of going any farther? The plan may fall through whatever the authorities may decide." I assured him that I felt confident the plan would work out all right if the church is willing. Accordingly at a meeting in the home of President William Budge that evening there were present Wilford Woodruff, George Q. Cannon, George Reynolds, William Budge, James H. Hart and George Osmond, the presidency of the Church and the presidency of the stake. Before that assembly Brother Reynolds presented my case. It evoked many questions and some discussion, quite to the embarrassment of Brother Osmond who was asked during the discussion if the lady in question were not his daughter. He was under the necessity of saying , "Yes she is my daughter but I know nothing about the matter." Evidently he did not oppose the plan because I met Brother Reynolds the next morning by appointment. He told me that the president had given his consent that Ida would be called on a mission as other missionaries are called and that we might go together as planned. So far so good, but I had not mentioned the matter to Ida, or her parents. Ida was ill at the time, suffering from an attack of pneumonia when the proposition was made to her. To this day I have no recollections of any vehement objections she made to the sudden, and in view of what it meant, startling proposal. Ida's mother was in Salt Lake City at the time, I communicated with her by letter.... When talking of our future with Ida's father, he mentioned the rather embarrassing situation he was in when his daughter was under consideration for those far reaching changes, and he knew nothing about it. When I drew his attention to the fact that I couldn't mention the matter of her going on a mission with me until I had found out how the church felt about it, and I couldn't speak of it to him, or her mother until I had learned Ida's attitude. In light of these thoughts he said: "You acted wisely, you took the proper course, I don't see how you could have done otherwise." In the course of a few days a farewell testimonial was held in the ward hall....It should be remembered that in those days before it had become so common to depart on a mission it was considered a momentous event in ones life as well as a great honor. It was heroic indeed to accept, especially if the call were to some distant part of the world. Our's being to the southern hemisphere, beyond the equator, to the south sea islands, among the uncivilized natives, much was made of it by our relatives, friends, and neighbors....More than a hundred dollars were contributed by our friends at that party... October 28, 1889 was a bitter cold day, cold wind, snow and sleet, roads were mud mixed with snow and traveling was bad. Brother Parley prepared the outfit and drove us to Logan. At 10:00 a.m. we bade good by to the folks. With many forebodings, I parted from my mother who was ill at the time. The fear that I may never see her again was heavy on my mind.... On reaching Spring Creek, we discovered we had forgotten our license. I mounted a horse and rode back through the mud to get [it]. We stopped at the home of Henry Cook in Garden City that night. The trip through the canyon the next day was anything but pleasant on account of the bad roads and stormy weather... October 30th, 1889. This eventful day found us in the Logan Temple where we were married for time and all eternity by, Apostle Marriner W. Merrell. After the night spent at the home of Sister Birdino we went on to Salt Lake City where we spent some time with Alma and his family....The day of our departure, Alma accompanied us to the train station and shoved a $20.00 gold piece into my hand as we mounted the train. While in the city, I was ordained a seventy and set apart as a missionary endowed with authority to officiate in all the ordinances of the gospel by Apostles John Henry Smith and Abram H. Cannon. Bro Cannon being mouth.... ...The train then headed westward to the Bay Region and to the City of San Francisco. From the train at Oakland we were ferried across the bay to the far famed city by the Golden Gate. We had a stay of several days in San Francisco before our boat was to sail for the south seas. The time was gloriously spent in visiting points of interest.... Having an ever present desire...to see all there is to see, and to get worthwhile information from any source, I resolved to take in China Town...I tried to persuade my fellow missionaries to form with me a company and go together...on learning of the reported dangers of such a trip...they gave up the idea and advised me to do likewise....So leaving my wife in our apartment of the hotel, we [Oliver, a miner, and a guide] started out to explore the underworld of the orientals...While it was 52 years back from the date this is written, the memory of those experiences is as fresh as the day it was had. Ship Ahoy! We went aboard the Mariposa, a three thousand ton vessel, just at dusk, we pulled out into the bay, where we stood by until midnight waiting for