Biography of Rebecca Ann Wilkinson Angell - As written by her daughter, Georgiana Millet

Biography of Rebecca Ann Wilkinson Angell - As written by her daughter, Georgiana Millet

            I wrote, then erased, and rewrote with a consuming desire, and then I found my pen fairly racing across the page to write "My Mother's Biography."

            It began on December 20, 1864 when a soul, or mother, was born in Nephi, Utah (then Salt Creek).  Shortly after her birth, grandfather moved to the Muddy Valley in Nevada, and then to St. George.  Here the mother, Rebecca Ann Denton Wilkinson died and was buried.  Picture, if you can, a tiny two-and-a-half year old child left motherless in times of pioneering and self-sacrifice.

            Grandfather now had the full responsibility of a baby daughter as well as the problem of making a living, but he managed somehow until our mother was six years old.  He then felt that she needed a mother's care and influence and so married again.  Although her father was a good substitute for a mother as well as a provident father, she was often lonely, and could have easily become a melancholy child but for her own resourcefulness and undaunted spirit, which towed her over many rough places.

            Anna Maria Blom Wilkinson, the new stepmother, was of Swedish descent, using the Swedish brogue, and often the language itself in her conversation; and as she had not children herself, "little Beckie" grew up practically an only child in a large house, for she had little association with her brother, sixteen years older.

            Grandfather was stern in teaching her the principles of Mormonism, but seldom resorted to corporal punishment; however, a lie was punishable by a whipping, and a few times she bore this because of misrepresentation and misunderstanding (her father later learned that she had never really told him a lie.)  When these punishments were administered, he would say:  "This I hate; it hurts me more than it does you."  With such training she grew up to despise an untruth, either deliberate or assumed.  "Her word is as good as her bond."

            In winter there was much association with others while the school term lasted; but three months was about the duration of the term, and the three R's, reading, writing, and arithmetic, were considered a fair amount of education.  But her keen mind and versitilities, together with numerous talents, helped to make her life more full.  She was an outstanding reader, and when visitors came to school, she was called to read for them as class representative.  "Grandma Anna" and "Aunt Marie" have told how she often "out-spelled" the whole school.  In her letters I have never found a mispelled word.  Also, the school children often crowded around her while she drew pictures with her left hand.  Her right arm was broken when she was a child so that she learned to use both hands equally well. 

            When she asked her father why he named her such an ugly name, he replied:  "I am sure thee is named after 3 good women, your mother, your grandmother, and Rebecca of old."  She also asked why he had not got a picture of her mother so that she could see what she looked like.  He said, "If you will look in the mirror you will see her, for you are as  alike as two peas."  Beckie stood 1/4 inch less than five feet.  Her hair was dark and wavy, her eyes grey; her feathers were regular, her head rather large for her body.  Always fond of animals, she never forgets her black cat, "Satan," and can picture it sleeping on her father's shoulder as he sat by the fire, or perched in the same place as he went to do evening chores.

            Of her married life, too much of commendation cannot be said.  During the first years, she and her husband, our father, George E., were in Arizona.  Here the first child, George Edward, was born.  (We have often seen a treasured bit of his golden curls in the family album.)  He had learned to talk, and had won their hearts by his charming ways.  At the age of 15 months, he died of "lung fever."  Our father had gone into the forest to Camp Apache with a load of merchandise.  Mother kept the body 4 days til he came home before it was buried.  She never had seen her husband shed tears until that time, but he surely cried then.

            It is strange that this small person, who had grown up almost alone, should become mother to 13 children.  She weighted 94 pounds.  At 20 her first child to live was born.  "Sister Lewis" was her attendant, and she never had a doctor for a birth.  However, small and slender as she was, she was never "torn" nor in need of an operation, although she suffered a great deal at these times.  She was happy to have the privilege of receiving each child.

