GERARD G. KLOMP
RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER’S LIFE
As
Recalled by His Eldest Son
GERARD
J. KLOMP
Dad never settled down to write
his life story but the following has been gleaned from comments he made to me
and remarks of his that I have remembered, as well as incidents his friends and
acquaintances related to me, particularly at the time of his funeral.
GERARD GYSBERTUS KLOMP
was born in Rotterdam, Zuid Holland Province, Netherlands, on 29 May,
1889. As far as we know, his father’s death
occurred in 1891; consequently, we do not have any information regarding
him. Dad’s mother was Adriana (Jane)
Klomp, who was born 24 November, 1853 at Woubrugge, Zuid Holland Province,
Netherlands. She was the daughter of
Harbert Klomp and Catharina deLooij (pronounced Loy). His mother was a member of the Dutch Reformed
Church, a very devout Christian, and a regular church-goer. She later married Bruin de Bruin, who was the
father of Catharine and Herbert de Bruin, the only sister and brother Dad ever
had. They lived in Goudschewegstraat in
Rotterdam. When I was in the Netherlands
on my mission in 1930-1933, there was a big, old windmill in the neighborhood. Dad recognized some pictures I had taken of
this windmill and said that he played there as a child.
Their circumstances were very
humble. Their house, like all others in
the neighborhood, had no hot water and Dad could remember running to the shop
where a pail of hot water could be purchased for a few pennies. Food was never plentiful and Dad knew how it
felt to be hungry, a fact he did not forget in later years. He told me that on various occasions he would
linger at the church after Sunday School to see if the missionaries had been
invited to someone’s home for Sunday dinner.
If they had not, he would invite them to his home, knowing that this
would mean no food for him or the rest of the family that day.
As a child, Dad was fond of
music, sailing kites, hiking in the country out of Rotterdam, and skating on
the canals whenever it was cold enough to freeze them over. His mother was a good cook and he could
remember the delicious griesmeel pudding with current sauce, almond macaroons
and other rich cookies which were prepared for special occasions. As a general rule, he recalled that they
lived on bread, a little butter, and cocoa.
It was the love of music that
led Dad and his mother to the gospel.
While strolling one Sunday evening, they heard hymns being sung and were
attracted to the place where members of the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints were holding their services.
This led to their being taught the gospel by the missionaries and
eventually their baptism by Elder Herman DeBry which took place in the Maas
River about 1900, as Dad told me he was 11 years old at the time.
Dad’s earliest ambitions
included a desire to be a missionary, to get a good education and he was eager
to learn to play some musical instrument.
I presume that he was a good student because I remember having seen a
certificate signed by the Queen of the Netherlands and presented to Dad for
outstanding scholarship.
About this time, the Saints were
being urged to gather to “Zion” and people everywhere longed to go to America,
the land of opportunity. Whatever the
reasoning behind it, Gerard (Jerry) left his mother and family and began the
long journey to America. He may have
accompanied Elder Gerard S. Abels and his companion who were returning home
from their mission. I do not remember
his ever having said, but cannot imagine that his mother would have consented
to his going entirely alone. Dad
apparently traveled by steerage (passage only – no food provided). He managed to survive by earning portions of
food by entertaining crew members and passengers by singing and dancing and
reciting scriptural verses in English and/or Dutch. His ship docked in Boston, Massachusetts, and
the customs required that each person entering the U.S. have $10.00 on his
person to indicate that he had some means of support. Dad was concerned about not having this amount,
but an obliging fellow-passenger let him carry a $10.00 bill through the gate,
but return it on the other side. Of this
trip, he said:
“Crossing
the ocean was one of the greatest adventures of my life. The greatness and tremendous size of the United
States was so different from the city life I was used to that it was
bewildering.”
We do not know
exactly how he got to Ogden, but imagine it was by train. Someone may have loaned him the money or he
may have earned it. He never said.
In Ogden, he at first lived with
the Vander Schuit family. While in their
home, he attended school for one year.
His life there was not a happy one due to the unkindness of Mr. Vander
Schuit. Dad was expected to do most of
the work but was not given much to eat.
He was required to accompany Mr. Vander Schuit on rabbit hunts and to
carry the heavy shotgun. He also had to
carry all the rabbits which were shot.
His reward for his work was to receive the heads of the rabbits for his
portion of food.
At the time of Dad’s funeral, a
lady told me that she had lived next door to Vander Schuit’s house when she was
a child. One morning when she was
outside, she heard someone singing beautifully.
She couldn’t see over the fence so scrambled up to the top of the manure
pile, looked over and saw a strange boy singing (yodeling). This was her first view of Gerard Klomp.
It was about at this time that
Dad went to live with Mr. and Mrs. Kramer, a childless Dutch couple who made
him welcome in their home. Mr. Kramer
was a guard at the State Industrial School and he and his wife were very kind
to Jerry. Their home was on Gramercy
Avenue between 20th and 21st Streets.
