Alta Kiesel Lee, a granddaughter said,

"I am one of the lucky ones that got to spend a lot of time at our grandparent's as we lived less than a block away and every chance I got I would sneak over and spend time with them. Mama and daddy told me that from the time I was old enough to walk there by myself that I would take off and go over. One night when I was about a year old they couldn't fine me and so daddy went over and brought me home.

When Grandpa was alive he would take me with him to feed the chickens and the pigs. I remember one time I was exploring the roof of the chicken coop and stepped on a weak spot and fell through. I was sure I was going to get yelled at, but no they were just glad that I was safe.

I also remember tagging along with them to go down and decorate the graves. I also helped Uncle Jake catch night crawlers so he could go fishing, sometimes I even got to tag along to fish. It was a blast.

The one thing I remember the most was that I was always welcome there, and it didn't matter what time of the day or night that it was. They always made me feel so at home and special. I love and miss them very much."

30 Sept 2017-another granddaughter, Nancy K Keisel Vance wrote, "I remember grandpa setting in the breeze way between the house and the grainery shed carving on a piece of wood and slicing pieces of apple for us kids."

A BRIEF HISTORY
WRITTEN BY GEORGE CHRISTIAN KIESEL
THE SHEPHERD'S STORY

UNCLE GEORGE KIESEL
My father and one or more brothers came over from Germany. One of these brothers was George, and he lived in New York. He was a United States deputy Marshall . He ran a cracker factory were they made soda crackers, ginger snaps, etc. In our home there used to be a picture of Uncle George in his soldier uniform. I don't know what has become of it. When Father would get out of patience with me, he would often remark that I was just like my Uncle George. For instance, I once left my coat hanging across the pig pen and the pigs got it. Father said, "That's just like your Uncle George."

Father and Uncle George kept up a correspondence with each other for a while, but apparently Uncle George received too much of Father's point of view. At least letters ceased to come from him.

Home and Parents
In my father's home I don't think we ever went to bed without our prayers, and the blessing was asked on the food. My parents went to meetings on Sundays and when I was home I went with them. However, I was away much of the time working. But when home, I attended Primary, Sunday School, etc. I used to be quite a reciter in those days.

I look like by mother. Here is a picture of her and me. My mother could speak English, Danish, German, Indian and Mexican. I remember when she used to sing and spin, and how I used to help wind the yarn from the reel.

I think Mother had sixteen children, but I don't know the names of the older ones. A lot of them died in infancy. I am the oldest living son. In fact, my sister Anna and I are the only ones living of the sixteen. Those of us who were home when I was a boy were myself, Jane Joahanna, Emma Rosetta, Earnest, and Anna. In mentioning those older than I, there is one I have neglected to name, namely the first child of Mother's motherhood, who was Syrena Dyson. My father, John Jacob Kiesel, was much older than mother. She survived him many years.

I remember how Father used to cradle whet just before daylight. I have been with him in the field many a time, and I can still hear how that cradle zipped through the grain. He would cradle until about eleven o'clock, rest until about two, and then continue until he could no longer see. He averaged two acres a day. He has done three, but that made him hurry. That is a marked contrast from the twenty acres that are cut by the combines of today, which cut, thrash, and sack the grain in one process. I even did some cradling myself when I was a husky boy. Father owned a small farm of ten acres out near Ephraim in Sanpete County and some smaller pieces in other places nearby.

The Old Fort
Down where the Rio Grande depot now stands, the sage brush grew as high as a man's head. It was one of the stations of the guards during the Indian troubles. Here Father stood on guard many a night. One particular night when he went to take his place he found the man at the post asleep. This so angered Father that he said he felt like killing the man.

A Duel
Father was an expert swordsman. I faintly remember a duel he fought one Sunday morning about a block north of where I was born and raised. There lived in town another swordsman by the name of Mr. Barton. The young fellows of the town thought it would be sport to see a match between Father and Mr. Barton, and so led them to believe that each had challenged the other. Thus a match was made. I remember how Mother clung to Father and begged him not to go when she realized he was bent of fighting the duel. But he pushed her aside and was off to the conflict. When he reached the appointed place Mr. Barton was there, but was waiting for a sword to be brought to him. Father handed him his own sword and used as his weapon his own shield. He soon disabled Mr. Barton by striking his hand with the shield so that he could not hold the sword.

Father, before coming to America, had served twelve years in the German Army. Every able-bodied man was required to serve six years. Some who had money hired another to take their place. Father was hired to serve six years after he had served his own required six.

