Son of Job Welling and Marietta Holmes
Married Sarah Rasminnie Nielsen, 25 Jun 1913, Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
Biography - by Mae Welling Bunting, written 3 May 1983
Edward Hunter Welling, whose namesake Edward Hunter led one of the 13 companies of pioneers across the plains that had arrived before the close of 1847. Bro. Hunter was a presiding bishop of the church and died in Oct. 1883, four months after our father was born. I am not aware if there was a close relationship with Bro. Hunter and the Holmes or the Welling family. Regardless of circumstances of the giving of that name, it was one that Edward Hunter Welling bore honorably throughout his life.
Edward was the 7th child and 5th son of Job and Marietta, and one of the younger of his father’s 28 children. Edward lacked 3 months of being 3 yrs. old when his father died, Mar. 1886. He had a remarkable mother, Marietta, and two step-“aunties” that influenced his life greatly, Phoebe and Emma.
Edward’s mother died Aug. 10, 1905, when he was 22. I’ve heard Uncle Charlie state many times how much he envied daddy when their mother was so ill. Daddy seemed to be the one that could comfort her and if I’m not mistaken she died in his arms with what they called at that time consumption.
Daddy was a beautiful penman and remained so to the end of his days. He graduated from the LDS Business College, graduating May 27, 1904 and also attended the University of Utah. For two years 1913-1915 he was secretary to the school board in Farmington. At that time Hubert C. Burton was Supt. Of County Schools. Henry H. Blood was Pres. of the School Board. It was at this time the high schools of Davis Co., Bountiful, Kaysville and Syracuse became centralized at Kaysville. Leo J. Muir was its first principal.
This association with the schools is probably the time Edward became acquainted with our mother who came to Farmington from Huntsville, Utah to teach school. I know very little about their courtship but daddy just passed his 30th birthday on June 16 and was married to Sarah Rasminnie Nielsen 25 June 1913 in the Salt Lake Temple.
For the next 35 plus years these two people wove a tapestry of life that was strong and beautiful.
Daddy helped support his older brothers on their missions and when it came time for him to go, most of his older brothers were married and had obligations with their families and there wasn’t anyone much left at home to support a mission for him. He was never bitter about this circumstance-just glad others had had the opportunity. He was a student of the gospel though and understood it well. He’d sit in a class and listen to what everyone else had to say about the subject pros and cons and then the teacher would say, “What do you think, Bro. Welling”, and Daddy would arise and in his measured deliberate way put to rest any controversy that had been created by the discussion and “told it like it is”. Everyone respected our father’s good judgment. He and mother both taught many different classes in their church experience.
After Edward and Minnie were married they lived in the old Job Welling home. From there they moved to Riverside, back to the Lund Home in Centerville for awhile and then moved to Idaho for 8 yrs and then back to the Job Welling home in Farmington, north Farmington to be exact. In the fall of 1915 Edward H. sold his interest in the farm in Farmington and moved his family to Riverside, Box Elder Co. Utah. He ran his brother Harry’s farm one year. Wanda was born in Riverside, July 18, 1916. During the winter of 1916, Daddy and the family spent at the Lund Home for boys assisting his brother Arthur, who ran the home. In the spring of 1917, Daddy bought an 80 acre farm in Downey, Idaho. There had been great promises of water in this new area and many people bought land with hopes that water would be plentiful. That didn’t turn out to be true and after 8 yrs. in Downey, Daddy and family were persuaded by Uncle Arthur to move back and buy the old Welling homestead.
During the Idaho years three more girls joined the family, Dorothy on April 9, 1918, Maude Sept. 30, 1919, and Marietta Mar. 13, 1922.
After the move back to Farmington the spell of girls was broken on Dec. 30, 1925 when Lawrence Edward was born. We girls were all hustled across the street to spend the night with Uncle George and Aunt Judith.
A baby boy-a baby brother-a son. We were all excited. Each new addition to the family brought its special joy and was welcomed with such love and devotion. Six children were never more welcome into a household.
Daddy always said his family was his real wealth. He worked hard eking a living out of the soil. Money was never one of his priorities. Daddy made the best of the situations in which he found himself. His house was not the greatest or furnished lavishly but it was his home and he made up these seeming deficiencies with warmth, love and concern for all of his family.
We were blessed with good health. Maybe the cracks around the doors that let in the cold toughened us-but mostly a heritage of health from our parents. At the time of the great flu epidemic Daddy felt such compassion for the doctor in Downey and his spent energy going from sick patient to patient that Daddy went to him to see what he might do for him and the Dr. Said “go home and care for your own family so I won’t have to come there”. We were spared having the flu.
While living in Idaho, Daddy raised Russet potatoes on the farm. We had big pits to store the potatoes. Everything was done with horse power. I don’t know where the horses got their names, but I remember Fox and Prince, Cap, Queen, Nerve, Bird. I can remember some pretty scary times when a team would become frightened and make a run unattended. Fortunately none of us were hurt on such occasions.
One of my first chores was getting on a horse and bringing the cows home from the pasture. We had a very gentle good riding horse that Daddy felt we could all ride safely.
Daddy taught his girls how to help him on the farm – ride a horse pulling the cultivator, weed corn, cut asparagus, pick fruit, herd cows, hoe the garden and pick it’s harvest, and help with the canning. These canning sessions were a family affair. As we would snip beans or peel peaches, or whatever, we’d listen to continued serials on the radio – Ma Perkins, One Man’s Family, Helen Trent, to mention a few. During the depression years we probably lived below what was considered the poverty level, but we had fresh fruit and vegetables to eat and can for winter use and a hog or a cow was butchered for meat. To this day, I’d like to find something that tasted like the cured sausage Daddy and the neighbors used to make. Slaughtering was always a job for several men working together. Daddy was an expert in skinning, cleaning and preserving the carcass, but he couldn’t kill the animal. Others were glad to do that to get his expertise at the other jobs needing to be done.
Oh, I forgot, the haying jobs. I’d like a nickel for every round I made of the hay field on the rake. And then there were the June grass stickers in our socks as we’d tromp the hay loads. Daddy would pitch the hay onto the wagon where the tromper told him to, so we wouldn’t have to move much hay around. We even learned to use the Jackson fork that moved the hay from the load to the stack. And then there was the person who rode or walked the horse that pulled the fork lift of hay onto the stack. We graduated from one job to the next. There were times when Uncle Arthur would come out and help with the haying – he mowed or piled and one of us kids did the raking. I remember one day when several neighbors were helping with the hay hauling. Lawrence was old enough to ride on the hayrack and probably drove the team from pile to pile. As they passed a tree they found little birds scattered on the ground, having fallen from their nest. They were not yet old enough to care for themselves and Daddy stopped the whole operation to teach Lawrence a lesson of putting little helpless birds back into their nest.
Daddy worked along with us at thinning peaches, weeding, and haying. Often we’d sit down at the end of a row and just talk. Sometimes we’d stop at the melon patch and break open a watermelon and scoop out the insides with our hands. I don’t recall a knife used much on such occasions – maybe Daddy’s pocketknife. Daddy had a thing about watermelons. He always had a lot of them and he didn’t mind kids coming along and stealing one now and again, but he’d say, “I wish when they come for a melon, they wouldn’t sit on the ones they don’t take”.
Daddy always arose early and he often said to us as he’d come to the house for breakfast, “You’ve missed the most beautiful part of the day” (meaning as it was getting light). We always had cows as long as I lived at home and Daddy did all the milking night and morning. We cooled the milk in the milk house. We could hear him coming to the house as his hob-nailed shoes hit the hard path between the milk house and the house. He whistled a lot too.
Daddy enjoyed growing different things like celery that takes a lot of extra care and peanuts. We had raspberries, strawberries, gooseberries and native currants – plums and prunes, apples and peaches, cherries and apricots. It seemed there was always fresh fruit to eat all summer long.
There was a choke cherry tree that could only be picked from the top of a load of hay, under the tree. Daddy would stop and let us pick the choke cherries for Mom to make syrup for hot cakes and such. Mmm –
Daddy hated seeing a half dressed person. On Sunday morning if we needed to do a little pressing before church, you’d better not let Daddy catch you ironing in your petticoat. He’d say, “Go get some clothes on”. One time I was home for a day or so from college, and I took a drink out to Daddy in the field just south of our house, on a very hot day. I was wearing what we’d call peddle pushers today and when I handed him the water he threw it on my legs and said “Go get some clothes on.” As thirsty as I’m sure he was, he taught a lesson instead of quenching his thirst.
Daddy always seemed to get a night water turn and because it usually had to be set on in row crops, it took more than one person to make the best use of the water. So he’d call a couple or three of us to meet him at the field after he’s gone up the ditch to get the water. One time we went back to sleep and didn’t meet him on time so he always made sure after that we were up and dressing before he left. We’d go out and sit on the ditch bank and wait to hear the water hitting the head gate as it came down toward us. It usually got there before it was light. We’d set the water by lantern light.
Debt was something Ed Welling abhorred. When others were purchasing radios or furniture on time, we had to wait until we could pay cash for it. I remember the summer we spent picking beans to pay for a new front room slumber couch. What a beautiful piece of furniture to us all – mohair with reversible cushions. It was an added sleeping facility that we had earned by picking beans. We had a family council and decided that that was what we wanted to do as a group. Each day of picking we saw another part of that special council become a reality.
