My Father was called Fred for Frederick
Eugene. He was over 6’ tall, lean,
sported side burns, had dark wavy hair and hazel eyes after his great ancestor
John Tuthill of Long Island. I never can
remember my Dad without a twinkle in his eyes, truly handsome but in a very
humble self- effacing way. The ladies
were flattered by his slightest attention and Mother was a little jealous. A pretty unmarried lady on the way to the
Milk station used to seek a ride into town.
My Mother sent me to report. I
did. She told the pretty lady to get her rides into town elsewhere. She did.
My father was a good man and gave measure heaped up and running over of
his garden produce when he sold it. He
was a Baptist and sometimes went to church.
He was a man of few words, considerate and never harsh, living and
giving of himself to neighbors, friends and family alike. His vitality was a constant wonder to me as a
child and now I know it came from a pure and thankful heart, clean living and a
love of all good things. He was a
Latter-Day Saint through he had never heard the Gospel. Years later when my son Tom did his work for
him in the Temple he accepted it with a rejoicing heart. My Father taught us from nature, the writings
of Benjamin Franklin and the Bible. The
uncomplaining way he took the lean years with the good has been an inspiration
to me to this day. I have a home, a good
husband six beautiful sons and a powerful testimony of the Gospel but I do not
know the security as an adult that I did as a child with my Father and
Mother. How wonderful the Great Plan of
Life and Salvation is. What hope fills
us, to know we will be to-gather again.
My father had little formal education but was a kind generous person
loving the great out of doors, reverent and never tiring in giving. At 21 years he went to De Smett Kingsbury
South Dakota and took up a homestead with his brother Frank. Before this he had appreciated as a
carpenter. He left off ranching and
worked for the Wyoming Milling Company.
The ranch was sold in later years when I was little for $10,000. In his early 30’s he went to Cedar Rapids
Iowa and met and married Kate Verney Morrison daughter of John Dunlap Morrison
and Mariah Clark Caldwell, the 26th of July 1892, my mothers 17th
birthday. They made a romantic and
beautiful picture, he in his swallow tailed prince Albert and she in a lace
trimmed cream white wedding gown with kid slippers of white, Her titian hair
and green eyes him with dark brown curly hair and twinkling hazel eyes and
deferential way. The year she graduated
from school she was chosen Queen because of her beauty. They came East to Gouverneur, New York and
using his carpenters trade built some of the finest homes in the village. Some still standing to this day. This place where we lived was a city once but
the marble quarries gave out, the Paratese mines (containing a dark soft rock
used for topping roads) reached the end of production, leaving great deep holes
filled with water, the paper mills closed and also the lace factories. It now has a population of about 5000. It is one of the loveliest spots on earth. In the middle of the residential section is a
small park surrounded on all sides by churches, stores and the post office and
Library. Just to the west is $1,000,000
bridge crossing the Oswegtchie River (an Indian name meaning Hose – we – gotch
– ye). While in the building business my
father fell. When he recovered his
health he farmed on shares. In 1902 with
six children he bought a five acre plot with a big house well built near a good
Public School. It was 1 ¾ miles to the
town. Here we all grew up and went our
ways. He made furniture, beds, bureaus,
commodes, chairs, kitchen cabinets, and barns, milk houses and tool sheds for
the farmers. He had a big garden, a cow,
a pig, and chickens and helped in haying season. He could load more hay and milk more cows than
any man around. My mother never
milked. He sold his vegetables raising tomatoes
when every on else still thought they were poison. He had grapes and strawberries.
