Life History of Ivan E. Lauper
One of Dad's trips, looking for better ground or more suitable work, took him down into Delta, Millard County, where we subsequently moved. With the proceeds from the sale of the homestead at Penrose, Dad negotiated for 80 acres of ground in the Sugarville/Delta area; a place on which the family stayed for several years -----the younger ones much longer than I. Soon it was discovered there was too much alkali in the ground for good harvests of beets, grain, or anything. We all learned what this dreadful white and brown/black alkali was all about, a hateful thing for raising crops. The sub-surface water comes to the top; but would not drain off sufficiently to remove the salt; thus killing anything growing. We fought this problem with everything known but the soil would be hot in this alkali condition and either kill or leave nubbins for roots.
A large Company from Minnesota came in to drain the soil, for an astronomical sum of money ----$20.00 per acre; which broke many of the farmers, (we included). Only the very hardiest of people stayed, mostly members of the Mormon Church. Many moved into California; where Serge and I later went to seek our fortunes. It seemed that those who survived, and were later successful, had to resort to cattle raising to supplement farming, for eventually, even the huge beet factory was removed from Delta. That project which had been built at great cost was abandoned. I must comment upon the very successful artesian well, which we as a family, drilled on that Sugarville farm. This was quite a feat to develop, but a necessity; having pumped for personal use as well as to take care of all livestock, for many years. The water was so refreshing and satisfying that John was inspired to fix up an attractive sign to hang on the barn, reading Bon Eau Ranch (French words for Good Water). It flowed six gallons of cold satisfying water per minute; and was perhaps our richest farm asset.
With the purchase of this ranch came a team of mules; Jack and Jinny, unusually large animals, and tough rascals. Dad was anything but a horseman. He resorted to the catalogs and ordered halters and harnesses for these mules. I remember coming out one morning to see Dad hanging in mid air. Old Jack had decided he didn't like something Dad did and lifted him way up ---Dad dangling from the halter. During the first week or so, Dad thought he liked driving them, and on the first trip into Delta ---12 miles away, I was with Dad in the buckboard and the team of mules. After a mile or two near a farmer's yard, one mule wanted to go inside. Dad pulled, but a little farther on, the other mule pulled in the other direction. We were far from being one-half way to town when Dad grew weary of it and said, "Son, do you want to drive?"
At Delta we had to go out to what we called "the Cedars", some thirty miles Northeast of our home, to get wood and also posts. In between our supply of cedar wood, we had only greasewood to burn for all needs ----never enough for a full winter. This was a project every year.
Another reason to go there, when we could find no other work, was to cut posts for sale, as fence posts. Dad was a pretty good woodchopper and together we could gather a goodly sum for market. Year after year, in mid-winter before daylight, we would be on our way up there toward the Weldon Ranch. We had to carry a few barrels of frozen water for our personal use as well as that for the animals, along with our food provisions. When nearing the area, we would look for a slope of woodland, which would often be a long ways off the main road or general path. One particular year of this trek to the woods stands out in my mind. It was the year of the tragic worldwide Spanish influenza epidemic, which caused so many deaths. We found ourselves up there in the woods, running short of supplies; and soon there was none. The arrangements, which had previously been made for another wagon to bring us food and supplies, had not materialized. No one had come, and finally I was the one elected to go for supplies.
I had never made that full trip alone, but I had to walk it, and I was plenty weak, sick with the dread flu, and suffering badly as I straggled into home. The thought of that flu reminds me of a story, which was part of our Priesthood manual lessons a few years ago. The story pointed up the birth of Welfare ---not the Welfare Program as inaugurated by President Lee in 1936, but this manual story was a true one of a father who lived in Lehi (the place of my birth). This man received a phone call stating that one of his family members was ill; and before the father could do anything the person had died with flu. He went to that area to help, and buried within a few days, his son and a grandchild. Within two days following, he received word of another child's death. In all, he lost four or five family members, claimed by this terrible influenza. The story told of the father heroically building the coffins, making arrangements and burying them in Lehi, Utah. The next day, he finally was able to go into his field, realizing how much had been neglected there. On his way he met one after another, wagons coming from his field, and the drivers each making cheery remarks to him. During all of his tragic experience, he had held up without any breakdown; but when he got to his field and looked around, there were no beets to harvest. His neighbors had banded together and had 'cropped’ his whole acreage. He then did breakdown. Sitting beside his wagon he uttered "Thank God, for the Welfare!'. I somehow could relate to this story; having lived in Lehi, raised sugar beets, and suffered thru the influenza.