There were always jobs to be done, even on holidays, and Daddy’s 5 girls worked in the fields and orchards as boys would have done. But he was always careful to look out for our welfare. There were cows to herd or weeding or watering or haying or canning.
It never seemed to end all summer long. Other kids got to go to Lagoon. We got there maybe once or twice a summer. Mostly we could hear the squeals as the giant racer dipped up and down around its course. I do believe the fireworks were prettier from our front lawn than had we been right at Lagoon.
One of our cash crops was asparagus that had to be cut every other day, and if it was an especially warm spring day, every day after school. We would hurry and change our clothes and head for the asparagus patch located in the hollow just above the Bamberger railroad track. I thought after cutting it for so many years I would never be able to eat it again.
Daddy loved the soil. I’ve often seen him just let dirt filter through his fingers. It was almost as though he were caressing it. He loved beautiful sunsets and took time to marvel at them. They were beautiful from our place as we looked down over the Great Salt Lake. He loved the early morning and often remarked as he’d come to the house that we’d missed the dawning of another beautiful day. We had a remarkable black walnut tree that our grandfather probably planted that spread out over much of the garden spot at the north side of the house; but it furnished us with good nuts and some fun social evenings cracking them for some good fudge candy.
I believe we had the biggest French lilac bush I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. And how the perfume of that bush would waft in through the bedroom windows at night.
Even with meager circumstances Daddy and Mother saw to it we all had music lessons. We had to walk down to the center of Farmington for our piano lessons from Ida Clark. We didn’t become great pianists but we are all lovers of good music still.
Both Daddy and Mom were interested in our school endeavors. Daddy probably could take a prize for the number of Martha E. Barnes speeches and Constitutional contest talks he helped his daughters write. I don’t know if Lawrence was involved in those or not. Daddy had a good command of history and was a valuable asset when speech writing time came along. I wish I’d kept copies of my speeches. They are only a dim memory now.
If it snowed during the night and we had to catch an early Bamberger train to school, Daddy would shovel a path for us and usually stand there with us until the train came at King’s Crossing.
One thing I remember so plainly was whenever any of us would leave to go back to school or away to work Daddy’s parting remark was “Remember who your mother is.” Often he’d say you don’t have much for a dad but a great Mom. Course Mom and all of us knew different than that. He was a prince of a man.
Daddy never learned to drive a motorized vehicle but he could surely handle a team of horses. He was as good at repairing a harness with a piece of barbed wire as some fellows are at repairing the engine of their “horseless carriages”.
None of Dads’ or Moms’ family ever visited us, or even neighbors, for that matter, who didn’t leave with a bushel basket of fresh vegetables or fruit that was in season. Daddy had several widowed sisters that he used to keep in fresh food when we had it.
Daddy was not particularly demonstrative with his show of affection, especially kissing. When his sisters used to come for a visit it was a big joke of they could get a kiss. Mom and Dad were never “mushy” in front of their children. We always knew how much our Dad loved Mom and us and he was always so interested in our accomplishments and activities. If we ever caught Daddy off guard and slipped our arms around his neck from behind as he was sitting we sometimes could ”steal” a kiss and it was always a big joke. We knew how much our father loved us.
On one occasion Daddy and I went to Henry Moon’s home prior to the funeral of our good friend. As we walked into the yard a woman rushed up and threw her arms around Daddy and kissed him to his great surprise. They talked momentarily and she was called away before he had time to introduce her to me. After she left I said, “Daddy who was that?” And he looked at me and said, “I don’t know”.
Daddy and his brothers and sisters were great “gimmy yarn” spinners. I don’t know where that phrase came from but it was used frequently when members of his family got together and told stories of their childhood. One story we heard Daddy tell often was about his brothers playing baseball on the school grounds just across the road from their home. The boys too young to play were the water boys and carried water from their house over to the ball players.
One hot day a lot of water had to be hauled and toward the end of the game the “water-hauler” announced that the water was all gone. When the players pressed the delivery boy about that statement they discovered he’d been bringing the water from the horse trough and indeed it was all gone. One day our Uncle Wilford Welling was visiting and we found out for the first time that our Daddy had been the water carrier that day. Up to that time Daddy had told the story on someone else. Daddy loved a good joke. He had a hearty laugh that was contagious. He saw the funny side of many situations that saved the day. His daughter Dorothy got an extra abundance of this quality of seeing the bright and oft times funny side of things.
Very often people would come to talk to Daddy. Our home being small without much room for privacy, Daddy and visitors would walk out and sit on the block where Daddy chopped wood. That was private for confidential talks. Many people sought out our father for advice. He never talked about what went on out there to any of us. Numerous people mentioned at the time of his death how Daddy had helped them sort out problems that they had.
Daddy was on the recreation committee in our North Farmington ward and at one time they had weekly movies shown in the cultural hall. Daddy would have to collect the tickets. Mostly, we couldn’t afford to go but on Sat. morning at breakfast Daddy would catch us up on the serial and the plot of the movie if it was a good one. His reports were always most interesting. He also helped plan excursions every other week, during the summer, to the Great Salt Lake just west of our area. Daddy drove one hayrack and another member of the ward took another hayrack with hay covered with blankets. Everyone took the afternoon off from farm chores, packed a lunch and their swim suit and joined in the lake trip. We’d sing going and coming. Those were such fun times. Swimming in salt water is quite an experience because you float with no effort. You just had to be extra careful not to get any water in your eyes or nose. It could really choke you. Lots of good socializing went on at those occasions. Once I remember we came home in a terrible thunder storm that came up suddenly and caused a cloud burst up the canyon and water came down over some peoples farms and yards. On that occasion Uncle George’s place got about a foot of mud all over his yard. It didn’t get into the house but it was a mess for awhile. That was a scary night.
I can remember how Daddy would hold us on his knee and sing and tell stories. When it was just Wanda and I he’d hold one on each knee and as Dorothy and then Maude came along, Wanda and I sat out straddling his knees as he held the littler ones close up to him. I’m sure Marietta and Lawrence got heir share of that too, but we all couldn’t be there at the same time anymore. He made up a song known as his rocking chair song that he’s sing to us and have us sing with him.
“Sing a song, Sing a song,
Sing a song for your Dad
Sing a song, Sing a song,
Sing a song for your Dad-dee”
Daddy was always at loose ends if mother was ever away. That didn’t happen often but Mother went to Provo occasionally for a few days for leadership meetings for her Relief Society Stake board calling and we’d hear Daddy say several times a day, “I wonder what your mother is doing right now.”
Daddy taught us a wonderful lesson on our debt to the Lord. One year when times were hard, there was not money, and produce was not selling because of the economy, the church members on farms were encouraged to pay their tithing in produce. We had a good peach crop. In our orchard we had several trees of super prime fruit from a size standpoint. When we got ready to pick the fruit for tithing, Daddy took us to those trees first. We picked our very best fruit to present to the Lord for tithing. Daddy taught us to always present our very best to the Lord in talent, time and devotion. He tried always to be an example of that.
Daddy whistled a lot and I particularly remember how we could hear him coming down the path to the house from doing chores, whistling as he came. He was in a car accident with Bishop Rose as they were on their way to a stake church meeting in Bountiful. It cut Daddy’s lower lip rather severely and after that he couldn’t whistle as well.
Daddy was 2nd counselor in the bishopric for 5 yrs. John Ivan Hess was bishop. Nephi Taylor the other counselor. He was set apart for this calling by Elder Harold B. Lee.
There was a history of heart disease in the Job Welling family and ever so many of his brothers and sister died very suddenly. Daddy had his first scare during the Second World War period and had to give up hard farm work. He couldn’t be idle so he took a job at one of the defense plants but that didn’t last long because there wasn’t a lot to do in the department he was assigned and when he made waves about keeping him busy they just told him to sit back and draw his pay and not worry about whether it was honest work for honest pay. Daddy couldn’t stand that and felt he could find some easy chores to do around his home. He was having to be very careful when I left on my mission June 1948. He died of heart failure on May 22, 1949 before my mission was to be over in December. Lawrence was in the Eastern States Mission and we met in Chicago and rode home together on the Union Pacific for his funeral.
So at the age of 66 just about one month before his 67th birthday, he died at home on a Sunday morning.
He was born in the same house he died in, but he and Mom had remodeled the house and made it a very comfortable modern home. They had added a basement and a new wing. They covered the adobe on the front of the house but left the beautiful rock on the back of the house exposed. Many fun and precious experiences took place within those walls. They added a fireplace that was a gathering place for many enjoyable evenings with family and friends. The lives of Edward Welling’s acquaintances were made richer and happier for having known him. Our father lived a good life.
Some sayings I remember our father making:
"Time to rise and shine.”
“Remember who your mother is.”
“It’s morning – light clear out to the nut tree."
