Ted Ross Ogden

Richfield, Utah - Army - European Theater

My father, Ted Ross Ogden, left for training at Camp Roberts, Calif., April 12, 1944. He had returned from an LDS Mission the previous April and married Lois Sorensen in June 1943. While he was at Camp Roberts I was born and he was able to get a two-week leave in July to return to Richfield to see his family.

Training at Camp Roberts was not fun; it included miles of marching in California’s 100-degree summer with full field pack, rifle and steel helmets. More training consisted of firing their new rifles, carbines, mortars and machine guns. They listened to lectures on first aid and scouting. They ran through various combat courses, crawling under machine gun fire and wore themselves out on obstacle courses and drills. By the time they graduated in September they were supposed to be soldiers and report to the front lines in Europe as infantrymen.

Again in September he was given another two-week leave before reporting to Fort Meade, Maryland, in October. Fort Meade was a staging area for soldiers being shipped overseas. They drew all new equipment and had orientation again and again, about insurance, mail and in general how to behave in a foreign country. Nov. 10, he boarded the USS Wakefield headed for—who knew where.

About Nov. 17 he landed in Liverpool, England, boarded a train and passed through London on a cold, rainy night, then boarded another ship and crossed the English Channel into France. There they saw the first real evidence of the havoc of war: sunken ships by the dozens and wrecked landing boats which GIs only a short time before had staged their invasion.

The following days seemed like a bad dream, realizing that he was closing in on the battle. It was a strange country; he was bewildered, scared and homesick. More and more he was realizing the war was real and he was in the middle of it. Then there were days and nights of travel in cold and leaking boxcars. It was bitter cold and some nights were spent in tents trying to get what heat they could by building a small fire in a tin can. There was evidence of bombings everywhere.

A letter written Nov. 24 places him “somewhere in France”. More letters were written on Dec. 1^st and 4^th again from “somewhere in France”. A letter written Dec. 6 states he was in the 314^th Infantry, 79^th Division. His last letter written Dec. 7 said he most likely wouldn’t be anyplace to mail a letter for while.

In the brutal rain and snowstorm the 79^th Division fought the battle of Haguenau in Alsace Loraine Dec. 9.

On Dec. 21 my mother and her friends, whose husbands were also gone, were having a Christmas party when her family brought her the dreaded telegram from the War Department with the message, “We regret to inform you that your husband, Pvt. Ted Ross Ogden, was killed in action Dec. 9, 1944.”

Further information received by our family states that on Dec. 8, Ted had joined “B” Company of the 79^th Division, which was part of Lt. Gen. Patch’s 7^th Army. On the morning of Dec. 9, 1944, Company “B” launched an attack against strong enemy defenses in a wooded area in eastern France, and in the course of fighting Ted was killed instantly by enemy fire.

At the time Ted was killed the army was unable to send his remains home for burial and he was buried in a military cemetery at Hochfelden, France. At that time there was a memorial service held the Richfield LDS Tabernacle in his honor.

On Dec. 7, 1948, Ted’s body arrived at the Richfield train depot with a military escort. I can remember some things about this time of my life. I can remember it was a sad time for my mother. I can also remember his casket in my grandparents’ living room during the funeral service.

The part I remember most is hearing “Taps” being played and hearing the gun salute. Whenever I attend a veteran service I always think of that day.

Our family had been given two flags by the American Legion—one when the memorial service was held, and one when my father’s remains were brought home in 1948.

On Veterans’ Day, Nov. 11, 1954, I, along with my mother, my grandmother and other family members, presented Richfield High School with the flag that had covered my father’s casket.

I can remember that for several years I was very proud to be able to see that flag flying on the flagpole on the RHS circle.

As for the other flag, my husband and I are honored to be able to raise it at the Richfield Cemetery each Memorial Day. It has now been 65 years since my family received that telegram on a cold December day.

(Ted Ogden was a son of the late Walter and Mary Ogden. His widow, Lois Ogden and his daughter, Patricia Meacham, who submitted this story, reside in Glenwood.)

Christmas (abt.) 1985

From Anna Ogden Jenkins’ journal (or maybe Olive's??)

Christmas Gift

As far as Christmas goes, life holds many wonderful memories. It all begins with parents, I guess, and my parents loved Christmas. My father was a child having fun at Christmas time.

Early on that important morning we would be awakened by Dad shouting, "Christmas Gift!

Christmas Gift!" while loudly ringing a cowbell. Thank goodness, he wasn't Scrooge—but then, Scrooge didn't have any children, did he? That isn't to say my Dad wasn't careful about what was spent on Christmas. In fact, I often think that I remember that about the first of December I would hear Dad saying to Mother, "Things are a little tight--be careful what you spend this month." But we didn't have anything to worry about—we could always depend on Santa Claus.

There was always a Christmas party a few days before the big day at the Ward. Everybody went, and there was a program about the birth of Jesus. I remember that one year Mother took the part of Mary, and she looked so pretty in a blue shawl over her black hair. A year or so later my Dad had some responsibility with the program that made it necessary for Mother to take us children alone to the program, and she said we could see him there and all come home together.

The Christ-child program went on as usual and we listened to the carols sung by the choir and the children, and then the announcement was made that sleigh bells could be heard in the distance. We were all so quiet, waiting to see if it was Santa coming! Sleigh bells rang and got closer and closer still, then out onto the stage bounded Santa Claus with a cowbell in his hand, and a big hearty laugh with his pillow-belly shaking, and he shouted, "Christmas Gift!"

"Christmas Gift!" I thought. Nobody I knew said that but my Dad.

"Where's Daddy?" I asked Mother.

"He's coming later," Mother said, laughing and clapping. "Watch Santa—he's going to be handing out presents."

"Christmas Gift!" Santa shouted, as he brought the candy treats from his pack. "Ho, Ho, Ho," he cried. "Have you been a good little girl?"

"Oh, yes, Santa, I've been good," I answered, while I thought, "You should know I have."

Later, when all the goodies had been distributed from Santa's pack, and the jolly man had said, "Good night! I'll see you all on Christmas Eve! Be good little boys and girls!" and he had vanished out back to his waiting sleigh and reindeer, and the bells had become fainter in the distance—later, here came Daddy asking if we had enjoyed the program and had we seen Santa Claus? As we all went home together, my hand in Daddy's, and Santa's words ringing in my ear, "Christmas Gift! Christmas Gift!" —I thought it was a most wonderful Christmas.

