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Wallace, Emeline 1840-1924
Wallace, Etheldred 1782-1862
Wallace, Evans 1807-1864
Wessler, Walter V 1918-2001
West, Dennis K 1939-2001
Whalen, Louisa Ellen 1848-1933
White, Charles Allen 1857-1936
White, Charlotte Belle 1855-1920
White, Elijah Upton 1853-1881
White, Fannie Anne Elizabeth 1862-1943
White, Hezekiah 1824-1910
White, Laura 1853-1881
White, Leona Celeste 1857-1944
White, Mary Columbia 1851-1912
White, Mary Etta 1860-1884
White, Samuel David 1830-1913
White, Sarah M 1827-1900
White, William Allen 1829-
White, William Lawson 1801-1876
Wilcox, Erma J 1921-2001
Willard, Emma 1919-2000
Williams, Nancy Jane 1849-1935
Winegar, Ann M 1955-2001
Wride, Fern 1893-1983
Wright, Erma Ruth 1908-1995
William Taylor (1787-1839)

Heber James Taylor (1908-1965)
and Erma Ruth Wright (1908-1995)

Hyrum Heber Taylor was born September 17, 1883, in Mapleton, Idaho. He was the first child of Heber C. And Eliza (Baird) Taylor. Pheba Martin was born May 27, 1887, at Farr West, Weber County, Utah, to James and Lydia (Flint) Martin.

Hyrum Heber Taylor (known to many by Hy) and Pheba Martin were married October 24, 1904, in Salt Lake City and were sealed October 26, 1904 in the Salt Lake Temple. Three days after the wedding the packed what belongings they had in a covered wagon and moved to Mapleton, Franklin County, Idaho. They made their first home at the ranch of his father and mother, Heber C., and Eliza (Baird) Taylor. They lived in a log home in what is now known as Foster Creek. Life was very difficult and even necessities hard to obtain. They all worked hard to run the farm to obtain food and clothing.

On October 24, 1905, Lester Hyrum Taylor was born to the family. Two and a half years later another baby boy was welcomed to the happy family and give the name of Heber James Taylor. Heber James was named after his two Grandfathers, Heber C. Taylor and James Martin. He was born on May 9, 1908. Heber was blessed with a sunny, friendly disposition. He was given good sound teachings from his earliest years by his parents, who were both of pioneer stock, and consequently very industrious and thrifty. In his youth, Heber learned the value of hard work and was given the opportunity to put what he learned to good use. His mother said that when Heber and his older brother, Lester, were just small boys, they could throw a harness on a horse and have him ready for the fields as soon as a grown-up.

On July 4, 1910, the family was blessed with a baby girl. She was given the name of Luella Pearl Taylor. Later that same fall, the farm was sold to the Woolleys so the Taylor family moved to Plain City, Utah, where they purchased a farm. It was a constant struggle and took the combined efforts of parents and children to make farming a success. They struggled for about 10 years and decided to move back to Mapleton, Idaho, where they purchased the old home from Jacob and Dick Choles who had since bought it from the Woolleys.

On Dec 24, 1920, they welcomed another baby girl. They named her Ada. The family was growing and lots more work to be done. They kept giving it their all, each one doing their part. November 8, 1932, the last child arrived to the family. They named her Mabel.

Hyrum was a good farmer and always kept quite a few horses. He owned a horse-powered threshing machine, and one fall while greasing the machine, the belt caught the sleeve of his jacket, pulling it and his hand into the cogs. The fingers on his right hand were mashed and as a result, he lost his fingers. (By the time I was 8 or 9, I remember he always kept his right hand wrapped and I was fascinated that he could tie his shoe laces with one hand as fast as I could with two.) I never heard him complain; of course, he was challenged to do some of the farm work after the accident, but was always willing to do what he could.

Grandma Pheba was always busy cooking for farm hands and canning all types of fruits and vegetables and making jams and jellies. Young people loved to visit together at each others’ homes. They often congregated at the Taylor where they enjoyed the ice cream Grandma Taylor served. You could usually depend on recreation of some type held in the ward or an adjoining ward and would usually find Heber in the group. He loved to dance and many were the good old dances held in Mapleton.

Heber James Taylor married Erma Ruth Wright, the daughter of Lorenzo Mitchell and Sylvia (Woolf) Wright. Erma Ruth Wright was born August 14, 1908 at West Jordan, Utah. Soon after, the family moved to Riverdale, Idaho. Erma attended school at Riverdale, Idaho, and completed the eighth grade. Heber attended school in Mapleton, and completed the eighth grade. To graduate, it was necessary to take an exam in Preston, Idaho. Heber rode a horse from Mapleton and Erma rode a horse from Riverdal to Preston to take the exam. This was the first meeting of this couple.

Erma’s family moved from Riverdale to Mapleton in 1924. Heber and Erma both being active in the ward, saw each other at Sunday School, Mutual and other ward socials. This started their courtship and on September 21, 1933, they were married in the Logan, Utah, Temple. Their first home was a small two-room log house located up Foster Creek. They were blessed with their first son, Blaine H. Taylor, on July 24, 1934. They continued to live on the Taylor farm and doing the necessary work the best they could with what they had. Horse-drawn farm equipment, and a pick, shovel, and ax.

On August 21, 1936, a set of twins was born, Ronald W. and Connie Taylor.

The family later moved to Erma’s parents where Clair J. Taylor was born on March 30, 1939. About 1945 they built a home of their own. A basement house along the Cub River road. We had no running water so we carried water from a spring located below the house. We had no electricity so we used coal oil lamps, and, of course, no indoor plumbing. We were poor, but at least us kids didn’t realize it. We worked hard, but thought that wa a way of life for all. ---

Glenn W. Taylor was born while we lived in the basement house. His birthday is May 18, 1945.