Married Sarah Rasminnie Nielsen, 25 Jun 1913, Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
Biography - by Mae Welling Bunting, written 3 May 1983
Edward Hunter Welling, whose namesake Edward Hunter led one of the 13 companies of pioneers across the plains that had arrived before the close of 1847. Bro. Hunter was a presiding bishop of the church and died in Oct. 1883, four months after our father was born. I am not aware if there was a close relationship with Bro. Hunter and the Holmes or the Welling family. Regardless of circumstances of the giving of that name, it was one that Edward Hunter Welling bore honorably throughout his life.
Edward was the 7th child and 5th son of Job and Marietta, and one of the younger of his father’s 28 children. Edward lacked 3 months of being 3 yrs. old when his father died, Mar. 1886. He had a remarkable mother, Marietta, and two step-“aunties” that influenced his life greatly, Phoebe and Emma.
Edward’s mother died Aug. 10, 1905, when he was 22. I’ve heard Uncle Charlie state many times how much he envied daddy when their mother was so ill. Daddy seemed to be the one that could comfort her and if I’m not mistaken she died in his arms with what they called at that time consumption.
Daddy was a beautiful penman and remained so to the end of his days. He graduated from the LDS Business College, graduating May 27, 1904 and also attended the University of Utah. For two years 1913-1915 he was secretary to the school board in Farmington. At that time Hubert C. Burton was Supt. Of County Schools. Henry H. Blood was Pres. of the School Board. It was at this time the high schools of Davis Co., Bountiful, Kaysville and Syracuse became centralized at Kaysville. Leo J. Muir was its first principal.
This association with the schools is probably the time Edward became acquainted with our mother who came to Farmington from Huntsville, Utah to teach school. I know very little about their courtship but daddy just passed his 30th birthday on June 16 and was married to Sarah Rasminnie Nielsen 25 June 1913 in the Salt Lake Temple.
For the next 35 plus years these two people wove a tapestry of life that was strong and beautiful.
Daddy helped support his older brothers on their missions and when it came time for him to go, most of his older brothers were married and had obligations with their families and there wasn’t anyone much left at home to support a mission for him. He was never bitter about this circumstance-just glad others had had the opportunity. He was a student of the gospel though and understood it well. He’d sit in a class and listen to what everyone else had to say about the subject pros and cons and then the teacher would say, “What do you think, Bro. Welling”, and Daddy would arise and in his measured deliberate way put to rest any controversy that had been created by the discussion and “told it like it is”. Everyone respected our father’s good judgment. He and mother both taught many different classes in their church experience.
After Edward and Minnie were married they lived in the old Job Welling home. From there they moved to Riverside, back to the Lund Home in Centerville for awhile and then moved to Idaho for 8 yrs and then back to the Job Welling home in Farmington, north Farmington to be exact. In the fall of 1915 Edward H. sold his interest in the farm in Farmington and moved his family to Riverside, Box Elder Co. Utah. He ran his brother Harry’s farm one year. Wanda was born in Riverside, July 18, 1916. During the winter of 1916, Daddy and the family spent at the Lund Home for boys assisting his brother Arthur, who ran the home. In the spring of 1917, Daddy bought an 80 acre farm in Downey, Idaho. There had been great promises of water in this new area and many people bought land with hopes that water would be plentiful. That didn’t turn out to be true and after 8 yrs. in Downey, Daddy and family were persuaded by Uncle Arthur to move back and buy the old Welling homestead.
During the Idaho years three more girls joined the family, Dorothy on April 9, 1918, Maude Sept. 30, 1919, and Marietta Mar. 13, 1922.
After the move back to Farmington the spell of girls was broken on Dec. 30, 1925 when Lawrence Edward was born. We girls were all hustled across the street to spend the night with Uncle George and Aunt Judith.
A baby boy-a baby brother-a son. We were all excited. Each new addition to the family brought its special joy and was welcomed with such love and devotion. Six children were never more welcome into a household.
Daddy always said his family was his real wealth. He worked hard eking a living out of the soil. Money was never one of his priorities. Daddy made the best of the situations in which he found himself. His house was not the greatest or furnished lavishly but it was his home and he made up these seeming deficiencies with warmth, love and concern for all of his family.
We were blessed with good health. Maybe the cracks around the doors that let in the cold toughened us-but mostly a heritage of health from our parents. At the time of the great flu epidemic Daddy felt such compassion for the doctor in Downey and his spent energy going from sick patient to patient that Daddy went to him to see what he might do for him and the Dr. Said “go home and care for your own family so I won’t have to come there”. We were spared having the flu.
While living in Idaho, Daddy raised Russet potatoes on the farm. We had big pits to store the potatoes. Everything was done with horse power. I don’t know where the horses got their names, but I remember Fox and Prince, Cap, Queen, Nerve, Bird. I can remember some pretty scary times when a team would become frightened and make a run unattended. Fortunately none of us were hurt on such occasions.
One of my first chores was getting on a horse and bringing the cows home from the pasture. We had a very gentle good riding horse that Daddy felt we could all ride safely.
Daddy taught his girls how to help him on the farm – ride a horse pulling the cultivator, weed corn, cut asparagus, pick fruit, herd cows, hoe the garden and pick it’s harvest, and help with the canning. These canning sessions were a family affair. As we would snip beans or peel peaches, or whatever, we’d listen to continued serials on the radio – Ma Perkins, One Man’s Family, Helen Trent, to mention a few. During the depression years we probably lived below what was considered the poverty level, but we had fresh fruit and vegetables to eat and can for winter use and a hog or a cow was butchered for meat. To this day, I’d like to find something that tasted like the cured sausage Daddy and the neighbors used to make. Slaughtering was always a job for several men working together. Daddy was an expert in skinning, cleaning and preserving the carcass, but he couldn’t kill the animal. Others were glad to do that to get his expertise at the other jobs needing to be done.
Oh, I forgot, the haying jobs. I’d like a nickel for every round I made of the hay field on the rake. And then there were the June grass stickers in our socks as we’d tromp the hay loads. Daddy would pitch the hay onto the wagon where the tromper told him to, so we wouldn’t have to move much hay around. We even learned to use the Jackson fork that moved the hay from the load to the stack. And then there was the person who rode or walked the horse that pulled the fork lift of hay onto the stack. We graduated from one job to the next. There were times when Uncle Arthur would come out and help with the haying – he mowed or piled and one of us kids did the raking. I remember one day when several neighbors were helping with the hay hauling. Lawrence was old enough to ride on the hayrack and probably drove the team from pile to pile. As they passed a tree they found little birds scattered on the ground, having fallen from their nest. They were not yet old enough to care for themselves and Daddy stopped the whole operation to teach Lawrence a lesson of putting little helpless birds back into their nest.
Daddy worked along with us at thinning peaches, weeding, and haying. Often we’d sit down at the end of a row and just talk. Sometimes we’d stop at the melon patch and break open a watermelon and scoop out the insides with our hands. I don’t recall a knife used much on such occasions – maybe Daddy’s pocketknife. Daddy had a thing about watermelons. He always had a lot of them and he didn’t mind kids coming along and stealing one now and again, but he’d say, “I wish when they come for a melon, they wouldn’t sit on the ones they don’t take”.
Daddy always arose early and he often said to us as he’d come to the house for breakfast, “You’ve missed the most beautiful part of the day” (meaning as it was getting light). We always had cows as long as I lived at home and Daddy did all the milking night and morning. We cooled the milk in the milk house. We could hear him coming to the house as his hob-nailed shoes hit the hard path between the milk house and the house. He whistled a lot too.
Daddy enjoyed growing different things like celery that takes a lot of extra care and peanuts. We had raspberries, strawberries, gooseberries and native currants – plums and prunes, apples and peaches, cherries and apricots. It seemed there was always fresh fruit to eat all summer long.
There was a choke cherry tree that could only be picked from the top of a load of hay, under the tree. Daddy would stop and let us pick the choke cherries for Mom to make syrup for hot cakes and such. Mmm –
Daddy hated seeing a half dressed person. On Sunday morning if we needed to do a little pressing before church, you’d better not let Daddy catch you ironing in your petticoat. He’d say, “Go get some clothes on”. One time I was home for a day or so from college, and I took a drink out to Daddy in the field just south of our house, on a very hot day. I was wearing what we’d call peddle pushers today and when I handed him the water he threw it on my legs and said “Go get some clothes on.” As thirsty as I’m sure he was, he taught a lesson instead of quenching his thirst.
Daddy always seemed to get a night water turn and because it usually had to be set on in row crops, it took more than one person to make the best use of the water. So he’d call a couple or three of us to meet him at the field after he’s gone up the ditch to get the water. One time we went back to sleep and didn’t meet him on time so he always made sure after that we were up and dressing before he left. We’d go out and sit on the ditch bank and wait to hear the water hitting the head gate as it came down toward us. It usually got there before it was light. We’d set the water by lantern light.
Debt was something Ed Welling abhorred. When others were purchasing radios or furniture on time, we had to wait until we could pay cash for it. I remember the summer we spent picking beans to pay for a new front room slumber couch. What a beautiful piece of furniture to us all – mohair with reversible cushions. It was an added sleeping facility that we had earned by picking beans. We had a family council and decided that that was what we wanted to do as a group. Each day of picking we saw another part of that special council become a reality.
There were always jobs to be done, even on holidays, and Daddy’s 5 girls worked in the fields and orchards as boys would have done. But he was always careful to look out for our welfare. There were cows to herd or weeding or watering or haying or canning.
