My Grandfather, Robert Robson Fletcher By Luella F. Okeson (grand-daughter) June 23, 1977

My Grandfather, Robert Robson Fletcher By Luella F. Okeson (grand-daughter) June 23, 1977

Like the sturdy covered wagon breaking trail,

You turned your young face toward the west,

Resolutely pioneering every hill and vale,

Undaunted, thinking only to achieve the best

You made a vow to find and win success

As you explored each new possibility,

Giving all your love and faith and gentleness,

And then, unknowing, revealed your nobility.

This tribute to my beloved grandfather is long overdue, and I am glad that the Fletcher Family Organization and reunion has provided me with an opportunity to express my feelings about a man who meant everything to me from my first recol­lection of him. My first memory is of living in a small frame home across a sparkling creek from the large red stone house where my grandparents lived on the old Cannon ranch in Snydervllle. Each morning my sister LaVerne and I would race over the small plank bridge to the big house where we were given our daily treat of "Black Candy" (Hershey chocolate squares) and gum by our grandmother, and then we would take our appointed places on Grandfather's knees and listen while he read to us from a wide selection of his favorite books. Oh, how I loved and looked for­ward to that time each day! My grandfather and I shared our love of books through the years, and as I grew older, he would take me to the Park City library where we read our way around its limited shelves. He instilled in me a desire for knowledge, and I realize now that he was determined to give me what he had longed for himself--an education so that I could earn a satisfying living for myself.

There will never be adequate words for me to express my gratitude to him for his insistence that I go to college. Somehow he found the money during the depression years from 1936 to 1940 for me to graduate in home economics from Utah State University in Logan. Doors were opened to me, and I eagerly passed through them with his quiet, ever present encouragement. He made it possible for me to become a teacher in a profession I have loved through all the intervening years.

Grandfather Fletcher was born on October 3, 1866, in Kewanee, Illinois, to Isaac and Eleanor Robson Fletcher. My great-grandfather died when Grandpa was five years old, leaving my great-grandmother with six children to raise. At the age of nine, Grandfather went to work in the coal mines to help keep the family. He had attended school through the fourth grade and he was always insecure about his lack of formal education. My grandparents shared common ancestors in Adam Fletcher, born on October 22, 1814, in Cumberland, England, and his wife Ann Clarke, born on October 3, 1812, in Ayr, Scotland. My grandparents migrated to Salt Lake City, and there they met and married on November 10, 1892. They knew some very hard times, but Grandpa always managed to make a living. He worked at The Salt Lake Hardware Company and the Bamberger Coal Company and other places. Always in the recommendation letters given him were such complimentary words as "willing, diligent, reliable, honest, faithful; a man of ability and sound judgment." To this worthy couple were born three children: James Isaac, Jennie Ellen (my mother), and Louise Beatrice. They had moved to a ranch in Snyderville where they lived until World War I (at that time, the family moved to Salt Lake City to live on Bryan Avenue.

My mother had married my father, George L. Felton, on May 28, 1917, but he went off to serve in the war, so Mother again lived with her parents. I was born on May 7, 1918, and from all accounts, was royally received. My grandfather claimed he had a head start on my father who did not see me until I was eleven months old. When my father returned after the war, Grandfather and the family decided to purchase two ranches in Snyderville. Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary Tuckett Fletcher lived on the lower ranch, and, in a separate part of the house, lived "Nanty" -- my name for my Aunt Louise-- and her husband Samuel Adolph Dickerman. There were two houses on the upper ranch as I have already said.

Rigid economy brought the family through the depression following the war, but they managed. Grandfather was a natural leader, and he was elected to the state legislature while I was a small girl. I remember how proud I was of him, and one memory I will never forget. I found him at his roll-top desk practicing his signature over and over so that it would look "educated" when he signed bills and other legal papers. He also became interested in genealogy although he was not a member of the Latter-day Saints Church, and he paid to have research done. He often showed me the papers and especially was he proud of the Coat of Arms which was framed and hung in his room.

