Peter Adolph Mattson and his Sheep Herd Catastrophes

I was visiting my grandparents in 1979 when my Grandma and Vera Mattson  [sister from her Dad's second marriage?]  told me some stories about their dad,  Peter Adoph Mattson.  

I wrote:  "They showed us pictures of their home when they were young and told us how their father made his different fortunes, and lost some too.  He had sheep, and one night they all decided to bed down on the railroad tracks.  Of course once one is down, the rest do the same, and soon the train came and a terrible slaughter resulted. 

 

Another time they were near a deep gorge and the sheep were thirsty.  They could hear the water down below and one jumped.  Soon they all followed suit.  It took six weeks to haul them up and burn the carcasses.  That was Great Grandfather Mattson."

 

This picture is Peter A. Mattson with his grandson Dan Ormsbee Jr. about 1914 on Jeff Avenue near 28th Street,  Ogden,  Utah.

 

 

Here is Peter Mattson with his second wife,  Mabel, photo taken around 1912 at their home,  613 28th Street,  Ogden,  Utah.

 

Marama Mattson "Bud" Compton is born September 2, 1916, Papeete, Tahiti

In Margaret’s words:

       Saturday, September 2nd, 1916: I awoke at three o’clock with pains in my back. I could not stay in bed so I arose, prepared breakfast washed my hair and took a bath. I seemed to know for sure this time, that it was the real, true time. George and Sister Rossiter didn’t want me to do so much, but I thought it would be the best plan. My pains kept getting harder, coming every 2 or 3 minutes. At 2 p.m. the pains were quite severe and George went for the doctor who examined me and found the baby too low. Sister Rossiter was surely good assisting me whenever my pains would come on. George also helped and as it was the first experience for both he and Sister Rossiter, they were not very accustomed to such happenings, but both did well. One of the native women, old Terai was there to help, and every once in a while she would rub my body and it sure helped out. By 7 o’clock I was suffering terribly and the doctor said the baby had stayed in one position for one hour and he thought perhaps it was dead. He asked if he might use instruments and we told him yes.

     The doctor could only speak French, which I didn’t understand. The doctor would talk to Sister Rossiter, she would interpret what he said, and I would answer her, and she would tell him what I said in French. Now if that isn’t some situation to go through while you’re suffering in labor!

     At 7:30 P.M. The baby was born--a fine nine and a half pound boy. Terai was in the hallway waiting. She was really anxious to be right there when the baby came. Sister Roster, who had never been around a little baby before, worked with the doctor. As soon as the baby was in Terai’s arms he started sucking his fist. The doctor was very skillful and after taking four stitches, he fixed my bed, changed my clothes, washed and dressed the baby and then left to take a dead unborn baby by means of incision. At eleven o’clock everything was quiet and we all tried to sleep. We had a fairly good night.

Margaret and newborn Marama Mattson "Bud" Compton, September 2, 1916, Papeete, Tahiti
Margaret was almost 19 years old 　


      They had funny customs. After Bud was born, the doctor tied my feet together and told me that I must stay on my back for several days. And, you know, in the tropics that was really hard to do, and I really suffered from that kind of treatment. The doctor charged us fifty dollars which we were mighty thankful to be able to pay.

     Anyhow, I was so happy that in my girlhood, I had had an opportunity to be around children and take care of the new born babies and especially when my sister Blenche had her baby girl in Ogden. I helped the doctor deliver her baby, and learned every step of taking care of a new born baby. I really know that the Lord was preparing me for what I would have to do when I was on my mission, because otherwise, how would I have ever known how to take care of my baby or other babies that I was called on to take care of.

       They kept me in bed for twelve long days. While I was in bed I got what they call maternity-fever or milk-fever whatever you might want to call it and I was quite ill. But finally I gained the strength.

George with his infant son, Papeete, Tahiti,  September 1916



Sunday September 3rd, 1916

       It seemed just like Christmas to me although I did not feel so very gay. Baby behaved all day. Poor Sister Rossiter and George had to fast after such strenuous happenings. Son cried all night. Sis. had to take him in her room so I could rest. Sister doing all the nursing, washing and George acting as cook, housekeeper, commisary and Jack-of-all-trades.