It never seemed to end all summer long. Other kids got to go to Lagoon. We got there maybe once or twice a summer. Mostly we could hear the squeals as the giant racer dipped up and down around its course. I do believe the fireworks were prettier from our front lawn than had we been right at Lagoon.
One of our cash crops was asparagus that had to be cut every other day, and if it was an especially warm spring day, every day after school. We would hurry and change our clothes and head for the asparagus patch located in the hollow just above the Bamberger railroad track. I thought after cutting it for so many years I would never be able to eat it again.
Daddy loved the soil. I’ve often seen him just let dirt filter through his fingers. It was almost as though he were caressing it. He loved beautiful sunsets and took time to marvel at them. They were beautiful from our place as we looked down over the Great Salt Lake. He loved the early morning and often remarked as he’d come to the house that we’d missed the dawning of another beautiful day. We had a remarkable black walnut tree that our grandfather probably planted that spread out over much of the garden spot at the north side of the house; but it furnished us with good nuts and some fun social evenings cracking them for some good fudge candy.
I believe we had the biggest French lilac bush I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. And how the perfume of that bush would waft in through the bedroom windows at night.
Even with meager circumstances Daddy and Mother saw to it we all had music lessons. We had to walk down to the center of Farmington for our piano lessons from Ida Clark. We didn’t become great pianists but we are all lovers of good music still.
Both Daddy and Mom were interested in our school endeavors. Daddy probably could take a prize for the number of Martha E. Barnes speeches and Constitutional contest talks he helped his daughters write. I don’t know if Lawrence was involved in those or not. Daddy had a good command of history and was a valuable asset when speech writing time came along. I wish I’d kept copies of my speeches. They are only a dim memory now.
If it snowed during the night and we had to catch an early Bamberger train to school, Daddy would shovel a path for us and usually stand there with us until the train came at King’s Crossing.
One thing I remember so plainly was whenever any of us would leave to go back to school or away to work Daddy’s parting remark was “Remember who your mother is.” Often he’d say you don’t have much for a dad but a great Mom. Course Mom and all of us knew different than that. He was a prince of a man.
Daddy never learned to drive a motorized vehicle but he could surely handle a team of horses. He was as good at repairing a harness with a piece of barbed wire as some fellows are at repairing the engine of their “horseless carriages”.
None of Dads’ or Moms’ family ever visited us, or even neighbors, for that matter, who didn’t leave with a bushel basket of fresh vegetables or fruit that was in season. Daddy had several widowed sisters that he used to keep in fresh food when we had it.
Daddy was not particularly demonstrative with his show of affection, especially kissing. When his sisters used to come for a visit it was a big joke of they could get a kiss. Mom and Dad were never “mushy” in front of their children. We always knew how much our Dad loved Mom and us and he was always so interested in our accomplishments and activities. If we ever caught Daddy off guard and slipped our arms around his neck from behind as he was sitting we sometimes could ”steal” a kiss and it was always a big joke. We knew how much our father loved us.
On one occasion Daddy and I went to Henry Moon’s home prior to the funeral of our good friend. As we walked into the yard a woman rushed up and threw her arms around Daddy and kissed him to his great surprise. They talked momentarily and she was called away before he had time to introduce her to me. After she left I said, “Daddy who was that?” And he looked at me and said, “I don’t know”.
Daddy and his brothers and sisters were great “gimmy yarn” spinners. I don’t know where that phrase came from but it was used frequently when members of his family got together and told stories of their childhood. One story we heard Daddy tell often was about his brothers playing baseball on the school grounds just across the road from their home. The boys too young to play were the water boys and carried water from their house over to the ball players.
One hot day a lot of water had to be hauled and toward the end of the game the “water-hauler” announced that the water was all gone. When the players pressed the delivery boy about that statement they discovered he’d been bringing the water from the horse trough and indeed it was all gone. One day our Uncle Wilford Welling was visiting and we found out for the first time that our Daddy had been the water carrier that day. Up to that time Daddy had told the story on someone else. Daddy loved a good joke. He had a hearty laugh that was contagious. He saw the funny side of many situations that saved the day. His daughter Dorothy got an extra abundance of this quality of seeing the bright and oft times funny side of things.
Very often people would come to talk to Daddy. Our home being small without much room for privacy, Daddy and visitors would walk out and sit on the block where Daddy chopped wood. That was private for confidential talks. Many people sought out our father for advice. He never talked about what went on out there to any of us. Numerous people mentioned at the time of his death how Daddy had helped them sort out problems that they had.
Daddy was on the recreation committee in our North Farmington ward and at one time they had weekly movies shown in the cultural hall. Daddy would have to collect the tickets. Mostly, we couldn’t afford to go but on Sat. morning at breakfast Daddy would catch us up on the serial and the plot of the movie if it was a good one. His reports were always most interesting. He also helped plan excursions every other week, during the summer, to the Great Salt Lake just west of our area. Daddy drove one hayrack and another member of the ward took another hayrack with hay covered with blankets. Everyone took the afternoon off from farm chores, packed a lunch and their swim suit and joined in the lake trip. We’d sing going and coming. Those were such fun times. Swimming in salt water is quite an experience because you float with no effort. You just had to be extra careful not to get any water in your eyes or nose. It could really choke you. Lots of good socializing went on at those occasions. Once I remember we came home in a terrible thunder storm that came up suddenly and caused a cloud burst up the canyon and water came down over some peoples farms and yards. On that occasion Uncle George’s place got about a foot of mud all over his yard. It didn’t get into the house but it was a mess for awhile. That was a scary night.
I can remember how Daddy would hold us on his knee and sing and tell stories. When it was just Wanda and I he’d hold one on each knee and as Dorothy and then Maude came along, Wanda and I sat out straddling his knees as he held the littler ones close up to him. I’m sure Marietta and Lawrence got heir share of that too, but we all couldn’t be there at the same time anymore. He made up a song known as his rocking chair song that he’s sing to us and have us sing with him.
“Sing a song, Sing a song,
Sing a song for your Dad
Sing a song, Sing a song,
Sing a song for your Dad-dee”
Daddy was always at loose ends if mother was ever away. That didn’t happen often but Mother went to Provo occasionally for a few days for leadership meetings for her Relief Society Stake board calling and we’d hear Daddy say several times a day, “I wonder what your mother is doing right now.”
Daddy taught us a wonderful lesson on our debt to the Lord. One year when times were hard, there was not money, and produce was not selling because of the economy, the church members on farms were encouraged to pay their tithing in produce. We had a good peach crop. In our orchard we had several trees of super prime fruit from a size standpoint. When we got ready to pick the fruit for tithing, Daddy took us to those trees first. We picked our very best fruit to present to the Lord for tithing. Daddy taught us to always present our very best to the Lord in talent, time and devotion. He tried always to be an example of that.
Daddy whistled a lot and I particularly remember how we could hear him coming down the path to the house from doing chores, whistling as he came. He was in a car accident with Bishop Rose as they were on their way to a stake church meeting in Bountiful. It cut Daddy’s lower lip rather severely and after that he couldn’t whistle as well.
Daddy was 2nd counselor in the bishopric for 5 yrs. John Ivan Hess was bishop. Nephi Taylor the other counselor. He was set apart for this calling by Elder Harold B. Lee.
There was a history of heart disease in the Job Welling family and ever so many of his brothers and sister died very suddenly. Daddy had his first scare during the Second World War period and had to give up hard farm work. He couldn’t be idle so he took a job at one of the defense plants but that didn’t last long because there wasn’t a lot to do in the department he was assigned and when he made waves about keeping him busy they just told him to sit back and draw his pay and not worry about whether it was honest work for honest pay. Daddy couldn’t stand that and felt he could find some easy chores to do around his home. He was having to be very careful when I left on my mission June 1948. He died of heart failure on May 22, 1949 before my mission was to be over in December. Lawrence was in the Eastern States Mission and we met in Chicago and rode home together on the Union Pacific for his funeral.
So at the age of 66 just about one month before his 67th birthday, he died at home on a Sunday morning.
He was born in the same house he died in, but he and Mom had remodeled the house and made it a very comfortable modern home. They had added a basement and a new wing. They covered the adobe on the front of the house but left the beautiful rock on the back of the house exposed. Many fun and precious experiences took place within those walls. They added a fireplace that was a gathering place for many enjoyable evenings with family and friends. The lives of Edward Welling’s acquaintances were made richer and happier for having known him. Our father lived a good life.
Some sayings I remember our father making:
"Time to rise and shine.”
“Remember who your mother is.”
“It’s morning – light clear out to the nut tree."
Son of Job Welling and Marietta Holmes
Married Sarah Rasminnie Nielsen, 25 Jun 1913, Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
Biography - by Mae Welling Bunting, written 3 May 1983
Edward Hunter Welling, whose namesake Edward Hunter led one of the 13 companies of pioneers across the plains that had arrived before the close of 1847. Bro. Hunter was a presiding bishop of the church and died in Oct. 1883, four months after our father was born. I am not aware if there was a close relationship with Bro. Hunter and the Holmes or the Welling family. Regardless of circumstances of the giving of that name, it was one that Edward Hunter Welling bore honorably throughout his life.