Two great changes came about when Grandpa lived on the ranch. The first was a tragic accident when he caught his leg in a hay bailer. I can still recall the absolute terror of seeing my beloved grandfather's mangled, bloody leg. With his face white and teeth set firmly against the pain, he refused to allow the doctor to amputate the ravaged leg; in fact, he extracted a promise from Doctor Snow that the leg would be patched up. Grandpa spent some grueling days in the Park City Hospital and then returned to his home where he walked on crutches, and then finally he limped about with a cane for a long time. Dramatically his active participation in the physical work on the ranch came to be curtailed although he always did all that he could. It was at this time when he really turned to books and grandchildren—he had nine of us eventually. I was the one, probably, who was closest to him because we loved the same things and could talk endlessly of our common interests. He and Grandmother often took out the Haynes car of which they were very proud, and carried us off to Salt Lake City for shopping, lunch, movies, trips to the state capitol, the copper mine, Lagoon and Saltair. These outings were supremely exciting to us and created many happy memories.

The other change came fairly suddenly on December 2, 1925, when my grandmother died of a strangulating hernia. Vividly I remember Grandpa coming out of the bedroom into the dining room where Mother and we children were playing, and in a low, unbelieving voice he said, "Ella, she's gone." Grandmother was a rock, a community and family institution, well-loved and respected by all. How could she be dead? We needed her so much. And then I really thought of Grandpa standing there so silent and still. From that moment, although I was only seven years old, I realized how lonely he would be, and I resolved to be with him even more. He tried to make things normal for us, and he insisted on keeping the Christmas traditions that year, too.

Restlessly he turned to other interests, among them an oil well In Wyoming.

Nothing was ever quite the same for him. He always kept in touch with family members "back East," and there were visits back and forth. Grandpa helped his unmarried sister Jennie as long as he lived. Many people were afraid of Grandpa, but he was only kind and loving to me. There were moments when he could be strict, but I am glad he was; we needed it.

Grandpa always had a car and made many trips about the area. He would always take us grandchildren to high school games and band concerts or to movies. When I was at school in Logan he would come up in any kind of weather and bring us home for the weekends. All of my friends loved him as I did, for he was so good to us, so patient and kind.

When I graduated he came with my parents to the exercises with great pride and satisfaction. I had a teaching contract, and I was thrilled beyond words. After one year of teaching in Randolph, Utah, I left to teach at Park City High School, and he was really happy about that.

I married Kenneth Okeson in 1941; he went to serve in World War II, but I was able to go with him, for he stayed in the states. Even then the letters flowed steadily between Grandpa and me. Once when we came home on furlough, we could not give Grandpa the exact time we would arrive in Salt Lake City, but he stayed at a hotel and met every bus for twenty-four hours until we came in early in the morning. Devotion like that is unforgettable.

After the war, Grandpa helped us get started as he did the other cousins who had been in service. At this time he was living with Nanty in Salt Lake City, and he was often ill. When he had to go to a hospital, family members took turns staying all night with him. We considered it a privilege to care for him. Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary took him to their home when death crept closer, but we all still helped to care for him. Upon his death I was heartbroken, but I was so glad to know that he was free of the pain and suffering.

My grandfather was a great man who loved his family and always took a keen interest in what each member was doing. He built up his community and state and had many friends. I understand him better now that I have been through some of the difficulties he experienced; I understand his loneliness, and I admire him for his fortitude, courage and wisdom in dealing with overwhelming problems. I have a letter I wrote to him from Randolph which expresses my feelings best: "I can't tell you what you mean to me. I hope I can live up to your expectations of me; you have certainly set high standards for me to follow."

The unbeatable pioneer spirit that was his trademark, motivated his thinking, his actions, and his deeds, and I am sure that he left the world a far better place because he had lived in it for eighty-two effective years.