It was our great sorrow when we sacrificed our Ted in World War II, but we are happy to have Lois and Patricia, who is Ted’s daughter and her husband Dean Meacham, Terry and Jolane, who are Lois and Everett Anderson’s children.

Ted was in France when he lost his life on December 9, 1944. He was buried there until December 8, 1948, when we placed him in our family plot in Richfield.

Our oldest son Walter Ross was also in the service (Navy) in World War II, spending a period of time in the South Pacific on board The Lanier.He is a medical doctor and worked in that capacity. We rejoiced that he was returned to us after peace was restored.

Larry served four years in the Airforce, most of the time in the medical Corp. at the strategic base in Omaha, Nebraska.Their two children were born there.

Dale was one chosen to remain on the home front to grow the food for the world. He and father labored long and hard during that period of the war when there were few men to be hired for help.

Mary Ross Ogden

I don't have an picture of Ted or Larry in uniform. If you have one, please send it and I'll add it.

Our Children

Our Heavenly Father sent us nine fine children, five girls and four boys to be earthly parents for, which is a life-long challenge, as latter day saints think of parenthood. So we have been busy parents, trying to feed, clothe, educate, and set good examples for them to emulate these many years. They have in return been very grateful and unselfish people, loving each other and us parents very dearly.

These are the names of our children and who they married: Anna married Alton A Jenkins M. D. Olive married Dwain J. Pearson. Phyllis was married to Earl Camp, Daniel E Cameron and Edward Clancey. Walter Ross was married to Mary Lott. Dale married Edna Elizabeth Brox. Ted was married to Lois Fay Sorenson. Mary Jane married Eldon J Kloepfer. Dorothy married William G Quinney and Laurence Ross (Larry) was married to Carol Jeanne Johnson and to Linda McCormack Lindsay.

Each one of the companions they have chosen we have been happy for, and they together, have gone about teaching their children to be honest, upright, citizens of this “chosen” land and to love and be appreciative and considerate of their parents and grandparents.

“Nine were given

Five girls, and four boys

Sent straight from Heaven

Like shine new toys.

And the days were fair

For sun shone bright

As we worked and played

From morn ‘til night.

But hark! There is war

The guns sound from afar

Echoing on our banks.

And brave hearts answered

And lo; one day

Two of our boys

They marched away.

Then dewey-eyed

One Autumn eve

We said good-bye to Ted

He sailed o’re sea

And met the foe

And soon our boy was dead.

The grief just seemed too hard to bear

We prayed and lo, we hear

“Be comforted, remembering

That One who cares is near

And He will hold you by the hand

Until the dark skies clear.”

And so today, my heart, be still

Great sorrows can be borne

Our Saviour’s voice speaks through the years,

“Blessed are they that Mourn.”

Walter Ogden

Grandpa loved to hunt. Does anyone have a story to go with this picture???

Dale Ross Ogden

Dale Ross Ogden was born 7 November 1919 in Richfield, Utah. He was blessed 7 November 1919 by Edward Newby. Dale was baptized by Dee Ward Ogden 4 December 1927 and confirmed by his father, Walter Marsh Ogden the same day. He graduated from Richfield High School 20 May 1938. He married Edna Elizabeth Brox 4 October 1939 in the Manti, Utah temple. They were sealed by Robert D. Young.

"Now a brother for our first boy, and he made us so happy. As far as a mother knows they have been really good brothers too. He was a very handsome baby boy. In fact he was the second in our family to bring a beauty prize to our home. Dale was born on Wednesday morning at 5:30 o'clock. My mother passed away six weeks before and my brother Ed a month before. I was glad to have this ordeal of delivering my baby through as I had sorrowed and worried a lot. He has always been a good, helpful boy, very quiet in speech, but firm in ideas."

Mary Olive Ross Ogden

160 S 200 W

We have added to and changed our house much during the years, as our family increased and grew, always keeping in mind that it isn’t just for walls and a roof that make a home, but that “it takes a heap of living in a house to make it a home.” So each brick and stone, each chair and table, as well as the thumb marks on the wall have a story attached to them.

Your walls are of brick,

Shabby and worn.

Your ceilings are high and straight

The fire place glows where it has for years.

With a big fat log on the grate.

Your window and doors

Are not uniform size

Some were added as years went by.

The porch is long, wide and cool:

The roof is gabled and high.

In this house in 1910

We made our first love nest.

It was here that our babies came one by one,

To parents who were truly blessed.

The echoes of their laughter, still are there,

And the sounds of their pattering feet

Up the stairs to their trundle beds

Are memories fond and sweet.

Dear old home you’re a haven of peace and rest

In the moon light you play your role

To all of us who loved you best

Home sweet home – you have a soul.

We tried to build love into our home and lives, setting an example for good living to our family.

Mary & Walter

When I was fifteen I first saw and talked with Walter Ogden, and at that time I told me girl friend that Walt would be my husband someday. He came only occasionally to Joseph the next year or two, and walked me home from mutual or on a Sunday evening. I began to think much on him, although during the five years after I met Walter I had a number of boy friends. Some I went with quite steadily for a time, but my mind and affections always reverted back to Walter. We were married when I was twenty and he was twenty-two. So now I shall write of our lives together.

Our first home together was a two story apartment at 4 West and 2 South, rented from Charlesworth’s. Then during the winter we bought our first home at 160 South and 2 West in Richfield where we lived for forty-four years, except when we went to live on a farm for three years, and rented our home.

Grandma (part 2)

I have worked in the church since I was thirteen years old, taking charge of a Sunday school class at that time. I had been secretary in Primary and counselor in Mutual before I was married and left the Joseph ward.

Our social events and parties were different in our small community than those in larger towns and later years, but we had many enjoyable times as growing girls and boys. We learned to skate, play ball, ride horse, fly kites, walk stilts, wade and swim, and minds. For more quiet and refined parties we would have oyster suppers, ice cream, or honey or molasses candy pulls. Or we would have popcorn and parched corn parties. They were all fun.