Dad loved and respected these good people and appreciated the many nice
things they did for him. (Zina didn’t
like them very well, as they wanted Jerry to marry a “Dutch” girl.)
At the age of 13, Dad went to
work at the ZCMI store in Ogden which was located at the northwest corner of
the intersection of 24th Street and Washington Avenue. He worked at ZCMI for a year or two and then
was employed by Scowcroft’s Wholesale Grocery and Dry-Goods Company for two or
three years. For awhile, Dad worked at
the railroad, icing refrigerator cars coming from California with produce and
fruit in and headed for the eastern part of the United States. This was hard manual labor and consisted of
juggling 200 pound cakes of ice on the tops of the refrigerator cars.
During all this time, he was
enjoying singing with the Ogden Tabernacle Choir which he had joined at the age
of 13 years. His singing ability had
enabled him to win the Aaronic Priesthood Singing Contest at 16 years of age
(Ogden Fourth Ward).
Dad first became acquainted with
ZINA GENEVA JACKSON at Sunday School and Church. At a children’s Primary party, he bought her
a basketful of lunch and took her home.
That was the first of many dates and eventually led to their marriage on
23 June, 1909 in the Salt Lake Temple.
Their children arrived subsequently:
GERARD JACKSON was born 5 June, 1910; MARJORIE was born August 13, 1912,
living only until she was six years old.
Two years later, SPENCER JACKSON arrived September 30, 1914; RUTH was
born February 5, 1917; and eight years later their baby girl BETTY JEAN was
born May 21, 1925.
Dad went to work in the grocery
business. At first, he worked with his
brother-in-law, Mort Barrows at a store just west of Kiesel Avenue on 25th
Street – The Edgar Jones Market. A
remembered experience of this episode was the selling trips with team and
wagon, traveling through remote parts of central Utah taking orders at the
outlying ranches and country towns.
Dad also worked for Wilcox,
Schadde, and Harris on the east side of Washington Avenue between 24th and 25th
Streets. His salary was only $60.00 per
month and he and Mother practiced the most rigid economy in order to make ends
meet. They were buying a home at this
time at 2274 Monroe. When Dad finally
decided to go into the grocery business for himself, his employer offered to
raise his wages to the magnificent sum of $100.00 per month, if he would
reconsider. Zina always wished he might
have worked long enough to have earned just one check for $100.00; it seemed
like so much money to her.
Dad borrowed $500 from Dr.
Edward I. Rich and opened a small grocery story at 620 24th Street, across from
Lester Park. The success of his store
may have been partly due to the motto he adopted and which he used on his truck
and early advertising: “NOTHING BUT THE
BEST.” Mother helped him in the store
whenever he had to go to the bank or needed her. Later, he hired a succession of relatives and
others full-time, but at first, he did everything himself. Some of the people who worked for Dad were:
Dorothy
Stevens Sylvia
de Mik
Elizabeth
Faris Joe
Jackson (brother-in-law)
Chase
Taylor, Jr. George
Lundstrom
Joe
Oborn Theron
Rich
Reuben
Lewis George
Goodman
Spence and I grew up helping Dad
in the store after school and on Saturdays.
We lived upstairs above the
store for several years. When I was
about14 or 15 years old, Mother and Dad bought a beautiful home at 2370 Madison
Avenue.
Dad was a good manager in his
store and took pride in the amount and quality of work put out by his
employees. He lead out and did more work
himself, than any of his employees was asked to do. In line with his motto, “Nothing But The
Best,” he was very particular to see that his customers received only the
finest produce. In fact, we used to joke
among ourselves that a telephone customer, phoning in an order, would receive
better produce than if she came in and picked it out herself!
Dad was a natural-born
merchant. One of his useful devices was
to organize little combinations of things to sell. For instance, he would get the bakery to bake
him a special order of 100 or so unfrosted sponge cakes to be sold with fresh
strawberries and whipped cream. Then,
when a customer either in the store or on the phone would ask: “What’s good today, Jerry?” we would tell her
about the fresh berries and cakes. We
clerks usually kept track of how many we sold, in a kind of friendly
competition as to how many each of us sold during the day.
Dad became active in the Ogden
Retail Grocers’ Association, holding offices and acting as its President and
representing the Ogden group at the state association meetings. He came to know many fine grocers and their
families and he himself became well known as a progressive grocer and was
active in organizing the grocers of the State and in promoting legislation
which he believed to be beneficial to the industry and to the people of Utah,
questions such as Sunday closing and the regulation of trading stamps,
etc. He served as President of the Utah
State Association of Retail Grocers two or three terms and finally became a
director of the National Association of Retail Grocers with headquarters in
Chicago. Eventually, of course, Dad was
elected President of the National Association and was required to fly to
Chicago for meetings, etc. so often that he soon had flown over 100,000 miles.