Edward was the 7th child and 5th son of Job and Marietta, and one of the younger of his father’s 28 children. Edward lacked 3 months of being 3 yrs. old when his father died, Mar. 1886. He had a remarkable mother, Marietta, and two step-“aunties” that influenced his life greatly, Phoebe and Emma.
Edward’s mother died Aug. 10, 1905, when he was 22. I’ve heard Uncle Charlie state many times how much he envied daddy when their mother was so ill. Daddy seemed to be the one that could comfort her and if I’m not mistaken she died in his arms with what they called at that time consumption.
Daddy was a beautiful penman and remained so to the end of his days. He graduated from the LDS Business College, graduating May 27, 1904 and also attended the University of Utah. For two years 1913-1915 he was secretary to the school board in Farmington. At that time Hubert C. Burton was Supt. Of County Schools. Henry H. Blood was Pres. of the School Board. It was at this time the high schools of Davis Co., Bountiful, Kaysville and Syracuse became centralized at Kaysville. Leo J. Muir was its first principal.
This association with the schools is probably the time Edward became acquainted with our mother who came to Farmington from Huntsville, Utah to teach school. I know very little about their courtship but daddy just passed his 30th birthday on June 16 and was married to Sarah Rasminnie Nielsen 25 June 1913 in the Salt Lake Temple.
For the next 35 plus years these two people wove a tapestry of life that was strong and beautiful.
Daddy helped support his older brothers on their missions and when it came time for him to go, most of his older brothers were married and had obligations with their families and there wasn’t anyone much left at home to support a mission for him. He was never bitter about this circumstance-just glad others had had the opportunity. He was a student of the gospel though and understood it well. He’d sit in a class and listen to what everyone else had to say about the subject pros and cons and then the teacher would say, “What do you think, Bro. Welling”, and Daddy would arise and in his measured deliberate way put to rest any controversy that had been created by the discussion and “told it like it is”. Everyone respected our father’s good judgment. He and mother both taught many different classes in their church experience.
After Edward and Minnie were married they lived in the old Job Welling home. From there they moved to Riverside, back to the Lund Home in Centerville for awhile and then moved to Idaho for 8 yrs and then back to the Job Welling home in Farmington, north Farmington to be exact. In the fall of 1915 Edward H. sold his interest in the farm in Farmington and moved his family to Riverside, Box Elder Co. Utah. He ran his brother Harry’s farm one year. Wanda was born in Riverside, July 18, 1916. During the winter of 1916, Daddy and the family spent at the Lund Home for boys assisting his brother Arthur, who ran the home. In the spring of 1917, Daddy bought an 80 acre farm in Downey, Idaho. There had been great promises of water in this new area and many people bought land with hopes that water would be plentiful. That didn’t turn out to be true and after 8 yrs. in Downey, Daddy and family were persuaded by Uncle Arthur to move back and buy the old Welling homestead.
During the Idaho years three more girls joined the family, Dorothy on April 9, 1918, Maude Sept. 30, 1919, and Marietta Mar. 13, 1922.
After the move back to Farmington the spell of girls was broken on Dec. 30, 1925 when Lawrence Edward was born. We girls were all hustled across the street to spend the night with Uncle George and Aunt Judith.
A baby boy-a baby brother-a son. We were all excited. Each new addition to the family brought its special joy and was welcomed with such love and devotion. Six children were never more welcome into a household.
Daddy always said his family was his real wealth. He worked hard eking a living out of the soil. Money was never one of his priorities. Daddy made the best of the situations in which he found himself. His house was not the greatest or furnished lavishly but it was his home and he made up these seeming deficiencies with warmth, love and concern for all of his family.
We were blessed with good health. Maybe the cracks around the doors that let in the cold toughened us-but mostly a heritage of health from our parents. At the time of the great flu epidemic Daddy felt such compassion for the doctor in Downey and his spent energy going from sick patient to patient that Daddy went to him to see what he might do for him and the Dr. Said “go home and care for your own family so I won’t have to come there”. We were spared having the flu.
While living in Idaho, Daddy raised Russet potatoes on the farm. We had big pits to store the potatoes. Everything was done with horse power. I don’t know where the horses got their names, but I remember Fox and Prince, Cap, Queen, Nerve, Bird. I can remember some pretty scary times when a team would become frightened and make a run unattended. Fortunately none of us were hurt on such occasions.
One of my first chores was getting on a horse and bringing the cows home from the pasture. We had a very gentle good riding horse that Daddy felt we could all ride safely.
Daddy taught his girls how to help him on the farm – ride a horse pulling the cultivator, weed corn, cut asparagus, pick fruit, herd cows, hoe the garden and pick it’s harvest, and help with the canning. These canning sessions were a family affair. As we would snip beans or peel peaches, or whatever, we’d listen to continued serials on the radio – Ma Perkins, One Man’s Family, Helen Trent, to mention a few. During the depression years we probably lived below what was considered the poverty level, but we had fresh fruit and vegetables to eat and can for winter use and a hog or a cow was butchered for meat. To this day, I’d like to find something that tasted like the cured sausage Daddy and the neighbors used to make. Slaughtering was always a job for several men working together. Daddy was an expert in skinning, cleaning and preserving the carcass, but he couldn’t kill the animal. Others were glad to do that to get his expertise at the other jobs needing to be done.
Oh, I forgot, the haying jobs. I’d like a nickel for every round I made of the hay field on the rake. And then there were the June grass stickers in our socks as we’d tromp the hay loads. Daddy would pitch the hay onto the wagon where the tromper told him to, so we wouldn’t have to move much hay around. We even learned to use the Jackson fork that moved the hay from the load to the stack. And then there was the person who rode or walked the horse that pulled the fork lift of hay onto the stack. We graduated from one job to the next. There were times when Uncle Arthur would come out and help with the haying – he mowed or piled and one of us kids did the raking. I remember one day when several neighbors were helping with the hay hauling. Lawrence was old enough to ride on the hayrack and probably drove the team from pile to pile. As they passed a tree they found little birds scattered on the ground, having fallen from their nest. They were not yet old enough to care for themselves and Daddy stopped the whole operation to teach Lawrence a lesson of putting little helpless birds back into their nest.
Daddy worked along with us at thinning peaches, weeding, and haying. Often we’d sit down at the end of a row and just talk. Sometimes we’d stop at the melon patch and break open a watermelon and scoop out the insides with our hands. I don’t recall a knife used much on such occasions – maybe Daddy’s pocketknife. Daddy had a thing about watermelons. He always had a lot of them and he didn’t mind kids coming along and stealing one now and again, but he’d say, “I wish when they come for a melon, they wouldn’t sit on the ones they don’t take”.
Daddy always arose early and he often said to us as he’d come to the house for breakfast, “You’ve missed the most beautiful part of the day” (meaning as it was getting light). We always had cows as long as I lived at home and Daddy did all the milking night and morning. We cooled the milk in the milk house. We could hear him coming to the house as his hob-nailed shoes hit the hard path between the milk house and the house. He whistled a lot too.
Daddy enjoyed growing different things like celery that takes a lot of extra care and peanuts. We had raspberries, strawberries, gooseberries and native currants – plums and prunes, apples and peaches, cherries and apricots. It seemed there was always fresh fruit to eat all summer long.
There was a choke cherry tree that could only be picked from the top of a load of hay, under the tree. Daddy would stop and let us pick the choke cherries for Mom to make syrup for hot cakes and such. Mmm –
Daddy hated seeing a half dressed person. On Sunday morning if we needed to do a little pressing before church, you’d better not let Daddy catch you ironing in your petticoat. He’d say, “Go get some clothes on”. One time I was home for a day or so from college, and I took a drink out to Daddy in the field just south of our house, on a very hot day. I was wearing what we’d call peddle pushers today and when I handed him the water he threw it on my legs and said “Go get some clothes on.” As thirsty as I’m sure he was, he taught a lesson instead of quenching his thirst.
Daddy always seemed to get a night water turn and because it usually had to be set on in row crops, it took more than one person to make the best use of the water. So he’d call a couple or three of us to meet him at the field after he’s gone up the ditch to get the water. One time we went back to sleep and didn’t meet him on time so he always made sure after that we were up and dressing before he left. We’d go out and sit on the ditch bank and wait to hear the water hitting the head gate as it came down toward us. It usually got there before it was light. We’d set the water by lantern light.
Debt was something Ed Welling abhorred. When others were purchasing radios or furniture on time, we had to wait until we could pay cash for it. I remember the summer we spent picking beans to pay for a new front room slumber couch. What a beautiful piece of furniture to us all – mohair with reversible cushions. It was an added sleeping facility that we had earned by picking beans. We had a family council and decided that that was what we wanted to do as a group. Each day of picking we saw another part of that special council become a reality.
There were always jobs to be done, even on holidays, and Daddy’s 5 girls worked in the fields and orchards as boys would have done. But he was always careful to look out for our welfare. There were cows to herd or weeding or watering or haying or canning.
It never seemed to end all summer long. Other kids got to go to Lagoon. We got there maybe once or twice a summer. Mostly we could hear the squeals as the giant racer dipped up and down around its course. I do believe the fireworks were prettier from our front lawn than had we been right at Lagoon.