One outstanding summer party was the bull-berry gathering. We would take our buckets and walk about two miles to the meadows down by the river. Here we worked hard, breaking limbs from the big bushes, and placed them on canvas blankets, then with sticks we beat the berries off and filled our buckets. Even our lunch pails were filled after we ate our noon meal. We were tired but happy girls who trudged home at dusk with our heavy loads of bright red berries to make jelly for school lunches the following winter.

When I was about eight years old, I heard and saw for the first time, a phonograph. It was a rather peculiar machine, having roll records. We paid five cents to have the rubber tubes put in our ears, and hear two or three tunes. One I distinctly remember was “The Swannee River.”

We had a very happy home, and our parents were kind and understanding, but firm with us children. We were expected to obey and to do our share of the tasks in the home. We were taught to pray when we were very young. In fact, I can’t remember when I first knelt in prayer at my mother’s knee or by my little bed, then we always had our family prayer at least one a day.

A night if I was a really good little girl, and got ready for bed willingly, I was invited, maybe, to spend a short time in bed with my father before my mother retired. This was my real treat, to be wrapped in papa’s arms and exchange our little secrets, and until I was quite a grown girl I still loved to sit on his knee or the arm of his big rocking chair, and comb his hair and caress him a little when he relaxed for the evening after his hard day on the farm. Lucky is the little girl who has a wise and loving father, and a beautiful sweet mother to teach the gospel by their very fine inspiring way.

When I was about fourteen years old my father was the parent in charge of the ward dances and I was allowed to go with him and mother sometimes. I shall never forget the thrill I had when he so politely chose me for a quadrille, and how much care he took to teach me how to swing gracefully, change partners on time, and stand erectly like a real lady when it wasn’t my turn to dance.

In my imagination my father was almost perfect. I assisted him with the chores about the yard and farm, he taught me the true gospel of Jesus Christ. His conception of the two great commandments was broad indeed. He truly loved the Lord and his fellow men.

Happy 119th Grandma!!!

I was born in Joseph, Sevier County, Utah on Friday, October 11, 1890, the twelfth child of thirteen in the family of John W. and Sarah Ann Wells Ross.

My grandparents on my father’s side were John Ross and Mary Sullivan. They were of Scottish descent, respectively, my father being born in Fall River, Massachusetts. My mother’s parents were Samuel Wells and Sarah Hattersley. They were both born in England. There they received the gospel and emigrated to Utah when my mother was seven years old, in 1854.

My birthplace was a two-story adobe house. My father and brothers made the adobes and helped with the building. It still stands on my father’s farm sight about one half mile from town, school and meetinghouse.

When I was born there were seven other living children in the family, four having died in infancy. Also another baby younger than myself died soon after birth. So I grew up, one of eight, five girls and three boys in our home.

I was a normal size baby with much black curly hair and dark blue eyes. (My hair always remained very black until I became gray.) My mother suffered a relapse when I was a few days old, and was very ill for several weeks. I was blessed and named by my father on December 21, 1890. He named me Mary Olive.

I grew up much as other children do on a farm, following my older brothers and sister around at their daily tasks, learning to do the things they did. I could climb all the crooked trees on the farm, and help herd the cows before I was old enough to go to school. I could also milk our old pet cow before my school days began.

When I was five years old, my oldest brother John W. and my oldest sister Netta were both married. Those were eventful days for a little girl, seeing a beautiful white cashmere wedding dress made. Then there were two big wedding dinners with tall cakes in the center of the tables and goose and dressing with all the trimmings.

That same year my father had a addition built on our house, a parlor and two bedrooms, a pantry and a large basement or cellar where the milk, butter and cheese were kept. Also in the winter our vegetables and apples were stored there.

Our home was now large enough for our comfort. All the young people of our ages were invited there for parties all through our lives.

I began school when I was six years old in the two-room school building which was then quite new. My first teacher was Stella Jaques from Provo. She was an adorable girl, and I had an idea that all angels were like her. She seemed so perfect to me. She gave me a little picture and story book of “The Babes in the Woods.” On the fly leaf she wrote, “Remember that the teachers help is the little girl who never causes trouble.” I can’t tell how many hundred times I read those inspiring words. They helped me to want to do my work well and willingly, and in all my school years I never had trouble with a teacher.

I was baptized in the Manti Temple on June 20, 1899 by F. E. Allred and confirmed by John Maiben on the same day. Before my baptism I was taught what the gospel should mean to church members by my fine parents. I have always tried to live and love the principles which I was taught.

On July 24, 1897, I went to Salt Lake on the train with my parents to see the celebration commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of the coming of the first pioneers to Utah. It was a glorious experience for a little girl. I had never seen a city nor ridden on a train, street car, or a merry-go-round until that time.

Each county in the state had a queen. The Sevier queen was Clara Kirkman from Glenwood. She was a very beautiful girl. Years later when I was in my teens I went to Elsinore and worked in her home. She was Mrs. Dan Hansen. She related the story of that celebration to me. I saw the lovely dress and crown that she wore, and I lived again the wonderful experiences I had and saw through childish eyes.

To be continued. . .

Ted Ross Ogden

October 10, 1921

Ted Ross Ogden was born 10 October 1921 in Richfield, Utah. He was blessed 4 December 1921 by Frank M. Ogden. Ted graduated from Richfield High School 19 May 1939 and attended school in Logan for one year. He served in the Eastern States Mission from 9 July 1941 to 5 April 1943. Ted married Lois Fay Sorenson 10 June 1943 in the Manti, Utah temple. Ted was inducted into the Army in April 1944. He arrived in Europe on the front line 8 December 1944 and lost his life in small arms fire 9 December 1944 in a wooded area in France.

"Ted was born on Monday afternoon at 4 o'clock. He was a real good looking little boy. Had a lot of very dark hair and bright blue eyes. Number six in the family, and became the chore boy for his sisters and brothers alike. Ted developed a bit of the Irish wit from his ancestors, as well as some of the English spunk from the other side of the family. And sometimes opposed the teasing and needling he got from his older brothers. He was very fond of his sister Jane, and made a real pal of her. Would help her with the dishes if she would go with him to milk the cows. He was a very loveable child, and grew to be a fine young man."

Mary Olive Ross Ogden

Toni Fabrizio Ogden wrote:

When I married Steve, Grandpa had already passed away, so I never had the opportunity to meet him. However; from the stories I’ve heard, I believe I will recognize him when I see him, and I am looking forward to that day.

