Robert Henry FERGUSON

                   PERSONAL HISTORY OF ROBERT HENRY FERGUSON


I was born is Greene County, Pennsylvania, November 23, l874--eighty years ago.  My father, John Burkholder Ferguson, was a carpenter by trade and he married my mother who was Barbara Henry.  They lived first at his father's place in Westmoreland Co., Pennsylvania  where I was born.

I have visited this place, a two room long house on a hillside surrounded by trees and quite a distance from any other house.  The story that came down to me from my parents was that I was quite a puny, small child and as the neighbor women came in to visit, they would shake their heads and remark that they didn't think that my folks would be able to raise that baby.  But time has proved different.

My parents had two more children born to them, both of which passed away in their early youth.

Father was very hard pressed for means to make a living and in one instance my mother's brother Pete, brought her a chicken and she had it cooking when her sister Susan came to the home.  My Uncle Pete was still there and didn't want his sister to know that he had brought the chicken, so he grabbed the pot off the stove and took it into the other room.  Then he made an excuse to go outside and it wasn't long until he called back that his mother was callling for Susan.  So she had to leave in a hurry.

It was sometime after this that we moved to West Virginia, where my two brothers were born.  Father bought a farm there, it was mostly in timber, so he had to clear the land before he could plant crops which as I remember was chiefly tobacco.

My mother was never a very strong woman.  She took sick and died when I was about eight years old.  My youngest brother had also died before this time, thus leaving just me and my brother William.  Father then moved us back to Greene County to my mother's parents while he continued to work in West Virginia.

Father often told me about one incident in regards to them taking care of his children.  Grandfather was a very fine man and he didn't think of charging father anything for taking care of us children, but it seems that the women folks, grandmother and an aunt, thought that my father should pay a little something for their trouble.  Grandfather told father, when he had a chance to talk with him privately, "Now you go and give this (handing him some money) to the women folks and tell them this is for taking care of the children.  You know that I don't want to charge you anything.  This will satisfy them and everything will be all right."  That just goes to show what a generous man my Grandfather Henry was.

Ella Elbin Burson, my first cousin who was a daughter of Nancy Henry, sister of Barbara Henry, had this to say about Grandpa Henry:

"John Henry--Farmer and stock grower--born in Somerset Co. Penna. July 25, l827, son of John and Elizabeth (Imel) Henry, natives of Pa and Md. respectively.  His father was a farmer also a blacksmith and a hotel keeper in Somerset Co. for many years.  John Henry, grandpa, was the 9th in a family of 10.  He was reared on the farm in Turkey Foot Twp.  Owns 165 acres of land.  I think this is the farm we knew in Green Co. Penna.  Married Hannah (Garey) Miller, Feb ll, l847.  Grandpa was only 20 years old when he married grandma who was 25 and a widow with 2 boys, Abe and Anthony.  Members of the Baptist Church.  Enlisted in 140th Penna Volunteers Infantry in l862, age 35--wounded at Spottsylvania Court House May 12, l846.  Discharged by general order June 8, l865.  Had thumb shot off.  His grandfather was in Rev. War and his Uncle Peter Henry was in the war of l812 under Gen Harrison.  Grandma had 13 children (counting Abe and Anthony).  Grandpa died at age 75 and grandma was 80 at that time.  I was born in May l89l and he died in l902.  I didn't realize then they were so old.  The men didn't shave and the young bearded boys looked old.

