1094. My dad, Orson Pratt Miles' autobiography, early 1900's to World War I, by himself



First posted:

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2013


December 14th was the 43rd anniversary of my father passing away.  I noticed someone had recently read this history of my dear father, Orson Pratt Miles, and I re-read it again myself.  I was fascinated, and enjoyed reading of his early life again.  I hope you enjoy it!  I first posted this in my 34th blog!


He was born September 7, 1891 in St. George, Utah, to William Gustavus Miles and his wife Paralee Amanda Church.  He grew up in early St. George.  To see other parts of his autobiography, go to blogs after this, and check out his name in the "labels".

34. Dad's autobiography, early 1900's to World War I, by himself


     (By Ruth, his wife, my mother) :  "There are two memories Pratt has mentioned that occurred at the Red Hill home.  (It was just north of the Post Office on 2nd north and Main, a house or two going north on Diagonal Street.)  Both have to do with accidents, and both included a certain girl, Hortense McQuarrie, who later moved east and became a millionaire.  In memory of her time in Dixie she donated the money for the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Memorial Building Museum here in St. George, which contains many relics and pictures of the early Dixie Pioneers.

     Pratt and Hortense were playing as all children loved to, up in one of the hay lofts in a barn.  Pratt fell through where some boards were broken and as a result, his arm, as well as the boards, were broken.  He remembers going home and then to the Doctor, who set it, not in a plaster of Paris cast as we do now, but in a leather cast that had to be laced up like a shoe.  He said it happened when he was 4 years old.  Pratt saved the leather cast and had it for years, among other things, in his own little treasure chest.  (It is interesting to know how a broken arm was taken care of in 1895!)

Back in those days there were no washing machines, nor electricity for that matter.  Each mother would heat her was water outside, in a tub over an open fire.  There was no commercial soap to buy either, which made it the duty of each household to save every scrap of grease in order to make soap for cleaning, which was made with fat, water and lye.  (Sometimes it was necessary to even make the lye by pouring the water over wood ashes and straw.)  However, at the time canned lye had come into use.  Each mother washed her clothes by hand on a wash board and faithfully boiled them in a soap and lye solution.  Pratt and Hortense, curious as usual, found the can of lye on the wash basin, and, or course, had to taste it.  Fortunately, all that came of the incident was a somewhat burned face, lips, and mouth.  (She was born in 1881, and would have been 10 years older than Pratt – he would have been around 5 years old.)
        This is basically how they had to wash clothes, outside in boiling water.

     When Pratt was five years old his family moved across town to a home at the foot of the Black Hill, which had more garden space and fruit trees -- a place for milk cows, etc., that a large family needed.  For in those days families just about had to supply all their own food, as well as make their own clothes.  It was at this home, near the "Swiss Block" as they called it, that Pratt spent his early childhood and much of his adult life.  That entire block, from 100 to 200 south, and 300 to 400 west, was known as the “Swiss Block”, as so many Swiss people settled there. 

     Here Pratt spent a typical, carefree,  happy boyhood in spite of the modest conditions at home.  No one seemed to mind as all were in a similar condition.  His biggest   dilemma at that time seemed to be to fill a bottomless stomach which was always hungry.  As a result, he knew where every pear and apple tree in town was that gave early fruit.  He also knew where the best grape and melon patches were and often partook of them when they were "in season".  

On occasion, he would find eggs in a field of tamarack trees and take them to the Windsors' Store where he would trade them for candy.  Candy was hard to come by in those days.  After bringing the eggs into the store, Brother Windsor would put them in water to see if they would float.  If they did float, that meant the eggs were rotten and little Pratt was too late, but, he said,  "I never remember leaving the store without a piece of candy, regardless of the condition of the eggs."  --- end of quotes by Ruth.

The following is part of what was handwritten by my dad, Pratt, in a large journal I have at my home.

 When I was eight years of age our home caught fire and was completely destroyed, burning most everything inside.  This was the first sorry experience of my life; but my father William G. Miles, being a mason, and carpenter, built us a home that was better than the old one that burned.  
    
