My Mom, Louise & the Petite Rocking Chair by Drew Huband Ellsworth In the Philo Ellsworth family, November is a very special month. Philo and Gene were married in November and both Mom and Kay’s birthdays are in November. I’m about to tell you a story about my Mom, Gene Ann Huband Ellsworth, her cousin Louise Willis Jenks, and a tiny rocking chair once belonging to my Great Grandmother, Marie Louise Austin Cheney. Throughout this Month I want to remember my Mom who has been gone so long now that most, younger family members don’t have any recollection of her—this is the first installment. To understand a lot of this story you have to go back to Lyman Wyoming more that 100 years ago. My Dad, Philo T Ellsworth was born in Lyman in 1910. When he was six years old his Mother, Charlotte Eyre Ellsworth died of a mysterious respiratory condition. In school, in Lyman, my Dad’s best friend was Kenneth Hutchinson the son of a divorced woman, Mary who eked out a living by running a small candy and ice cream business. When our blood grandmother died leaving Grandpa Ellsworth with a household of kids including a young, newly adopted daughter, he was urged by church authorities to remarry as quickly as possible. Since my Dad and Ken were such good friends and Mary the only eligible woman for miles around, Grandpa suggested they get hitched and it was done quickly, without any ceremony and they immediately started their blended family. Mary was a bit coarse and hadn’t been able to go to school very much—she didn’t read or write very well and it is said that when she got angry—which could happen—she swore like a truck driver! Two of Grandma Charlotte’s siblings lived in Lyman and they were horrified and opposed to the union. Grandpa and Grandma Mary went on to add 9 additional offspring to the Ellsworth clan. In the olden days, at the turn of the 20th century, you have to understand that state boundaries were almost nonexistent and folks from the Bare Lake Valley, Woodruff, Randolph, Evanston and Lyman were really all lumped together as one large, scattered community. My Grandmother Hattie Cheney Huband who grew up in Lake Town had a sister, Della Maude, who never married. In her time she was formidable woman who, seemingly could do everything—great cook, seamstress, artist, mid-wife and entrepreneur. All her many, many nieces and nephews adored her. When the depression hit, Della, or Dell for short, moved to Lyman Wyoming where she went into business with another entrepreneur Kenneth Jenks—aka Old Mr. Jenks. (It is rumored that Dell always was not-so-secretly in love with Mr. Jenks and had always hoped to marry him.) So in the midst of the Great Depression, Aunt Dell opened up the Speedway Inn which was a bus stop and part of the Union Pacific Railroad system. Mr. Jenks was her partner and he also owned and operated the movie house, the general store and the Nehi Soda bottling works where young Philo, or Billy, as he was known at that time, worked. Because of the really hard economic times, all of Aunt Dell’s family helped run the Speedway. My mother Gene and Uncle Lane and even Uncle Grant worked for her from time to time. Also, her nieces and nephews from Lake Town came to Lyman to help and to work—since almost nowhere in the US was there any work, nor any money in those days. The Speedway was one of our family’s means to get thru the depression and it makes it, of course, a treasure-trove of stories and a colorful heritage of our family history. Another important player in this story is my Great Grandmother Marie-Louise Austin Cheney. As a young girl Grandma Cheney had the most exciting and eventful adventure—an epic tale more compelling and interesting than any family could ever imagine. Marie-Louise, or I think she went mainly by Louise, was a child on the Ship Brooklyn. This ship was chartered by a group of Mormon converts from New England who decided to go the Utah the “long way round.” Louise, with her parents sailed down the East coasts of the US, Central and South America, through the straits of Magellan and up to the Sandwich Islands, now known as Hawaii. They stayed in Hawaii for many months recuperating from the first part of their journey and the ship was repaired and re-provisioned for the final leg to the trip to San Francisco—which at that time was known and Yerba Buena. Louise and her parents’ names are listed in the registry of the Mission Dolores where the travelers were greeted and cared for by Catholic monks and Christian Indians. Marie-Louise became friendly with the young Indian girls and they taught her a Native American dance balancing a glass of water on her head—a dance which, it is said in family lore, she never forgot. When Brigham Young had finally reached Utah and said “this is the place”—he knew the Ship Brooklyn Saints, as they were called, were waiting in San Francisco. He sent word and Grandma Marie-Louise and her family walked from the California Coast to Salt Lake City in 1849. Our family heritage as true Utah pioneers comes from this backwards trek across the desert and it makes me feel very unique and proud. Grandma Cheney was a frequent visitor to the Huband home—both in Gridley, California, where she was present at my mother’s birth, and in North Ogden. She lived until 1927, the year my Mom graduated from the brand new Weber High School. My Mom new her very well and had heard all of her stories directly from the horse’s mouth. Grandma Cheney also loved my Mom, Gene, and had always told her she could have two of her favorite pieces of furniture. Grandma Cheney was very petite and had two diminutive chairs. One of the chairs, an ornately carved, golden-oak, kitchen chair, is in the possession of my sister Kay Hunter and the Rocking Chair belongs to my Sister Lottie Ann and is now in my living room. When Aunt Dell died, the chair Kay has was given immediately to my Mom but the rocking chair was nowhere to be found and over the years my Mom had even forgotten that it existed. Jumping ahead, again, remember when I told you that Aunt Dell had other nieces and nephews coming to Lyman? Well one particular niece, was Louise Willis