William Buckminster Lindsay Sr.

In last week’s post, about Soren Peter Guhl, I probably placed too much emphasis on his penchant for peculiarity. But I think the more we know about people, the more individual traits emerge, and the more their personalities become distinct. This is the thing I like best about looking back into our family history; as cousin Kathleen (Henderson) Wheeler once told me, referring to our Grandmother Mary Anne (McIntosh) Henderson: “I can’t wait to meet her” in the hereafter. Indeed.

I feel that way about many of my ancestors, not the least of which is William Buckminster Lindsay, Sr. Most of what I know about him comes via the Web site http://wardell-family.org/wb_lindsay_sr.htm. The original work was written by Rex B. Lindsay, and later “Edited and Expanded By: David J. Wardell (1990).” Some years back, I e-mailed David Wardell, and he gave me permission to copy and paste, with proper credit, the text onto the Henderson Reunion site.

Much of W.B. Lindsay Sr.’s life can be traced according to his membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (Good record keepers, we Mormons.) But the Wardells flesh out the story plenty from there. WBL was born in Vermont in 1797, one of 10 children in the family of Ephraim Lindsay and Mercy Willey. Interestingly, Ephraim was a Revolutionary War veteran. They moved to Canada while WBL was a child, and he later bought land there – the Wardells even identify the lot.

William Sr. married Sarah Myres, and they had eight children. According to the Wardells’ history:

“One history places the family in Galena, Jo Daviess County, Illinois, in 1839 which is just across the border from Southern Wisconsin. The 1840 territorial census of Wisconsin places the family in Eastern Iowa County, Wisconsin. In this census one member of the family is shown as employed in agriculture and another adult male is shown employed in mining.”

In 1841, WBL was baptized a member of the LDS Church.

In 1845, his son – and our great-greatgrandfather – William Buckminster Lindsay, Jr., married Julia Park – our great-greatgrandmother (she wrote a journal, which I have not read, but a copy may exist at the Daughters of Utah Pioneers Museum in Salt Lake City). I’ll save these two for a future blog posting.

I’m a little fuzzy on whether WBL Sr. and Sarah Myres Lindsay ever moved to Nauvoo, Illinois, where the largest body of the LDS Church membership had settled after being run out of Ohio and Missouri. It seems the family may have remained in Wisconsin during this. Eventually, though, by 1848, they made their way to Kanesville, Pottawattomie, Iowa. The Wardels report:

“The family members joined with the Captain John B. Walker Company for the trip across the plains. This company left Kanesville, 5 July 1852 and arrived in the Salt Lake Valley 3 October 1852. They traveled a distance of approximately 1,000 miles in three months. There were 250 people in the company. … William Buckminster Lindsay's wife, Sarah, died from cancer on 24 October 1852, within three weeks after the group arrived in the Salt Lake Valley from Iowa. She was ill before the family left Iowa but had urged them on so that she could be with the body of the saints before her death. The next year his daughter, Sarah, died in Kaysville or Centerville.”

The history, of course, continues until his death in December 1873. It’s an interesting story, and I hope you’ll take the time to read it: click here.

Soren Peter Guhl

Every family's got one: The crazy dude nobody talks much about.

In our family, my vote goes to Soren Peter Guhl. On the Henderson Reunion Web site, we haul him out of the basement and into the spotlight.

Born in 1821, in Ossens, Jutland, Denmark, Soren was an only child of a Danish mother and German father. The history I have of his life was written by an unknown author, and there are holes in it. But the broad picture is solid, I think, and includes some really interesting bits of history.

Not much is known of Soren's life prior to the time he joined the Mormon Church in 1852. The account I have says he was the father to four children, named Naphiena, Audrea, Joseph and Maren, but no wife is mentioned. I did a little poking around while writing this, attempting verify the information, and discovered that, indeed, he did have a family prior to marrying our great-great-grandmother Mariane Madsen. He and his first wife, Kerstine Harde, had four children named Julia, Naphena, Andrai, Joseph and Marie.