I do not remember the exact date
that Dad bought a more modern building and moved his store down the street to
the corner location at 24th Street and Jefferson Avenue. He was proud of his new and beautiful market
with its large sign out front and its new equipment inside. He worked early and late, however, but would
never open his store on Sunday, even with the encroachment of large grocery
chain stores near him, with their practice of remaining open on Sundays. He never missed his church meetings and he
loved to hear the gospel preached by the General Authorities at Stake
Conferences.
He heard them all, because the
Ogden Tabernacle Choir sang for all the stakes in those days which was nearly
every Sunday. I used to go with him a
lot. (At one time, as a boy, I could
have told you exactly how many electric light bulbs there were placed in the
big arches in the ceiling of the old Tabernacle at 22nd Street and Washington
Avenue, the southeast corner of the Tabernacle Park where the Ogden Temple is
now located.)
Dad’s success in the food
industry somehow came to the attention of certain persons influential in the
Netherlands food industry. Because
GERARD KLOMP was a native-born Hollander, and also probably because he had
encouraged and promoted as well as imported Dutch products such as Droste’s
Chocolate, Gouda Cheeses, etc. Dad was actually knighted by the Queen of the
Netherlands, a Ritter, Oranje Nassau by her official representative, The Dutch
Ambassador to the United States at impressive ceremonies in Chicago, at one of
the national conventions of the National Association of Retail Grocers. Strangely enough, he was so thoroughly
Americanized by this time and so loved this country, that he was not over-awed
by this honor, but took it simply in his stride.
During these years of
recognition and travel, Mother often accompanied him and sometimes took Betty
to the conventions. But just as things
were going well with them, Mother had a heart attack from which she never fully
recovered. In May, 1954 she died quite suddenly
and is buried in their family plot in the Ogden City Cemetery beside their
little daughter, Marjorie and the stillborn twin boys.
It was the end of an era in his
life, but after a while, Dad re-married our former high school English teacher,
Lucille Chambers. Each of them sold his
home and they build a beautiful new home at 1470 Beverly Drive in Ogden where
they resided for the next eleven years.
Dad served his community in many
ways, especially in the capacity of member of the Ogden City School Board for
at least ten years, rotating through all the positions there.
During the administration of
U.S. President Harry S. Truman, Dad was one of several national leaders invited
to a conference in Washington, D.C. by President Truman, to discuss current
problems. He was one of only two men
attending this conference from the area west of the Mississippi River; the
other man was David O. McKay, President of the L.D.S. Church. They traveled to and from these meetings
together. I do not know any details of
these meetings, as they were top secret and Dad never discussed them. He did, however, express his enjoyment of
this brief association with President McKay, whom he had always sustained,
admired, and respected.
During his tenure as President
of the Utah State Association of Retail Grocers, Dad associated with many fine
men and their families whose friendship he treasured. Among these were Don and Sherman Lloyd, Fred
Kuhlman and owners and managers of practically every grocery store in Ogden and
throughout the State. Dad belonged to
the Rotary Club and also enjoyed the friendship of many fine men in this
group. He was blessed with a beautiful
voice and belonged to various quartets, etc.
He shared his talent of singing freely and with no thought of
remuneration. I honestly believe that
with Ed Greenwell, William Wright and Will Pickett, Dad sang at more funerals
than anyone in town. Several Rotarians
told me how much they enjoyed singing at their meetings when Jerry would lead
them in some of the old familiar songs.
Dad was a prayerful man and
Mother said she often found him kneeling beside his bed, praying. Dad said, “I have always felt that being a
member of the Church is a distinct blessing, and have tried to so order my life
to live according to its teachings.” He
always paid a full tithing and went about quietly doing good. Christmas Eve, the busiest night of the year,
found Dad filling boxes with the makings of Christmas dinners to be dropped off
at certain homes in the neighborhood where Dad feared it was needed. Beth Oborn told Dorothy that he often donated
the grocery items which she had purchased to be used in the ward M.I.A. with
the comment: “Well, Beth, if you can
spend so much time working with the young people, I guess I can donate a few
groceries.”
Dad was so busy he didn’t have
too much time for hobbies, but always found time for music. He was a self-taught musician, and enjoyed
playing the saxophone and violin. He
could recognize most of the great symphonies which came over the air on
Sundays. For about 50 years, he belonged
to the Ogden Tabernacle Choir and was the assistant to Lester Hinchcliff, its
director. He loved to hear Sam Whitaker
play the big organ and found joy in his association with those dedicated men
and women who believed in making beautiful music together. Handel’s Messiah and the Elijah were sung
annually and many more of the great, sacred anthems.
Dad’s entire family, all of his
sons and daughters and their families had a lovely reunion and birthday party
for Dad on his 76th Birthday. Almost all
were there except for a few of the older grandchildren who lived far away. It was held at the home of Spencer and
Kathleen Klomp at 2500 Fillmore in Ogden.
Dad told me that it was the “Happiest day of my life.” A nice program was held, followed by a
delicious turkey and ham dinner and it truly was a joyous occasion. A beautiful leather coat was presented to him
which he proudly wore and we all said it couldn’t have been nicer in every way
– surely a day to remember.