       The Tahitian Princess Atwater called on me when Bud was 4 or 5 days old. She was a very lovely elderly lady-a large woman, but so sweet and nice looking--well dre ssed and refined. She asked us what we planned to name our baby, and we said we had thought of "Vaaro." She shuddered and said, "Oh, no--never. That is the name of the sea urchin, or octupus. She suggested that we name him "Marama," which was a royal Tahitian family name which meant "man of knowledge and enlightenment." That sounded good to us so we put my maiden name with it and called the baby Maramna Mattson Compton. [Tammy’s note: I believe Grandma told me that the elders nicknamed him "Bud" and he was always called Bud from them on.]

      President Ernest Rossiter blessed our baby on Sunday, Sept. 24th, 1916 giving him his name. Everything went as usual--meetings, studying, tracting, house work and cooking at the mission home. Also setting type, printing and developing films and printing pictures.

Newlyweds Begin Their Mission in Tahiti Together, 1915

The steamship "Marama,"  which carried my grandparents to Papeete, Tahiti from San Fransico, 1915

The Journey to Tahiti

My grandparents,  newlyweds began their mission together on their journey to Tahiti.  It sounds like they had a nice time on their steamship and were excited to travel and cross the equator.

My grandmother described the journey:

"It [the steamship] had three decks--a lower and two uppers.  When we first went on board, the people looked down on us because we were Mormons.  But while on this voyage,  I played deck billiards and won the prize.  When I excelled at these games,  they just really changed and were so friendly and so social and lovely--both the men and the women.  We left San Francisco on October 13th, 1915, arriving in Papeete on October 25th.



Wednesday,  October the 13th, 1915,  we sailed from Pier 25 at twelve a.m. on the steamship Marama for Tahiti. Lila, Floss, and Lily Green were there to see us set sail. At one o’clock soon after going out of the Golden Gate, the first meal was served. Of course I had to feed the fish. [I think she means that she fed the fish in the ocean below by throwing crumbs down to them.] 

We met Elders Gallager, Hinckley, Campbell, Taylor and Cox who were on their way to New Zealand to enter their mission. We had a very enjoyable time on the sea. It took us about twelve days to get to Tahiti. We made lots of friends. We played deck billiards, a deck game. Then we put on programs, and had lots of nice conversations with the people that we met. It was a very enjoyable time and especially the day we crossed the equator was a very historical day. It was a rather cold windy day though, but we enjoyed it very much. It just seemed so fantastic to be so far away from home crossing the equator.

Anyhow, like I say, we had so many wonderful friends there, and we enjoyed the meals. One of the couples that we met there,  that we were very proud to sit at the same table with, was the organist, a famous man, who played the opening organ music to open the 1915 fair in San Francisco. He and his wife were there.

                                        Arrival in Tahiti

Papeete, Tahiti,  1915



My grandfather wrote in his diary:

Monday, Oct. 25th, 1915.  We were routed out of bed at 12:00 a.m. to be examined by the physician when we found we were in the harbor of Papeete, Tahiti.  Upon looking out,  we got our first glimpse of Tahiti, which with its high, rugged mountains and palm trees certainly looked a wild place at night.  We did not go ashore until morning.  At 5:00 a.m. we watched the Marama sail away for its last time at Papeete.

Missionaries of the Tahitian Mission, circa 1916.  Elder George Compton 2nd to last on top row, Margaret Compton to the far right,  seated.

My grandmother described her arrival and early days in the mission home:

When we arrived at Tahiti, we arrived about midnight. We went to the portholes and looked out, and it was all dark. And "Oh,"   I thought, "Where are we? Where are we?" 

We had to be examined by the steamship physician. And as it began to get lighter, why I saw the most beautiful, the most heavenly place you’d ever want to see. A tropical island, all the beautiful, tropical trees and flowers and the wharf was so pretty and the water. About the early morning the missionaries came down to the boat and oh, they looked so nice in their white suits and George had gone on shore to the mission home to look things over and then he came back and we all went to the mission home.

