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History of Lars Larson Olson Jr. Page 3 |
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During the winter of 1892-93 Lars attended school in Salt Lake City. He often told his family about this winter -- it was something special to him, to work for the wealthy McIntyre family and go to school in the city. It was also during this winter that he grew physically -- he went to Salt Lake City a slim small boy, and returned a grown-up mature man. He then went to Mammoth in the fall of 1893 to work in the Hagen store, and it was while there that he met Alice Taylor Jenkens from Goshen. They were married the 2nd day of October 1901 in the Salt Lake Temple. Their family is as follows:
Roland Lars Olson, born 9 September, 1902 at Mammoth, Utah In 1904 Lars received a letter from "Box B" in Salt Lake City. This was a call to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Immediate preparations were made to answer this call. Their home was sold, and arrangements were made for his wife Alice, and baby Roland to stay with her sister Nettie Jenkins Wentz in Provo while Lars was gone. Alice worked in the Provo Woolen Mills for approximately $1.00 per day the two years that Lars was gone. He often mentioned her sacrifice for him, and how grateful he was for the privilege of serving a mission. His diary gives us the following: "June 22, 1904. I Lars L. Olson Jr. left Salt Lake City, Utah on June 22nd at 7 o'clock a.m. bound for Europe. Started on Union Pacific R.R. Arrived at Kansas City the 24th. Took the car out to Independence, Jackson County, MO. While on the Temple lot I sat in the shade of an elm tree and penned a few lines to my wife. I then enclosed with the letter a leaf from each of the various kinds of trees, two four-leaf clovers and a blossom."
The inventory of his trunk shows:
His mission followed the general pattern of most missions -- lots of work, tracting, cottage meetings, even presiding over a Relief Society. Lars worked hard, but on holidays and near the end of his mission he took advantage of seeing some of the sights of the country and visited with many many relatives in both Norway and Sweden, accounts of which are given in his diary.
"I returned to Christiania on the 22nd (July, 1904) The morning of the 23rd President Torgerson, myself, with five other Elders and a sister from Ogden with her two daughters went down to Slotlet (the palace) to see the King of Sweden and Norway, as he was at this time visiting Norway. After a little difficulty we gained admittance and were escorted to the King's private room. When we came in, His Majesty, King Oscar the Second, shook hands with us, asked us where we were born, and where our parents were from. he was very sociable and talked freely and when we went he said, "Goodby, God bless you and your people." He arrived home in Provo, Utah from his mission on August 2, 1906. Lars says, "When I returned we moved back to Mammoth where I entered a business in partnership with Chatwin Brothers and Hansen. We were fortunate to buy again the home we had sold when I left for my mission.
When I was about 6 or 7 years old, my dad worked at Chatwin's store in Mammoth. One day while a bunch of us kids were playing across the road from the store some men drove a herd of cattle up towards the slaughter yard. One bull was quite curious and went over to the store, walked right through the window into the store. Dad and the other men had quite an exciting time getting it outside before it wrecked the whole store -- for it did quite a bit of damage. I can also remember one cold winter in Mammoth. One night it snowed and drifted so much that in the morning our front porch was completely full of snow. We couldn't get out of the door so Dad had to climb out the window on the other side of the house, crawl over the snow to the roof of the coal house and go down through a trap door on the roof that they used to put the coal into the shed. He got the shovel and waded back through the deep snow and finally made a path to the door so we could get out. The snow in those days covered the fences and it drifted real high when the wind blew. I also remember that after we moved to provo and dad was interested in the mines and came home week-ends. He would always expect us to be clean and ready for church on Sunday morning, and he always attended his church meetings -- he usually worked in the Sunday School. In 1910 Lars and Alice decided to move to Provo. A mining camp did not have the advantages they hoped to provide for their children.
After we moved to Provo in about 1910 father worked for the old "Dream Mine" near Salem. Then he teamed up with Ben H. Bullock and they sought to develop mining property of their own. Their dreams never materialized, but right to his dying day he had faith in the wealth of the mountains of Utah. After he and Mr. Bullock parted company in about 1936, Dad developed a Geiger counter and often went out with other men to locate oil and mining claims. Just a month before he died he took my husband over the country, pointing out to him just where this property was that he felt was so valuable. He still had hopes that someone in the family would be able to develop it and bring out the mineral and oil wealth of this area. This wealth was to be used only for the good of others -- and to help those in need -- never for selfish reasons.