            I consider the highlights of our mother's character were virtue, fairmindedness, sense of humor, originality.  These qualities came to the rescue of what otherwise might have been a tragic life due to the loss of George Edward at 15 months, Winifred at birth, Jennie at almost 17 years of age, my own case of paralysis leaving me lame, poverty, the care of old people dependent on them,  and numerous other difficulties, many of which were defeated by hearty jokes, or bested by the resources of originality.

            She wrote in ink several pages of biography for me in answer to my questions, although she has lost the sight in one eye, and is partially blind in the other.  Also, at present she corresponds with her children separately, reads, does her own housework, makes quilts, and speaks encouraging words to all.  (written June 1952)

            One of the most striking characteristics is minding her own business.  While others may gossip and contend, she sets the wise example of silence with the mild advice that time will prove truth or error.  In one of her last letters she said:  "The people in this town seem to be a good people.  I seldom hear gossip among them."  She was and is always looking for good in everyone and always finds it:  she thinks we should try to overlook people's faults.

Exerpts from the life of Rebecca Ann Wilkinson Angel--intended as an addition or supplement for the biography written by Georgiana Millet -- by Navarro Dalton, her grandson

            She was married to George Edward Angell when 16 years and 8 months old.  They moved to Taylor, Arizona and from there to The Forest.  They planted a garden and cleared a space of land beneath the massive pines.  Their garden was doing fine and was nearly ready to produce when one day the bishop of Tayor sent a squad of men to The Forest to warn the settlers to leave.  Wallipi Indians were on the war-path and were coming toward them.  The Indians had killed one man that day, shot him off his horse, and buried him beneath some rocks along the creek.  One couple that were newlyweds had built a cabin, had a nice garden, and had a good start in chickens.  When they were warned of the impending danger, the young man left the house and started a frantic and fruitless search for his horses.  The Indians could be heard not far distant, whooping and yelling their murderous and blood-curdling challenge.  They came closer and in frantic terror the two clasped each others hands and fled down the dirt road.  Grandfather was just pulling away from his place with two wagons loaded with his belongings.  They found room for the two and all escaped to Taylor. 

            When the Indians finally were calmed they left to view the ruins.  What had once been a garden was now a mass of tangled herbage, what had once been intended to be a home was now blackened remains.  The fateful couple who had fled the Indians had an even more disheartening sight.  Buildings were demolished, cows and horses lay dead.  Every one of the chickens they had so depended on to bring them a livelihood lay strewn on the ground, their necks wrung!  Shattered dishes lay everywhere.  Bedding, clothing, household utinsels were battered, smashed, and torn and lay strewing the ground.  So was the tale of desolation and woe of the forest.

            To grandmother and grandfather, who were themselves just a young and inexperienced couple, it was as if a sponge had crossed the slate of their existence and had erased everything but the trembling threads of life and love.  And it was these threads that held them above the surface of despair for the next 5 years, the duration of their stay in Taylor.  They managed to buy a small piece of property and build a small house of two rooms and a cellar.  Later they built another room onto this one.  It was in this humble dwelling that they had their first baby, blessed as George Edward Angell, after his father.  Fifteen months later he died!

            Their first home had been ruthlessly destroyed.  They were nearly left destitute.  Life was drudgery.  It was not the people, but the heat, dust, hard work, long hours, short rations, no break in the day, coupled with acute loneliness, that grandmother had experienced so much in her life.  Then to add to this their first baby died.  On this rare occasion grandfather wept.

            Before they left Taylor they were blessed with another child, a girl names Rebecca Ann Angell after her mother; she was nicknamed Bess because grandmother didn't care for this name.

            Great grandfather Wilkinson asked grandfather and grandmother to come back to Leeds to see him as he was getting old.  They went back, and because great grandfather begged so hard and they were discouraged with the prospects of Taylor, they never returned to Taylor.  They bought a small piece of land where the post office now stands and built a small home.  There all of their children were born except one, Wain Angell.  Virginia was 3 years old when they moved to the house that is the present home of grandmother Angell.  Grandfather had died and left it to them.  They moved in on February 23.  It was the day after Washington's birthday.  They were intending to move on the 22nd, but because it was Washington's birthday, they waited til the next day.