the English mails. When outside the Golden Gate, the throb of the engine, and the swell of the ocean awakened us from slumber and we found ourselves "Out on the ocean wave...." Our first ocean voyage, a new and strange experience in a world of unfamiliar elements.... On nearing New Zealand, we were entranced by the beauty of the scenery. There were numerous islets that adorned the bay adjacent to the picturesque harbor of Aukland.... We found the wharf crowded with a throng of cheering people assembled to welcome us from beyond the mighty deep. Among them coming up the gang plank we could see Augus T. Wright, president of the mission coming on board to greet us on our arrival at our destination. We were taken to the home of a Mrs. Hay, where we stayed for a few days. The decision to call [my] wife on a mission had been reached so short a time before our departure by the First Presidency they hadn't time to send word to President Wright that a lady missionary was to arrive. Hence President Wright had not made arrangements for her service. So it was decided that Ida remain with Mrs. Hay in Auckland for a month... while I was sent to Huntley to meet Elders Bingham and Johnson, and to join them in missionary work for that month. During that month I had my first experience in Maoriland...Bro. Bingham, who later became president of the mission, and traveled all over the island, said to me as he was leaving for home after three years in the field: "Bro. Dunford, you were with me when I was having my worst experiences in my missionary life in the matter of food, accommodations, and branch trouble with the natives." So my introduction into Maori life was indeed violent. At the annual conference, we [Oliver and Ida] were appointed to the Taupo district to teach school among the natives.... We learned that while New Zealand has a climate famous for its mildness and congeniality and invigorating elements, it has also some decidedly unpleasant features, for instance, after milking our cow one morning we put the milk in a cupboard without covering it over, by, noon we found it one living wriggling mass of maggots... A woolen blanket was hung outside for airing. The early morning dew dampened it. Later, when the sun had been shining on it for a short time, we discovered it had literally changed color. Investigating to ascertain the cause of that metamorphosis we found the surface one mass of fly-blows...and as for lice and fleas, they thrive in that country.... At times we accompanied natives into the bush in search of wild honey...Before returning from the quest for honey, the natives knocked to pieces some old rotten trees that had fallen from which they gathered woodworms, some of them two inches long which they would eat alive...One man split a green willow, filled the space between the parts with worms, tied the ends together, stuck the other end into the ground so that the worms would be over the fire. When nicely cooked and well browned, they somewhat lost their wormy appearence...but somehow I was not tempted to partake...So in that particular my education has been restricted for to this day I don't know the taste of wood worms... ...Having spent about six months in the Taupo country, we were transferred to the Mahia district on the east coast of the island...Reaching Mohaka, we forded the river...The next day, we went to Wairoa about 20 miles distant. On the way, I was riding one horse and leading another, Wife and Smallie [district president] were each riding horses. Crossing a bridge made slippery by a passing shower, wife's horse fell, throwing her under the feet of the horse I was leading. The horse stumbled over her, knocked her about considerably, tore her clothing, but, remarkable as it may seem, she was not seriously hurt....At Wairoa, the greeting we got from the natives was not cordial, so...we went on to Nuhaka, another stretch of 20 miles... ...at Nuhaka...wife opened the school which was well attended and carried on with remarkable success, considering the fact that no equipment was provided...Until such was provided, wife taught the kiddies to say many things in English, to sing Sunday School and other songs, and to play games... ...in justice to the wife for the sacrifices and efforts made and the extreme privations endured be it said that some of the native children who attended that school have made unusual, even remarkable progress. Some coming to Utah where they made good. One in particular becoming a successful musician, a composer of beautiful songs as illustrated by "Beautiful Isle of the Sea." While wife was thus casting her bread upon the water to be seen after many days, I did missionary work among the branches of the district....I would sometimes be away for days, leaving wife alone with the natives, who became deeply attached to her, and with whom she soon became very much at home, particularly after she had learned the language, and could use it fluently, and after she had come to know the excellent qualities of the Maori