Two week later, on June14th,
while he and Lucille were on a trip to Chicago, he died suddenly in their hotel
room. We all attended his funeral and he
is buried in Ogden City Cemetery beside Zina, his first wife and the mother of
his children and their little Marjorie and the tiny stillborn twin boys.
By:
Gerard
Jackson Klomp
-----------
The
above document was entered into the computer by Daniel Baker Vickers and Donald
Lee Vickers on 8 August 1999. The source
was a typed manuscript obtained by Don from his aunt, Betty Jean Klomp Quayle
on 23 August 1998. In addition to
several minor typographical corrections, the following changes were made:
Paragraph 2: “1953” to “1853”
Paragraph 13: “February 8, 1917” to “February 5, 1917”
On
page 16 of the Rotterdam Branch “Record of Members of the Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints” 1879-1903 (microfilm number 106,788), the name is
entered as “Gerardus Gysbertus Klomp.”
HER LIFE
As told to Dorothy W.
Klomp
As the old song sung by Tex Ritter says, “I was born
a hundred years ago.” Well, no, not
quite – in 1889, February 8, to be exact.
My parents were Aaron Jackson, who was born in Macclesfield, Cheshire County, England;
and Eliza Jane Rawson Jackson, who was born in Payson, Utah. My father crossed the plains with his parents
at the age of two with the Martin Handcart Company.
At the time
I was born, Father owned a grocery store.
When I was about two years old, my father was called on a mission to England,
leaving Mother with six children to care for.
This has always been an evidence to me of their deep faith in the Lord
and their desire to serve Him. I can
recollect toddling behind Mother, putting a few beans into a sack to give the
customers; beans were about all I could reach.
When Father
returned, I had forgotten him, but was shy and didn’t say so. As nighttime came and he didn’t go away, I
became tired and whispered to my mother, “When is that man going home so I can
go to bed?” I never felt quite as near
to Father as I did to Mother and always wondered if the trip to England was the
reason.
I have
vague recollections of attending a private kindergarten taught by Rose Canfield
in the Fifth Ward hall. The Madison School was my stomping ground for the
elementary grades. I took a few piano
lessons from Gertrude Biddle.
Some of my
earliest memories concern visiting at my grandmother’s house out in Farr
West. I used to get homesick easily and
didn’t enjoy staying over night until I was quite a big girl. Father and Mother owned a horse named Maud,
which I used to drive whenever Grandmother Kingsford wanted to got anywhere on
business. She used to have to collect
rents, take care of property, and visit our many relatives. She owned a little phaeton which had a low
seat in front, built especially so two grandchildren could always go along.
We used to have fun in winter
driving Maud hitched up to the cutter.
We used to laugh ourselves hoarse at Maud who was a delivery horse and
used to stop at the home of each of Father’s customers. We had a hard time to coax her on past each
one.
As I grew older, I sometimes stayed
a week or two with Grandmother, my two aunts, Aunt Lizzie Garlick and Aunt
Zinney Chugg and of course ever so many cousins, all of whom lived in Farr
West. It was common knowledge, within
our family, that Grandma Rawson could wring a chicken’s neck, pull its feathers
out, draw it, wash it, and have it on cooking from the time she first saw a
horse and buggy turn into her lane until the guests were at the front
door!! I used to dread going out and
coming home, however, as we had to cross the railroad tracks and the trains
always worried old Maud. I can remember
being afraid she’d bolt or else freeze on the tracks.
When I was about thirteen years
old, my brother, Frank, and I both came down with typhoid fever and went to bed
the same day. We were very ill, I
especially, and all of my hair had to be cut very short. As we slowly recovered we used to have fun
chattering about the things we would order if we could have something else to
eat. For almost six weeks all we were
allowed was milk.
We attended the old Fourth
Ward. I worked as a secretary in the
Religion Class for several years. I used
to help Mother in the store as well as with the sewing and work in the
home. Since there were nine children in
Mother’s family, it was seldom we had less than twelve or thirteen for
meals. We usually had company from out
of town or just one of the friends over to play. It was in the Fourth Ward Sunday School that
I first met Gerard Klomp. He was a boy
who had come from Holland
at the age of twelve years, and had made his own way since then. He was just my age and a very good-looking
boy. He sometimes walked me home from
church and as the years slipped by we had many happy times together. We fell in love as we grew up and on June 23,
1909 when we were just twenty years of age, we were married.
Mother and Father liked Gerard and
admired his courage and pluck, but hated to have me marry him because none of
us knew a thing about his family, background, etc. I had no qualms, however, even though
Mother’s family dated back to the Mayflower.
I was whole-heartedly and completely in love.
So we were married in the Salt Lake Temple and were as happy as it is possible to be
except for the fact that all the people who were from Holland made it plain to me that it was a
pity Jerry hadn’t married a “Dutch” girl.
