Johny Poppers

When Dad bought the farm in Atkinville we also got a John Deere tractor with one front wheel. It started on gas and then when it got warmed up you could switch it over to diesel. It was a hand crank to start. You had to remove the steering wheel and use an adapter on the fly wheel on the side to crank it. I think this was where parking on the hill started. If you parked it on the hill you could roll it down and pop the clutch with it in gear and start it without having to crank. The problem was it had a hand clutch so you really had to think, if you were used to a foot clutch pedal. It did have hydraulic arms that would lift but only float down. It had a 2 cylinder engine and would pop when each cylinder fired. I always thought of it as Paula’s tractor because she was the one who drove it most of the time. She got to be real good with the hand clutch. She was the only person that didn’t have trouble running it. Dad put me on it plowing once. I had been driving foot pedal clutch and first thing down the row I loaded it up and hit the brake instead of grabbing the clutch handle. Well there I was with it dead in the field. Dad came over and was quite calm at first then after he had cranked on the steering wheel a few times he started to yell and cuss. Well I didn’t take that real well and when he noticed I was crying he said I’m not yelling at you. I am yelling at this tractor. That dam hand clutch is just too confusing. I would have done the same thing if I would have been driving. As I remember it we ended up getting the big tractor and pulling it to get it started. I think that was the only time I ever drove it. It had a belt pulley on one side and we used it a lot to turn a long belt and saw wood.

We used to haul any wood we could find mostly from the river that the floods would bring down. We would stack it at the house. Then we would saw it up to stove lengths with the tractor. All we had for heating the house and the water heater was a wood stove. Dad used to get so excited when he would find a nice big piece of pitchy pine. He would drag it home with the tractor and it would be sliced off with the ax to start fires with. One nice big knot or stump would last for years. It would be so heavy with pitch you couldn’t lift it. In later years dad bought another old John Deere that didn’t run. It had 2 front wheels.

It was a little newer than the one we got with the farm. Dad rebuilt the engine and we got it running but I don’t remember using it much. It had a battery and a starter. The starter pedal had a square nut holding the spring on. It still had the hand clutch. Both of these tractors were stolen from the farm when we were moving down to Beaver Dam. To this day every time I see an old John Deere I look at the starter pedal for a square nut.

After I was married and was working for the Hughes Brothers Dairy in Mesquite I traded for this old 40. It had a history of its own. It was the first tractor the Hughes Brothers bought. They told me in the winter it was the only tractor that would start so they would use it to pull the other tractors to get them started. It had a 6 volt battery and an electric starter. It didn’t have a PTO so it was mostly used to rake hay. I traded some wages for the tractor then I over hauled the motor and even painted it. When I took it home Dad was like a kid with a new toy. He got so much enjoyment out of that old tractor. He worked it every day. I think it was the only tractor we had that you could just get on and start any time anywhere. Dad literally worked the tires off of this tractor. I had bought and rebuilt it for me but dad kind of took it over. I have always cherished my memories of how much he liked that tractor. I guess that is kind of how I was when he bought the new Farmall at the farm.

The Gibson tractor. When we lived in Mesa Dad had an old Gibson tractor with a blade on the front. It had a hand crank that went in the hole on the front to start it. I remember seeing movies with Dad, Jordan, and Jim in the yard of Wanda and Jordan’s home on Greenway in Phoenix cracking and eating pecans around the old tractor. Jordan had been using it to level up the yard. Jim told me when we lived in Mesa. He would take a lunch. Dad would drop him off when he went to work, and Jim would spend the day cleaning up weeds and leveling the property where Dad built the trailer court in Phoenix. He used the old Gibson. Dad would pick him up when he got off of work. He said they had trouble with the transmission and that Dad and Malloy replaced the transmission and the rear end with one out of an old truck. Of course the rear end had to be cut down. Jim told how much that helped and how much slower it would go and how much more power it had. The old Gibson was the first tractor I drove. It was in Atkinville at the farm. Dad had taken the tractor up to the head of the ditch to see if he could use it in the river to build up a dam to get the water in the ditch. I had to take Doc and Bill the team on the wagon. We spent all day working on the ditch. The tractor didn’t work real well in the sand as I remember. When it started to get dusk we were finally ready to go home. As I remember the tractor got stuck when dad tried to pull out of the river so we used the team and pulled it out of the river and on to the bank. Instead of going west the way we had come when we pulled out of the river we went east and hit the main road to the Farm. I guess I must have been about 7. Dad was on the tractor and I had the team. Well dad took off and I was following in the distance. I was not allowed to take the team at faster than a walk so I got way behind. Dad stopped when he got to the top of the hill. It is still there today along the west side of freeway. When I caught up to him dad put me on the tractor and told me push down on this peddle to stop. He put the tractor in what I figure was high gear and told me to let out the clutch slow. Well that was the extent of my instruction. He may have said to just steer it down the road. I let out the clutch and I was off. What an adventure. I started to drift off to the right side of the road so I cranked the steering wheel to the left. Now I was headed off the left side of the road. I felt like I was flying down the road just criss crossing back and forth from one side to the other. It was all I could do just to keep it from going in the bar pit on either side of the road. I was in a panic by now so I pushed down the clutch. I didn’t stop but at least I slowed down and coasted to a stop with me still criss crossing back and forth. Well here I was scared to death standing on the clutch with the tractor running. I wasn’t the only one who was panicking. When Dad got there with the team they had been on a dead run with sweat just running off of them. Dad took the tractor out of gear and I went back to the team and he took the tractor the rest of the way home. He said I was afraid you were going to tip over. That was the farthest thing from my mind. In all my memories I only remember a couple of times that dad ran the team on the wagon. That was something you just didn’t do. It was ok to trot but you didn’t run them it was an unwritten rule. Looking back I think Dad must have cringed whenever he watched an old western movie with the stage coach and horses at a dead run. He always had trouble watching movies because he would say you can tell it is fake.

