Daniel Ray Baker
Daniel Ray Baker was born April 13, 1880 in Beaver, Utah. He was the
son of Phillip Baker and Harriet Ann Thompson. Not much is known of his
early life except that he was a dutiful boy, went through the eighth
grade in school and was a good reader, penman, and mathematician. His
son Raymond remembered that he hauled cord wood to the Murdock Academy
for the furnace there and he measured the load very accurately. The
men who received it were amazed that he was correct when they figured it
out on paper. Water users very often called him to come to measure
their streams to determine if they had their just amounts, always being
satisfied with his decisions. He met with a group to decide on the
feasibility of building a dam at Blue Lake, and was often called to help
settle family arguments. He went by the name "Ray" rather than Daniel.
Ray met Edith Sylvia Twitchell when they were both fishing. She was
fishing down stream and he was fishing up stream. They met at
Hutching's Dam. She didn't have very many fish, so he gave her some of
his. They kept meeting at their fishing places, and he would give her
big "messes" of fish. Soon her father got wind of what was going on.
He knew someone had been giving her fish. He wanted Sylvia to marry a
man named Glen Merchant because he had a lot of money. Ray began to
come up to North Creek to the town dances, and it was not long before he
and Sylvia were engaged, against her father's wishes. They were
married May 6, 1903 in the Manti Temple. Her father never quite forgave
her for marrying Daniel, so there were some bad feelings there, and
there was a feeling that he did not help out this little family as much
as he did some of his other children.
Daniel Ray Baker with his siblings
After they were married, Ray and Sylvia both went to work at the sulfur
mine nearby. She worked as a cook and he worked in the mine until they
had saved enough money to purchase a farm in North Creek from Mose and
Minty Edwards (this is Harriet Marintha Baker Edwards. She was Ray's
sister). They bought the old school house and moved it onto their farm,
later adding on the back rooms and an upper story. This home still
stands today. Ray's friend, LaMont McQuarrie, helped him build on the
kitchen. Ray tried to dig a well for drinking water, but they couldn't
succeed at that, so they had to fill it back up again. Here in North
Creek both Ray and Sylvia spent the remainder of their time on earth.
They had six children born to them; Raymond, Shirley, Louella, Loretta,
Vyron, and Nola. They had a lot of love in their family.
The old school house which was moved to their farmland, still occupied by a granddaughter and her family
This view shows the additional rooms attached to the back
This is the lane leading into the homestead
Every Sunday afternoon after Sunday School was over in North Creek, the
people of the community would gather for some kind of sporting
activity; either a picnic, a ball game, a shooting match, or something
like that. Often the Manderfield community would join in the
activities. Most of these activities were held at the Baker home. At
the shooting matches, Ray was either the captain of the team, or the
first one chosen on the team, for he was an expert shot. At first,
everyone wanted to borrow his new rifle, a "32 special." However, he
pulled a trick on them. He moved the sight just a little to one side.
He knew how to adjust for the difference, so he could continue to hit
the target, but they couldn't do it, so they soon stopped asking to
borrow his gun. Usually, the losers of the shooting match had to
provide a dance for the winners, including the food. Sometimes they
would use roosters as targets, and sometimes they would bet on these
matches. The money would go to buy uniforms for the North Creek
baseball team, which Daniel played on. Ray could outdo most of the men
in boxing, jumping, or anything they could challenge him with.
Every so often, Ray would bring the wagon around and gather up all the
family and they would go over to Manderfield to visit their cousins.
They loved to visit Uncle Rube and Aunt Florence in Manderfield.
This uncle and aunt were really cousins of the Baker children, but they
were enough older that they were called aunt and uncle. They would make
up a big family bed on the floor and all sleep together. Although they
were very busy with the farm, they took the time to get out and enjoy
themselves, too. Each summer they had a family fishing trip that
included all the cousins, and it lasted for a week or so. They also
went camping quite a bit.
The Baker extended family still gathers to the mountains above North Creek and Beaver the first week of August each year. The following carvings were shared with everyone at one such gathering.