I did know Grandma and shared many special experiences with her. When Steve and I had been married a year, we moved to Tarzana, California, and Steve went into the carpet business with his dad. In the winter months, Grandma Mary lived in an apartment located right behind the carpet store, and in the summer, she went to her home in Richfield. After Steve’s graduation from the Y in the summer of 1967, Grandma was in Richfield, so Steve, our first child, Chad, and I stayed in her apartment in Tarzana for a few months until she returned. I will always remember her comfortable home and “things” that she had left behind for the season. When she returned a few months later, we had moved into one of Dale’s rental homes about two houses away from her apartment. We were in the same ward with Grandma, and Dale served as our Bishop. One day during church, I asked her why she only mouthed the words to the hymns, and she told me she had lost her singing voice a few years earlier, but she said, “I love the Hymns, and Heavenly Father knows I’m doing my best.”

Grandma did do her best in everything she did. I was always impressed with her graciousness, her grooming, and her strength—a very good example of an “elect” lady.

Grandma and I became Visiting Teaching partners. We shared some unique experiences together. She was always prepared when I honked for her each month. One sister we visited in the Ward was a sweet, caring woman, but lacked refinement and domestic skills. Each month we experienced something new and different when we visited LaVerda. One time, the cat was upon the counter eating the cold grease from the frying pan on the stove. Another time, while the rabbits were hopping through the house leaving pellets in their tracks, the chickens were scratching and strutting through the clutter on the kitchen floor. Grandma kept her composure through all of this. The funniest was when LaVerda seated us with our backs to a broken kitchen window, and while Grandma was giving her the Relief Society message for the month, a cow put her head through the window and bellowed. I thought Grandma would have a heart attack. Again she regained her composure and finished the lesson in a very dignified manner. When we got in the car to leave, Grandma looked at me and busted out laughing!! We had the best time together.

I’m sure I seemed a little clumsy to Grandma as I cared for my first newborn baby. Periodically, she gave me little bits of advice to help me out. Remember, back then, we were doing cloth diapers, pins, and rubber pants. One day Dale gave me a quick hint on diapering techniques. Shortly thereafter, Grandma Mary told me I was doing it all wrong, and both Dale and Grandma were sure their way was right. Dale taught me up front that there were three ways to do things, the right way, the wrong way, and Walt Ogden’s way! I learned quickly that I had married into a family with strong opinions. Steve has since told me that Dale was a lot like Grandpa Walt, was he???

Steve Ogden wrote:

One summer when I was 14-years-old, I went to Marysvale to help Grandpa on the ranch. I enjoyed riding in the truck with him and listening to him tell stories. I enjoyed that ride also because he always stopped for Ice Cream. Grandpa usually had a dog tied to a long leash in the back of the truck. One hot summer’s day, while we were getting Ice Cream, the dog jumped out of the truck and went underneath to find some shade. After finishing our Ice Cream we got back in the truck and drove to Richfield. When we got there, the only thing attached to the rope was a little ball of fur!

I admired Grandpa’s work ethic and drive. Although Grandpa was up there in years, he could still pitch double the hay that I could at age 15, and I was a big boy at that age. Of course, his technique was much better than mine.

Grandpa liked nice cars. He had a brand new 1949 Cadillac. There were times he hauled sheep in the back seat. When asked why he did it his response was, “They paid for the car; they ought to be able to ride in it!”

There have been times when someone offered a compliment to me about one of my kids. I’ve found myself repeating one of Grandpa’s famous sayings that I have heard Dad say many times as well, “It’s a poor sire that can’t improve the herd!”

I know this post is a little early but I will be out of town for the weekend and I don't want to miss such a special event. There is another special event coming up next weekend so check back. (Does anyone know what it is?)

And where are your family pictures???

Walter Marsh & Mary Ross Ogden 99th Wedding Anniversary October 5, 2009

At the close of his (Walter’s) second year at B.Y.U. we became engaged and were married October 5, 1910 in the Salt Lake Temple. There were seventy-nine couples married at that session, which lasted all day. We were in the temple twelve hours before we were married. Because of it being such a large group and so many hours, they passed buns and a bucket of water with a dipper for all of us to drink from in the afternoon. About fifty of the young men who were married that day left on trains that night for missions throughout the world.

In early 1960, we were reminded it was time to celebrate our fiftieth or golden anniversary. So during the months we planned with our family and on September 3^rd, we had a lovely family party with a banquet. There was an open house entertainment at Olive’s home in the evening with more than five hundred guests. It was truly a very special day for us. All of our children with their companions, and all of our grandchildren were with us to celebrate. There was a very lovely program given during the banquet hour, and in the evening our children helped us receive the many guests who called.

Excerpt from Grandma's Journal

After father and I were alone, he invited me numerous times during the summers to go again up on the dear old sheep range and again ride up to the mountain top to watch the sunsets. Life is very much like the climbing of a mountain: we must reach the heights before we can behold the view. So in like manner do we all (make the) same journey. How can we afford then to judge each other? We must consider the distance we have climbed. We don’t all reach the same pinnacle of wisdom. God’s promise, that the higher we climb, the smaller become the things of earth, like fears, doubts, envy, selfishness, and faultfinding. Let these things never come to our dear and lovely family.

Our big house moaned

At the loss of them all

Not lost, but gone from its strong, brick walls.

Out into the world to mingle with men

What could we say to the last of them?

Our little boy, only half grown I’m sure,

Said, “it’s the Airforce

It will offer me more.”

We talked, we expressed,

O stay home a while

We wanted to think

He was just a child.

Our home and our hearts would empty be

But I guess we were thinking selfishly,

Our pleading didn’t succeed

But our little boy did

He built with his might

All the goals that he bid

He wore with pride

That uniform blue

When he came home to give us a view.

And we gazed with pride

At our little boy, man

He had conquered thus far

He can conquer again – 1952

Thomas Ogden - Happy Birthday

Grandpa holding Mary Jane

Walter Ross Ogden

September 18, 1917

Walter Ross Ogden was born 18 September 1917 in Richfield, Utah. He was blessed 4 November 1917 by his grandfather, Thomas Ogden. He was baptized on 1 November 1926 by Frank M. Ogden and confirmed the same day by Feral Black. Ross graduated from Richfield High School in 1936. He married Mary Lott in the Logan, Utah temple 2 June 1939. Ross graduated from University of Utah and then went on to graduate from medical school.