First tractors

Dad use to tell that the first tractors didn’t have steering wheels they were turned with leather lines like horses. He must have driven at least one because he used to say the reins were kind of hard to pull.

When Dad was a young man he was leveling a field in Price. The scraper he was using had a rope to dump it and he tied the rope around his waist. As he was driving down the field the scraper came off and pulled him off of the tractor. It broke his back but the tractor went right on down to the end of the field and turned around just like someone was driving it. It came right by him and he reached up and knocked it out of gear. As I remember the story he was driving a Massey Fergusson. There wasn’t much they could do in those days for a broken back. But I remember the scars on his lower back from the accident. He always had back trouble but that didn’t stop him from getting things done.

On the trail

Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel, 1847–1868 Source of Trail Excerpt: Lofgreen, Anders Persson, Autobiography, 41-42. Read Trail Excerpt: The Ox Train We were from 12 to 14 persons in each wagon and thus we could not bring along much, no boxes or chests. We had to empty our bed pillows and mattresses and much of our clothing we had to leave there for we had only 2 sacks and pack all our things in. This was a trial too, to see these things left behind and not get anything for them. We understand that there were many things trying to stop us from walking on the narrow road. On July 24 we started the long oxtrain over hundreds of miles of plains and dangers of being lost in the streams, but nobody drowned in them, but many were sick and died and were buried at the roadside, some before they were cold in a crude casket, so that they would not be buried with soil in their eyes. It was a trial for the relatives to see this. It was not enough for me to take care of my own family, but I also got a very fine lady who did not touch anything with her hands. My wife had to bake, cook, fry and wash for her just as if she had been one of our small children. We had two more families to our wagon and tent, one of them old and the other just married before they left Sweden, no children. In my eyes I would think that it would be better to have the young couple look after her, but she clung to us, even though we had never seen each other before we packed our things on the wagon. When we camped in the evening and I had fixed the tent the first thing I had to do was to get her bedding into the tent that she would be better seated than on the plain ground and her food carried to her. When time came to go to bed she was very polite to raise and let my wife or me make her bed. The same politeness she showed us in the morning by leaving her bed for me to fix and load on the wagon. My wife and I went through it patiently during the whole journey. If Hanssen was the reason we would have this trouble I do not know even though I think so. From the day I showed him he was wrong in his book he was not the same man towards me. We did not have Hanssen as our leader across the plains, he went his own way. We got another Scandinavian brother, who also had been on a mission in Denmark as our Scandinavian leader. His name was Matsen from "Sanpit [Sanpete] Co. Utah". As captain of the Church train we went with there was an English brother who had come with the wagons from Utah. His name was John Murdock. We went forward slowly every day, I with my youngest son Nils on my back in my natural walk could walk far from the train and often being tired put him down at the road to the train reach him hoping to get a ride with somebody, but it was not very often he came up in the wagon that was ours for my wife and daughter to take care of our 5 months old child. Nils Becomes Lost One day I had left him as before at the road when a Swede by name Ãdler, driving for our leader Matsen had picked him up in his wagon and as it was in the afternoon Nils had gone to sleep, and then when we were to camp Nils was lost, to our astonishment. Kjersti, my wife, should start to get us something to eat, but she couldn't get anything done until she knew if he was in the camp or not. We began our search round the camp but could not find him and we had a strange feeling, especially Kjersti for she thought that he was left at the roadside and wanted me to go back and find him, but it was already dark so I could not do anything in this wilderness. We looked and asked all over in the camp but did not find him until Ãdler came in from the herd and woke him up and said he was ashamed that he had forgotten our little boy, and we thanked the Lord that he was with us. After this I was careful not to leave him alone at the road side. When we came to "Larami[e]" there was no bridge or boat over the "Northplat" [North Platte] river. Here all men who possibly could had to wade over the stream. I got a big stick in one hand and with my oldest son Pehr, 15, at my left, from where the stream came, we waded over the very stony bottom. September 24 we came to "Perlispark." [Parley's Park] Here we camped and stayed for three days as we had to sign our names to our debt to the Church for our journey across the plains and the high mountains. The debt for my family was 230 dollars with 10% interest a year until the sum was paid. It was a hard thing to sign and still harder that both Pehr and Botilla, who were only 15 and 14 also had to sign. It took 8 years before it was paid off. Finding a Home in Salt Lake City Saturday September 27 we landed in Salt Lake City. All our things were unloaded and we tented and put our small belongings into the tent and pondered where we would find a home for the coming winter.