It was common to carve one's initials on the beautiful quaking aspen trees in the mountains above North Creek. This piece of bark was rescued from a tree after a forest fire in the area. On July 24, 1911; Sylvia Baker's and Ray Baker's initials were carved for future posterity
It is unknown what the "E" and "T" might mean. Perhaps this is the work of a Twitchell relative.
During the summer months, Ray herded sheep on the nearby summer range to
help in paying for the farm. Sometimes his son Raymond would ride out
to have dinner with him. Ray and his good friend Harry Green spent many
hours fishing together and hunting deer, and the family learned to like
"jerked" meat. Harry bought the farm next to the Bakers and he was
liked by the entire family.
Ray was a very clean and orderly man. His farm was very well kept and
no fence was ever broken but what it was fixed with the greatest of
care. His door yard was also very clean and neat. In fact, his farm
was one of the most up-to-date and well-kept farms around North Creek.
He was a good provider. Shirley remembered that at one time Ray filled a
50 gallon barrel full of salted fish, and another one of cured pork.
The pork was wonderful, but the fish didn't keep very well, and they
were all disappointed when it had to be fed to the pigs. Ray raised
hay for his cows, and the family had their own milk, cheese, butter, and
grain which provided them with mush and flour. They didn't have much
money, but they were a happy family. His daughter Louella remembered
that he would chase her around the house with his face all lathered up
for shaving, and she would run for dear life. She also remembered that
during the winter months, Ray would often get on Old Burt and lead Mary,
and come down to the school house to give the children a ride home from
school. If he only brought one horse, then he would put Louella on in
front of him, and Shirley on behind.
Ray was quite a "mountain man." He knew every ridge, every hollow,
every mountain in the area of North Creek and Manderfield (also known as
Indian Creek). Whenever he went into the hills, he always had his
rifle with him, tied to his saddle. He was known as the provider of
deer meet for all the families of North Creek, which was about 12
families at that time. About once a month, winter or summer, he would
kill a deer and divide it among the community. Although it was against
the law even then to kill deer out of season, hunger of his family and
friends was more important. The game warden, Si Davis, tried very hard
to catch him in the act of killing a deer, but Ray was always one jump
ahead of him. When Si started threatening him, Ray said, "Si, if you
ever get that close to me, I will have my sights on you, and you had
better look the other way." Si took him seriously and didn't both Ray
any more.
There was a mountain lion in the hills that was known as "Old
Scar-Foot." It would come down and kill cattle and sheep, and the
community was anxious to get rid of it. Someone had gotten a shot at it
once and taken off one of its toes, and that was how it got its name.
Ray had a very fine riding horse, and he kept it enclosed in the pasture
around the shed. This pasture had a net wire fence all around it, with
some barb wire on the top of the fence. This mare had a four-month old
colt, and one day Ray went out to do his chores and was surprised to
see the mare and colt outside the pasture. Upon coming closer, he could
see that the colt had gotten tangled in the barbed wire and been cut
very badly. It's wind pipe had a hole in it, and he could hear the air
going in and out of that hole. Edith called some of Ray's friends to
come and help him, and they told him that it was no use to try to save
that colt and he should put it out of its misery. However, Ray was
determined to keep it alive if at all possible. He sewed up the hole in
the windpipe and stopped the arteries from bleeding, then cut away the
torn flesh and then with a big needle and fishing line he tried to
stretch the skin back over the injury. Too much of the skin was missing
to cover the wound. He tore up bed sheets and wrapped them around the
colts neck and down between its legs. He had some black oil which he
kept on hand to doctor animals on such occasions, and he poured this on
the cut. The colt lived and grew to be a good sized mare. It could be
ridden, but it would tire easily because of its former injuries. They
called this colt "Net" because of the net wire fence that had cut the
colt.
It had taken all day and most of the night to care for the colt, but Ray
and his friends left the next morning to pick up the track of the
mountain lion, Old Scar Foot. That mountain lion had leaped onto the
colt's back and left big scratches on her. She had evidently run into
the fence and that had thrown the lion off her back, and that was why
she got so badly cut up. The men tracked the lion up through the cedars
and up on Black Mountain. They had no trouble following the track
because of the missing toes.
