Autobiography
I was born on the 13th day of February 1816, in the town of Mount Holly, Rutland County, Vermont. My father was Calvin Richardson. He was a surgeon in the Revolutionary Army. My mother’s name was Mindwell Barrett. After living with my father until of age, I started for the west. I stopped off at Washington County, New York, where I married Mary Darrow 2 August 1840. Then I moved back to Vermont where myself and wife were united with the Presbyterian Church. Since my father’s family was of the Baptist and Methodist faiths, ill feeling and persecutions arose and grew to the extent that I could no longer live in peace. Therefore, I moved to Cannelton, Perry County, Indiana, where I lived five years, spending much time and money building up and promoting what I believed to be religion. As I was trustee, much of the work fell upon my shoulders. In a word, I was like Paul, a Pharisee, living according to rigid sectarianism, but still looking for light and truth.
At last I united with a colony and started for Oregon. Money began to fail so I joined my brother-in-law in one wagon. After being out some time, division began to arise, so at last at Independence Rock, I bought me a wagon. But my cattle were weak from alkali and everything seemed against me. I kept on to the big Sandy River however where my best ox died. I was obliged to leave friends and everyone I ever saw and turn toward Salt Lake, on account of the state of my team.
We were twenty-seven days going one hundred and sixty miles. We were all alone all the time, except as we met someone now and then. We saw bodies of men that had been murdered by Indians, and we were surrounded by grizzly bears when we camped on the side of the mountain at night. But the hand of God was over us, and we arrived safely in Salt Lake City. My wife remarked that it was like Job’s captivity turning when he prayed for his friends, for our fortune turned when we turned.
Although we knew nothing of the Mormons except the false reports in circulation, we thought we might live with them for one winter. We soon began to feel the spirit of inquiry, and the consequence was that myself and wife were baptized by Ralph Thompson on the 3rd of October, 1853. In December, I was sent to Sanpete, and on 11 February, 1954, I was ordained an Apostle of the Seventies under the hand of Nelson Higgins. I was re-baptized, and on 11 February 1854 and in 1857 I paid $168.00 into the [Perpetual] Emigration Fund.
Thus far my faith has been firm in Mormonism. I know it is true and am satisfied to remain in it, which I pray may ever be the case.
— (signed) Edmund Richardson
An Account by Charles Edmund Richardson
My father told often of his early life in Vermont. They were very poor, his father being a hunter of game, rather than the head of the family. But when my father and his brothers came to manhood, things began to be financially better. The boys planted crops of potatoes and were generally successful with their farming. The best of all was that he grew up with very strict ideas of honor and integrity. He was a good father to Sullie and me. He has taken me in his arms dozens of times, telling me that he thanked the Lord for me. He never chastised, even when it seemed he ought to do so, but contented himself with a verbal chastising.
For instance he always kept a keg of whiskey under the bed. At one corner of the room under the further corner of the bed, there was a “Cat hole.” My brother George commenced to throw his saddles, straps and other boyish treasures under the bed, and while there rummaging among his things could draw a pint cupful of whiskey and shove it out to some of his pals outside. He would then come out and go down into the willows and drink it. One time my father happened to be outside and saw the cupful handed out. When he saw George come out, knowing the conditions as given, he only said, “George, you are a whale to drink whiskey.”
He loved my mother with unfeigned love, and was never tired of making things or doing all possible for her comfort. He made an arm chair with the back carved exactly to fit her shoulders. His devotion to my “stately mother,” as she was lately called by one who knew her, was unlimited.
Not long after the birth of my brother, Sullie, 26th of January 1861, my parents moved back to Springville, Utah County. My parents had two older children who had been born in the states, previous to my parents having heard the true Gospel. Their names were Emma Lynette, born 30 October 1841, in New York; and George Alvin, born 4 September, 1846. Father, mother, and sister Emma appear in an old manual—a record of the East Hebron Presbyterian Church.
Letters to the Family
(Note: The first four letters below were copied from originals in the hands of May Hatfield and Daisy Kelly, Springville, Utah, Edited by Lola Harm).
Father ran a tannery, a grist mill, farmed, and anything else he could find to do to keep his family. He soon became interested in mining. February 2, 1874, Sullie went over to father in Dragon Hollow. I was in Springville and sent him the following letter:
Springville, Utah
Feb. 2, 1874
Dear Father:
Sullie thinks he will come over as he has got tired to school. Evans begins another quarter today and I do not now whether to start to school or come over there. You must write and tell me what to do, and what chance there is to get work over there. I paid the taxes out of that money you sent me over and got Sullie some boots. The goods have not come yet, and some think they will never come. But I guess they will get here some day. My shirt got so ragged that I had to get some cloth and Emma made it for me. There is not much news to write. Kindred died the other day and was buried. Erastus Jabez and Susan Kendall got married the other day and are now happy. I guess Sullie can tell you the rest.
From your loving son,
Charles E. Richardson
Dear Son:
I don’t want you to be a teacher in school; if you go to Mr. Evans, attend to your own studies unless he pays you for it. My foot is lame yet. I want a pair of sox. Please send with that thirty-five and get me that pistol I wanted.
(Note: An Eastern company offered orders of goods for 25 [cents] with the order and one dollar when the goods arrived, so these were sent as orders to Emma as agent. The twenty-five cents went, but the order never came back. Evidently this letter was dictated by Edmund to his son, Charles Edmund. The S.C.R. is Sullie, Lynette is their older sister, Emma Lynette, and John is her husband, John Conover. —Lola Harms)
Dear Sisters and Brothers:
Pa says he will take a pair of boots No. eights, some flannel for shirts, 11 yards; hickory shirts 6 yards; Kentucky jeans 10 yards; coat lining for S.C.R., 1 pair galluses for S.C. R.; 1 hat for S.C.R. I sent measure. If there is any left, get it in tea and tobacco.
E. Richardson
Pa sends five dollars to help out.
Lynette:
I want you should copy this off so John shall understand it. Edmund can send for his. Dear children and grandchildren I send my love and respects to all of you, and wishing you health and prosperity.
E. Richardson.
Father worked in a tunnel of his own two or three days and about the 20th of March caught a cold. I walked over to Diamond City for some pain killer for him, and then at the instance of Dr. Wing over to Eureka. Sullie was with us then. When I saw that he was very sick, I walked down to Silver City and telegraphed to Springville for John and Emma.
Deseret Telegraph Co. Silver City, 24-1874
To: John Conover
Springville, Utah
Father is very sick come if you want to see hi alive. Paid.
C.E. Richardson
During his sickness of one week, Sullie and I [Charles] were his only nurses. And as Sullie was too young he could not stay awake. I passed a part of the week when he was the worst with only a few hours sleep. John came over in the night in a wagon, and was there a short time before my father’s death, which occurred while Sullie and I and a stranger were with him.
Dragon, 25 March 1874.
Dear Sister:
We are all here. John got here alright but pretty tired. Pa is pretty bad yet, but I think he will come out alright again. He does not eat much. Dr. Wing is doctoring him. John is going over to Eureka to get some medicine. Pa wishes all the time he was over there and says he is going over there as soon as he can get well enough. I cannot write much this time, but I will write again pretty soon. John says he will not be over till Pa gets better and he can fetch him over so you must get along the best you can.
Well good by for the present.
Your affectionate brother,
C. E. Richardson.
John took our dead father back in the wagon. We wrapped the body in bed clothes and started. But as the strain and anxiety had ended, I laid down in the wagon beside my dead and slept most of the way, not in his arms as I had been accustomed, but along side his beloved body, completely overcome with exhaustion.
