MEMORIES OF MY FATHER RAPHAEL CLEMENT
As if the country and my parents were not depressed enough, I was also born in 1929 - the beginning of the Great Depression.
My Grandfather Darius Clement's wife Mary Ann, was seriously injured in an accident involving a run away horse and buggy. When she died from complications in October 1928, Grandfather came to live with us on the Fairview farm and was a part of our family until he died in Kennewick, Washington, 19 July 1959.
As soon as I was old enough to remember much, some of the things that come to mind that involved Dad was "Wash Day." We had a washing machine that had a handle that someone pushed and pulled back and forth and operated the agitator in the machine. Of course I was old enough to operate the handle. Also the "wringer" was hand crank operated and all the bigger kids took turns. (There were no child labor laws in those days).
Washing was a slow process and Mom had other things to do so Dad blocked up the back end of the car and ran a belt from one wheel of the car to a wheel on the washing machine to operate the agitator. The wringer was still hand operated.
Later on Dad adapted a small gasoline engine (similar to a lawn mower) to the washer. On the way home from school us kids could hear that engine so we would walk real slow hoping to get out of helping wash clothes.
We also spent a lot of hard work packing water in buckets from the spring about 300 feet up a slight hill. Later Dad and/or Grandpa built a skid (we called it a "stone boat" because we also picked up rocks with it) that we hooked a horse to. Then we could fill up 3 or 4 ten gallon milk cans at a time and the horse pulled them to the house on wash day. The only "running" water we had was what "ran" out of the spring. Getting it to the house was another matter.
It appears that Dad was an inventive person because he applied the "stone boat" idea to what we called a "hay slip" only on a larger scale than the stone boat. We had been hauling the hay on our one wagon but now we had two slips pulled by two teams of horses which was much faster. Also we did not have to pitch the hay so high as we did to get it on the wagon.
Of course this created great competition as we raced the teams as fast as we dared to get to the hay derrick. Dad got a big kick out of this and enjoyed the fun. It also got his hay put in the stack faster but we were too young to think that far ahead.
As I remember it, Don and Bud loaded the slips, Carroll and DeVon drove the teams, Dad and the teamsters hooked up the slip chains to the derrick and Grandpa did the hay "stacking", (probably with Dad's help between slips). I think one of the older girls would lead or ride the horse that operated the derrick to get the hay to the stack.
During those crop harvesting periods (which was usually hot), Mom would make a picnic lunch and we would all go down to the nearby pond for a swim and cool off. Sometimes Mom and Dad would go swimming too but not as often as us kids. I understand now that older folks do not enjoy cold spring water as much as kids but they enjoyed sitting by the water and watching the antics of their brood.
I remember Dad more as a "teamster" than as a cowboy type, although he was also a good rider on a saddle horse. He took great pride in his horses, both draft and riding horses. Pat and Chubb were a fine pair of grey quarter horse geldings for riding.
Grandpa was also a fine teamster and together they took great satisfaction in winning most of the pulling matches at the 4th of July and other gatherings.
Dad nor Grandpa whipped their horses. They would talk to them in a gentle voice and the horses could concentrate on pulling together and pull their hardest. Many pulling matches are lost when the horses start to see-saw back and forth and not pull at the same time. The only problem Dad had with his teams was keeping them in their harness. Most pulling matches meant that several hours would be spent repairing or replacing various parts of the harness that would give way before the overloaded drag or stone boat would move.
Dad did some work in the mountains as a "tree faller" (and probably other things too). I remember him commenting once that there was a long line of men hoping to get hired. He said the employers carefully inspected the men's axes and how they were sharpened. Dad was one of the few that got hired. Maybe because he had the use of a foot peddle operated grinding wheel that Grandpa Darius brought to the farm with him when he came to live with us. It had a wooden seat in back of the wheel. You sat straddle of the seat and alternately pushed down on each peddle which made the wheel go around. You also had to pour water on the wheel to keep it damp so it would grind better. It was used for many other things than sharpening axes such as knives and especially the "section knives" on the horse drawn sickle-bar mower that we used to cut hay with.
Dad eventually found work with Utah Power and Light Co. If I remember correctly he was operating the large coal fired boilers that produced steam to run the turbines that ran the generators to produce electricity. Having done that type of work in my lifetime, I found it to be technical and demanding. I have seen some of the books he had to study. In fact I had them to study when I started in that line of work.