The old Taylor home burned down in about 1937. A new home was built on the lower part of the farm, closer to the main road. This is where Hyrum and Pheba spent the remainder of their years together. Hyrum was killed in an auto accident September 12, 1945. After Grandpa Hyrum’s death, Grandma Pheba continued to live in their home until about 1955 at which time she sold it to Heber and Erma. She moved to Preston to work, taking care of the needs of elderly people. She bought a small home in Preston where she lived until her death – May 2, 1964.

Heber and Erma were good parents and were active members in the church. Heber served as President of the Elders Quorum, Superintendent of the Sunday School. On September 14, 1956, he was called to serve as Second Counselor in the Bishopric with Woodrow Porter. He also held the position of Ward Clerk until health problems forced him to quit.

Heber was known by many as “Heb”, he was a hard worker. He worked for his father on the farm and then on his farm. He also worked at the Sugar Factory in Whitney each Fall for many years. He also worked for Utah Power and Light Co., in Logan Canyon to help supplement the farm income. His job there was walking and maintaining the old wooden flume that carried water down the canyon. I remember him bringing home rattles that he had cut off rattlesnakes while walking his route . . . One day he located a fire near the flume and burned his hands quite bad trying to put it out. He was hospitalized about a week for treatment of his burns. He hated being there; he said he didn’t even like the nurses.

Heber had a great love of animals and the beautiful canyon of Cub River where he spent his entire life. He was a great Father and loved his family. . . He died April 13, 1965 in Dixon, California, at the home of Erma’s brother, Lyman Wright . . . He is buried in the Preston Cemetery.

Erma was an excellent cook. She has on many occasions fixed a big dinner for unexpected company in a very short time. Her bread and cakes were always delicious. . . She was a dedicated wife and mother as well as a good daughter to her parents, always concerned about their needs. In her mother’s declining years, Erma and Heber took her mother into their home to live and receive the care she needed. Erma worked in the primary, she pieced many quiles for the Relief Society. She loved to crochet and made many afghans for family and friends. In her later years, Erma became stabled and unable to live alone so she spent her last three years in the nursing home in Preston. She died on March 25, 1995. She is buried in the Preston, Idaho, Cemetery beside Heber.

Part of the farm was sold, but the remainder is still owned by the members of the Taylor Family including the home that Grandpa Hyrum and Grandma Pheba built in 1939. They started digging the basement for it the day Clair j. Taylor was born (March 30, 1939).

The place is located on Foster Creek Road in Mapleton, Idaho (also known as Cub River). Anyone interested is welcome to stop by if you so desire.

Blaine H. Taylor . . . . Deceased . . . November 30, 1990
Ronald W. Taylor . . . Deceased . . . June 19, 1998
Clair J. Taylor . . . . . . Deceased . . . February 22, 2004

Compiled and written by Connie T. Burnett, June 2004

My dad was a farmer. He died this morning. He was almost 90 years old. All his life he had his feet planted on the land. He was spent and tired and worn, but in my memory, I see him when he was young and vigorous, striding purposefully over his beloved acres.

Those acres were small and he cherished every foot of them. He was a conserver of land. Not for him the torn-out fence rows, with crops marching to the road edge with nary a bush or tree.

“Where would the birds live if you tore that all out?” he would ask. “Where would the songs come from? What about God’s other small creatures? Would you take away their places to live and hide?”

While other farmers cut down trees, my dad planted them. “We need shade and breeze,” he would say, wiping his brow with the back of his arm. “Besides, trees bring the rain.” Hundreds of trees he planted, hand-digging the holes, tenderly placing the small trees in, patting down the earth and nourishing them to grow tall, their shade a canopy of blessing in the summer heat.

My dad was not like the big important livestock farmers, with hundreds of animals, each a faceless creature, a number in a record book. Each of dad’s animals was precious, because their few numbers and survival meant the difference between bread and nothing.

So carefully would he keep track of gestation periods, writing them down on the calendar by the kitchen door! And when the time came, my dad was there: kneeling in the fresh straw, encouraging each of the birthing animals.

Every new pig that came, he fought to save. If need be, any piglet that required care ended up in a box by the kitchen stove, tended and fed until strong enough to return to the litter.

My dad died this morning, and I can just see him now, walking through the Pearly Gates, appraising them and returning to St. Peter and saying, “The gates, St. Peter. See the one on the left? See how it’s just a little uneven on this side? If you’ll just show me where you keep your tools, I’ll get that fixed up, all right and proper and hanging straight.

“I like to be busy, and I really love animals. You wouldn’t have any calves that need to be taken care of? Any colts to feed, any baby pigs that need a little attention? I’ll be glad to help you out.”

And when my dad approaches the Heavenly throne, I can almost hear the conversation. “You’ve got a truly beautiful spot here, God. You’ve really done a grand job. I expect it take a lot of work to keep this up. It’s none of my business, but, see that one tree over there? See how it’s leaning? I could prune that up just a little, set a pole to keep it straight.

“Can I adjust a star, or hang the sun, or sweep the clouds around, or stir up a breeze and bring the sweet rain for some poor, needy farmer? You see, Lord, I’m used to being busy and I need a job.

“And Lord, just one more thing. Do you think you could see your way clear to let me have a field of good earth? That wonderful, mellow, dark, sweet earth? Just a little field. A little spot of earth where I can plant me some corn and see those rows coming up all straight and tall, just a wavin’ in the springtime breeze, curving down beyond that rolling hill, right over there.”

-- Phyllis Volkens