When I saw that mission home, I was so thrilled with it-- I was just so happy because I just didn’t have any idea that I would be living in such a beautiful places. The grounds around it were so pretty, and the trees, the tropical plants. It was a ten-room house, with two halls and also, there was a little kitchenette that was built separately. And every room opened off onto a beautiful porch or veranda. And, when we went in there we saw it was nicely furnished and the elders were so nice. I think there was Elder Taos, [?] and Elder Burbidge and a number of them. They were all so, friendly and accommodating to us.

Of course one of the things they did to George was shave his hair all off. That was one of the ceremonies that they always performed.

But as I toured the house, I could see there hadn’t been a lady there to take care of the house for quite some time. The curtains were needing washing and stretching and the kitchen needed a good cleaning up. And I noticed that all the legs of the table and some of the chairs in the kitchen were standing in little dishes of water. And I thought "Oh my goodness the missionaries have been putting the dishes to soak like that," and they were kind of dirty you know,  and I said "How come all these pieces of furniture in the kitchen are sitting in dishes of water" and they said "Oh sister you have to do that to keep the ants from getting up on the tables and chairs" and they were big. And they were really large ants.

Well, anyhow, we got settled there nicely. President and Sister Rossiter weren’t at the mission headquarters at the time. So we had quite a little bit of time to get the house all cleaned up and the curtains washed up and mended and ironed and stretched and back up on the windows. We had a wonderful Thanksgiving day down there and a fine Christmas day.

By the time Christmas day came President and Sister Rossiter had arrived at the mission home, and of course then things started popping. Then we started in with our class work and our meetings really in earnest.

Courting, Engagement, Marriage and Mission

COURTING, ENGAGEMENT, MARRIAGE AND MISSION,  Margaret tells about meeting her future husband,  George Albert Compton.

George Albert Compton, 1915 in the front yard of the Compton home in Morgan, Utah

Grandma tells about her courting and engagement with my Grandfather in an oral history recorded by  Michael Eckersley in 1976:

"While I was going to high school a young man, George Albert Compton came from Morgan Utah to work at the railroad here in Ogden. And he boarded at the home of Caroline Wiggins, who was a widow at this time and was running a boarding house. And we were introduced to each other and saw each other back and forth in the neighborhood there, and I think we were encouraged a little bit by some of the people in the boarding house who kind of kidded and said, "Why don’t you take Margaret out on a date?" I was real young at the time-- I think I was only about fifteen. He did, he invited me to go to a show, and I kind of believe we went to a carnival or something like that. But my Aunt would always say yes, I could go, and sometimes I’d question. I’d look at her, and I’d say "You’d just let me go anywhere with Mr. Compton wouldn’t you?" and she says, "Well I think he’s a very fine young man."

And so, anyhow, we went together for years-- in the neighborhood of about three years-- but my Aunt passed away January 1915, and that was just a few months after I had turned seventeen. And at that time, George received a call to go on a mission. I thought how wonderful it would be if I could go with George on his mission, and somehow they found out that President Rossiter’s wife was alone, more or less, down there in the islands and needed a companion, and so I received a call to go on a mission.

But during this time, my Father had insisted on me coming up to his home at 28th and just about Jefferson and live with he, his wife, and his family. He and his second wife had five children, a boy and four girls. And so I moved up into my father’s home, and George and I were still keeping company.

And this one particular holiday, I think it was Labor Day, and I was supposed to stay home and get lunch for Dad, my Father, because he was going to be in town and would be coming home about lunchtime. And George and I had decided to go somewhere on a date--I don’t remember just where.

But anyhow, when George arrived right there at my Father’s home the same time my Father did, they both walked into the house at the same time and stood there in the front room. And George had been telling me "When will your Father be home so I can ask him if you can go on a mission with me-- if we can be married we can go on our mission." And I said, I kept telling George, I says "I know very well he won’t consent, because he’ll think I’m far too young." And he says, "Well maybe you’re wrong."

But so, anyhow, when my father and George walked in there together, why, they shook hands, and George got the courage up to say "Well Mr. Mattson, what would you think if I asked you, if we--Margaret and I could be married, and she could go on a mission with me down to the Islands to Tahiti?" And my Father looked at him, very pleasantly, and smiled, and said, "I think that would be wonderful!" and I was standing there just ready to go right through the floor, because I didn’t have any idea that he would say yes. And do you know what his answer, his remark was? He says "If you think for one minute that you’re going to go on your mission and leave her here bawling her eyes out because you’ve gone away, I just... that can’t be."
So that was my experience of being proposed to, and being accepted by my Father.   Anyhow,  then we made our preparations to be married.