Dad was away from home a good deal of the time, finding work wherever and whenever he could. It helped to have Grandpa there to help operate the farm. It would have been more than Mother could have handled by herself.
I have no recollection of Dad and Grandpa ever having a dispute or exchanging cross words. Grandpa Darius was a grand old man, even-tempered and gentle (except when Don nearly shot him with the .22 rifle or when I shot him in the rear end with my BB- gun when he was bent over to pick up an axe and his overalls were tight). I can't ever remember him uttering a cuss word as long as he lived with us. Dad was much the same except there were a few times when he would say damn or hell, but he later quit that. I'm sure I had nothing to do with any of those occasions.
I do not remember Dad doing a lot of the disciplining. Mother took care of most of that. I think she did that purposefully because when she did call for help she didn't always like what he did. Dad was not mean but he was considerably stronger so when he got involved you remembered it for a long time.
In dad's defense, there were some things that came into play, such as, Dad would not tolerate any disrespect towards Mom from any of us children so when she called for help he was already angry which did not help matters. He was very strict. If he told you to do something, you had better do it and not when and if you got around to it.
Also, Dad worked many, many long hard hours during that period to provide a living and decent care for his wife and family. He did not have the time to ask and ask, and follow up and follow up, as we do these days. Everyone had a job according to their size and everyone else in the family was depending on each of us to do our job. Our parents did not have the energy or the time to do what we did not want to do. This brought about a more strict atmosphere.
As I remember the early years, Dad was all work and some play. I'm sure he had some enjoyable times that a youngster would not notice. Mother's family would come to the farm periodically from Salt Lake and I remember a lot of laughing and joking. Sometimes they could cajole Dad into showing them how his team could pull. Once he had a load of coal on the wagon and he blocked the wheels and set the brake to make the horses pull a little. Well, he blocked it too good and the horses stripped themselves right out of the harnesses. Everybody laughed and Dad spent the next day fixing harnesses so he could move the wagon.
As the years went by we left the farm and moved toTaylorsville where we were closer to Dad's work. He had a regular paycheck and a whole lot more time with his family which he seemed to enjoy. I think a great weight was lifted from his shoulders when he no longer had to be away for weeks at a time or worry about a farm and family 90 miles away. During this period Dad and Mother had more time to socialize with friends and neighbors and get more involved with church activities which they both seemed to love.
World War II started about that time and Don and Bud left for the military service. I'm sure they were both worried but proud that two of their sons could and would go to help protect our country.
About this time Dad was asked to transfer to the Hanford Atomic Project in Washington state as one of the first group of coal fired boiler operators. If he was not a Power Dep't. Supervisor when he arrived, he was soon after, and held that position until he became ill and could not work anymore.
After the war ended, Don and Bud came home in good health. And the standard of living improved greatly, and Mom and Dad could have some good things they had done without for so long. They also had more free time for family, church and friends, and they both had many and lasting friends.
Along with improved standards of living comes problems. I was a teenager of 18 years and I thought I should govern my own life. Dad said, "Not as long as you are living here", so I said, "I'll just join the navy." Dad said, "That's a good place for you."
While I was sitting on the Greyhound bus waiting for it to leave for Seattle and the Induction Center, I looked out the window and saw Mom with crocodile tears. My gaze shifted to Dad who had a slight grin and a twinkle in his eye. I sat there for a moment longer and as the bus pulled out I said to myself, "You dummy, you've been had." However, it was a good experience for Dad. He must have gone to school day and night while I was gone because he had sure smartened up in that four years that I was gone.
When I returned home from Korea in 1952 Dad and I enjoyed a very good man to man relationship. However, it was short lived. Dad was not feeling real good. I accompanied him on his Indian mission assignment from the church. His health continued to decline and he became less active. However, his spirit did not diminish and he laid in his Nash Rambler with the seats made into a bed and watched as we built a new house for his loving and lovely wife. We were nearly finished with the house when he said it's far enough along, it's time to go.
He passed away shortly after that. The only regret that I have about my father is that I was not smart enough to enjoy more of him as a man when I had the opportunity.
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