Old Scar Foot was pretty smart. He seemed to know what to do to lose
his pursuers. He would go in a circle and go right back over the same
path where he had been before, until he was following those who thought
they were following him. That was why he had never been killed before.
He was too tricky. The men with Ray had their rifles and their dogs,
and they had to keep a sharp lookout to make sure that the lion wasn't
up on a ledge above them, ready to pounce. After making a circle, going
over the same path, Ray suggested that they put two men off to one side
and the others would continue following the tracks. Ray wanted to be
the one to get revenge on the lion for what it had done to his colt, so
he and Harry selected a spot and waited for an hour or two. It was very
cold, the wind was blowing and it started to snow. Just when they had
about decided that the lion must have gotten their scent, or that the
lion could count noses (there were now only three men following it), the
dog became nervous and started to growl. In a few minutes, here came
the cougar. It wasn't on the exact trail that it had been on before,
but it was a ways off. Finally the lion got into a bare spot of ground
which was a little higher than the scrub oak and brush in the area.
This was Scar-Foot's fatal mistake. Ray got a good shot, and Scar-Foot
dropped in his tracks. Ray gave a war whoop for he had gotten his revenge.
It was a large mountain lion about 10 feet from tip to tail. After
quite an effort, they finally got it loaded onto a gentle horse named
Burt. When they rode into North Creek, everyone turned out to
celebrate. Their worries were over now.
During his short life, Ray was assistant superintendent to the Sunday
School under Harry Green, and he was first counselor in the MIA, also
under Harry. Ray was evidently baptized in 1889, but perhaps there was
no record kept. At any rate, he was re-baptized on May 5, 1903, the day
before he and Edith were married. Just one year before his death, Ray was ordained by
John F. McGregor to be the Presiding Elder (Branch President) in North
Creek. He was a very well respected man and was liked by all. He was
fair in all his dealings and always tried to make others happy. He was
also a good step dancer and had learned to play the guitar. He would
sing for people if they coaxed him and had quite a good voice.
In the fall of 1917, Ray helped his neighbors thresh their grain. When
they had finished in North Creek, the threshing machine moved on to the
next town and Ray was hired to go along and help. When they were
threshing in Manderfield, he was stricken with a terrible abdominal
pain. He got on his horse to ride home, but before he reached home the
pain became so bad that he could not ride any longer, and had to get off
and walk. His sons saw him coming through the field, nearly bent
double with the pain, but he did not tell them that he was sick. He had
walked four miles with that terrible pain. He went to bed, and the
next morning, he and Edith went into Beaver to see the doctor and to buy
her a new center table. They bought the table, and while he was in
town he ordered a new Ford car, the first one to come into Beaver. How
thrilled he was to tell his anxious boys about this car, but it was not
to be. The hard-earned money had to be used for funeral expenses. He
evidently had appendicitis, but the doctors didn't know what it was, and
on that Saturday the appendix ruptured. The following day, his stomach
began to turn dark. Gangrene had set in. They split open a live
chicken and placed it over his stomach to relieve the pain. The doctor
came and stayed the entire time. Raymond was allowed to remain up that
night until his father passed away, which was about 4:00 a.m. Edith
completely collapsed and the doctor had to work with her for some time.
Ray was conscious until the end. He signed some papers and knew the
end was near. Shirley remembered that he called all the children in and
told them to be good to their mother, to mind her and help her out,
which they all tearfully promised to do. The Elders knelt in prayer and
prayed that if it must be God's will, that he might be taken to relieve
him of his suffering. Then his pains relaxed, he gripped Raymond's
hand and a little smile came over his face. He closed the grayish blue
eyes and it was the end. They put quarters over his eyes to keep them
shut, and packed him in ice. This was November 11, 1917. He was
buried in the Beaver cemetery. It was said that his was the largest
funeral held in Beaver up till that time.
Not long before this, Ray and his son Raymond had gone to the cemetery
to clean Ray's mother's grave site (she had died in July of 1917).
While they were doing this, Ray must have had some kind of premonition,
for he said with tears in his eyes, "I wonder how long it will be before
you will be doing this for me?" Six months later, Harry Green and
Raymond were doing it for him. At the time of his death, Ray was only
37 years old. His son, Raymond was 13, Shirley was 11, Louella was 8,
Loretta was 4, Vyron was 2, and baby Nola was only six months old.