One of our cash crops was asparagus that had to be cut every other day, and if it was an especially warm spring day, every day after school. We would hurry and change our clothes and head for the asparagus patch located in the hollow just above the Bamberger railroad track. I thought after cutting it for so many years I would never be able to eat it again.
Daddy loved the soil. I’ve often seen him just let dirt filter through his fingers. It was almost as though he were caressing it. He loved beautiful sunsets and took time to marvel at them. They were beautiful from our place as we looked down over the Great Salt Lake. He loved the early morning and often remarked as he’d come to the house that we’d missed the dawning of another beautiful day. We had a remarkable black walnut tree that our grandfather probably planted that spread out over much of the garden spot at the north side of the house; but it furnished us with good nuts and some fun social evenings cracking them for some good fudge candy.
I believe we had the biggest French lilac bush I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. And how the perfume of that bush would waft in through the bedroom windows at night.
Even with meager circumstances Daddy and Mother saw to it we all had music lessons. We had to walk down to the center of Farmington for our piano lessons from Ida Clark. We didn’t become great pianists but we are all lovers of good music still.
Both Daddy and Mom were interested in our school endeavors. Daddy probably could take a prize for the number of Martha E. Barnes speeches and Constitutional contest talks he helped his daughters write. I don’t know if Lawrence was involved in those or not. Daddy had a good command of history and was a valuable asset when speech writing time came along. I wish I’d kept copies of my speeches. They are only a dim memory now.
If it snowed during the night and we had to catch an early Bamberger train to school, Daddy would shovel a path for us and usually stand there with us until the train came at King’s Crossing.
One thing I remember so plainly was whenever any of us would leave to go back to school or away to work Daddy’s parting remark was “Remember who your mother is.” Often he’d say you don’t have much for a dad but a great Mom. Course Mom and all of us knew different than that. He was a prince of a man.
Daddy never learned to drive a motorized vehicle but he could surely handle a team of horses. He was as good at repairing a harness with a piece of barbed wire as some fellows are at repairing the engine of their “horseless carriages”.
None of Dads’ or Moms’ family ever visited us, or even neighbors, for that matter, who didn’t leave with a bushel basket of fresh vegetables or fruit that was in season. Daddy had several widowed sisters that he used to keep in fresh food when we had it.
Daddy was not particularly demonstrative with his show of affection, especially kissing. When his sisters used to come for a visit it was a big joke of they could get a kiss. Mom and Dad were never “mushy” in front of their children. We always knew how much our Dad loved Mom and us and he was always so interested in our accomplishments and activities. If we ever caught Daddy off guard and slipped our arms around his neck from behind as he was sitting we sometimes could ”steal” a kiss and it was always a big joke. We knew how much our father loved us.
On one occasion Daddy and I went to Henry Moon’s home prior to the funeral of our good friend. As we walked into the yard a woman rushed up and threw her arms around Daddy and kissed him to his great surprise. They talked momentarily and she was called away before he had time to introduce her to me. After she left I said, “Daddy who was that?” And he looked at me and said, “I don’t know”.
Daddy and his brothers and sisters were great “gimmy yarn” spinners. I don’t know where that phrase came from but it was used frequently when members of his family got together and told stories of their childhood. One story we heard Daddy tell often was about his brothers playing baseball on the school grounds just across the road from their home. The boys too young to play were the water boys and carried water from their house over to the ball players.
One hot day a lot of water had to be hauled and toward the end of the game the “water-hauler” announced that the water was all gone. When the players pressed the delivery boy about that statement they discovered he’d been bringing the water from the horse trough and indeed it was all gone. One day our Uncle Wilford Welling was visiting and we found out for the first time that our Daddy had been the water carrier that day. Up to that time Daddy had told the story on someone else. Daddy loved a good joke. He had a hearty laugh that was contagious. He saw the funny side of many situations that saved the day. His daughter Dorothy got an extra abundance of this quality of seeing the bright and oft times funny side of things.
Very often people would come to talk to Daddy. Our home being small without much room for privacy, Daddy and visitors would walk out and sit on the block where Daddy chopped wood. That was private for confidential talks. Many people sought out our father for advice. He never talked about what went on out there to any of us. Numerous people mentioned at the time of his death how Daddy had helped them sort out problems that they had.
Daddy was on the recreation committee in our North Farmington ward and at one time they had weekly movies shown in the cultural hall. Daddy would have to collect the tickets. Mostly, we couldn’t afford to go but on Sat. morning at breakfast Daddy would catch us up on the serial and the plot of the movie if it was a good one. His reports were always most interesting. He also helped plan excursions every other week, during the summer, to the Great Salt Lake just west of our area. Daddy drove one hayrack and another member of the ward took another hayrack with hay covered with blankets. Everyone took the afternoon off from farm chores, packed a lunch and their swim suit and joined in the lake trip. We’d sing going and coming. Those were such fun times. Swimming in salt water is quite an experience because you float with no effort. You just had to be extra careful not to get any water in your eyes or nose. It could really choke you. Lots of good socializing went on at those occasions. Once I remember we came home in a terrible thunder storm that came up suddenly and caused a cloud burst up the canyon and water came down over some peoples farms and yards. On that occasion Uncle George’s place got about a foot of mud all over his yard. It didn’t get into the house but it was a mess for awhile. That was a scary night.
I can remember how Daddy would hold us on his knee and sing and tell stories. When it was just Wanda and I he’d hold one on each knee and as Dorothy and then Maude came along, Wanda and I sat out straddling his knees as he held the littler ones close up to him. I’m sure Marietta and Lawrence got heir share of that too, but we all couldn’t be there at the same time anymore. He made up a song known as his rocking chair song that he’s sing to us and have us sing with him.
“Sing a song, Sing a song,
Sing a song for your Dad
Sing a song, Sing a song,
Sing a song for your Dad-dee”
Daddy was always at loose ends if mother was ever away. That didn’t happen often but Mother went to Provo occasionally for a few days for leadership meetings for her Relief Society Stake board calling and we’d hear Daddy say several times a day, “I wonder what your mother is doing right now.”
Daddy taught us a wonderful lesson on our debt to the Lord. One year when times were hard, there was not money, and produce was not selling because of the economy, the church members on farms were encouraged to pay their tithing in produce. We had a good peach crop. In our orchard we had several trees of super prime fruit from a size standpoint. When we got ready to pick the fruit for tithing, Daddy took us to those trees first. We picked our very best fruit to present to the Lord for tithing. Daddy taught us to always present our very best to the Lord in talent, time and devotion. He tried always to be an example of that.
Daddy whistled a lot and I particularly remember how we could hear him coming down the path to the house from doing chores, whistling as he came. He was in a car accident with Bishop Rose as they were on their way to a stake church meeting in Bountiful. It cut Daddy’s lower lip rather severely and after that he couldn’t whistle as well.
Daddy was 2nd counselor in the bishopric for 5 yrs. John Ivan Hess was bishop. Nephi Taylor the other counselor. He was set apart for this calling by Elder Harold B. Lee.
There was a history of heart disease in the Job Welling family and ever so many of his brothers and sister died very suddenly. Daddy had his first scare during the Second World War period and had to give up hard farm work. He couldn’t be idle so he took a job at one of the defense plants but that didn’t last long because there wasn’t a lot to do in the department he was assigned and when he made waves about keeping him busy they just told him to sit back and draw his pay and not worry about whether it was honest work for honest pay. Daddy couldn’t stand that and felt he could find some easy chores to do around his home. He was having to be very careful when I left on my mission June 1948. He died of heart failure on May 22, 1949 before my mission was to be over in December. Lawrence was in the Eastern States Mission and we met in Chicago and rode home together on the Union Pacific for his funeral.
So at the age of 66 just about one month before his 67th birthday, he died at home on a Sunday morning.
He was born in the same house he died in, but he and Mom had remodeled the house and made it a very comfortable modern home. They had added a basement and a new wing. They covered the adobe on the front of the house but left the beautiful rock on the back of the house exposed. Many fun and precious experiences took place within those walls. They added a fireplace that was a gathering place for many enjoyable evenings with family and friends. The lives of Edward Welling’s acquaintances were made richer and happier for having known him. Our father lived a good life.
Some sayings I remember our father making:
"Time to rise and shine.”
“Remember who your mother is.”
“It’s morning – light clear out to the nut tree."
Married Sarah Rasminnie Nielsen, 25 Jun 1913, Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
Biography - by Mae Welling Bunting, written 3 May 1983
Edward Hunter Welling, whose namesake Edward Hunter led one of the 13 companies of pioneers across the plains that had arrived before the close of 1847. Bro. Hunter was a presiding bishop of the church and died in Oct. 1883, four months after our father was born. I am not aware if there was a close relationship with Bro. Hunter and the Holmes or the Welling family. Regardless of circumstances of the giving of that name, it was one that Edward Hunter Welling bore honorably throughout his life.
Edward was the 7th child and 5th son of Job and Marietta, and one of the younger of his father’s 28 children. Edward lacked 3 months of being 3 yrs. old when his father died, Mar. 1886. He had a remarkable mother, Marietta, and two step-“aunties” that influenced his life greatly, Phoebe and Emma.