      My greatest interests those days came from herding cows, riding donkeys, swimming in the Virgin River and going on the freight road. While still of Primary age, I did some public singing as a boy, having an extra high pitched voice.  My mother was President of the Primary at that time and Sister Stewart, mother of John S. Stewart, played the old organ well.  She was my accompanist.  The song I sang the most those days was entitled, “I Am A Mormon Boy,” which song I still remember.

  (I have a copy of "I Am A Mormon Boy," if anyone is interested, I can e mail it to you.)

     At the age of 12 years, I was ordained a deacon.  A deacon in those days had some varied duties to perform, such as cutting stove wood for the widows a sick who could not do it.  Cutting the wood and starting the fires in the Church buildings so they would be warmed up by the time the members came to Church, and passing the Sacrament.  At the age of eighteen years I was singing in the Stake Choir and in quartets with my father and Uncle Hayden Church, (his mother Paralee Amanda Church’s brother – named after their father named Hayden Wells Church.) and other brothers of the older age.

Serenading on the streets at night with guitars and harmonizing in the old melodies with others was a real entertainment, which I indulged in very much.  At this time, there were no picture shows, but theaters were the go, in their place.  Traveling troops visited St. George often, and would play a week at a time.  Marble playing was very common on the sidewalks of the city.  (Pratt was a very skilled marble player–Pal)

    At the age of 18 years I began leaving home for work as there was nothing to earn money at in St. George.  I worked in the mines and on farms in Northern Utah, returning home for school in the winter.

 I started to the Dixie College the first year it opened.  My father and I both helped to build the Dixie College. (Now the Leisure Services building, on the corner south of the Tabernacle.)  Father helped cut all the stone that went in it.  I helped mix the mortar and carry brick and different odd jobs.  (Pratt's father was a stone mason, and helped cut stone for the Tabernacle here also.)
  This us a photo of the building which Pratt and his father helped build, and it     was the first building in the original Dixie College, which opened in 1911.

     Some of my early life was spent down at Price City, which was a little town on the Virgin River about 5 miles south of St. George.  (Now the area of Bloomington.)  We owned a small farm there.  Grandfather and Grandmother Miles (Samuel and Hannah Miranda Colborn Miles) lived there and I lived with them some.  

   The Miles family all gathered there once a month to visit with them, and oh, for the good times we had together. Programs from the family talent and a family dinner were the main events.  Our traveling was all done in wagons and buggies in those days; and oh, how happy they were because we were more united as family groups than the world is today.

     At the age of seventeen years, I had my first ride on the train.  Sister Amanda and her husband (John Johnston) had a farm up Provo Canyon, three miles above Heber City.  When school was out in the spring I was to go up and help my brother-in-law for the summer.  They sent me train fare.  I traveled to the railroad at Modena with a freight team which took almost three days, and when I boarded the train I was so scared I thought I was sure a goner.  But as the train moved along I sure got a thrill out of the ride.  For the next six years I made the same trip each spring to help on the farm above Heber City.  I experienced the feeling of home sickness very severely, but survived it.  The farm was located on the Provo River, a beautiful cook place to spend the summer.

     In July, 1917, (age 25) while working at the Moscow Mine close to Milford, Utah, I found out I was in the first draft of World War I.  I went straight home to St. George to visit with the family and friends until I went in the service September 18, 1917. 

 About 90 boys left St. George by auto for the railroad at Lund, Utah, where we took a special soldiers train for Fort Lewis, Washington.  The winter at Fort Lewis was something different and very entertaining.  The North West of the United States is a most beautiful country with its rivers, lakes, and timber, – also the ocean and Puget Sound.  
                                                              
     I was a member of the Battery C Quartet and we sang a lot.  I remember one sorry experience having my hair clipped tight to my head for not obeying orders in regard to the regulation hair cut; which confined me to the barrack for a month. Our trip from Seattle to Southern France was wonderful.  The ocean was loaded with many German submarines which caused us a lot of excitement and worry.  Each morning we would get a report that one or more soldiers had jumped overboard during the night because they could not face the battle line ahead of us."  (End of what was written by Pratt in this Post.)

  (Pal) Tomorrow I will tell of his harrowing experiences in World War I, and his LDS mission to the Southern States before he married my mother, Ruth.

 This photo was in a previous post, but I'm including it again, to get the feeling of his being in the army.

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