He was kind and thoughtful of older people, and widows, especially my grandma Jenkins. When mother was unable to visit her he would get on his bicycle and peddle across town to be sure she was O.K., and frequently spent the last quarter in his pocket to take her a little ice cream or some other goodie. He always remembered birthdays and extra holidays with a little something. And when he was sent to buy a wedding present he usually bought silver spoons -- he wanted something he could be proud to give -- he never wanted to appear "cheap", although our finances were always strained. Another time he came to school -- to bring me a new pair of gloves. He did not want me to come home with cold hands. Never once did I ever hear my father swear or curse. He was a gentleman -- and gentlemen just did not resort to such crude language. This did not mean he never rose to anger -- he just did it with a few acceptable words in the English language. Dad always liked and enjoyed music, and encouraged us children to practice even though we could not afford many lessons. He could chord on the piano or organ, and oft-times sat down to sing, making his own accompaniment. When company came to the home he frequently called us in to play for them -- Roland on his mandolin, Max on the mandola, and myself at the piano. We were not professional in any manner of speaking, but he would compliment and praise us and encourage us to keep trying. He loved to sing, and always went around with a hum or whistle -- usually some church hymn, or old favorite like "Silver Threads Among the Gold", "Red Wing", and others. How he enjoyed his meals! He was very easy to please and could enjoy a meal of many courses in the finest style, or simple fare of bread and milk. He loved "clabber" and mother would gather up any little left over milk turning sour, and save it for Dad. When his father died, December 23, 1913, Dad got on his bicycle and rode the entire distance to Santaquin -- about 24 miles from Provo. The roads were bad -- no hard surface, but he rode in the deep mud tracks made by the wagons, and arrived there to help with preparations for the funeral. Although Dad demanded respect and obedience to him and mother -- he never mistreated us in any way. However, on one occasion when I dared say, "I won't" to my mother I landed straight across his knee and had a few spanks on the rear end. You can rest assured I did not repeat the offense. He had a way of calming our fears -- maybe he practiced on mother. He could sit down, talk things over and make you feel O.K. about everything. I can still hear him say, soothingly, "Now, Mama, all our worries are just financial worries - we don't have any of the troubles so many people have in their homes. We have a good family (not the heartache of Mrs. _______ with her two crippled and mentally retarded children), we have no great hardship -- why Mama, you'll have more money to spend than all these people put together, someday!" Dad had a deep and sure faith in the Gospel. He had no fear of death, because he knew that there was a life hereafter. Even though we had little he always went to the Bishop for tithing settlement at the end of the year, and encouraged us children to do likewise. He was a great believer in the spiritual things, and knew that people on this earth could be influenced from the spirit world. He also took quite a stock in dreams -- probably because early in life he had several dreams of the future which turned out just as he saw them in the dream. He talked a great deal about world conditions, and what would have to take place before the second coming of the Christ; but with all the trouble about us he had a strong conviction -- and he often impressed us with this conviction -- that everything about us would come out all right -- that justice and right would prevail, and that wickedness and the Devil would be put down. And that, if we would live as we had been taught, that all would be well with us. We may have trials, but we would have the strength to overcome all difficulty and come "out on top." Family prayer was a regular part of each day in our home. Dad also read the scriptures a great deal and could quote many passages. He could also quote poetry which he had learned early in life, and could recite it with feeling to make it live for those listening. As a child I loved to hear the David and Goliath story -- it was quite a story, and as he recited his voice took on the quality of each player in the story. Dad did not give up easy -- on anything. Even in the last two years of his life when ill and not able to do much, he was up each day, bathed, shaved and dressed. He did what he could to help around the apartment, had to rest a lot, but was on his feet until about three days before his death. He took a great delight in the beauties of nature and spent some time each day feeding and talking to the birds in the back yard. His Grandson, Larry, often remarked, "No matter how Grandpa feels, he is still neatly dressed, hair combed, he is shaven and trying to greet people when they come in." About two months prior to his death it was necessary for me to have some surgery. Although he could hardly get around, he came to the hospital in Salt Lake City to give me a blessing. My husband and I had planned to go to the Hawaiian Islands to meet our son Paul, who was completing a Mission. With Dad's condition, and the uncertainty of his life with us, together with the necessity of my going into surgery again, we were somewhat confused as to what we should do. One day he stood up very straight and said to me, "You make this trip to the Islands! If you can have this operation a couple of weeks later -- you take this trip!" So, with some misgivings we went ahead with our plans. He got out of bed to come to the door to see us off, and I firmly believe he knew that he would be gone before our return. He died on Fathers' Day, Sunday morning, June 15, 1958, and was buried in the family plot at Santaquin, Utah. Although he did not bequeath any of us much in the way of material wealth, we can truly say we have a legacy in righteous living.