of Lake Town who had been named after her grandmother, the same Louise of the Ship Brooklyn. Young Louise was blond and attractive and I think, several years younger than my Mom. She was prone to temper-tantrums and may have been what we call today a “drama queen.” Cousin Louise as we now call her floated around from the Speedway, to the Theater to the General Store and helped wherever she could. In later years, when she became a fixture at the General Store, she would lie on the floor between bouts of rage and sobbing. Visitors to the store had become accustomed to the sight and would step over Louis’ crumpled body and say “Mornin’ Louise.” One weekend, she accompanied her boss, Mr. Jenks on a business trip down to Salt Lake City. Keep in mind that Mr. Jenks was not a young man—he may have been 30 years older than Louise. While in Salt Lake they were secretly married. Sometime after their return, Uncle Lane who was also up in Lyman at that time, inadvertently went into Mr. Jenks bedroom and found Louise in his bed!—Mr. Jenks, in a very gruff voice said—“Wipe that look off your face Lane—we’re husband and wife.! And, so it was that Lyman came to know of the union of Louise and Kenneth Jenks, Sr. Aunt Dell locked herself in her bedroom and didn’t come out for three weeks. She cut off her long hair which had been meticulously died brown for many years and there after kept her hair short and gray. So now, we’re coming down to modern times. In 1964 I had turned 16 and had just got my driver’s license. And, although my Mom had learned how to drive, she had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t like my driving, nevertheless, she preferred my driving to hers and from time to time I would take her out to do errands. By the 1960s Mr. Jenks and long been since passes away and Louise had married and very nice man we called Uncle John. He was a tall, good-looking old gent with white hair and a kind smile. Louise, too, was softer, gentler and really seemed like a normal part of our family—after a rough start! Louise and John lived in Ogden in a small, white, frame house just north of the Five Points area. Occasionally, Louise a John would come to visit their cousins in North Ogden. And were, once in a while, invited to family events at the Huband home, our home, or the Ellis home. One day Louise called my Mom on the phone and said, “Gene, I have something that belongs to you—I’ve kept it a secret for 30 years and I’m ashamed I haven’t told you this before.” My Mom was very surprised and she said, “Well, what could that possibly be?” Louise explained that when Aunt Dell had moved away from Lyman, she left a little rocking chair that had belonged to her mother, Marie-Louise Cheney and that it had always been expected that Gene Huband would inherit the chair. Well, the chair is very charming, beguiling even. It was an antique that Cousin Louise loved also. Anyway, it had fallen into disrepair and was housed in John’s drafty garage—weather-worn, coming un-glued and with stuffing a-fly everywhere. Louise admitted she was so sad it had come to such an unhappy end, but she did think it might be salvageable and asked my Mom if she wanted it now, after all these years. I drove my Mom down to Five Points which was only about 5 miles from our home in North Ogden. At the time we had a pink American Motors, Nash Rambler, station wagon with a push-button automatic transmission. There was room in the back for the chair. We entered the garage which was set quite a ways away from the house. It was very simply built and leaning to one side—the windows and doors were left open to all the elements and weeds and vines had grown around and even into the garage itself. Louise, sheepishly led us out to the scene where she had placed old blankets over something that looked like an attempt had been made to protect it. She peeled off the blankets and was the beautiful little rocking chair my Mom had remembered from her youth. Both women had tears in their eyes. Some-one, a hundred years ago had covered the chair with woven, black horse hair—it was rotting, torn and falling off the chair as if it had never really been attached. The wood, however, was not in horrible shape but some of the dowels had come loose and one of the arms had fallen completely off but was not broken. We carefully, wrapped the chair back into Louis’s blankets and placed in the back of the Rambler. When we got it home, I took it down to our basement. You know, my parents were a young married couple during the depression—my Mom especially had been truly formed by a period in her life where she didn’t know if her family was going to eat. My Dad too, although in a lesser way bore the scars of raising a young family through the worst economic episode in our Nation’s history. Both of my parents hated to spend money that wasn’t absolutely aimed at necessities. However, in this one moment of total accord, my Dad said, Gene—this chair is a great treasure and a huge part of our family history—I want to take it to the finest furniture guy in the city to restore it and re-upholster it—my Mom agreed. I’m not sure where they took it but when the chair came home it was gleaming--re-stained a red mahogany color, beautifully finished with a high-gloss lacquer and covered with a French fabric of tiny bouquets of roses on a mauve background. Everyone in our family had come to admire it and it was kept at the foot of my mother’s bed until she passed in 1978. Over the years, the chair’s upholstery began to fray again, so not too long ago I found a new fabric, polished up the wood and made the chair once again presentable. In June of 2014, my sister Lottie Ann moved in with me and now it is in our home for all to see and admire. This is a story that requires a lot of background to fully appreciate it—I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I’m only putting a few photos on here but I hope other family members can post pics of the Ship Brookly, Grandma Cheney and Louise Jenks. Drew Huband Ellsworth November 1, 2014
Posted on: Sat, 01 Nov 2014 19:39:27 +0000
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