We started housekeeping in an
apartment just above Washington
Avenue on the 24th Street hill. Later we lived in a little house in the rear
of 2341 Madison. The first house we bought was a cold little
house at 2274 Monroe Avenue. We had very little money; Jerry was earning
only $60 per month at that time. But
what did it matter? We had a roof over
our heads even if icicles did freeze in the kitchen sink over night because we
had to leave the water dripping all night to keep the pipes from freezing! And as for a washing machine, Jerry helped me
by taking turns pushing the little dolly plunger up and down each Monday
morning before he left for work. Later,
we had a washer whose action was run by a water motor powered by pressure from
the tap, to the accompaniment of squirts and jets from leaks. No wonder I later enjoyed my nice modern
electric washing machine and convenient laundry room.
On June 5, 1910 our first baby, a
son, was born and we named him for his father and for my family, Gerard Jackson
Klomp. He weighed a little over five
pounds and probably didn’t get enough to eat, judging by the way babies are fed
nowadays, but was a sweet-tempered baby and a joy to us both. We didn’t have a baby bed, but let the baby
sleep with us. One night Jerry had
Gerard sleeping on his arm. All of a
sudden, Jerry turned over, throwing the baby clear out of the bed! The baby cried as if he’d lost his best
friend; Jerry couldn’t find the light cord in the dark to turn it on; I
wondered what on earth was going on, and it all seemed just like a horrible
nightmare. After that we made
arrangements to get a bed for the baby.
My husband had a beautiful singing
voice and was in much demand to sing in solos, duets, the Ogden Tabernacle
Choir, etc. It was a pleasure to
everyone but me, the reason being that he was gone from home quite a
little. Since we had so little money, I
couldn’t afford to hire a baby tender very often. Sometimes Mother tended the children but
since she was growing old and was not too well, I didn’t want to impose on her. Besides, she had reared nine of her own. Besides being gone so much singing, Jerry
worked in a grocery store most of his life and never did get home until late
each night, so I had not the help in rearing the children which both he and I
would have enjoyed.
Marjorie was born August 13, 1912,
a sweet little girl whom we all dearly loved.
She was a gentle little girl whose only “vice” was running away. I could not keep that child in the yard no
matter how hard I tried. Even with a
fence, she could always climb over or wriggle under.
Spencer was born September 30,
1914, another fine son, full of mischief as could be. As a tiny boy, he loved to march with a flag
over his shoulder. Of course I may have
been prejudiced, but it always seemed to me as if my children were the
smartest, cutest, best children I had ever seen!
Ruth Jane was born February 5, 1917
and we were so pleased to have another darling little girl. She was a beautiful baby, plump and sweet,
very much a mama’s girl. Ruth was a shy
little girl, inclined to be upset if I paid much attention to other children,
as at the Primary or Sunday School.
As I recall it now, we could never
afford to have a baby. When I first
learned I was pregnant, consequently, Dad and I practiced the most rigid
economy in order to be able to save the $35.00 necessary to pay the practical
nurse whom we hired to take charge of things while I was in bed with the baby,
usually ten days or two weeks. We paid
the doctor gradually during the ensuing months.
He usually charged $25.00 and since I never went to the hospital until
Betty was born, we didn’t have a hospital bill to worry about. I really enjoyed my stay in the hospital with
Betty; it seemed so luxurious to lie and read, eating candy, or sipping fruit
juice and not having to have all the other children climbing on my bed as I had
had to do at home all the previous times.
Besides trying to save money to pay
for our babies, Jerry and I had the ambitious project of saving money to send
to Holland for
his mother’s two children by her second marriage. His mother had passed away, which was a blow
to him, and so we finally and laboriously succeeded in sending for her two
teen-age children, Catherine and Herbert.
They came to our little house to live until they found places to
live. This was a most trying period for
me, as our house was crowded, I was again pregnant, Catherine was very slow to
learn English and I was very dumb about Dutch, neither speaking nor
understanding one word of the Dutch language.
During World War I, especially when
the influenza epidemic was so bad, all public meetings were banned, so that
schools, churches, etc. were closed. By
this time we had a pretty good car, a Studebaker. Our first car had been an old Ford,
second-hand and repainted by Dad. We
were very proud of the Studebaker and had lots of fun driving somewhere each
Sunday. Sometimes we drove to Logan, sometimes to Provo, Heber City,
Bingham, or any place we had never been before.
We usually took a nice picnic lunch but occasionally stopped at a nice
inn or hotel for dinner. We all looked
forward from one week to another to these little trips, as it was always hard
for Dad to get away for a long trip. On
one of these Sundays, after a particularly pleasant outing in Brigham Canyon,
Marjorie, who was then six years old, said, “I wonder where we’ll be next
Sunday.” We thought little of her remark
at the time, but during the week she was vaccinated for smallpox; her
vaccination became red and inflamed; I called the doctor; he said they all did
that; I called him again. He finally
came over to look at it and took the child to the hospital. Tetanus developed swiftly, and in spite of
our prayers and all the doctors could do, our beautiful little daughter died of
lockjaw and the following Sunday we all attended her funeral. Words cannot express the agony of
helplessness and grief which were ours.