"I hadn't dared hope, but secretly did plan for a son, and here he came just when dad had to thresh the grain. And he helped many times after that. He was given Walter for his father, along with my maiden name. He was well matured when he was born. Maybe not so handsome, but what a joy. Which he has always been. A great wonderful surgeon. Ross was born Tuesday morning at 9 o'clock. Dr. Clark delivered him, and told us he thought probably our son would be a medical doctor. President Joseph F. Smith came to Richfield that day and all children in town met him and scattered flowers for his car to drive over."

Mary Olive Ross Ogden

Tricia Ogden Meacham wrote:

This must have happened about the summer of 1962. As you remember, Grandma and Grandpa lived just a few blocks from me and would pass by our house usually once or twice a day. One afternood Dean and I were sitting with another couple parked in my driveway. Grandpa was driving his white Cadillac when he saw us sitting there. He stopped the car and came over to talk to us. He was wondering just exactly what it meant to "Drag Main." Now to those of you who didn't live in Richfield, "Dragging Main" probably won't mean much. We said, "jump in." He climbed in the car and away we went with Grandpa "Dragging Main" with us. (Still wondering what dragging Main is? It's driving up and down Main Street and waving to all the other young people who are doing the same thing.) I'll never forget that. He liked to tease me. He was always a lot of fun.

Grandma with Mary Jane and Ted

Mary Jane Ogden Kloepfer's memory of Grandpa Ogden:

Grandpa Walter Ogden gave his daughter, Mary Jane, 3 sheep when she was baptized. These sheep had triplets. WhenMary Jane needed some money she would ask Grandpa to sell one of the sheep. He would then send her $50.00. She wasn’t sure he was actually selling the sheep, but the money always came. Grandpa was very generous. When she got married he gave her a cow. The money from “selling” the sheep was especially helpful after Mary Jane and Eldon Kloepfer married. Eldon was in the Navy and was stationed in Detroit, Chicago and other places around the country. Whenever he got stationed in a new location, Mary Jane would ask her dad to sell one of the sheep so she could go find an apartment and be near Eldon. Imagine...Mary Jane was just 20 years old when she was traveling like this!

From Anna Ogden Jenkins’ journal

My father believed in honest labor. He had no sympathy for the idler. The county road crew who stood around "leaning on their shovels" while one man at a time filled the pothole always got a comment from him as he went by. He was not one to see something to be done and not get busy doing it. I remember that during the Depression when the WPA was instituted, my father thought the country was going to hell. "Roosevelt will make bums out of everybody," he said. Nobody will want to work if he can get on the WPA."

At that time, the WPA paid an able bodied man a dollar-fifty a day, and Dad had a hard time convincing some of them to work at the sheep herd for forty-five dollars a month with their board included. Of course, they had to be convinced that the fringe benefits of tending sheep were worth it. Walter was a generous employer—a man's family never wanted for food or help in getting to town or to the doctor, while the man was gone away. We were always impressed with the importance of taking care of such needs, and they often called on him for a few dollars, or we went by their homes with things from the garden, or a bag of flour, or some mutton or pork when it was butchered.

In those days of the thirties, there were many men who were "on the road," some looking for work, some not wanting more than a meal or a place to sleep for the night. Since the ranch house was right beside the road that goes down to Arizona, we often saw a weary traveler who had walked all the way through the canyon and evening was coming on. Most of them were glad to chop some wood or at least carry it into the house for supper and a bed in the camp wagon that night. But I remember that one fellow stopped at the corral fence while Dad was milking cows, and said, "That milk sure looks good." Dad got up from the stool and said, "Come on and finish her, and you can have all the milk you want to drink for supper, and bread, too."

But, I guess the traveler wasn't that impressed. He replied, "I wouldn't milk a cow for all the milk you got."

Dad's reply was equally harsh: "Well, maybe the next ranch will give you a better offer, then." Yes, Walter believed in honest labor.

3 September 1993 - Excerpt from letter from Anna Jenkins to Elder Brant Lillian

My Dad

Today is my father's birthday. He was born on September 3, 1888. He was the youngest child in his family—he had 7 brothers and sisters and 4 half sisters and brothers. I didn't know his mother but I knew his father, and was with him when he died. My Dad was a loving father, and grandfather. I wish you had known him. He had a very personal relationship with each child and grandchild. I always felt very secure with him as a child, and when I was an adult, I felt that I could depend on my Dad to help me in any difficulty. I still have a blank check in my wallet that I have had for perhaps 50 years or more, a check on a bank which no longer exists, but which my father gave me and said that if I ever needed to, I could write it out, sign my name under his and get some money—the bank would honor it. Of course, that is really only symbolic of his caring for me, and of course I have never intended to use it. But it does represent to me that he felt responsible for my welfare, and I could depend on him. He was a man who had many friends, and he cared for many people. We used to say that every time Dad went out to the sheep herd, he took an extra sack of flour to our Aunt Till in Elsinore—she was a widow with little children. It would be unthinkable for my Dad to know that someone in his family was in need and not do something to help.

My father was one who loved to visit someone he knew if he went to another city, and so when he and Mother were going to Europe, I worried that Dad would not have a good time because he wouldn't know anyone. But he had a wonderful time. Mother said that even when he couldn't speak the language he made friends and brought people to talk with someone in his group who could speak their language.

Yet, my Dad was one who didn't let his children get away with wrongdoing of any kind.

He watched over us. When I was about 16, I was invited to go by horseback up in the canyon near Marysvale with a group of kids in the evening for a party. I went on my own horse with a boy from the neighboring ranch on his horse, and we left the party on time, but when we were coming down the canyon, here came my Dad in the car and met us. He thought we were a little late, and he said I should ride home with him and John should bring my horse home and put her in the corral and take off the saddle. I was embarrassed, but that is what I did and Dad said he just felt uneasy about my welfare.

Brant, I know that if you had known your great-grandfather Walter Ogden you would have liked him. He had a ready smile and blue eyes that looked into yours and you knew he was a man you could trust.