Edward’s mother died Aug. 10, 1905, when he was 22. I’ve heard Uncle Charlie state many times how much he envied daddy when their mother was so ill. Daddy seemed to be the one that could comfort her and if I’m not mistaken she died in his arms with what they called at that time consumption.
Daddy was a beautiful penman and remained so to the end of his days. He graduated from the LDS Business College, graduating May 27, 1904 and also attended the University of Utah. For two years 1913-1915 he was secretary to the school board in Farmington. At that time Hubert C. Burton was Supt. Of County Schools. Henry H. Blood was Pres. of the School Board. It was at this time the high schools of Davis Co., Bountiful, Kaysville and Syracuse became centralized at Kaysville. Leo J. Muir was its first principal.
This association with the schools is probably the time Edward became acquainted with our mother who came to Farmington from Huntsville, Utah to teach school. I know very little about their courtship but daddy just passed his 30th birthday on June 16 and was married to Sarah Rasminnie Nielsen 25 June 1913 in the Salt Lake Temple.
For the next 35 plus years these two people wove a tapestry of life that was strong and beautiful.
Daddy helped support his older brothers on their missions and when it came time for him to go, most of his older brothers were married and had obligations with their families and there wasn’t anyone much left at home to support a mission for him. He was never bitter about this circumstance-just glad others had had the opportunity. He was a student of the gospel though and understood it well. He’d sit in a class and listen to what everyone else had to say about the subject pros and cons and then the teacher would say, “What do you think, Bro. Welling”, and Daddy would arise and in his measured deliberate way put to rest any controversy that had been created by the discussion and “told it like it is”. Everyone respected our father’s good judgment. He and mother both taught many different classes in their church experience.
After Edward and Minnie were married they lived in the old Job Welling home. From there they moved to Riverside, back to the Lund Home in Centerville for awhile and then moved to Idaho for 8 yrs and then back to the Job Welling home in Farmington, north Farmington to be exact. In the fall of 1915 Edward H. sold his interest in the farm in Farmington and moved his family to Riverside, Box Elder Co. Utah. He ran his brother Harry’s farm one year. Wanda was born in Riverside, July 18, 1916. During the winter of 1916, Daddy and the family spent at the Lund Home for boys assisting his brother Arthur, who ran the home. In the spring of 1917, Daddy bought an 80 acre farm in Downey, Idaho. There had been great promises of water in this new area and many people bought land with hopes that water would be plentiful. That didn’t turn out to be true and after 8 yrs. in Downey, Daddy and family were persuaded by Uncle Arthur to move back and buy the old Welling homestead.
During the Idaho years three more girls joined the family, Dorothy on April 9, 1918, Maude Sept. 30, 1919, and Marietta Mar. 13, 1922.
After the move back to Farmington the spell of girls was broken on Dec. 30, 1925 when Lawrence Edward was born. We girls were all hustled across the street to spend the night with Uncle George and Aunt Judith.
A baby boy-a baby brother-a son. We were all excited. Each new addition to the family brought its special joy and was welcomed with such love and devotion. Six children were never more welcome into a household.
Daddy always said his family was his real wealth. He worked hard eking a living out of the soil. Money was never one of his priorities. Daddy made the best of the situations in which he found himself. His house was not the greatest or furnished lavishly but it was his home and he made up these seeming deficiencies with warmth, love and concern for all of his family.
We were blessed with good health. Maybe the cracks around the doors that let in the cold toughened us-but mostly a heritage of health from our parents. At the time of the great flu epidemic Daddy felt such compassion for the doctor in Downey and his spent energy going from sick patient to patient that Daddy went to him to see what he might do for him and the Dr. Said “go home and care for your own family so I won’t have to come there”. We were spared having the flu.
While living in Idaho, Daddy raised Russet potatoes on the farm. We had big pits to store the potatoes. Everything was done with horse power. I don’t know where the horses got their names, but I remember Fox and Prince, Cap, Queen, Nerve, Bird. I can remember some pretty scary times when a team would become frightened and make a run unattended. Fortunately none of us were hurt on such occasions.
One of my first chores was getting on a horse and bringing the cows home from the pasture. We had a very gentle good riding horse that Daddy felt we could all ride safely.
Daddy taught his girls how to help him on the farm – ride a horse pulling the cultivator, weed corn, cut asparagus, pick fruit, herd cows, hoe the garden and pick it’s harvest, and help with the canning. These canning sessions were a family affair. As we would snip beans or peel peaches, or whatever, we’d listen to continued serials on the radio – Ma Perkins, One Man’s Family, Helen Trent, to mention a few. During the depression years we probably lived below what was considered the poverty level, but we had fresh fruit and vegetables to eat and can for winter use and a hog or a cow was butchered for meat. To this day, I’d like to find something that tasted like the cured sausage Daddy and the neighbors used to make. Slaughtering was always a job for several men working together. Daddy was an expert in skinning, cleaning and preserving the carcass, but he couldn’t kill the animal. Others were glad to do that to get his expertise at the other jobs needing to be done.
Oh, I forgot, the haying jobs. I’d like a nickel for every round I made of the hay field on the rake. And then there were the June grass stickers in our socks as we’d tromp the hay loads. Daddy would pitch the hay onto the wagon where the tromper told him to, so we wouldn’t have to move much hay around. We even learned to use the Jackson fork that moved the hay from the load to the stack. And then there was the person who rode or walked the horse that pulled the fork lift of hay onto the stack. We graduated from one job to the next. There were times when Uncle Arthur would come out and help with the haying – he mowed or piled and one of us kids did the raking. I remember one day when several neighbors were helping with the hay hauling. Lawrence was old enough to ride on the hayrack and probably drove the team from pile to pile. As they passed a tree they found little birds scattered on the ground, having fallen from their nest. They were not yet old enough to care for themselves and Daddy stopped the whole operation to teach Lawrence a lesson of putting little helpless birds back into their nest.
Daddy worked along with us at thinning peaches, weeding, and haying. Often we’d sit down at the end of a row and just talk. Sometimes we’d stop at the melon patch and break open a watermelon and scoop out the insides with our hands. I don’t recall a knife used much on such occasions – maybe Daddy’s pocketknife. Daddy had a thing about watermelons. He always had a lot of them and he didn’t mind kids coming along and stealing one now and again, but he’d say, “I wish when they come for a melon, they wouldn’t sit on the ones they don’t take”.
Daddy always arose early and he often said to us as he’d come to the house for breakfast, “You’ve missed the most beautiful part of the day” (meaning as it was getting light). We always had cows as long as I lived at home and Daddy did all the milking night and morning. We cooled the milk in the milk house. We could hear him coming to the house as his hob-nailed shoes hit the hard path between the milk house and the house. He whistled a lot too.
Daddy enjoyed growing different things like celery that takes a lot of extra care and peanuts. We had raspberries, strawberries, gooseberries and native currants – plums and prunes, apples and peaches, cherries and apricots. It seemed there was always fresh fruit to eat all summer long.
There was a choke cherry tree that could only be picked from the top of a load of hay, under the tree. Daddy would stop and let us pick the choke cherries for Mom to make syrup for hot cakes and such. Mmm –
Daddy hated seeing a half dressed person. On Sunday morning if we needed to do a little pressing before church, you’d better not let Daddy catch you ironing in your petticoat. He’d say, “Go get some clothes on”. One time I was home for a day or so from college, and I took a drink out to Daddy in the field just south of our house, on a very hot day. I was wearing what we’d call peddle pushers today and when I handed him the water he threw it on my legs and said “Go get some clothes on.” As thirsty as I’m sure he was, he taught a lesson instead of quenching his thirst.
Daddy always seemed to get a night water turn and because it usually had to be set on in row crops, it took more than one person to make the best use of the water. So he’d call a couple or three of us to meet him at the field after he’s gone up the ditch to get the water. One time we went back to sleep and didn’t meet him on time so he always made sure after that we were up and dressing before he left. We’d go out and sit on the ditch bank and wait to hear the water hitting the head gate as it came down toward us. It usually got there before it was light. We’d set the water by lantern light.
Debt was something Ed Welling abhorred. When others were purchasing radios or furniture on time, we had to wait until we could pay cash for it. I remember the summer we spent picking beans to pay for a new front room slumber couch. What a beautiful piece of furniture to us all – mohair with reversible cushions. It was an added sleeping facility that we had earned by picking beans. We had a family council and decided that that was what we wanted to do as a group. Each day of picking we saw another part of that special council become a reality.
There were always jobs to be done, even on holidays, and Daddy’s 5 girls worked in the fields and orchards as boys would have done. But he was always careful to look out for our welfare. There were cows to herd or weeding or watering or haying or canning.
It never seemed to end all summer long. Other kids got to go to Lagoon. We got there maybe once or twice a summer. Mostly we could hear the squeals as the giant racer dipped up and down around its course. I do believe the fireworks were prettier from our front lawn than had we been right at Lagoon.
One of our cash crops was asparagus that had to be cut every other day, and if it was an especially warm spring day, every day after school. We would hurry and change our clothes and head for the asparagus patch located in the hollow just above the Bamberger railroad track. I thought after cutting it for so many years I would never be able to eat it again.