Father used to want me to learn to handle the sword when I was a boy, and endeavored to give me some training in sparring. He called it play, but when he brought the heavy blows of his sword across my legs I concluded that if that were but play I did not want to experience the real thing. Father was a large raw boned man and was powerful in his stroke.

Friendship
At one time the Beck's Springs in Salt Lake City were owned by John Beck, who was a comrade of my father when Father and he were boys in Germany. Mr. Beck became interested in the Tintic mines and became rich. I remember that once he paid Father a visit and stayed for five days or so. They were as tickled to see each other as two kids.

At home we used to have barrels of sauerkraut.

Both Father and Mother were good singers and used to sing lots of old hymns. They also sang at house parties. I recall a song Father sang, the chorus of which ran:

"Auch vie, lots of fun
Drinkin' lauger beer and vine,
Singing, talking all the time
Vay down to Bookel Sinders."

I used to play the harmonica awful good. Mother used to pay on the stage in the old Council House which stood where the library now is in Manti. That was before my day.

Father used to take Mother in the autumn to visit her folks in Springville. They went by ox team; 1st day to Fountain Green; 2nd day to Nephi; 3rd to Spanish Fork; 4th to Springville. From there he would go to Lehi to visit his sister. That took a day. I always went with on these trips.

I remember my Mother's sister, Rhoda Hatfield well. The reason I remember her so well is because she had the longest hair I ever saw on a woman. When she let it down, it would touch the floor.

My Birth
The 2nd of July 1875, I was born in an adobe house of two rooms- a large living room and a shanty, -situated on 3rd West and 3rd South in Manti, Sanpete County, Utah. This place was owned by my parent.

The Place of My Baptism
Out south of the town of Manti are some warm springs. There is now a pleasure resort there. In my boyhood time the Indians used to come to these springs to tan their buckskin. One of their tanning processes was to soak the skins, scrape off the hair, then rub the underside of the skin with the brains from a deer. This brain matter loosened the thin film of skin attached to the underside of the hid so it could be peeled off. Next they rubbed the hide until thoroughly dry. If there were hard spots, these were rubbed out with a smooth stone. The tanning was done by the squaws, and a hid could be tanned in a day. They did not stop rubbing and king the hides until the tanning was complete.

It was in this little spring, which is about 1 ½ miles south of town that I was baptized by Bishop Hans Jenson of Manti South Ward.

Schooling
George Scott was my first school teacher, who taught in the rear end of what is now the Anderson Dyring establishment here in Manti. The benches were straight planks. There were not enough books or readers to go around, so the reader was passed down the row. One day I did something which provoked the teacher. He threw his bunch of keys at me which hit me on the nose, causing it to bleed. That angered me, I threw them back and out of the room I went.

My schooling did not amount to much thereafter. I had to stay out to help with the work at home. I got behind my group and then would not go.

The Shepherd's Life
It has been my experience to work hard all my life. If there is a job of hard heavy work, it comes my way. When I was grown man I drove three yoke of oxen. I drove oxen all one summer logging in Six-Mile Canyon or Sterling, six miles south of Manti. But my major vocation has been sheep herding. My work in youth was chiefly on the farm. I did some sheep herding and hired out to farmers.

My first experience with the sheep herder's life was when I was eight years old. I was hired to carry water and chore about camp, at eight dollars a month.

For eight years I tended sheep in the country about the Henry Mountains. There I was many times in the Robber's Roost, the hang-out of the robber band whose chief was called Silver Tip. Other members of this band were Blue John, Butch Cassady, Ed. Newman (a half-breed Indian) I knew the outlaw Walker. He was a mean man, the slayer of sheriff Tuttle. He stole a lot of cattle. Once I was camped about a mile and half from the hang-out of Silver Tip and his gang when the officers surprised them one morning. About forty shots were exchanged and one outlaw received a flesh wound, but all escaped.

I have followed sheep herding for at least thirty-five years and if I had kept a journal of my experience, I think it would be of value now.

There is an art to this kind of work as there is to all other trades. Some men might be around sheep all their lives and still not know how to handle them. Sheep have to be handled carefully, gently. They must be out to feed early in the morning and be watched from straying. They must not be kept close together in browsing, but scattered out.

Feeding conditions determine the grade of wool. If the wool is kept growing fast, it is a much better grade than otherwise. If feed is good until the wool has a fair start and then the sheep are underfed for a while, that causes what is called a kink in the wool, which lessens its quality.

In summer, grass and willows are the principal feed. In winter sheep browse on sage brush and black sage.