It appears by the time the family was ready to come to Utah, they had to delay their travel due to the so-called "Utah War" -- the standoff between the Mormons in the Utah Territory and the federal government, which had sent troops.

Soren and his group finally traveled West, though, in 1859. The journey is well documented, and we can find various references to it, and accounts of it, on the Web. In fact, I tracked down pictures of the ships the family took from Denmark to England, and from England to America.

Soren was a leader among the group of Mormon travelers, but there's a telling anecdote from the wagon train journey that indicates he may have been a little, um, dramatic:

As told in "E. Kay Kirkham, George (Wm.) Kirkham: His Ancestors and Descendants to the Third Generation," (Provo: J. Grant Stevenson), pp. 66-67. LDS microfilm 924481, item 2:

"Upon another occasion misfortune overcame us. I well remember as we were yoking up the cattle, some being already hitched and carelessly some of the company were lying in the shade of the wagons, when a wild cow was put into the yoke began to bellow. This frightened five teams and they ran away, killing J.C. Madsen and more or less wounding several others. One of the company, who several accused of being the cause of the contention, went down to the Platte River to drown himself but said he was not able find sufficient water. He was found sitting on the bank contemplating when people came to his rescue."

Guess who the would-be suicide was: That's right, Soren Guhl.

On the LDS Church Web site, I found this:

"Pedersen, Lars Christian, Autobiographical sketch [ca. 1919], 3-4." In the journal excerpt, Pedersen wrote: "It was found that S[oren]. P[eter]. Guhl and others mostly of the leading men were overloaded and was afterward obliged to unload some of their heavy articles such as stoves and earthen or China ware which they buried on the bank of Platt[e] River for safe keeping till they returned for them, which they realy did after apostatizing on their arrivel in Utah, and went back to make there homes with their own kind of people. On July 15th as we were about hitching up our teams a misfortune occured through the carelessness of parties who had tiched [hitched] their teams to their wagons and then laid down under and about the wagons, while others were busy yoking up unhadny [unhandy] cattle. And when a wild cow belonging to my mother was yoked up, she bellowed, and five teams were frightened and run. Killed J[ens]. C[hristian]. Waden [Vaden] and wounded several others more or less. This caused considerable confusion in camp[.] S. P. Guhl who several accused of being the cause of contention by his overloading which caused the displeasure of God on the people went down to the river “Platt[e]” to drown himself but said he was unable to fine sufficient water was sitting on the river bank contemplating when people came in his search."

Like I said, he was an interesting guy. But really, that's only scratching the surface. If you'll go to the Web site, you'll discover he also got caught up with a group that decided the Savior's coming was so imminent, they didn't need to plant that year's crops. When the Lord failed to appear, leader of the sect refused to give back land, etc., to people who had signed it over to him and the authorities were summoned. In the end, there was canon fire and, apparently, a split between Soren and Mariane.

It's a heck of a story, really, so if you haven't read it, please check it out. I've touched up a few things in preparing for this blog posting, so there might be a thing or two you don't recall from the last time you looked at it.

William Abram & Nancy Lena Guhl McIntosh

If you’re looking for interesting stories of common frontier folk on the family Web site, I don’t know how you could do better than the story told about William Abram and Nancy Lena Guhl McIntosh. There’s mystery, joy, sadness and tragedy all wrapped into their tale.

The history of their lives together was written by their son, John Willard McIntosh (1886-1971). Up front, he offers a couple of interesting details about his grandmother, Caroline Elizabeth Caldwell McIntosh (we focused on her a couple of weeks ago). For example, speaking of his father, William Abram, who was born in St. John, Utah, in 1859: “When he was three months old his father died, and his mother was left with four children: Isaac, by a previous marriage, Mary Anne and John David. My father was the youngest. A year or two later his mother married George Dymock and one son was born to them, named George.

“Shortly after his [George’s] birth his father left St. John and hasn't been heard of since. My grandmother was left alone now with five children.”

John Willard reveals not much is known about his father, except that he was in the “sheep business” with his brother, until he was married in 1883, but that he “went out of it approximately 1893, during the panic.”