Daddy loved the soil. I’ve often seen him just let dirt filter through his fingers. It was almost as though he were caressing it. He loved beautiful sunsets and took time to marvel at them. They were beautiful from our place as we looked down over the Great Salt Lake. He loved the early morning and often remarked as he’d come to the house that we’d missed the dawning of another beautiful day. We had a remarkable black walnut tree that our grandfather probably planted that spread out over much of the garden spot at the north side of the house; but it furnished us with good nuts and some fun social evenings cracking them for some good fudge candy.
I believe we had the biggest French lilac bush I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. And how the perfume of that bush would waft in through the bedroom windows at night.
Even with meager circumstances Daddy and Mother saw to it we all had music lessons. We had to walk down to the center of Farmington for our piano lessons from Ida Clark. We didn’t become great pianists but we are all lovers of good music still.
Both Daddy and Mom were interested in our school endeavors. Daddy probably could take a prize for the number of Martha E. Barnes speeches and Constitutional contest talks he helped his daughters write. I don’t know if Lawrence was involved in those or not. Daddy had a good command of history and was a valuable asset when speech writing time came along. I wish I’d kept copies of my speeches. They are only a dim memory now.
If it snowed during the night and we had to catch an early Bamberger train to school, Daddy would shovel a path for us and usually stand there with us until the train came at King’s Crossing.
One thing I remember so plainly was whenever any of us would leave to go back to school or away to work Daddy’s parting remark was “Remember who your mother is.” Often he’d say you don’t have much for a dad but a great Mom. Course Mom and all of us knew different than that. He was a prince of a man.
Daddy never learned to drive a motorized vehicle but he could surely handle a team of horses. He was as good at repairing a harness with a piece of barbed wire as some fellows are at repairing the engine of their “horseless carriages”.
None of Dads’ or Moms’ family ever visited us, or even neighbors, for that matter, who didn’t leave with a bushel basket of fresh vegetables or fruit that was in season. Daddy had several widowed sisters that he used to keep in fresh food when we had it.
Daddy was not particularly demonstrative with his show of affection, especially kissing. When his sisters used to come for a visit it was a big joke of they could get a kiss. Mom and Dad were never “mushy” in front of their children. We always knew how much our Dad loved Mom and us and he was always so interested in our accomplishments and activities. If we ever caught Daddy off guard and slipped our arms around his neck from behind as he was sitting we sometimes could ”steal” a kiss and it was always a big joke. We knew how much our father loved us.
On one occasion Daddy and I went to Henry Moon’s home prior to the funeral of our good friend. As we walked into the yard a woman rushed up and threw her arms around Daddy and kissed him to his great surprise. They talked momentarily and she was called away before he had time to introduce her to me. After she left I said, “Daddy who was that?” And he looked at me and said, “I don’t know”.
Daddy and his brothers and sisters were great “gimmy yarn” spinners. I don’t know where that phrase came from but it was used frequently when members of his family got together and told stories of their childhood. One story we heard Daddy tell often was about his brothers playing baseball on the school grounds just across the road from their home. The boys too young to play were the water boys and carried water from their house over to the ball players.
One hot day a lot of water had to be hauled and toward the end of the game the “water-hauler” announced that the water was all gone. When the players pressed the delivery boy about that statement they discovered he’d been bringing the water from the horse trough and indeed it was all gone. One day our Uncle Wilford Welling was visiting and we found out for the first time that our Daddy had been the water carrier that day. Up to that time Daddy had told the story on someone else. Daddy loved a good joke. He had a hearty laugh that was contagious. He saw the funny side of many situations that saved the day. His daughter Dorothy got an extra abundance of this quality of seeing the bright and oft times funny side of things.
Very often people would come to talk to Daddy. Our home being small without much room for privacy, Daddy and visitors would walk out and sit on the block where Daddy chopped wood. That was private for confidential talks. Many people sought out our father for advice. He never talked about what went on out there to any of us. Numerous people mentioned at the time of his death how Daddy had helped them sort out problems that they had.
Daddy was on the recreation committee in our North Farmington ward and at one time they had weekly movies shown in the cultural hall. Daddy would have to collect the tickets. Mostly, we couldn’t afford to go but on Sat. morning at breakfast Daddy would catch us up on the serial and the plot of the movie if it was a good one. His reports were always most interesting. He also helped plan excursions every other week, during the summer, to the Great Salt Lake just west of our area. Daddy drove one hayrack and another member of the ward took another hayrack with hay covered with blankets. Everyone took the afternoon off from farm chores, packed a lunch and their swim suit and joined in the lake trip. We’d sing going and coming. Those were such fun times. Swimming in salt water is quite an experience because you float with no effort. You just had to be extra careful not to get any water in your eyes or nose. It could really choke you. Lots of good socializing went on at those occasions. Once I remember we came home in a terrible thunder storm that came up suddenly and caused a cloud burst up the canyon and water came down over some peoples farms and yards. On that occasion Uncle George’s place got about a foot of mud all over his yard. It didn’t get into the house but it was a mess for awhile. That was a scary night.
I can remember how Daddy would hold us on his knee and sing and tell stories. When it was just Wanda and I he’d hold one on each knee and as Dorothy and then Maude came along, Wanda and I sat out straddling his knees as he held the littler ones close up to him. I’m sure Marietta and Lawrence got heir share of that too, but we all couldn’t be there at the same time anymore. He made up a song known as his rocking chair song that he’s sing to us and have us sing with him.
“Sing a song, Sing a song,
Sing a song for your Dad
Sing a song, Sing a song,
Sing a song for your Dad-dee”
Daddy was always at loose ends if mother was ever away. That didn’t happen often but Mother went to Provo occasionally for a few days for leadership meetings for her Relief Society Stake board calling and we’d hear Daddy say several times a day, “I wonder what your mother is doing right now.”
Daddy taught us a wonderful lesson on our debt to the Lord. One year when times were hard, there was not money, and produce was not selling because of the economy, the church members on farms were encouraged to pay their tithing in produce. We had a good peach crop. In our orchard we had several trees of super prime fruit from a size standpoint. When we got ready to pick the fruit for tithing, Daddy took us to those trees first. We picked our very best fruit to present to the Lord for tithing. Daddy taught us to always present our very best to the Lord in talent, time and devotion. He tried always to be an example of that.
Daddy whistled a lot and I particularly remember how we could hear him coming down the path to the house from doing chores, whistling as he came. He was in a car accident with Bishop Rose as they were on their way to a stake church meeting in Bountiful. It cut Daddy’s lower lip rather severely and after that he couldn’t whistle as well.
Daddy was 2nd counselor in the bishopric for 5 yrs. John Ivan Hess was bishop. Nephi Taylor the other counselor. He was set apart for this calling by Elder Harold B. Lee.
There was a history of heart disease in the Job Welling family and ever so many of his brothers and sister died very suddenly. Daddy had his first scare during the Second World War period and had to give up hard farm work. He couldn’t be idle so he took a job at one of the defense plants but that didn’t last long because there wasn’t a lot to do in the department he was assigned and when he made waves about keeping him busy they just told him to sit back and draw his pay and not worry about whether it was honest work for honest pay. Daddy couldn’t stand that and felt he could find some easy chores to do around his home. He was having to be very careful when I left on my mission June 1948. He died of heart failure on May 22, 1949 before my mission was to be over in December. Lawrence was in the Eastern States Mission and we met in Chicago and rode home together on the Union Pacific for his funeral.
So at the age of 66 just about one month before his 67th birthday, he died at home on a Sunday morning.
He was born in the same house he died in, but he and Mom had remodeled the house and made it a very comfortable modern home. They had added a basement and a new wing. They covered the adobe on the front of the house but left the beautiful rock on the back of the house exposed. Many fun and precious experiences took place within those walls. They added a fireplace that was a gathering place for many enjoyable evenings with family and friends. The lives of Edward Welling’s acquaintances were made richer and happier for having known him. Our father lived a good life.
Some sayings I remember our father making:
"Time to rise and shine.”
“Remember who your mother is.”
“It’s morning – light clear out to the nut tree."
Family Members
Siblings
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Franklin David Welling
1869–1932
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Joseph Herriman Welling
1870–1925
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Jonathan Holmes Welling
1873–1874
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Marietta Welling Sill
1875–1945
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Milton Holmes Welling
1876–1947
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Arthur Welling
1877–1942
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Rhoda Welling Taylor
1880–1973
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Charles Rosel Welling
1885–1954
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Job Welling Jr
1854–1856
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Willard K. Welling
1859–1936
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Annie Maria Welling Dalton
1864–1937
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Zina Elvira Welling
1869–1869
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Elvira Annie Welling Rose
1871–1951
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Job Alonzo Welling
1873–1946
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George Albert Welling Sr
1875–1965
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Emma Lucinda Welling Earl
1878–1947
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Sarah Elizabeth Welling Zundel
1878–1970
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Eliza Roxie Welling Taylor
1880–1962
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Wilford Woodruff Welling
1880–1951
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Horace Welling
1883–1962
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Hyrum Smith Welling
1883–1955
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Alice Belva Welling Barlow
1886–1952
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Leonard Henry Welling
1886–1886
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