Typed Feb. 1990 by Edith Baker
Sources:
1) History of Daniel Ray Baker and Edith Sylvia Twitchell, typed by
Elda Baker, told by D. Shirley Baker.
2) History of Daniel Ray Baker by Raymond Baker in 1957, added to by
Johanna Baker in 1961.
3) Tape recording made by Shirley Baker in 1973
4) Tape recording made by Shirley Baker in 1989
5) Tape recording made by Vyron Baker in 1989
6) Personal interview with Nola Baker Morris, daughter of Ray and
Sylvia, Feb 27, 1990.
7) Tape recording made by Nola Baker Morris, 1990
Edith Sylvia Twitchell
Edith Sylvia Twitchell was born February 12, 1885 in Beaver, Utah. She
was the daughter of William Ancil Twitchell and Ruth Greenwood. Not
much is known of her childhood. She was baptized August 8, 1893, at the
age of eight by Willis Twitchell, and was confirmed by James Twitchell,
cousins of hers. She went by the name Sylvia, and was known to most
people as "Aunt Sylv."
Sylvia met Daniel Ray Baker, who was from Beaver, when they were both
fishing the same stream. They continued to meet and fish together, and
Ray would give her some fish to take home. When Sylvia's father found
out what was going on, he was not very happy. He had planned for his
daughter to marry Glen Marchant who had quite a bit of money. But
Sylvia knew who she liked, and she continued to see Ray. It was not
long before they were engaged, and then they traveled to Manti to be
married in the temple on May 6, 1903.
As a new bride, Sylvia worked as a cook at the sulphur mine nearby
(Sulfur Dell, between Cove Fort and Beaver), in order to help her
husband save enough money to buy a 33-acre farm in Northcreek. They
moved onto that farm, and there she bore six beautiful children, all of
whom lived to a ripe old age. Not one child from this marriage was lost
in childbirth, which was fairly rare for those days.
Sylvia was a proud woman and would not ask anyone for help. She was
very patient and treated everyone fairly and taught her children to be
honest, fair, and just. On one occasion, two of her sons, Raymond and
Shirley, stole some eggs, and she made them take the eggs back and
apologize to the owner. Sylvia liked the out-of-doors and she loved to
shoot the gun. She would shoot hoot owls from the top of the derrick if
she thought they were after her chickens or turkeys. She could shoot
better than most of the children, using Ray's rifle that he had
purchased before he died. She opened her home to everyone and made them
feel welcome.
Sylvia was a nurse and a midwife to all of Northcreek, delivering babies
and caring for the sick, often receiving very little money in return,
and sometimes very little thanks. Sometimes she would be gone for two
or three days nursing the sick, or she would sometimes bring them into
her own home so that she could care for her own family as well as the
sick person.
Sylvia always had a large, well cared for garden, one of the best in the
area. She was a good cook and did a lot of canning at harvest time,
including deer meat and chickens. The deer meat was canned in a big
copper boiler which would hold 20 quart jars. This meat had to be
boiled for 4 hours (they didn't have pressure cookers then). She heated
all her hot water for laundry or bathing on the stove also. Her son
Shirley remembered that his mother would get out and help the children
do their chores, milking the cows and working in the fields right along
with them.
After only fourteen years of marriage, Sylvia was left a widow at the
age of 32. Her husband died of a ruptured appendix, which the doctors
did not understand, calling it inflammation of the bowels. This was
during the harvest season of 1917. Now Sylvia was left to raise her
children (the oldest of whom was 13 and the youngest was 6 months old),
and to run the farm by herself. The neighbors were very good to help
with the big projects like haying, etc., but it was still a very heavy
burden. She taught her children to work hard and soon the older ones
were able to get jobs to help out. They would all get up early in the
morning before school to do the chores and separate the milk (taking the
cream out of it), and then they had to haul the milk to town with the
horse and buggy. Often her brother Will would pass them by in his car
and not even offer to help them. This is mentioned, not to discredit
Will, as he was in many ways a fine person, but only for the sake of
portraying some of the sorrows that Sylvia felt.