It’s interesting to notice what impressed the young John Willard, who wrote of his father: “He was a lover of sports, foot racing, wrestling and especially baseball, being pitcher most of the time. I have seen him walk across a baseball diamond on his hands.” That would, I think, qualify as athletic.

Then comes an intriguing section, to my way of thinking, anyway: “After his marriage to my mother, they built a small home in St. John. This building, somewhat remodeled, is still standing. They moved a house from Clover that belonged to my grandmother, and put it 18 to 20 feet north of their home. My grandmother lived here until my parents moved to Wyoming in 1900. They later built a room between the two buildings.”

Now, I don’t know when John Willard wrote this history. He died in 1971, but at some point before that, the building apparently was still there; one of my goals has been to trek to St. John, have a look-see at the county property records and see if I can find the location of their home and farm. I spoke with the Tooele County recorder last year, and she told me the records are available. It could be, too, that some McIntoshes are still in the neighborhood and might know what I’m looking for.

John Willard also notes that his father’s work included the following: “My father used to butcher beef and sell the meat in the town and surrounding towns. He did some freighting, hauling milled ore from Ophir to the terminus of the railroad near Stockton.”

For those of us in Utah who’ve dabbled in rockhounding and desert camping, the towns of the Tintic Mining District, which include Ophir, are lots of fun to poke around in – I did a lot of it as a kid, and even wrote a newspaper story or two about the area when I was a reporter.

As for the butchering business, John Willard writes: “I remember quite often when beef was butchered the Indians from Skull Valley, who often stopped near our house, would take the entrails -- tripe being a special delicacy among the Indians.”

John Willard also recalls his mother, Nancy Lena: “My mother was a deeply religious woman. We often went to meetings which seemed terribly long.” And, “While Mother had very little schooling, she was quite a reader. Reading and spelling seemed a natural gift.”

He writes, too, about the particulars of the family’s move to Wyoming’s Big Horn Basin in 1900 – to a 160-acre piece of land south of Burlington: “They got to Bridger, Montana, the nearest railroad station to Burlington, and unloaded their stock and household goods -- which they loaded on wagons and took by team to Burlington. They arrived in Burlington Oct. 1, 1900. There was on the place then a two-room log, dirt-roofed cabin.

“The farm had about 30 acres of cultivated alfalfa hay. In the spring of 1901, some 20-30 acres of sagebrush land was plowed and put into crop. The means of transportation was team and wagon. …

“In 1901, a tract of land adjoining the present town was purchased by my father and others, and divided into city lots and sold for building lots. People had very little money but there was good community spirit. Everyone shared in many ways and were very helpful in times of need.”

The tragedy struck: “In March 1903, my father died after an operation for appendicitis. Mother was left with eight children -- the eldest 17 and the youngest 1. A few years later we moved into town, having built a two-room house at the east of the lot my father acquired before his death.

“We still continued to run the ranch by renting it, and later by my brother and me. We, as a family, did janitor work for the school for a number of years, and we later bought a house and had it moved several miles to our town lot on the southeast corner next to the main road. This house was a frame, shingle-roof building, three rooms downstairs and two rooms upstairs. This provided a much more comfortable house than we had before. The previous one had a dirt roof and in wet weather we had to set pans on the floor to catch the rain.

“Our home was a place where we often had many of our age group, and would gather in socials and games. Quite a bedlam, sometimes, but Mother enjoyed it.”

And there’s more, lots more. So click here and have a look for yourself. And, as always, please comment or write me an e-mail and I’ll post your comments for you.

Grandpa Henderson's birthplace

When I was young, before the age of 5, Mom, Dad, Grandpa and I took a trip to Basin, Idaho, where Grandpa was born. I really have no memory of the trip, but I quizzed Mom about it and she said it was interesting for a couple of reasons:

There were two homes he lived in before he turned 17 and the family herded their livestock over the Continental Divide to Burlington, Wyo. The first, a log cabin where Grandpa was born, had long since been reduced to something akin to a barn for the animals of the area. When he saw that it was filled with manure, he said, "Hell, I wish we'd never have come."