My mother was the l2th of Grandma Henry's 13 children.  All born east of the mts. but Johnny.  He was born and lived only few days or may have been born dead-- was buried in a little grave yard close to grandpa's house, but on another man's farm.  I was there once and my mother showed me the grave.  No marker on it then.  My mother was 39 when grandpa died and her children were the youngest cousins.  At that time the roads were only used in winter by sleds or the people rode horseback or walked.  Very narrow, very full of big rocks, chuck holes, land slides, creek overflows, trees fell across and lay until some man cut them in two and opened the road.  Some of the relatives had no horses.  Only 'shanks mares', an old Penna saying.  Some never had a telephone.  When their teeth were gone, or worn to the gum level from chewing tobacco, they went without.  Some smelled bad from no baths or clean clothes.  Some were very dumb, some ignorant, some cruel, some kind, some lazy, some poor, some well to do, some were liars, some stole, some crooked in money matters, some drank, some kept whiskey on hand for snake bite only.  Very few ever stuck their heads inside a church.  Only maybe to a funeral.  No one ever had a church wedding.  Mostly shot gun or justice of the peace or common law.  Just a mess of average people, our ancestors were them.  In every family there seemed to be  crook, money hog tattler, stool pigeon, at least one with a cog or two missing.  Some didn't have all their buttons or marbles.  Some slobbered, some snickered all the time, some always fighting, some sassed and lied and never spoke to one another again.  Some were pretty, some real beauties and some freaks, but everyone had a wonderful appetite. . . . Grandpa was so nice to all of us.  Mother always told us he was cross and had a terrible temper.  Can you remember this?  He kept a lot of bees, sold honey, had 2 wonderful orchards.  I never saw such grand apples and such a variety since.  He had a tree of Pound Sweets, great juicy, not too sweet, a greenish yellow that weighed a pound and over.  I think he named them.  He always had barrels of cider, wonderful apples all winter.  His cellar smelled grand.  He had sacks of hickory nuts, walnuts, chestnuts and he gave us little kids some of each.  Stuffed our mouths full of comb honey. Popped a pan of corn and set out apples.  No wonder we loved to go there."

We next moved to our Grandfather Ferguson's in Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania.  Grandfather's first and second wives (Eliza Burkholder and Susan Nedrow) had died, only three of his children were living at home with him, Ellen, Amanda and Isaiah, the latter being seven years older than I.  We lived there about one year.  Grandfather was always an early riser.  They had cows to milk and chores to do and they were always up long before daylight, their chores done and breakfast over by daylight.  By then it was time to go work on the farm.  They were always very religious.  They would have their prayers and maybe a song or two night and morning.  We boys though quite small had to help with the chores--carry in the wood and the one thing I remember most more than anything else was the churning of the butter.  They used to put us to turning the churn and that was sure a chore for us little fellows, to turn the churn.

Father finished his work in West Virginia so he came back to Pennsylvania and he met up with one of his old school friends, Mary Ann Shawley, who had never married.  She was quite an old maid, but he finally married her and then we moved to a place he had secured that belonged to my step-mother's aunt.  As I remember it, it was a large frame house, nothing modern and the farm was hilly and very rough.  The crops were meager and hard to grow.  It was hard for father to make a living on this place.  Then my little brother took sick.  We were a long distance from any doctor, but he finally got so bad that we had the doctor come out to visit us.  The malady that afflicted him was what we would call appendicitis, but they called it inflammation of the bowels in that day and knew nothing about operating or what to do, only poultice it.  My brother was too far gone and he died.  That left me alone.  I had no brothers or sisters.  I might say that there wasn't much love bestowed upon me by my step-mother so I have always said that was the reason  that I was always so mean with my family, the way I was raised.

In regards to my schooling, I never had a chance to go but a very few months during the coldest part of the winter.  The snow was usually so deep, and the distance I had to go was about two miles.  Later father bought a farm, actually he was given a farm off the acreage of grandfather, he gave him the farm.  It was grandpa's custom to give the boys land and the girls of his family a cow or some livestock or something like that.  The land that father got was hilly and most of it in timber that had to be cleared before crops could be planted.  That was where I spent my youth up until the time that I was about twenty years old.

During this time an epidemic of diptheria visited our locality and two of my school mates died with the disease.  I myself had it but owing to the care of my stepmother, I was able to survive.  However, I went visiting one Saturday night to some relatives.  Our mode of travel was on foot or by horseback.  This time I was on foot.  I stayed overnight and as I was coming home the next day I passed my neighbor's place about a half mile from where we lived, whose name was Harry Baker.  His greeting to me was, "Well, all the clothes you have, you have on your back."  And I said, "How's that, I just have on my scuff suit?" "Well," he remarked, "That's all you have, that you have on your back. Your house burned down and everything you had burned up."  Worse yet, the fire insurance had expired a few days before, the snow was 2 feet deep and roads drifted shut so father was not able to get to town to renew his policy.  I was then about l5 years old.  That was about the end of my school days as I had to get in and help my father build another house and help with the farming.

The weather was extremely cold along with the deep snow.  Grandfather had a little extra house on his place that we moved into temporarily.  There was a shop on the place that didn't burn and there were a few things that were saved out of the house that we put in the shop and lived there the rest of the winter.  Father got together a little money, got some materials and we started to build another home on the same foundation since it didn't burn.  We built our house the next spring and summer and some time later.