Lofgreen treck to Zion

Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel, 1847–1868 Source of Trail Excerpt: Lofgren, Anders Persson, A Simple Faith Anders Persson Lofgren, Swedish son—Mormon immigrant 1996, 40-42. Read Trail Excerpt: On June 11 we landed at "Floräns" [Florence] where we stayed for six weeks waiting for the oxtrain that would come from Zion to take us to our destination, Zion. ("Utah Teritori[tory]") While we were in Floräns I realized that Bro. Hansen's character was different than on the ship. In our Sunday meetings they preached very strongly that we would pay what money we had to go with the Church train, if somebody kept more than was necessary to go over the plains they would feel pain and ache in their legs. It was likened unto Ananias and his wife who kept part of the money when they wanted to join the Apostles of Jesus. It was hard to listen to these sermons and our faith was tried in this and other things. Because of my faith in the Gospel and our leader (Hanssen) I obeyed his and the other leader's admonitions and paid 50 dollars on my debt for the journey across the plains. This money I paid to Hanssen. While we camped at Florans some of the emigrants were making tents to be used by those emigrants that would go with the Church train and we worked hard to house all in the company, about 500. While we worked on the tents Hanssen was very busy buying up cows, oxen and wagons to some well-to-do (even some of his own country men who did not pay one cent for their trip across the plains) families who should cross the plains on their own. That meant nothing but cows to his not-so-well-to-do countrymen in the Church train. One day it happened that Hanssen and one of his fellow brethren in the Gospel were looking in his accounting book about something. I happened to pass them and glance at the book where I saw the figure 37 at my name which caused me to stop and look at something else so I would not disturb them. When they were through I went over to Hanssen and asked him what was meant by 37 at my name. He could not answer to my satisfaction saying it was something that I had paid for my journey across the plains. After some unpleasant words between I showed him it should have been 50 instead of 37. when I had showed he made his excuses saying he did not know how he made the mistake. Before we finished I asked him to go with me to Joseph Young, who was the emigration Agent and who would receive the money that was collected for our journey. He would not. He promised to pay what was lacking and I received them before we left "Floräns." These things were hard for us to understand and were a trial to see our leading men do that and I had given him 2 dollars, when we were on board Hombold[t]. The day we were ready to leave Floräns, Hanssen had bought two pair of oxen and a wagon and paid with different merchandise. Now he was not poor any more as he was when he left Hombol[d]t.

Remembering

As we were taking the neighbor kids home awhile back, we passed a field with a few Lama's in it. Out of the blue I remembered mom singing a song. I think she got it from the radio. So I started singing until the kids said you are crazy. Ok so I kept singing.The song went something like;

Moma lama love's Papa lama

and Papa lama love's Moma lama too.

Moma loma love's Papa lama and the little baby lama at the zoo!

This week I remembered one of Dad's sayings.

To bed to bed said sleepy head.

Not so fast said slow.

Put on the pan said hungry man.

Let's eat before we go. To bed to bed.

Both of these could keep going on and on and usually did.

Uncle Ben and Aunt Jean's oldest.

I took this picture of aunt Jean at the funeral dinner. Even though Dale introduced me to her as little Lyle who is no longer little, I still don't think she had any idea of who I was. She does seem to be healthy and other than memory is doing well.

Cleaning out my shed.

(double click on above clipping to enlarge)

While I was cleaning out my shed this last month I came across a box of papers. As I went through them I found a copy of the newspaper clipping of Grandad Lofgreen's funeral service. It contained some tidbits of information which caught my attention. When I researched information about his family I had to piece together the stage run his dad had when he died. The only stage run I could find that went through Tortilla Flat was the one that went to the Roosevelt Dam. I had to make some assumptions and here it was in writing and the best part is that Fred Lofgreen took over the run when his father died. I could not find any information about Fred's teen years until he married. Annie Lofgreen Fred's mother in her history said they lived in Queen Creek and that is where Benjamen died. I did find that they lived in Mesa for a while when they were running the stage. It is amazing to me how information comes together.

I have also come out of the dark ages and checked out the Family Search .org web site. I have been amazed at all the genealogy that is done on all of our lines. I only wish it contained stories/history. I have found some neat stories I had not seen before written by our ancestor's who crossed the plains.