In the general Sugarville, Abraham and Sutherland farming areas, the farmers would sometimes have a private sale, which included anything and everything. They would advertise in the local paper; the 'missus' would prepare a lot of food for prospective buyers; a well-known auctioneer would be arranged for; the local banker would be on hand; and the seller would 'go to it'. Mother never enjoyed hearing of these sales for too often Dad was tempted to buy something, which was not a priority need. Jeff Clark, who happened to be the man who had brought us down to the Delta area in the beginning, was the auctioneer and a born salesman. These auctions were interesting. A very large variety of materials and things, inside and out of the house, seemed to get sold. You couldn't go to one of these sales without coming home with something. The purchase I want to refer to on this particular day was a team of horses, whether or not we could afford this team, we certainly needed them. This team of gray horses became our proud possession --a team of mares, which we named Fan & Pet. We were very thrilled later when they foaled; we then had a couple of colts. We lost one of the mares after several seasons, and Dad being impressed with the beautiful coat of hide, decided on answering an ad to have this hide tanned, and dyed black, which he then shipped back East to have made into a coat, with matching hat and gloves. The hat was a visored cap with earflaps. Everyone seeing it was sure this was bear fur, the resemblance was so striking. The heavy coat was worn much and lasted indefinitely.
Dad also walked in from the Cedars one night, in the dead of winter, and suddenly showed up at the door, wearing this heavy black coat, with gloves and cap. Icicles were hanging from his moustache, two to three inches long, and frost all over his coat. He had walked in that severe weather and was exhausted and ill. What a sight! I think of an ill man walking that distance, but also carrying the weight of that heavy coat. I would like to here state that anything I have recounted at anytime, concerning walking or any type of physical accomplishments or feats are dulled and secondary in comparison to feats performed by our father. He had an unusually strong physique; born and raised in the Old Country; he had walked many marathons. He had a terrific shoulder, he could lift many times his own weight, never a weakling in any manner; so it took a pretty tough individual to follow him or do even part of what he could do of anything he knew --which was largely menial, hand labor. Incidentally, the neighboring farmers would always pay him .5O to a dollar more than anyone else in doing shoveling, pitching, or the like.
[A side note about the coat; many years later, Viola had that same heavy black coat cut down into one that she wore. Being horsehide, it was indestructible; and in cutting it down to an attractive size, all worn spots were cut away. Thus, altered, it brought service to her through many cold seasons.]
Before the automobile age, I was quite a horseman and had some interesting experiences. An individual riding pony was hard to come by among us boys. As they were acquired, they would be claimed by the whole. Most often we needed a dual-purpose horse, and so it was really quite pleasant when a good riding horse could be used on the buggy and fill in on such occasions. Such a one was a good roan horse, which we had ridden in from the promitory. This roan fathered a pony with a roan mane and we called the colt "Quince". I tended her when she was just a colt and later 'broke her’ for riding, by getting her along side the fence, jump on her and hang on for dear life until in due time, she became more tame, and developed into a wonderful pony enjoyed by all of us. She became a very very fleet little animal, much admired by even our neighbors; and I found that no one could out-run me --even though there were experienced cowboys and animals in the area. She was always willing for a race, and many times I had to hold her back. One summer on Quince, together with a neighbor friend, we rode out on the range and captured three wild mustangs. We later found one was branded which had to be returned; even so on that venture I acquired another little bay pony, which we raised and which served the family very well. He never grew very large, but was smart and dependable. This one, "Flash", learned to go around the trapping line and to carry home pelts. I know that often a horse would be spooked by a pelt, and would be lost if not handled right. Felix inherited this horse, Flash. He treated him with a lot of respect and fondness, getting a lot of use from that animal. I can picture Felix now coming in from the trap line, carrying a dead animal, tail swinging down.
Flash suffered a heart attack one day when both Marc and Ralph were riding him. He crumpled under them and died.
Horses were common to us boys (and also the sisters). We learned to ride bareback without saddles. Many times our britches were so burned from riding eight and ten miles that we could hardly walk. I remember the strong races we engaged in while running these wild horses down on the promitory ---jumping sand dunes and the like, to cut the band of wild horses off. There were a lot of wild ones in that country, burros too, and this was some sport. Many people tried to buy Quince, the riding mare, but she remained with our family and I truly hated leaving her when I went away.