Dad was a dreamer -- not the arm-chair type, but a man completely dedicated to an assumed destiny to making a new life for us all. He had an unshakeable conviction that this was his lot, and a tenacity almost unbelievable in the face of innumerable disappointments. He was a strong man in all ways, never one to show anger but never one to back down. When I was about seven years old, at the beginning of World War I, as usual I was playing down on what we called "the tracks". I had my first new pocket knife -- a real joy, and a prideful thing. I was approached by two men, "bums" as we called them. One took a liking to this knife and asked to see it, and would not return it. This frustrated young feller went home and told Dad of the incident. Five minutes later he and I were back down at the tracks. When I pointed out the two men they were reluctant to admit they had the knife or to give it up until Dad laid hands on both their necks. A few shakes and a couple of hard squeezes and their attitude changed completely. They gave me the knife, apologized and said they were "bumming" their way to the nearest Army recruiting station to go to war. That statement was the only thing, I am sure, that kept them both out of jail. Even at that time, Dad showed little emotion, but plenty of strength. He was so morally strong. In the many years that I accompanied him through-out mining prospects, associating with many an unsavory character, I don't think I ever heard him swear or pick up thier way of talking; and he carried his carbide for his miner's lamp in an empty tobacco can, ideal for the purpose, but more that once I have seen him embarrassed when he was caught filling his lamp from this tobacco can. Many times he took me on short trips through the mountains, either horseback or hiking, searching for the ever elusive "strike." Many a hot, sad day elapsed, but never his spirit or his optimism, or his sense of humor. No one will probably ever know how he felt inside, but he maintained a completely encouraging front at all times in the face of many setbacks and problems. A lesser man would have thrown in the towel a hundred times. It will always be somewhat tragic that he was not allowed to realize his profound dreams and convictions; however, together with his understanding little fighter-helper, Mother, he did accomplish his real purpose in life: an inspiration to four healthy, young, virtuous children, to grow up to be a credit to any community. Who could do more?
Some of the first things I remember was when he was Superintendent of the Sunday School in the Sixth Ward in Provo. I would see him sitting up on the stand, and how proud I was of him. Of course about the only time we got to see him was on the stand Sunday morning, and at Sunday dinner. Dad always held himself so straight and neat with his stiff collars. I used to love to have him hold me on his knee and sing that Norwegian song,"Red a Red a Runkin," (English spelling not guarateed) and tickle me at the end of the song. He was a man with many wonderful dreams, and didn't give up trying to fullfill them, right up till his last days. I will always be grateful for the fine home he always provided for us. Even though the money was not always there, he always provided us with a place we could be proud to bring our friends, and always made our friends feel welcome. And to me, he made me always feel that Mother was the most important person in the world, and of course that is one place he was right. I admired the little courtesies he used to show her -- like bringing her coffee to bed in the morning. And during the four years while I was going to college, I had to get up at 4:00 a.m. each day to go to the drug store to get it cleaned up. And father always got me up and had a hot breakfast ready for me. It took me quite a while to break him of the habit of cooking oatmeal mush for me, but finally he got the idea and we stuck to eggs. And, of course, once in a while he would slip in a cup of coffee. I guess he wanted to be sure I got to work. All through life as long as I can remember Dad always felt there was gold in those hills, and that he would be the one to find it; and there is one thing I can say for him, he was a persistent "son-of-a-gun." In fact, I am willing to bet that right today he is out there tramping around heaven looking for the pot at the end of the rainbow. And, you know what? -- I think that some day he will find it.
Lars Larson Olson Jr. Born 14 May, 1874, Santaquin, Utah
Father: Lars Larson Olson Sr., born 18 June, 1832, Yttermalung, Sweden
Blessed 2 July, 1874, by Samuel Malmberg (or Malenburg)
Ordained a Deacon 1886
Married to Alice Taylor Jenkins, 2 October, 1901 in the Salt Lake Temple by John R. Winder
Patriarchal Blessing by David Broadbent (Broadhead) 14 July, 1902
Acknowledgement is made to Wesley Parrent of Salt Lake City for the tape recording; to Diane C. King, Paul King, and Lucille O. King for their assistance in transcribing this recording. We are grateful for the missionary diary of Lars L. Olson, and for other of his records and certificates preserved by the family and now located at 1138 Briar Avenue, Provo, Utah. We appreciate the memories contributed by his four children herein named, and this copy prepared by a daughter, Lucille Olson King, May, 1963
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