Autobiography of Austin Neal Abbott

1896-1895

AUSTIN N. ABBOTT

Written by

Austin N. Abbott
I write a few of the events of my family. I wish to single out the mercies of
the Lord unto me and my posterity. This is June 27, 1974.
I was born August 5, 1896, at St. Thomas, Nevada. I married Ruth Naylor, born
October 4, 1904, June 25, 1924. She died July 15, 1957. I married Elva May Stokes Cook
December 6, 1949, born in Ottawa, Ohio, May 11, 1894
Lou was born April 25, 1925 at Nampa, Idaho. Fay was born February 6,
1927 in Salt Lake City. Venetta was born March 5, 1930, Nampa, Idaho. Austin
Neal, Jr. was born August 3, 1932, Nampa, Idaho. Janet was born March 18, 1937,
Nampa, Idaho. John was born June 18, 1939, Nampa, Idaho. Chrissie was born
September 9, 1942, Nampa, Idaho. Stephen Edward was born September 3, 1944,
Glenn Eden Beach, Oregon.
March 10, 1963 I wrote Lou and her family came up to Bishop to visit us.
We were spending the simmer in our small trailer house. One of the trips we made
was up to the ancient Bristle cone forest. These trees are the oldest trees in the
world. It is well worth the trip.
It was take nothing out and leave only your tracks. On our way back we could take
anything when we came to the West Guard Pass, Lou, Scotty and I filled boxes of
everything Lou needed in teaching her Art class.
I told them I felt to write up a few of the events of my life. That I felt to
write two accounts one of my Father and Mother but a much larger account of my
own family. Lou said, "Right Dad".
The first I remember was the terrible nightmares. I could see Evil spirits and
feel their evil influence trying to get at me to destroy my life. However they only
had the power to come just so close pointing their fingers at me and pulling faces.
I still remember the house where I was born. I remember one day of Mother
taking out of the oven a big beef roast. I asked Mother what it was, "Meat," she
answered. It smelt and tasted so good.
I don't remember Father until he came off his mission. I was then four years
old. I was one year old when he left on his mission.
 One day Mother dressed me up in little knee pants. She told me we were
going to meeting. I was glad to eat again that nice roast meat. On our way home, I
asked, "Where was the meat?" She asked, "What meat?" "You said we were going
to the meeting.' "Oh," she said, and then explained it all to me.
The big red ants were everywhere. When I would be out playing these ants
would bite me and send a cold chill all over me.
Mother has often told me of when I was sick unto death I was only about
eight months old. Fatter she said, was at the Key West Mine earning money to go
on his mission. The town Doctor at Overton told mother only the power of the
Lord could save me. To send for his father and have the Elders come in and pray
for him. The Key West Mine was sixty miles all uphill on the mountain. Mother
sent an Indian to get him. When he found him he said, "You John," "Yes," "Squaw
say papoose him sick, him die. No great spirit heal him. Father informed the boss,
Mr. Minner, and he and the Indian ran all the way down. He got another Brother
and they administered to me. Mother told me that I fell asleep. When I awoke the
fever had left.
When father came off his mission he went to work at the Key West Mine, to earn
money to move to Oregon. They had two tents for George and me to sleep in. They later
put in another bed for Grandma Abbott when she came to take care of mother as another
baby was expected.
All of us would walk up to the mine with father. Mother telling father she
hoped he would get a job not so dangerous. "Oh, Chrissie dear, I must work here to2

get money to move to Oregon." She would say "John, I pray for you all the time
you are in the mine."
Bunkerville was sixteen miles from the mountain on the river. Grandfather
Abbott lived there on his large farm. He built a large house for himself and had at
one time six wives and twenty-six children. Our grandmother's children had all
married off. She was his first wife and bore him eight. Our father was the youngest
of the family. The folks would borrow the boss's two horses and buggy and drive
down often on Sundays to visit grandfather. In many ways I came to know
grandfather and his large family. Grandmother came a few weeks before Stowell
was born. She was tall, but not fat. She was still a beautiful woman, very quiet.
When she talked everybody listened. She was so patient with George and me,
always explaining our questions in a clear voice.
One night George and I woke up hearing a baby crying. We jumped out of
bed slipping on our pants and went into the other teat. There was grandmother
wiping off a tiny baby. We yelled "Is it a boy?" "Yes, answered grandma and a
good strong one too." "Goodie, we did not want an old girl”. "Why don't you stop
it from crying?" Crying is good for his lungs," answered grandma.
When Stowell was a year old past for it was October, 1903 and I was past
seven, father left for Oregon. He soon sent for us. He had bought a place up Mill
Creek out of Cove, Oregon. We were just moving in when a neighbor lady came
over and told us all the scandals of the neighbors. When she left mother remarked,
"He who brings a bone will also take one away."
One day I rigged up a pole and string tied to a bent pin, I dug some worms
and went fishing in Mill Creek. The bigger fish came off as the pin would
straighten out. However, I managed to catch four small trout.
I cleaned them at the pump and threw them into a tub of water. I never
thought about the four ducks of ours standing by, but the four ducks stretched their
heads into the tub, fished out each a fish, raised their heads and swallowed them.
This was my first fishing trip.