3 September 1993 - Excerpt from a letter from Anna Jenkins to Elder Chad Lillian

My Dad

Today is my father's birthday—he was born in 1888. I wish you could have known him. He was the kind of Grandpa who had a very real and personal interest in every one of his grandchildren. I think if there is one best characteristic I could attribute to my Dad it would be to never hold a grudge. Do you know what I mean? He could have a difference of opinion with someone, and even a quarrel, but he was the kind of person who would speak his mind, and then shake hands or give a hug, and say, "Now let's forget that and start from here." He always said, "Holding a grudge is too heavy to carry around, and it gets in the way."

Grandpa Ogden loved children, and had such a good time playing with them. He had a cheerful disposition, and bright blue eyes that seemed always glad to see you. My Dad couldn't sing a note, but it didn't keep him from singing. We would be traveling in the car and he would start to sing, "Oh, My Father" or "Oh, Ye Mountains High" or a Samoan song that he had learned in his childhood from his older brother who had been on a mission to Samoa.

My father was a worker—he thought that "man should earn his bread by the sweat of his brow." He was a charitable man, and we put up with many wanderers whom he befriended if they wanted to work for food and a place to sleep. But he had no patience if a man wouldn't work. I remember that one evening a "tramp" came walking along the road by the ranch when Dad was milking the cows, and he said, "I sure could use a glass of that milk."

Dad got up from the stool and said, "Come on and finish milking this cow, and you can have all the milk you can drink and plenty of bread to go with it." The guy said, "I wouldn't milk a cow if I never got any milk." So Dad said, "All right, then, go on down the canyon—maybe you'll find a better offer." It was ten miles to the next ranch.

Yes, my father was a person that everybody liked and everybody in Sevier County knew him, too. And he knew so many people's names. Did you know that he took the first gold medal in wrestling that BYU gave in his weight class? When he was 75 and ill, my brother Dale bought him a “Y” athletic sweater. He was very proud of that. I think Dale was a lot like Dad, and I am glad that you got acquainted with him. I miss them both.

Kim Ogden wrote:

"I remember Grandpa drivin' me up the road from the ranch towards Big Rock Candy Mountain to run some cow back in his white '59 Caddy. He put me out on the side of the road behind 10-15 cows and he drove beside me and the cows. Well, hundreds of mosquitoes were all over my arms, face, back, legs, and me sayin' 'Grandpa, they are eatin' me up!' and him sayin' 'Watch that cow, she's tryin' to go around you and don't worry. They won't eat all of you up, you're a young man.'

"Once he was cuttin' hay with Dic and Doc, the brown Clydesdales, and I had caught a woodchuck by tossin' my shirt over it. I yelled at Grandpa to come and see what I caught. He got a pitch fork and stuck my woodchuck dead, sayin', 'The darn things dig holes in my fields that horses could break a leg in.' He taught me how to work and I loved him dearly."

Mary Kay Pearson Carling wrote:

My memories of Grandpa:

He was a joker to the core. He always wanted a piece of pie, (the "round one",he would say). He had a line for everything and kept us all laughing. He was the hardest working man I knew. I mostly saw him stinky and dirty, but handsome and rugged. He hauled his calfs around in the back seat of his Cadillac. He whiskered anyone who got near him. He ate ice cream right out of the carton with a big spoon, even when Grandma would scold him because it wasn't good for his diabetes. He loved his fellowman and tried to help many of those who were less fortunate. Oh yes, there was no one like Grandpa Ogden!!!

My Memories of Grandma

I loved sitting on the porch of her house where she had a hummingbird feeder and we could witness the wonders of
nature. She loved all things, big and small. She was a great optimist and tried hard to keep herself happy for all the years she was without her love, Grandpa.

She was a wonderful cook and often came over to our house with something she had made to share. She loved to read and became a very well educated Grandma. Her love of poetry, which she learned from a young age, stayed with her all her life. I remember sitting by her in her last days, she was quiet and hardly talking and then she would sit straight up and recite one of her wonderful poems, all the words to perfection. She talked a lot about her father, who must have been a wonderful man. I think he was the one who inspired her desire for learning. She was gracious and warm, frank and direct. Oh what an example to all of us of dedication to her family and fellowmen.

Happy 121st Grandpa!

Richfield was a small, warm springs town, pretty and cozy, and its special attraction to us who lived farther south, in Joseph, was that it was the ‘county seat’ and the large town in our county and had red soil, which if it got on our new white dresses they just seemed to never come clean. It also had stores where father could buy oranges, sometimes when he went to pay his taxes or when we went to conference.

So it was in this very choice town of Richfield that Walter Marsh Ogden was born on September 3, 1888.

He was the eighth child of Thomas and Ann Marsh Ogden. His father’s parents, William and Mary Vickers Ogden emigrated to Utah in 1868. They had embraced the gospel with all their family some years previous, in England, and brought all of their children with them. Walter’s mother’s parents were Thomas and Ann Horrocks Marsh. They were also born in England. The mother joined the church with their four daughters and came to Utah about the same time as the Ogden’s. But Grandfather Thomas Marsh never accepted the gospel and remained in England.

Thomas and Ann were fine parents for a boy. But Walter was not to have the companionship of a loving mother for long in his life. She passed away a few months before his eleventh birthday and Walter was left a very lonely little boy.

A number of things happened in his early life, after his mother’s death which seemed tragic to a young boy and his heart was made sore on many occasions. He learned early to go to Aunt Betsey, who was mother’s sister. And she helped him over many of his sorrows. And was always much like a mother to him.

His five full brothers are Thomas, Albert, Frank, Charles and George and his sisters are Nora and Jane.

Walter’s father married a plural wife. Her name was Hannah Wells. She had Elizabeth Wells, Joshua, Eva and Ruby.

After mother passed away Hannah, “Auntie” came to be the mother. But after some of his brothers were married, Walter made his home with one or another of them most of the time. They and their wives were very good to him and taught him to work on the farm and at the store which his father owned.

Walter was very ambitious and quite early in life began to acquire personal property.

When he decided to go to the B.Y.U. he sold a good team with new harness, a new wagon and several acres of land which he had all paid for.

He lived with the Greenwood boys in Provo. And was very intimate with the basketball team, which at that time was Utah’s best. He helped the coach in their training and games. He was too short for basketball but was very quick and strong on the mat and excellent in wrestling, taking the first gold medal for the B.Y.U. in that sport in 1913. For his seventy-forth birthday, September 3, 1962, he received a beautiful jacket with a block Y which he was very proud to have.