The family also had to stockpile enough wood to last them for the
winter. They would go into the hills where Sylvia would chop the trees
down, and the boys would drag the wood and chop it into smaller pieces
to use. The girls learned to help their mother, and they particularly
hated the job of scrubbing the week's worth of socks on the scrubbing
board. After they had been scrubbed and rinsed, they were hung out on
the barbed wire fence to dry. Laundry was a major project for them,
taking up the major part of a whole day each week. Sylvia made her own
soap in the large bathtub, and it was used for all cleaning projects.
After a few years, Sylvia purchased a Maytag washer, which proved to be a
great blessing to the family.
Vyron remembered that when he was still very small, his mother stood him
up in front of her as she was mowing hay. After a few turns around the
field, she said, "Let's see if you can do it." He tried it and did
pretty well, so she left him to it, which made him feel very important.
His legs were not strong enough to push the lever to lift the blade on
the turns, but he tried. She watched him from a distance, and as he
seemed to do all right, that became his job from then on.
When Luella was about 13, Sylvia was making eight loaves of bread every
other day, and she thought Luella was getting old enough to start making
bread. Luella didn't want to, and said so. So one day Sylvia came up
behind her and got hold of her hands and pushed them right down in the
bread dough, and after that Luella took her turn mixing the bread.
Another big job that had to be done was separating the milk from the
cream. They had a cream separator, and each day after they were through
with it, Sylvia insisted that it be taken apart, washed thoroughly, and
all the disks scalded and dried. There were about 35-50 disks, and it
was a terrible job. One time Sylvia was turning the separator, and she
passed out. They figured that she must have had a slight heart attack.
After that Shirley started helping with the separating. The milkman
came and picked up the cream once or twice a week, and later when they
sold milk he would come and pick it up every day. Sylvia would make a
weekly trip to Beaver with her milk money to buy groceries and things that
they couldn't raise on the farm. The grocery man would always give her a
bag of candy to take home to the kids.
One time Sylvia was talking on the telephone to someone, and she was
looking out of the window watching a thunderstorm over to the west. She
said, "Oh, I wish that storm would come over our way, we sure do need
it." Almost as if in answer to her plea, the lightning evidently struck
the telephone wire, because she dropped over unconscious. It scared
the kids terribly, but she did finally come to all right.
Luella remembered that after Ray's death, Sylvia had a visitor by the
name of Zote Manhard. He evidently thought he wanted to court the
widow, but she wanted nothing to do with him. She told Luella that
whenever that man came around, she wanted Luella to stay right with her
and not go anywhere. So Luella developed a mistrust of anyone who might
want to court her mother.
One of the neighbors who proved to be quite helpful to the struggling
family was a man named Henry Percy Green, usually known as Harry. He
lived on the farm next to the Bakers, and he had lost his wife and child
in childbirth. He helped out a lot, and five years after Ray's death,
he proposed to Sylvia that they get married so that he could better help
her care for her children. After consulting with the children, it was
agreed, and they were married in the Salt Lake Temple for time (in
other words, for this life only, as she was already sealed to Ray
Baker), on October 5, 1922. During that trip to the temple, Sylvia was
proxy for Harry's first wife so that they could be sealed together. The
children all loved Harry and respected him highly, and they were glad
to have someone to relieve their mother of the great burden she had been
bearing. She had often had to get up in the middle of the night to do
the irrigating, which Harry could now do.
In 1923, Sylvia and Harry were expecting a baby, and when it came time
for the birth they sent for the doctor. Vyron and Nola were sent
outside to the end of the lane to watch for the doctor so that he would
be sure to find their house, as it was night time. They were scared to
death to be out in the dark like that, being only six and eight years
old, but they did it as they were told as it was their duty. The doctor
took his time to get there, and the baby had laid in the birth canal so
long that it was stillborn, a lovely little girl. Aunt Florence and Aunt
Evelyn were there, and they worked over the baby for a long time to try
to get her to breathe, but they had to give up. Sylvia had made a
beautiful layette while she was expecting, and now that she didn't need
it, she gave the baby clothes to Edna and Victor Crosby who were
expecting a baby and having a hard time making ends meet. Sylvia buried
her little girl in a beautiful pink dress that two of her friends had
tatted for her. Harry was heartbroken over this turn of events, as he
had already buried a wife and child. He was probably afraid that Sylvia
might die, too, and Nola remembered how sad it was to see Harry weeping
like a child. They never saw him cry at any other time.