We bought a lot in the Ogden
City cemetery, and there
she is buried.
Jerry worked for Mort Barrows, my
sister Grace’s husband, and for Wilcox, Schade, and Harris until he finally
decided to go into business for himself.
Everyone in my family including Mother and Father discouraged us. Especially so, since Jerry’s employer gave
him an increase in salary to $100 a month if he’d consider staying. Personally, I hoped he’s stay just one month,
because at that time $100 seemed so much to me.
But his mind was made up. He
borrowed $500 from Dr. Edward I. Rich and started his own business just above Jefferson Avenue at
620 24th Street. Our little family lived over the store in
somewhat crowded quarters for several years.
It was during this time, after Dad’s hard work was in a measure
successful in working up a good business, that Jerry became desperately ill
with pneumonia.
I was as usual in any crisis,
pregnant. Dad’s illness made it
imperative that I work in the store, take care of him, constantly having to run
up and down the long flight of stairs to our living quarters. The worry about his health, plus all the
added work brought our babies too soon and they were still-born, perfectly
formed little boys, twins. Dad and I
have wished many times that we might have had the privilege of rearing them, or
at least that we might have them in the next world.
Our children were growing up
swiftly. The busy, happy years flowed
on. Dad’s hard work, aided and abetted
by my own careful management of the family finances, gradually began to pay
off. We began to prosper, and decided it
was time to look for a nicer place in which to live. We began searching for a house. We found one at last at 2370 Madison Avenue. It seemed so wonderful to me to be able to
walk from room to room in the spacious home which finally and at long last was
our own. It cost us $10,000 and had cost
much more to build. We also bought some
of the former owner’s furniture, including a nice electric sewing machine. Now you children all remember how pleased I
was with that especially. Do you
remember the time Dad made the repair man put it in order and bring it back,
after he had told me it couldn’t be done?
That was one of the funny times.
The house contained four bedrooms, a bath and playroom upstairs; large
living room, dining room, kitchen, bath and den on the main floor; plus a
lovely amusement room, laundry room, furnace, fruit and storage rooms in the
basement. Dad was able to pay the entire
$10,000 off on our home during the first year we lived there, which was due we
always thought to the fact that Dad always paid a full tithe on all he made.
Soon after we moved here, our last
child, Betty Jean, was born. My sister,
Myrtle Felt and Art had a baby girl the same week we had Betty. She and I were in the Dee Hospital
together. It was the first time in a
hospital for me, and as I have told you, I really enjoyed having so much
leisure time to myself.
We had the usual family life, with
all its ups and downs. Some of the
pleasantest times were the Jackson
family picnics. You remember how we’d
all meet at Grandma and Grandpa Jackson’s house; they lived just across the street
from our new home. My sister, Mary
Nelson and her husband, Leland, lived just a few blocks up the street with
their children (Lucille, Helen, Dorothy, and Keith). Somehow, while visiting over to our parents’
house, someone would mention having a picnic.
That’s all it took. Before you
could say “Jack Robinson,” the plans would go forward. My sister, Ethel Hawkes, her husband, Nate,
and their family (Phyllis, Grace, Betty, and Eugene); the Felts (Beverly,
Donna, Blaine, and Lowell) and any cousins, aunts, etc. who happened to be
within earshot were all included. We Jackson girls were taught
to cook by Mother, of course, and due to having such an expert instructor we
all managed to do pretty well in the kitchen.
I can just close my eyes to recall the oven-baked beans my mother always
supplied; Mary was an especially good cake baker; Ethel’s pies, cookies, and
bread were something to look forward to; Myrtle, though younger, was no less in
demand as a wonderful cook and then we all brought potato salad, fruit salad,
fried chicken, and last but by no means least lots of home-made ice-cream. Dad and Uncle Nate always had a contest and
amid a great deal of rivalry and laughter each one tried to eat more of the
delicious stuff than the other could hold.
Those were happy days indeed, with the cousins all playing or wading
together in a cool stream, and the grown-ups visiting their heads off. Since Jerry had no relatives of his own in Ogden, he rather enjoyed
mine.
All through these years of the
growing up of our children, Dad was the choir leader of the Sixth Ward. He enjoyed anything of a musical nature. I guess that is why he was one of the first
people in Ogden
to buy a radio. It was an expensive, big
new Zenith, to which we and all our friends listened with rapt attention.
My extra-curricular activities were
always church work. I worked mostly in
the Primary, and the “girls” who worked with me had a wonderful time. Ireta Evans, Sister Wheelwright, Lettie
Revell, Sister Winkler, Izzy Halverson are but a few. We met at Primary parties for years, playing
Rook and having good wholesome fun. For
a while, too, I belonged to the Ogden Stake Mutual Board and here, too, the
companionship of those we worked with was a beautiful thing. I loved those girls like sisters, and any of
us would and did do most anything to be helpful to the others. During World War II, I helped do Red Cross
work. I was awarded a certificate for
400 hours volunteer work. This was
mostly in the canteen we had at the Union Depot in Ogden to give the outgoing soldiers a bit of
home cooking while they waited over in the station. I enjoyed this, although it made me feel
depressed to think of those poor boys being on their way to a shooting war. The boys seemed glad to find that we were
older, more motherly women and often stayed near by just to visit with us, as
we reminded them of their own home.