From the journal of Mary Ross Ogden

Sally Ogden Edmunds wrote:

"I went to stay for about a month at the ranch early one summer before the rest of my family came for the July 4th holiday. I often woke up early and followed Grandpa around on a horse as he did his chores. One morning Grandpa said, 'Come on, Sal, we're going fishing!' I asked where the fishing poles were. Grandpa said, 'We don't need fishing poles!' He took me to the irrigation ditch where some mountain trout had gotten in the ditch. Grandpa started catching them with his hands. We took three trout home and Grandma cooked them for dinner. It was the first time I ever had trout!"

Jack Kloepfer wrote:

"I think My kids are so tired of me telling them about having mutton for
dinner..... I can't get away with that one any more. I guess my very
favorite is riding the two draft horses Dick and Dale, at the old ranch.
Now that was a mountain of horse."

Mary Ross Ogden

Mary Lou took this picture in Richfield, Utah, in August of 1987, just a week before Mary died. She was working on an afghan in her last days--just like the more than 100 hundred she had already crocheted for children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

Tricia Ogden Meacham wrote:

I have some very special memories of Grandma Ogden during her last years, maybe because I only lived about three blocks from her. Helping to take care of her during her last years was very special to me. Sometimes she would call and ask me to help her with her bath or go grocery shopping for her or to take her to get her hair done. I spent many hours sitting on her front porch just talking to her and listening to her tell me stories about my dad, who I never knew, as I was only six months old when he was taken from our family.. Having her to my home for dinner was always special. I remember very well the day that she died. A few months before she died she spent a few days in the Richfield Hospital and I happened to be working there at that time. One night they brought her her dinner, which was quite a lot for a 96-year-old lady. She had me come to her room and said, "Tricia, I just can't eat all this food this time of night. Would you please have them bring me some bread and milk. If that is a good enough meal for President Kimball, then it is good enough for me."

Another special memory of Grandma was on her 91st birthday. My children and I went to see her and she gave my boys, ages 12 and 10 each a set of scriptures signed by her. My son, Ted, remembers very well saying to her, "Grandma, it's your birthday, we should give you presents." She said, "No, I'm 91 years old and I can give presents if I want to." My boys still have those scriptures, and were proud to take them on their missions with them.

A memory from Tricia Ogden Meacham (8/27/2009)

Mary Kay Pearson Carling wrote:

"Grandma used to always come over to our house and watch the fireworks with us on the front lawn. She would bring a big batch of her famous candy Cheerios. She also made the best banana bread in the world!! I have that recipe and her Joy of Cooking cookbook with some of her hand written recipes. I will bring it (to the 2010 Reunion). It's a treasure!!!"

Sugar coated Cheerios!

Equal parts of brown sugar and butter melted in a large saucepan. 
When the mixture begins to boil, dump in a bunch of Cheerios and stir well. 
Pour out on a tray to cool. Yum!!

Marsha LaFirenza Ogden wrote:

"We all loved going to see Grandma. I especially loved sitting there listening to the stories she had to tell of times past. She was so wonderful and I'm so glad I was able to know and love her. She is definitely one of the most treasured people in my life."

Can anyone tell me anything about this picture?

Here is a inital itinerary for the Family Reunion. Look it over and make your plans. It looks like a lot of fun and family time! Thanks Sally!

If you have any questions or suggestions, contact Sally at 714-990-4861 (hm) or 714-350-8913 (cell)

Remembering ...

“As I lie alone waiting for this morning before Christmas to dawn, I’m conscious of the love that has existed between two people for near on to sixty years. My thoughts turn to our first meeting when I had the premonition that I would someday marry you. Then again in the old Star Pavilion and later on that wonderful spring floor of the Anona, how we waltzed and two-stepped at the Christmas dances, then afterward would go into the Andelin Café for an ice cream soda before you walked me home in the crisp Christmas night with the snow crunching under our tired feet.

“I’m thinking too of the Sunday evenings as you drove Nellie on the little buggy up to Joseph to spend the evening with me, of the pride I felt each time you came because you were just a bit nicer than some other fellows I knew.

“I’m thinking of how our companionship turned into love and we began to plan for a life together, how you brought that sweet little ring with an opal, my birthstone, which cost you several loads of wood hauled from the mountains on those dangerous roads. It was so beautiful on my finger and appeared so expensive, no diamond could have ever shown brighter.

“I think again of your two years away at school when I would go each Saturday to the post office for your letter, short but sweet. I think you always told me you loved me and enclosed a line of kisses.”

Mary Olive Ross Ogden, December 1962

Blog Page News

I am still about 10-12 weeks short of having postings for the blog page. Please write to me if you have any stories, memories or pictures of Grandma &/or Grandpa. There have to be things you want to share with us. Did you ever spend time on the ranch with them? Did you ever visit them in Richfield when you were a kid? I have heard little snatches about the swimming pool in Richfield and the little store down the street. Who are Dick & Doc? And What is the Milk Ranch? Reminisce a little and send me an email. catquinney@yahoo.com Looking forward to your emails.

Home on the Ranch

Dad gave us a home

Where the children could roam,

Where the sheep and the cattle did play.

Where often was heard

The sheepherder's word,

The Ranch was a good place to stay

Chorus:

Home, home on the Ranch,

Where the children could play all the day,

Where the hills were so near,

And the creek was so clear,

I'm glad that we went there to stay.

Mary Olive Ross Ogden, 1958

Walter & Mary on their 25th Wedding Anniversary

October 10, 1935

Anna Ogden Jenkins

July 24, 1911

Anna was born 24 July 1911, Utah's Pioneer Day, in Richfield, Utah. She was the first child of Walter Marsh and Mary Olive Ross Ogden. The whole town was celebrating that day with a parade and fun in the park. Mary and Walter were celebrating the birth of their daughter.

"Isn't she a cutie? Her daddy called her Ann and her mother modified it with Anna. An excellent disposition, so sweet and kind, everyone was her friend. This she never lost. Monday was the day of her birth, at six in the morning."

Mary Olive Ross Ogden

History

Mary met Walter when she was fifteen. She immediately told her girlfriend that she would marry him someday. Walter and Mary married October 5, 1910, in the Salt Lake Temple. There were 79 couples married in the temple that day. Walter and Mary were in the temple twelve hours before their turn came. Because it was such a long day, buns and a bucket of water with a dipper were passed for everyone's refreshment in the afternoon.