Sylvia was a woman of great faith. She prayed for her children often,
and served as a Sunday School teacher and as President of the Primary in
the Northcreek Branch. Vyron remembered that as a young teenager, he
and a friend tried to make some malt whiskey. They made the mistake of
sharing their secret with Shirley, who went home and told Harry. Harry
told Sylvia, and she marched the boys down to their hiding place and
poured out every bottle onto the ground.
Sylvia always answered the children's questions about their father, and
if they didn't ask, she would talk about him. Because of this, even the
children who were too little to remember their father often felt that
they knew him and that he was by their side when they had difficult
decisions to make.
Every year on Memorial Day, Sylvia would make a pilgrimage to the Beaver
Cemetery. She would spend a lot of time previous to that day, making
flowers out of crepe paper, and then she would send the children out to
gather whatever flowers they could find; yellow roses from the orchard,
and such things as Indian paint brush, sego lilies, and buttercups from
the hillsides. They would have many tubs of flowers, and would go all
over the cemetery with their remembrances for their relatives and
friends who had passed on. Vyron remembered that it took all day to do
this, and he would get tired of hauling tubs of flowers. It made enough
of an impression on Nola, that she continued to do the same thing even
after her mother had passed away.
Sylvia almost always made a cake for the Sunday afternoon community
gatherings which were often at her home. No wonder the neighbors and
relatives liked to come there! She also often made homemade ice cream
as a treat for the children, since they always had plenty of milk and
cream. Nola remembered how they did it: Combine 6 eggs, 1-2 cups
flour, 3 cups sugar, some lemon and vanilla flavoring, and cook as a
custard. Cool, add cream, and then freeze it in the ice cream freezer.
This freezer was turned by hand. They got the ice for the freezer from
the ice house. Large blocks of ice were cut from ponds in the winter,
and then stored in the ice house with sawdust. These blocks were hauled
in a wagon and distributed to the various homes during the warmer
months. The rock salt they used in the freezer was some of the rock
salt that they had for their cattle to lick. It required a two-day trip
to Elsinore to get a load of this rock salt.
Sylvia and Harry sold some of their cattle in order to help send their
children to the BYU in Provo. Just before Shirley went to college, he
had appendicitis, and his appendix ruptured. He had to be in the
hospital, and Sylvia was beside herself, wondering how she was going to
pay this bill. Vyron had been working at various odd jobs, and had
saved up $30, which was a lot of money for a teenage boy at that time.
He gladly gave his money to help pay for Shirley's operation, and never
regretted doing it.
It was while her oldest children were attending the Brigham Young
University that Sylvia's health began to fail. She evidently had a
tumor of the uterus. She had been sending her students food and money
whenever she could in order to help them out. Shirley came home from
school that summer, but Raymond was married and he was living in Thistle
where he had been teaching school. In one of the last letters written
to Raymond, she stated, "If all is wrong that they say, then there won't
be much left."
Sylvia was taken to the hospital in Milford to have a hysterectomy and
appendectomy. Vyron was out working in the field when she left, and he
waved good-bye to her, and regretted ever after that he had not gone
into the house to tell her good-bye and to tell her how much he loved
her. She died the third day after the surgery. Vyron and the three
girls had gone to the hospital to visit her that third day. They could
tell that she was dying. Vyron went in first. He squeezed her hand and
pretty soon she opened her eyes. They were glazed, but she recognized
him and said, "Oh, my son." He wanted to tell her that he was sorry
that he had not told her of his love on the day she had left home for
the hospital, but he did not get a chance. She told him of her love for
him and what she wanted him to do; to keep himself clean in the eyes of
the Lord, to love the Lord and his family. Then she closed her eyes and
said no more. Then the girls went in to see her, and she said about
the same thing to them. The people at the hospital told the children
that their mother was doing all right and that they could go home. So
they went home with misgivings. Then the hospital called and told them
that their mother had taken a turn for the worse, and they better come.