But I digress. The children grew up; there were always
parties, and the natural confusion of six people going different places at the
same time. Now came the time when young
Jerry occasionally wanted to take the car, etc.
Finally, he was graduated from high school, went one year to Weber College,
then to Holland
on his mission. Just before he left for
the mission home, my friend, Stanny Shaw and I went as chaperones with Gerard
and his girlfriend, Dorothy Wallace, on a trip to the southern Utah Parks
and Grand Canyon. Jerry did the driving, with Dorothy by his
side, and I do not know who enjoyed the trip more, the kids in the front seat or
the kids in the back. We sang, we looked
at the wonders of nature, we sniffed the fragrant autumn air, ate, took
pictures, laughed, and – slept three in one bed and one in the other! It was certainly a pleasant little interlude
and was one thing which helped Dorothy and Jerry to remember each other well
enough to wait out the three years of his mission. Dad told Jerry not to drive faster than forty
miles per hour and he did just that.
During these thirty-three months
when Jerry was gone, the other children didn’t stand still. Spencer helped in the store after school,
taking his responsibilities in a fine way, was graduated from high school, and
attended Weber College.
Then he, too, was called on a mission to England and we shared his wonderful
experiences through his many letters home, just as we had Gerard’s. Just before Gerard returned home, my mother
passed away. We couldn’t get word to
him, as he was touring Europe at the time.
Economically, times were bad. It was during the depression, and Jerry
carried many families on his books, supplying them each day with their “daily
bread” while they were out of work. Some
of these people never paid their grocery bills amounting to hundreds of dollars
and I couldn’t get Dad to press them for it, even after times picked up.
When young Jerry came home from his
mission, times were still bad, and he couldn’t get a job anywhere. He and Dorothy wanted to get married but
couldn’t because he couldn’t find work.
He finally enrolled at Weber
College, completing his
work there and was graduated. Still no
jobs. So the next fall he enrolled at
the A.C. in Logan. At the end of the fall quarter, he and
Dorothy W. were married in the Salt
Lake Temple. They now have four fine children, two boys
and two girls. [“(Nancy K., Mary Lee, Bob, and Steve.)” written in by hand --
probably Dorothy’s.]
As Ruth and Betty were growing up,
we took them with us quite a few times to grocers’ conventions. We were always proud of the girls, who were
pretty, well-behaved children and whom our friends always enjoyed too. Ruth finished high school, went up to the
A.C. with Florence Morrison, one her friends.
They had a good time and Ruth learned a great deal up there about
tailoring, cooking, etc. Here she met a
fine young man whom she later married, Vallon Sperry Vickers, who was also
attending college there. His father is
still on the faculty there. They were
married in the Salt
Lake Temple
and now have three lovely children, whom we dearly love, of course, a boy and
two girls. [“(Donnie Lee, Joan, and
Linda)” written in by hand.] The day
they were married, we also did the work in the Temple
for my husband’s mother and father who were members of the church in Holland, but who had never had the opportunity of going to
the Temple.
After Spencer came home from England, he attended collage at Weber, where he
was graduated, later earning his B.S. degree from the Agricultural
College in Logan.
Soon after getting through school, he persuaded a lovely girl, Kathleen
Foulger, to be his bride. They, also,
were married in the temple. They now
have four fine sons, and are expecting again, this time a daughter, we
hope. [“(Spencer, Ralph, Greg, and
David.)” written in by hand. A footnote
states: “On Sept. 9, 1954 a daughter,
Kathleen Klomp, was born to Spence and Katy.”]
Betty grew up more alone than the
others, and for this reason, she and I were very close. When she didn’t have anyone to play with or
pal around with, I was always there to pinch-hit. Then, too, I realized she was probably our
last baby and just enjoyed every phase of her growing up. Also I had more time to spend with her, as
the others were more or less on their own.
We used to like to shop together, either for ourselves, or for the many
grandchildren’s birthdays and Christmas gifts.
Betty also was graduated from Ogden High School, went a year to Weber
and then she too wended her way up to Logan where she got her degree and met
the young man she later married. His
name is Douglas Quayle, and I do not know how Betty could have found a finer
husband more ideally suited to her temperament.
Betty and Doug were married here at
our home. It was a lovely home wedding,
I thought. Lawrence Evans performed the
ceremony; all our other children were there to help. Ruth stood up with Betty as her matron of
honor; Val, Spence, and Jerry looked so fine helping usher. Mr. and Mrs. Quayle and Dad and I were in our
best bib and tucker. Doug’s brothers and
sisters were there, and little Nancy and Mary Lee were flower girls. I always regretted not having thought to have
Doug’s little sister as a flower girl also, as she was only a year older than Nancy. It was just that I didn’t think about it soon
enough. But she was there and she and
Dorothy’s girls had a happy time.