A Note to my Children

Tuesday Past Midnight

Dearest Ones on Earth -

Being sleepless, My thot turn to you all and your welfare and how I do appreciate you and the sunshine you have brot to our home. Eighteen years ago, girl wife started a home for a boy husband and thot we were happy but we didn’t know real happiness until

Anna – our firstborn, quiet unassuming little girl came to us. We have grown up together, your likes have been my likes and I have always desired to be your pal. You will soon fly away from the little home nest. Be strong, humble and prayerful in all you do.

Then Olive - our little black head who was always loving, alert, kind hearted tho sharp of tongue and a true follower of your older sister, cultivate cheerfulness in your heart, pure thots and kind words for all whom you come in contact with.

Phyllis – strong willed, determined, think right and nothing can change you, be sure you’re right then go ahead. You are a helpful little girl, clean little house keeper. Don’t find fault with sisters and brothers. God didn’t want you all alike, be patient and kind.

Ross – my first son you meant so much to me when you came at a time when the world was in turmoil, and it seemed as tho my companion in life might be compelled to cross the ocean to fight for our country and with three sisters you were a welcome boy. Be a true Ogden, strong of character, dare to do right and face the world with your convictions. You are a pattern for your younger brothers, don’t (?) set bad examples for them to follow. Be Honest, clean of mind refrain from using the things which make you cheap, tobacco and strong drinks. Be a good pal to your brothers.

Dale – a boy of strong convictions, ambitious tho rather hard to please at times, Be reasonable and put aside the sulky disposition it will not get you friends, but enemies direct your ambitions in the right way, take advise from those who know more than you, be kind to your sisters. Choose right and go forward.

Ted – quiet, patient, thinking little boy, many genius minds have been as unassuming as yours and never a sweeter disposition tho teasing had been hard on you and generally make you say the cross things you have said. Be a man strong of character as Daddy and grow straight with hands busy and not in pockets.

Mary Jayne – Little Blackie and Dorothy little Blondie. All the family have enjoyed your baby days and ways, your dirty faces and tousled heads and Big sisters have done much for you hope you will grow with kindness for them.

Some day in the far away years this little note may mean something to you all if not now. My love for you all is so great that I would lay down my life for you.

Mother

Hello Everyone, July 2nd, 2010 is the date that has been set for an Ogden Family Reunion in Richfield Utah. I have been asked to arrange hotel accommodations for the reunion. Please forward this e-mail to anyone who you know of that might not have received it. I would like to ask the heads of each family to get a count on how many will likely attend what room types would be needed. I need a preliminary count so I can get some space reserved. I hope this e-mail finds you all well, Sincerely, Rikard rikardpearson@yahoo.com

Remembrance by Anna O Jenkins

Remember how we always looked for sheep as we drove down the canyon from the ranch on the way to Richfield? No matter what the occasion for the trip to town, we kids must keep looking on both sides of the road for sheep. Many times we didn’t see any strays, but sometimes we did and then we would have to stop and Dad and maybe one of us would go out and drive them back up the hill, or sometimes we would have to catch the stray and put her in the trunk of the car or take her back to the ranch and put her in the pasture. Dad would always say, “We’re never in too much of a hurry to look for stray sheep”. And whatever we were playing or telling or singing as we made that trip down the canyon, we kept our eyes on the hills and along the river banks, looking for sheep.

Well, looking for sheep and finding some was what kept us from getting to Richfield in time for church that Sunday. It was not the usual thing for us to go down to town for church – we went up to Marysvale most Sundays. But this was a special Sunday – the day the new Bishopric was to be named and mother especially wanted to be there. So we started in plenty of time but we did see some sheep and Dad did have to go drive them back into the hills and so by the time we got home, it was too late to go to Church.

Mother and Dad sat out on the front porch waiting for meeting to be over and for someone to walk by so they could find out the news of the new Bishopric. After a while, the neighbors came along from church and told us all the news. So, as Mother and Dad sat there talking about how the new men would do, here came the very men they talking about - the new Bishopric. They came walking down the block and Dad said to Mother, “They’re coming here to ask you to be the Relief Society President.”

“Oh, no,” Mother said, pleased any way that he thought she would be considered. “They have a job for you.”

“They had better not!” said Dad, panicky.

Sure enough, the new Bishopric and his Counselors walked right in through the gate and up the walk.

“Well,” said Dad, “They sure know how to pick good men for a big job. Sorry to be too late to get to church today, but we had to chase a few sheep.”

“Brother Walt,” said the new Bishop, “we would like to ask you to take on a big job for us --“

Dad’s face stopped in mid smile and he sort of gulped.

“I don’t know what kind of job I could do for you – I’m just a sheep herder, Bishop.” He said, sort of trembling.

“I know you will do a good job. We would like to ask you to be the husband of the Relief Society President,” said the Bishop.

Well, you could hear the sigh of relief and the gasp of surprise from Dad and Mother at the same time. Of course, both of them accepted and Mother served for __ years (this was blank) in that capacity with Dad being a perfectly capable husband of the Relief Society President

Walter & Mary as children

Story from Marsha LaFirenza Ogden

Ogden Cousins:

This came in an email recently. Thought you'd all enjoy reading it:

"At church on Sunday, Lorene Reynolds came up to us and started to tell us a story. We knew she was from Marysvale and knew Edna, but she had a story about Grandpa Ogden.

Her father (Lawrence Hamel) had to have his legs amputated and had a hard time walking with the prosthetics. He wanted to run for Piute County Recorder, but someone said to him that he could never do it because he couldn't walk well enough. One day, Grandpa Ogden came to their house and said to Lawrence, "you're going for a ride with me." Grandpa Ogden tookLawrence over in front of the courthouse and said, "Okay, get out and walk back and forth in front of the courthouse to show people that you can do it." Grandpa was a good friend toLawrence and helped him to walk better. Lawrence did run for county recorder that year and won. He kept running when each term ended and was the county recorder for 16 years. Lorene said that her father always said that it was because of Walt Ogden that he was able to do this.

"I wanted to share this with all of you because I think it's a wonderful story about Grandpa Ogden. He and Grandma Ogden were always so willing to help other people."

Marsha LaFirenza Ogden (wife of William J. "Bill" Ogden)