The Mormon Elders came through our country and stopped at our above mentioned neighbor, Harry Baker's house.  On this particular day a small crowd of people came walking past our place, including Mr. Baker, some of his sons and the two Elders.  They asked father if he would care to go out to the school house to hear the Mormons preach.  He remarked, "I guess it wouldn't do any harm to go and hear what they have to say."  I asked if I could go along and he said, "Oh, I guess so, but I don't want you to be a Mormon."

That was the beginning of our investigation of the Mormon doctrine.  The Elders held several evening meetings and after the first one they asked to be invited to the homes of some of the people.  Everyone was anxious to have them come to their home, if they preached this kind of doctrine.  They conducted this series of meetings and left, promising to return later.  After a few meetings, they brought up the subject of the Book of Mormon.  Then the response of the congregation was not so cordial and the Elders had no invitation to go home with anyone.  It was then that father said, "Well if you have no place else to go, you may go home with me."  He took them in even though we were very poor people and our home was nothing fancy, just an ordinary home, nothing modern or convenient.  From that time forth, father started to investigate their doctrine.  After the Elders had left and had been gone for some time, the local ministers had a chance to preach a few sermons and tell about the many rumors and stories that had been reported about these Mormons and then the Elders on their return  were denied the use of the school for their meetings.  We then opened up our home to them and had several cottage meetings there and at our friend Harry Baker's home.  As my father was a deacon in the Church of the Dunkards (or Brethren) at this time, charges were brought against him to appear at their general church meeting for a hearing.  He appeared and asked them what the charges were.  They said, "For going to hear the Mormons preach and upholding their doctrine."  Father replied that all he was upholding was what the scriptures said and if that was Mormon doctrine, then he wanted to become one.  They disfellowshipped him then and later he was baptized a member of the Mormon Church.  I was still in my teens and not too much inclined to join any of the churches.  Later father made a trip to Utah alone.  He was here about two years before he returned, leaving me to take care of the farm and do the work.  When he returned, he spoke very highly of the treatment he had received out here and that the rumors about the Mormon people were false and that he knew that they were a righteous people.  It was several years before he was able to dispose of his personal property and move to Utah.  During that period, the Elders made their home there and held many meeting, but there were no further converts, except my Uncle, who with all his family joined the church and also moved to Utah.  During these meetings my Uncle Isaiah, the youngest of grandfather's family was quite interested in what the Elders had to say and was as firmly convinced of the truth of the Gospel as my father, but he never had the courage to join.  He later was made a preacher in the Church of the Brethren, but was never very successful as compared to many of the preachers in those days.  He had very little education.

After father sold out his personal property, we all moved to Provo City, Utah.  I was about 20.  I went to the meeting here and also went to one semester to the B.Y. Academy where I did janitor's work to pay for my tuition.  It was then I decided to return to Pennsylvania as I had been corresponding with a young lady during my time out here and I decided to go back and get married.  Lucetta Ellen Pletcher and I were married on the 10th of January, l897.  Father still owned the old farm back there.  I moved into the old place and we lived there about six years.  Two of our children were born there.  I then sold the farm for father and moved in with my wife's folks.  Another son was born in this place.  We lived there until we moved to Utah with our three children: Ivan, Florence and Orian was just a baby.

There was nothing out of the ordinary that occurred during the 6 years we lived in Pennsylvania of our early married life.  I was doing quite well, but my wife finally decided she would like to move to Utah so we made a sale of our belongings and came west--this was l903.  As I recall I had about $1600.  After landing in Provo, I looked around for a job, but could not find anything that suited me.  My uncle who lived next to father's place says to my father, "Say I'll sell a rod and you sell a rod and let him build here," so that was what I did.  I built a stone building with living apartments in the rear and rooms upstairs. At that time Provo City was not so large by population, but was large by area.  Most all the stores and businesses were centered in down town.  I had the idea that a store in the suburb on a main traveled street would be successful.  Others rather tried to discourage me.  It proved that I was right, my business grew quite rapidly.

I borrowed $500 from father to stock my store and did very well in this venture.  My business kept growing.  I bought some more land to add a ware house to my building and business still kept on growing.  I had a $10,00 stock of goods as I had expanded to dry goods and general merchandise.  Then I got an idea that I could sell more goods if I had a larger store.  I knew there were co-ops around so why could not I incorporate?  I went to a lawyer, he tried to dis