Kathleen and Dorothy were both pregnant, but they too, looked nice that
night and everything went ahead smoothly.
We had two catering ladies in the kitchen and the refreshments were a
little extra nice. Dad said he wanted it
to be nice, and if I do say so myself, it was well planned. Betty looked lovely in a beautiful creation
of white satin. Two or three years
later, she wore the same dress at the ceremony in the Logan Temple
at which she and Doug were united for eternity.
I am thankful that now all of our children have had this blessed
privilege, both for their own good and that we may look forward to being
together during eternity. Betty and Doug
now have three lovely children, one of whom, little Chris, passed away in
infancy. But we shall always remember
what a sweet little spirit he was. We
all loved him so much and it was another of the sad days when we all went to Logan for his
services. [“(Steven, Chris, and Kathy
Quayle)” written in by hand.]
Well, time marches on, they
say. In looking back over my life, I can
truthfully say I have enjoyed every minute of it, well, almost every
minute. I have been married to the man I
just couldn’t do without, and have been very proud of his good life. He has always let me do whatever I liked, has
been honorable, and a good hard worker.
He served as a member of the Ogden City School Board for ten years,
president of Rotary Club, president of the grocers’ associations both in the
city, state, and just these last few years has been a director and later
president of the National Association of Retail Grocers, thereby having
national honors heaped upon him. Even
international honors came to Dad when Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands,
knighted him through her representative, the consul general who presented the
award of Knight of the Order or Oranje-Nassau.
And I have rejoiced with him and feel that he has been blessed
indeed. He has often said that he came
to America at the age of twelve years with no family and empty-handed, but by
his unbounded energy and the grace of God, he now has his own home, his own
business, a wife, four children, fourteen grandchildren, the esteem of his
community, besides the gospel which has always been very dear to his heart.
In closing, I should like to leave
with you one of my favorite poems. I
found it in one of the little Mother’s Day booklets distributed at church one
year. It is called “A Mother’s Prayer”
by B. Ryberg, and goes like this:
I wash the dirt from little feet,
and as I wash I pray
“Lord, keep them ever pure and true
to walk the narrow way.”
I wash the dirt from little hands,
and earnestly I ask
“Lord, may they ever yielded be to
do the humblest task.”
I wash the dirt from little knees
and pray
“Lord, may they be the place where
victories are won, and orders sought from Thee.”
I scrub the clothes that soil so
soon, and pray,
“Lord, may her dress throughout
eternal ages be Thy robe of righteousness.”
E’er many hours shall pass, I
know, I’ll wash these hands again;
And there’ll be dirt upon her
dress before the day shall end.
But as she journeys on through
life and learns of want and pain,
Lord, keep her precious little
heart cleansed from all sin and stain.
For soap and water cannot reach
where Thou alone can’st see.
Her hands and feet, these I can
wash—I trust her heart to Thee.
[A handwritten addendum reads: “The snapshot on the front
page was one of the last ones taken of Mom Klomp. Mary Lee asked them to stand out in front one
Sunday in the summer of 1953. It was
taken at 2370 Madison
and if you look closely, you can see that Mom was not quite up to par. She had been ill since the Feb. before, but
this was on one of her good days.”]
-----------
The above document was entered
into the computer by David Scott Vickers and Donald Lee Vickers on 28 December
1999. The source was a carbon copy of a
typed manuscript obtained by Don from his mother, Ruth Jane Klomp Vickers,
several years ago. Several minor
typographical corrections were made.
Zina passed away on May 19, 1954.
This file was last updated on 31
December 1999 – Donald Lee Vickers.
Captions (all written in by Dorothy):
Summer 1953
Eliza Jane Rawson Jackson, Aaron
Jackson,
my mother my
father
My parents were fine people, good Latter-day Saints. They reared a large family (nine) of good
citizens, what ever our personal shortcomings may have been.
Zina Geneva Jackson as a child
Zina Jerry
Zina Jerry
Gerard Marjorie
One of our first “family” pictures
Taken about 1912 or 1913
Gerard Ruth Spencer
About 1920 or 1921
“Ard” Ruth Spence
Dad’s store at 24th and Jefferson
------- George Ed
Jerry Dad
Dad’s store, after being remodeled
The Klomp family
Mom Spencer Ruth
Betty Gerard Dad
Another family group, about 1925 or ‘26
(“Just before Jerry’s mission, about 1930” — penciled in by
Don Vickers, probably at the direction of his mother, Ruth)
Sun Valley: Mom Ruth
Betty
Spencer
Kathleen Betty Ruth
Val Vickers
Dad Mom Dorothy
Nancy Jerry
The Klomp family — growing — 1940
(“Near the time Val
and Ruth were married” — penciled in by Don)
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