A sheep's best age for wool production is from two to six years. Also for breeding purposes, I think the best mutton is a wether of two years.

I have never known of a woman coming to a sheep camp who did not enjoy the sour-dough camp bread, which is very simply made. To start a leaven for such bread, one merely mixes up a little flour, water and sugar, which is kept warm until it ferments. Then this is mixed to a stiff batter and rolled in flour. At each baking all but a start of this leaven is used, and the start is kept renewed by adding to it from the fresh batter each time. A little salt and soda is all that is added to the leaven when mixing the dough for baking.

Bear
Years ago the mountains around here were full of bear. It was a common experience for a bear to pounce upon the herd at night. One night when my eleven-year old son Kenneth was with me, a bear slaughtered twenty-five lambs. I tracked him all day the following day, but he evaded me, for I did not get him.

There was a hug bear in the country at that time, which was very destructive. Once he killed a large cow and literally tore her to pieces. I saw him a few times, but each time I was without a gun. His track was eighteen inches. It could always be identified because he was minus a toe. He finally shot himself by taking a bate of bacon from a gun set in a tree for him.

A bear's favorite dainties are bacon, honey and onions. A bear is easily trapped, much easier than a coyote. Bear are death on sheep and cattle.

Lions are bad too, but I believe they are more destructive to deer and horses, especially yearling colts, than they are to cattle.

Coyote are worse on sheep than bear and lion put together. Coyotes are the worst enemy a herder has to contend with. They are not content to kill for prey, but will slaughter for the sport of it (as will a bear also). Buy the coyotes go in packs and a number of them entering a herd soon work havoc, and they are so sneaking and sly that they will enter even in the day time. Their method of killing is usually to take their victim by the throat. A sheep so taken instinctively draws back. The coyote holds onto the throat, pulling in the reverse direction which shuts off the victim's breath. I have seen them kill in this manner without drawing blood.

Health and Family Connections
In the forty years I've been married I don't think I have been in bed from sickness three days. I have been going all the time pretty nearly.

I am now sixty-two years old (1930). I am the father of eleven children, three of whom have gone beyond the vail of mortal life. My grandchildren number twenty-nine. Of these twenty-five are living. All of my living descendants are within visiting reach of their parents, for which we are thankful.

My father kept a family record, but he loaned it to a German acquaintance by the name of Jacob Keller. The record was not returned that I know of.

Father died in January. I think it was the January before I was married in June, which would make it January of 1894. I think that he was then seventy-three years old, which would make his birth date about 1821. It seems that his birthday was February 13.

It seems to me that he said his mother's name was Christina, but I am not sure. I know he had a sister Christina, who came to the United States. Her home was in Lehi, Utah. She came here and did work in the Manti Temple. William Britton was her husband. Her granddaughter is Lucy Gates of Lehi.

My mother has one brother, William Parshall, who went by the name of William Hatfield. He was adopted by John Hatfield.

My sister Emma first married Jim Wood. He was a fine fellow, but drank. She finally left him and married her deceased sister Jane's husband, Will Watt. She raised his three girls whom Jane born him. Then he took to drinking and she left him and married John Bradburn of Pilot Rock, Oregon. He was well to do and gave her everything she desired. He was about the wealthiest man I Pilot Rock, Oregon. She had no children of her own, so far as I know. These girls of Jane's were very pretty girls. Jane lost one little girl here in Manti. The three were: Bell, Georgia, and Josie.

I was ordained and Elder in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints about the winter of 1903 before my son Kenneth was born.

It has been the experience of my wife and I to care for several aged people in their last years on earth. My mother was with us for ten years preceding her death. Stenia, my wife, waited on her own father for several years and when it became too much to care for him in his own home and also attend to her own family, we brought him into our home and he was with us two years before his death. We felt hat this has been a mission given us.

In conclusion I wish to record that we believe the Gospel to be true.

Signed_____________________________
(George Christian Kiesel)
FD/Feb 28, 1938

(Note: Added by Mrs. Linda (Kiesel) Larson on 1 June 1969- The birth date of John Jacob Kiesel in this history is wrong. John Jacob was born 10 April 1918.

1. Surname for George Christian Kiesel and children is also spelled Keisel, Keasel, Kiezel, etc.

2. Family records list George Christian Kiesel's birth year as 1875. However, the Manti South Ward Records (1877-), the Salt Lake 5th Ward Records, and the 1900 Census all list his birth year as 1874. Also, the age given in the marriage record would place his birth in 1874.)