Or, he said that when they went looking for the home he lived in after the cabin. It had burned to the ground sometime between 1900, when they moved to Wyoming, and the early 1960s when we made the trip to Idaho.

Mom says they visited a cemetery in Basin, Idaho, and happened to run into its sexton/caretaker. She explains that Grandpa, then at least 80, remembered very well the people who had lived in the community and where they lived. Though he did not know the caretaker, they had known the same townspeople.

Mom adds: "That's funny, because he could remember all them, but he couldn't remember my name."

Have a look at the photos, taken from faded slides, of the home where Grandpa was born by clicking here.

And, as always, please leave your comments by clicking on the "comments" button below.

Videos from the 2004 Henderson reunion

After the 2004 reunion in Burlington, I decided to upload some video to the Web site. I figured brief snippets would be the best, otherwise it would be the Web version of going to a neighbor's home and watching their vacation slideshow.

I settled on the idea of video from each of the siblings' introductions of their respective families. I like them, because they bring these static photos alive, and it captures a moment in time before the passing of Rip, Marie and Crockett.

Here are links to each of the introductions for Reanous & Merla, Helen & Don, Marie, Mark & Frances, and Rip & Geneva. They're not long, but it's fun to relive those moments -- mundane as it may seem in the abstract.

I also uploaded another few minutes of video, mostly without audio, of scenes from the reunion of family members sitting around chatting after the meal. Stick with it until the end to hear Reanous' comments -- it's worth the investment of time.

What I'd like to know is this: Does anyone else have some video to contribute, of ANY of the reunions. Just send it to me in raw form, and I'll edit together some scenes and add it to the Web site. The scenes mentioned above are downloadable, and if anyone's really interested, I'll be happy to provide all the raw footage I have from any past reunions -- although I tend to take more photos than video.

My thinking is, if we can distribute this stuff widely enough throughout members of our family, it won't go missing for decades like so much of the material on this site.

Please click on the "comments" button below, or send me an e-mail with your responses and I'll post them on this blog.

Caroline Elizabeth Caldwell [Neddo] McIntosh

I hope all of you had a chance to read through our late Uncle Rip’s recollections of his youth in Burlington, Wyoming, over the past week. If you haven’t, make a point of doing so – it’s worth reading. (Nobody clicked on the “comments” button at the bottom of last week’s post, so maybe no one is reading this stuff. If not, I’m content entertaining myself.)

This week I’d like to spotlight someone I’m sure most family members don’t know much about: Caroline Elizabeth Caldwell McIntosh. I find her story fascinating (to read it, click here). Indeed, was I the only one who didn’t know our family had a connection to the founder of Notre Dame University? (Read on, please, and I’ll get to that.)

To help explain who she was and how we’re all related, Caroline is the wife of John McIntosh (b. 1824), mother of William Abram McIntosh (b. 1859), mother-in-law of Nancy Lena Guhl McIntosh (b.1865), grandmother of Mary Anne McIntosh (b. 1890) and great-grandmother of Rip, Mark, Marie, Carlos, Snuffy, June, Reanous and Helen Henderson.

The information on the family Web site comes via a history I found in an old manila envelope in my mother’s back closet, written by Caroline’s granddaughter Ann Neddo. (I guess I’ll have to do some searching to see if Caroline actually wrote journals, and if so maybe they are available.) Caroline was the daughter of an Irish father (David Caldwell) and a Scottish mother (Mary Ann Vaughn), and was born after her parents journeyed to Canada. She was the fourth of nine children.