Margaret' wedding picture, September 1915.

George Albert Compton, wedding picture, 1915

[I don't know why my grandparents didn't have a picture of the two of them together when they got married.  If anyone knows of one,  send it to me and I will add it to this blog.]



We were married on the 29th of September 1915. And we had lots of parties and showers and activities-- getting everything ready for our mission.

And we left Ogden, October the 6th, 1915 and we had a lot of friends to just see us off and there was plenty of rice thrown on us. It was a very exciting time and besides, George’s Mother and Father, David and Mamie and my Step-Mother. There were many,  many other friends who saw us off.

George A. Compton and myself were married September the 29th 1915 and David O. Mckay married us and he set us apart for the mission and married us the same day in the Salt Lake Temple. And Mamie and David Evans were with us in the Salt Lake Temple, and it was a very wonderful day-- very spiritual, and of course we were all excited about our marriage and going to the Tahitian Islands on our mission.

We left Ogden, October the seventh, 1915, and we had lots of friends and relatives to bid us goodbye, and it was the first time either George or myself had slept in a Pullman car.

When we arrived in San Francisco, we were met by some of our folks, and some of the girls that I was raised with, and while we were there in Frisco, in the few days we went to the 1915 Worlds’ Fair, and we took a lot of side trips and tours and had a very enjoyable time there."

[I don't have any pictures of them on their honeymoon,  but I will have some marvelous pictures of them on their mission in Tahiti,  so stay tuned.]

Margaret and George Compton History Introduction

Since my Dad has been doing extensive research and writing about his parents,  Margaret and George Compton,  I thought I should post it here so all can enjoy.

The little girl to the top right is my grandmother,  Margaret Estella Mattson  Compton.  Her father and siblings are also in the picture.   My Grandmother's sisters (to the left of the picture, are Bertha Jane and Mary Blenche.  I'm not sure which is which. Bertha is older than Mary by two years.  The little boys on the front row are Sherman Ralph in the middle and Wheatly Leonard to the right.  My Grandmother's  mother, Margaret Gibson Mattson  died within hours of my grandmother's  birth.  She was raised by her aunt Annie Wiggins. 

Baby Margaret Estella Mattson, a few months old, 1898

Recorded by Michael Eckersley, Spring 1976

In my Grandma's own words:

"I was born November 4th, 1897, in West Weber County, Utah. My parents were Peter Adolph Mattson and Margaret Jane Gibson Mattson. It was a very cold, wintry night, and it was snowy and everything was so dismal. A midwife was tending my Mother’s delivery, and things didn’t go just right. My mother started hemorrhaging, and my Father became very much alarmed, and he rode horseback to Ogden to get a doctor, but an hour after my birth, my dear Mother passed away, leaving me a tiny, newborn baby and four other children. My Father was a very broken-hearted man. He hired help in the home but he had difficulty in getting good reliable people to take care of the home and children. My father wasn’t satisfied with my progress, so it was decided that my Aunt Annie Gibson Wiggins, my Mother’s only sister, would take me into her’s and her husband’s home, William Wiggins, and take care of me.

I was born with two teeth, and people had doubts whether I would live. My father and Mrs. Stather came riding into the Wiggins’ yard in a horse and buggy with a jersey cow tied on the back of the buggy. They were piled on beside me. My Father made sure that I would have plenty of nourishment. [The cow was a gift to the Wiggins, to help provide for baby Margaret.]

The Grant School was just across the street from the Wiggins’ home and when the Wiggins’ children and their friends saw the spectacle of my arrival, many of them asked permission to be excused and came running over to see the new baby. That must have been a great day. My Father didn’t intend to leave me at my Aunt’s and Uncle’s home indefinitely as he hoped in time to marry again to have a mother to care for this home and children.

Two years later he married Mabel Williams, of Kayesville,  a beautiful young woman.  Every time that he would plan to take me to his home, my dear Aunt,  who I called "Ma,"  would be so broken-hearted that he wouldn’t have the courage to take me to his home."