people. The house we lived in at Nuhaka was a two roomed frame building, covered on the outside and roof with corrogated sheet iron. It stood well off the ground and was neat and comfortable. ...As our mission was to the native Maori people, we soon became at home with the Maories, We spoke the Maori language. We ate the Maori food, we slept in Maori huts, we slept in Maori beds, we studied Maori tradition, we studied Maori superstitions, We found Maori vermin, We studied Maori troubles, we settled Maori feudes. In short, as time passed, we began to think like Maories, to feel like Maories, and, no doubt, to look like Maories.... Here ends Oliver's Autobiography. The following information is taken from the History of Bear Lake Pioneers, article written by Lillie Dunford Mecham, pp. 194-195. After 2 1/2 years in the mission field, Ida...returned to Bloomington with their six-month-old son, Rao, so named by the Chief of the Island. Oliver remained for another six months, arriving home only a few days before his mother, Leah, passed away. When Ida came home, she and Oliver's sister Leah, whose husband, David Krogue, was also on a mission, set up housekeeping together. They taught school together in the little cottage which David had purchased before leaving for the Southern States Mission one week after he and Leah were married.... Returning to Bloomington, Oliver made purchase of the Isaac Dunford homestead and some acres of land. He was instrumental in securing a water works system for Georgetown, served as county assessor, and held numerous executive positions in church organizations. He taught school 28 years in the public schools of Bear Lake County. He concerned himself with the interests and activities of young people. [Oliver was an excellent step-dancer and also was famous for his rendition of The Spotted Calf.] He initiated and sponsored numerous musical and dramatic clubs in communities where he taught. Ida was a member of the first M.I.A. Stake Presidency, accompanist for the first ladies chorus, president of the Bloomington Ward Relief Society, and theology class leader. Oliver and Ida were the parents of eleven children. [Rao Bingham, William Stanley, Hazel, Alma Teller, Ralph Osmond, Mabel, Della Maud, George Osmond, Isaac, and twins, Oliver Wendell and Ida Georgina.] Oliver Wendell died in April, 1913, at the age of 9 months... ...Oliver remained in the old family home until he died suddenly while helping his grandsons with the chores the morning of January 18, 1943. Ida, died October 30, 1943, at Paris Idaho. EndNote A. Rex and James D. Dunford are grandsons of Oliver through his son, Alma Teller.   Ida Ann Osmond Dunford 1869-1943 (From historical sketches written by Oliver Cowdery Dunford and Letha Dunford Madsen) Ida Ann Osmond Dunford was born February 26, 1869, in Bloomington, Idaho, five years after the settlement of the Bear Lake Valley at a time when every house in the village was of logs with a dirt roof. Ida was the sixth child in a family of ten children--three boys and seven girls (Clara, George Anson, Alfred, Rosabell, Ira, IDA ANN, Ella, Nellie, Georgina, and Alice Maud)--born to George Osmond and Mary Georgina Huckvale. She attended the primitive schools of that day, which were crude indeed in every particular, as all old timers know. While she was yet a child, her father purchased a Mason and Hamlin organ, reputed to be the very first instrument of its kind in the valley. On it, by her unaided effort, she learned and soon became the Sunday School and ward organist, at the same time serving as Sunday School secretary. At about the age of 15, in order to assist with the family budget, which in those days called for careful planning, she accepted a position as clerk in the co-op store. There she labored faithfully and well for several years. Her musical ability enabled her to be of great social service to the community. For years, she was trainer and accompanist for glee clubs, choruses, choirs, etc. It was during those years when local musicians were scarce and when the village became notable for its musical festivals. So ran the joyous tenor of her life among her many relatives and friends, for whom she had great affection and with whom she was very popular. In the autumn of 1

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Oliver Cowdery Dunford's Timeline

1863
October 11, 1863
St. Louis, St. Louis, Missouri, USA
1891
April 25, 1891
Age 27
Nukaka, Nukaka, New Zealand
1893
September 13, 1893
Age 29
Bloomington, Bear Lake, Idaho, United States
1895
September 18, 1895
Age 31
Bloominton, Idaho, United States
1897
June 17, 1897
Age 33
Bloomington, Bear Lake, Idaho, USA
1900
July 1, 1900
Age 36
Bloomington, Bear Lake, Idaho, United States
1901
June 9, 1901
Age 37
Bloomington, Bear Lake, Idaho, United States
1903
September 9, 1903
Age 39
Bloomington, Bear Lake, Idaho, United States
1905
December 6, 1905
Age 42
Bloomington, Bear Lake, Idaho, United States
1908
January 29, 1908
Age 44
Bloomington, Bear Lake, Idaho, United States