Harry had not gone earlier because he had been busy in the fields, but
this time he and Luella jumped in the car, and Harry drove like fury to
that hospital. But when they arrived, Sylvia had already passed away
and they didn't get to see her. Shirley evidently went back with Harry
later to obtain her body from the hospital, and she was brought to the
home in Northcreek where the viewing was held. Luella was 21 years old
at the time and, being the oldest girl, she was not only heartbroken at
the loss of her mother, but she also felt the heavy weight of
responsibility for the younger children. She was so overwrought that
she passed out at the cemetery. This frightened Nola very badly, and
she was afraid that Luella was going to die, too.
Sylvia was buried in the Beaver cemetery next to her first husband. She
was 45 years old at the time of her death, and although her children
mourned her passing greatly, they took some comfort in knowing that she
would be reunited with their father again. As Vyron later said, "It was
just a promotion from this life to the next."
Four of Edith Sylvia's children with her mother, Ruth Ann Greenwood Twitchell. L to R are Vyron, Sylvia Luella, Nola, and Loretta
As something of a postscript to Sylvia's life, I will add something that
happened after she had passed away that indicates the continued
interest she had for her children, although she was no longer with them.
In 1933, three years after her passing, her daughter Loretta fell off a
horse and broke her neck. The doctor did not expect her to live until
the next day and sent her home. She did live, and had a cast put on her
neck, and was in bed for several months and finally recuperated. On
the second night after the accident, Sylvia appeared to Loretta.
Loretta wanted to get up and go to her, but could not get out of the
bed. She said to her mother, "Come over to me," but Sylvia replied that
she could not. Then Loretta said, "Then I will come to you." Sylvia
then said, "No, you can not come over to me yet." By this, Loretta knew
that she was not going to die at this time. What a wonderful
manifestation! Those on the other side must be very concerned with our
welfare.
Typed by Edith Baker, Feb. 1990
Sources:
1) History by Johanna Baker
2) History by Shirley Baker
3) Tape recording made by Vyron Baker, 1989 and 1990
4) Tape recording made by Luella, Loretta, and Nola, 1989
5) Tape recording made by Shirley Baker, 1989
6) Tape recording made by Shirley Baker, 1973
7) Family group records
8) Personal interview with Nola Baker Morris, 1990
9) Tape recording made by Nola Baker Morris, 1990
10) Tape recording made by Loretta Baker Evans, 1990
Henry Percy Green (Harry) Step-father to the Baker children
Harry Green with his father and other family members. He is the second from the left.
Henry Percy Green, born October 25, 1884 in London, England and came to the United States at the age of three years with his parents. He was known to us as Harry.
As told by Harry Green to Raymond Baker: John Green was married to his first wife, Ellen Danbury, in England, July 26, 1870. We came to the United States at the age of three, lived in Bluffdale, Utah one year and moved with parents to Beaver, Utah. At the age of fifteen went to Manilla, Utah, with two other friends with team and buckboard, snowed in for three days on the mountain between Vernal and Lucern Valley. Food was scarce, however, we managed to locate an old sawmill where we found food for the horses and were able to kill three snowshoe rabbits. The third day a four-horse outfit came, broke the trail and we came on through. Came back to Beaver to work on farms in summer and in the mines during the winter months. Went to Twin Falls, Idaho, with team and wagon when I was 19 and worked on canals one year. Was baptized in Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and started to farm and raise livestock. I filed on Blue Lake Reservoir for the North Creek Irrigation Company and was overseer of the building of the dam. Served on the Board of Directors for twenty years. Was president of the North Creek Cattle Association for several years.
Henry Percy Green married Oweneva Grover, June 1919 (Civil Marriage). Oweneva was born May 23, 1899 at Nephi, Utah. Died at North Creek Dec. 12, 1919, buried at Beaver. Born to Harry and Oweneva Green, a daughter Oweneva and died the same day Dec. 12, 1919. Was buried with her mother, same casket in her mothe's arms.