[Note from Tammy:  I don't know of any pictures of my Grandmother as a girl.   If anyone has any,  I will be glad to post them here.]

My dear Aunt Ma was a most wonderful woman. She had a very large family of her own, and raised four other children as well. Her home was really a home; she was a marvelous cook, loved to have lots of company, and her way of life was to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and wait on, and care for the sick, and give good sensible counsel to those in trouble. She was jolly, she loved music, and occasionally saw a good opera at the Orpheum Theater. She had inflammatory rheumatism which made it hard for her to get around, but even so, she cooked and put up loads and loads of fruit and made her own soap and as well as did great big washes and cooked for everyone who came there. She was a wonderful mother to me. I think of her as a saint.

I grew up in this very interesting home, going to school, attending primary and religion class and Sunday School in the Ogden Third Ward. Our ward had lots of wonderful activities for children and everyone. They had plays and programs and dances and outings to parks. Once I remember our primary singing in the Salt Lake Tabernacle at conference time.

My Aunt Ma, as I called her, was so wonderful to me. Although she was not young, she would play house with me and let me have play dinners, and she would make darling doll clothes for my dolls.

Her sons, Tom, Ralph, Earl, and Jim, and her daughters, Mamie, Milla and Floss were like brothers and sisters to me. Ma and Pa’s grandchildren were my cousins, as well as my playmates. Tom Wiggins and Caroline Oatland Wiggins’ children, Francis, Raymond, and Jean were my close playmates, and their dear mother would tell us stories and teach us songs while she went about her work. Also Ralph, and the late Smith Wiggins children, Herbert, and Opal, and their baby brother, Winn, were very close playmates also, and we all grew up together. Baby Winn passed away when he was about eighteen months old. Oh how we loved him.

I completed six grades at the Grant School and attended the seventh and eighth grades at the Dee School on Twentieth, between Washington and Adams. From the Dee School I went to Ogden High School which was on the southwest corner of Twenty Fifth Street and Knoll  Avenue. I would walk from my home on Grant Avenue between Twenty Second and Twenty Third street to high school. Even coming home for my lunch, Floss and I would do up the dishes and carry water in from the summer kitchen to fill the reservoir in the kitchen range. We also kept a bucket of drinking water in the pantry and of course that had to be filled.

There was never a dull moment in this wonderful home-- always lots of company, to meals, to quiltings, sewing, carpet nights for rugs, even for room size carpets for the dining room.

Circus days were really big days --many friends and relatives from the county would come into town to see the circus, and they would stop at our place for dinner. The circus was held on the Tabernacle Square on Grant Avenue between Twenty First and Twenty Second between Grant and Washington Avenue. It was a vacant lot at that time. We were living just a block away, so you can see why we had so many people drop into our home.

I have always said that Ma was like the widow in the Bible whose hands were never empty. How she ever cooked so many wonderful meals, made such delicious cakes, pies, puddings and cookies, I will never know. Every Sunday evening many of the family members would call in after Sunday evening sacrament meeting, and we would serve roast beef sandwiches made with home made bread and stacks of lovely cookies, cakes, pies and so on, and we also had lots of interesting discussions with the family all there visiting in the dear old Wiggins’ home, and sometimes we put on just really light programs, each one doing something or other like singing or performing in some way or another. It just seemed like we had lots of entertainment going on all the time, and also it seemed like people had such a keen desire to just drop in and stay a little while and visit. On the Fourth of July and the Twenty Fourth of July we always had lots of company. And sometimes we’d set the tables several times and feed, and it was a great big dining room table, and we’d set and fill the table several times.

Of course the younger ones didn’t care too much for the dish washing involved, but we still had lots of good times. And also if there was anyone who had to go to the hospital to be operated on or had to convalesce for a while, they could always come to my Aunt’s home and stay until they could get back on their feet.

Miracle the way she managed, and the way she could make food feed a multitude you might say. Another habit that she had that was so interesting was whenever she made pies, she’d always have enough material to make turnovers we’d call them, or if she was putting out jelly and jams she’d always have a few little glasses of jams or jellies and besides that, we had two cows and some chickens and she would send milk to some of our neighbors who had large families who she knew didn’t have enough milk for their children, or she would send bottles or glasses of jellies or jams, and of course I was the one who delivered most all of that.