At some point, Caroline moved to a “city” – which one, this particular history does not make clear – and met a man named Charles Neddo, whose father reportedly had been a founder of Notre Dame University in South Bend, Ind. (I Googled Charles Neddo and it looks like some Neddos donated significant land to the university in the 1880s, and many are buried at a cemetery reserved for those who made contributions to its founding. In my brief search, I couldn’t confirm the “founding” part of the story, but it may well be a fact – there seems no reason to dispute it.) She married him in 1849, and they had two children. Not long after, though, her family (the Caldwells had joined the Mormon Church in 1843) set about preparing for the move to Salt Lake City, and Caroline decided she would go with them. Her husband, Charles, was a devout Catholic, and was understandably not interested in going to Salt Lake City. Given the modes of travel at the time, this presented something of a “Sophie’s Choice” for Caroline, who along with her soon-to-be ex-husband had to decide which child would go West and which would remain in the Midwest.

She did go to Utah with her family, and had quite a life in the territory, marrying John McIntosh and … well, that’s what the Web page is for: you can read her story here. (I found another Web page, too, that repeats the story I have posted (they must have copied and pasted it from my site, since it also includes the “back to home page” at the end of the piece) as well as other useful tidbits of genealogical information. To view it, click here.)

Looking back via Uncle Rip

I’ve been neglectful when it comes to this Henderson Reunion blog. I pledge to do better in the coming months.

For those who have forgotten about this, I decided to begin it in an effort to introduce, or re-introduce, all of you to our family’s rich history. Over the years, and with much help from you, I have collected a little treasure trove of information about our ancestors. But I have a feeling this is only scratching the surface – there’s a lot more out there, and with more of your help we’ll get it together and distribute it widely throughout our family so it will never be lost or forgotten or unavailable again.

Here’s my goal: Once each week for the next little while, I’ll highlight an aspect of the Web site, www.porterproject.com/index.html, to help introduce you to it. My thinking is, if I point you to some interesting bits of history about the family’s past, maybe it’ll spark an interest. What I’m hoping is that once you check out the site, you’ll find things to discuss on this blog – we can have a conversation about these people, about our memories of them, or our observations of the lives that were lived long before we ever walked the earth.

So, I’ll start with one of my favorites spots on the site: “Rip’s Recollections.” After our reunion in 1998 – the first family reunion since 1966, if memory serves – Rip and I started trading e-mails back and forth. It was one of the great joys of my life getting to know my uncle. (He was a font on hilarious lawyer jokes, too.) At some point leading up to the next reunion in 2000, I mentioned that it might be fun to have the surviving siblings – Rip, Marie, Mark, Reanous and Helen – jot down some of their memories of growing up in order to share with the rest of us. Rip responded enthusiastically, and the product of his efforts is a breezy, detail-rich look back at his youth on the farm in Burlington and right up through the mid-1940s.

For example, there’s this: “Our water supply was hand pumped from a drilled well behind the house. Water for routine use was stored and heated in a metal reservoir attached to the cook stove. Water for laundry use was heated in a large metal “boiler” placed atop the cook stove. Our bathroom was an outdoor privy well away from the house.”

Rip also speaks directly, if briefly, about the effect of his mother’s death on the family: “Mother’s health began to fail in 1929 and she passed away in late November after surgery in Billings. Her passing was very traumatic to all of us and hard to overcome. Dad was very firm that his family not be split up as some well-meaning relatives proposed.”

And he describes what it was like living in a one-parent household with all those children: “In the summer months when Dad was away on his ditch-rider job, he was usually gone very early, so we soon learned to take care of ourselves, doing the farm chores and breakfast and house cleaning. Uncle Marion and Aunt Ivy lived about three-quarters of a mile across the fields from us and we usually had lunch with them and after the day’s work was over we headed home and had supper with Dad. By then Marie was a pretty good housekeeper and did a lot to keep us going. It wasn’t a very easy life, but we managed to get along. Despite some very different personalities, we kids got along pretty well. It seemed that Carlos and Rip were the feistiest.”

And that’s just a sampling. It takes only a few minutes to read through, but it’s worth your time. Personally, as I reviewed it again before I wrote this blog entry, I couldn’t help but ponder the stark contrasts between his life during the Great Depression, and ours as the nation teeters on the edge of another profound economic downturn. Our family was made of strong stuff.

So, please take a moment to read Rip’s words, and share with everyone your thoughts about them.