Henry Percy Green living neighbors to our family seemed to more or less come into our family and was constantly helping and caring for us as only a father could. He and mother were united in marriage Oct. 22, 1922. To this union a daughter, Winona, was born and she too passed away soon after birth, May 21, 1925.
(Raymond) I personally felt that being as Mother was so intent that her children go to college was one reason why she and Harry were married, so I could be relieved of responsibilities at home and attend the University. I wil never forget Harry and Mother getting me ready and taking me to town to catch the stage to Milford where Elmer Smith and I had to lay over one night. We had arrived too late to catch the train going to Provo. Yes, I needed a boost to leave home and Harry was there to give me the support. I had worked at a sawmill the preceding summer and worked at many jobs at the school, but it was Harry and my good Mother that gave me the means (cash) and desire to carry on. Yes, Harry came into our home and served as a FATHER because I was the oldest of six and I was only 13 when Dad died.
Yes, Harry was loved and respected by us all. He had been available so much to help us when we needed help on the farm, with the cattle, irrigation and all that goes with ranch life. Yet for a man to come into a family with six growing young people is to be admired for his courage. We loved him but I wonder if we respected his word as we should of done... I'm afraid not... yet he never complained, just kept in there pitching for us. I often wondered just what his reward for this sacrifice he was making for us, raising another man's family, would do or mean to him. Yet I don't remember of ever seeing him angry with any of us and the help, courage and determination he gave to our dear Mother in her trials and darker moments were or could not be measured... Harry's farm was so he could pay his obligations, then help with ours which he did freely. Yes, I received much help from them for which I am grateful and could not have remained in school without.
When Mother passed on in 1930, Harry was left with a young family, having raised a family now and saw or had the responsibility of four being married. I realize what must have been his worry as a foster father. Yes, each one did admire and respect him, but like all teenagers we sometimes became a little selfish and didn't appreciate good advice when given us, so I feel confident that he spent many sleepless hours wondering where his loved ones were and what should be done for their best interests. What a relief it must have been when all six were married to the right people. And that each was now to accept their own responsibilities of life and he could retire to his own little home and self again.
Yes, I am sure each of us Baker kids were made bigger and better in more ways than one because Harry Green chose to come into our lives. Now I am sure that each and every one of us would like to do something for him to show our appreciation to him for what he has done for us, if he would only come and spend time with each of us more. How happy we would be... but not Harry. Yes, he comes a few times each year and spends a night or so, but he is too independent to let anyone wait on him or to even think he might be intruding on anyone, he just has to be getting back to North Creek and to work.
Harry has always been a friend to everyone. I remember when the influenza epidemic was serious in North Creek. Harry and one or two others were the only well members to wait on the sick. Harry took care of Grandpa Twitchell's family, the Valentine families and others. Grandpa Twitchell says, "I don't know what we would of done without Harry. He came every day and cleaned up for us, cared for us, and went on his way to the next family." All were quarantined but Harry kept on just the same, going night and day to help someone else. I don't remember of ever hearing him angry or saying anything bad about anyone, but I have seen many come to him for advice which he always gave freely.
My earliest remembrances of Harry, Uncle Albert, his father and Edna was when they used to act as baby sitters for Shirley and myself. Yes, we would often go up and sleep with them while Mother and Dad went out. It fell my lot to sleep with Harry and Uncle Albert. There I was, each turned his back toward me - covers held high - and those husky men nearly raised the roof with their snoring... but they were the kind of neighbors always ready to help whenever they could.
Father and Harry used to hunt and fish a great deal, even taking me with them, riding behind one of them on horseback, camp over night. They always got their share plus of fish and game. They would kill a deer, bone it and tie it on the saddle in a couple of jackets and no one the wiser. One time they even tried putting ten and fifteen gallon wooden barrels of fish away in brine. I remember our disappointment when we had to dump them, nice pink Puffer Lake trout, into the pigs. I have always enjoyed hunting trips with Harry and he is one guy who will always give the other fellow the best of everything and take for himself what is left.
We love him as a father and hope we can do something to repay our gratitude to him. May his remaining days be full of happiness.
Harry Green passed away on March 22, 1958 in North Creek