 Another thing that I did that was unusual--as a child we didn’t ever expect to get paid for any of our little errands or things like that, and because we had the two cows, we used to sell milk. And we had several customers, dotted around the neighborhood-- some several blocks away, and I used to have to take that milk when I got old enough. And when I would go to these various places, a lot of them were widow ladies, and Ma would say "Now Margaret take this bottle of jam to this sister so-and-so" or "This quart of milk to this one or that one." And we had a large family living down a block, and many times Ma would send me with a gallon bucket of milk to that family. And she was just so generous. And after she had passed away, the fruit that she had stored in her cellar fed a good sized family for several years."

[More of the interview will appear in future posts.  Here are some more of my Grandmother's memories of her early life that she wrote down:]

On Sunday afternoons and evenings the big dining -kitchen combination room would fill up and we would have such a glorious time. Of course many subjects would be discussed and sometimes heated arguments would arise, but Ma had a way of pouring oil on troubled water.

Of course David W. and Elliot Kennedy and Carrie Wiggins, Roy and Vilate Wiggins, all would have a voice in politics, religion and labor, and what have you. And we kids would play games and get to giggling, and Ma would get disturbed at that. Then dear old Dad Wiggins would jump up and start to sing "Old Dan Tucker" and do a jig. We had vaudeville acts, solos, duets and all sorts of entertainment. Ma would say sing "Silver Threads Among the Gold," or "The Holy City," and many other beautiful old songs.

When the Hunt girls would visit us from Boise, Idaho they would bring a trunk of costumes - - beautiful ones-- and then we would have a show.

The whole family looked after me and would protect me at all odds.   If Ma would slap my hands, Floss would fire up and say, "I’ll go and tell Papa Pete."

One time I sassed Ma when the room was full of country folks--like Aunt Hattie and A. Mary and Uncle Ralph and Uncle Jake, and Ma took my pants down quick as a wish and spanked me, and I nearly died. Just twice can I remember her spanking me. Usually she took me by the hand and took me into the log cabin bedroom and lectured me. I would rather have a spanking. She was so wonderful.

Some of my tasks were rather unpleasant to me--like on Saturday I had to carry out the slop jars and chamber pots to the old summer kitchen and empty them- -way down the lot to the old outhouse about a half block away, and then scour them with ashes and yellow soap and then scald them. Oh, how I hated that job.

One Saturday I had them all clean and in their places, and then I decided that I would hide them so the country folks (oldsters who couldn't walk so far to the John) wouldn't find them. Well, when they went to the bedroorn and couldn't find them, they came out and whispered to Ma, and she tried to tell them she was sure they were there. They nodded their old heads emphatically "No--no-no!" Ma got a hold of me and made me get the nice clean chambers and slop jars out and place themn under the beds. Boy, I was so mad. I laugh now.

Then I hated to haul the feather beds off and shake them up real good. That was a hard task. It was so hard to make them look good and smooth. 

At night when I was old enough, Ma would say at Dad's bedtime, "Margaret, light the lamp for Pa and make him some number six and turn down the bed for him." There were two beds in that room. Dad and Jim slept in one, and Ma and myself in the other. I would pull the covers up on Dad and then climb into my bed, and Dad would call out, "Mag, are you a-sweatin'?" And then he would laugh, and I would be shivering my head off.

Old Dad would sit Jim and myself on his knees in front of the old pot belly heater and tell us stories of the pioneers and boy, he would hum and laugh and whistle  and snort. We loved that. He would imitate the various wild animals.

We were so confined and held down. I am thankful for all that I had, but I didn't develop like the young ones do today. When I was real young, I used to watch my girl friends with their young parents, and I wondered how I would feel if my Mother and Father were young. I used to imagine that my young school teachers were my Mother, and how would I feel if my parents carne to my school room and saw my exhibits and my programs. Raymond Wiggins and I used to sing duets together a lot, thanks to Carrie Wiggins.

I loved Ma Wiggins and Dad Wiggins very much, and it was a privilege to live in their home.   Ma was like the poem: "let me live in a home by the side of the road and be a friend to man." Our house was always full, and it was so interesting.