From Gary Tietjen, Ernst Albert Tietjen: Missionary and Colonizer (Bountiful, Utah: Family History Publishers, 1992), 320–31
Annie was born at Savoia, August 22, 1878, the first child of Ernest and Emma C. Her daughter Amy described her mother’s personality:
“Mama drew people to her. Friends and relatives would come from miles by horse and buggy to spend the weekends. Mama was full of fun and humor. She inherited this characteristic from her Norwegian mother and the Norwegians are a very witty, happy and jolly people. Mama loved to be with a crowd. Grandma has told me Mama would hurry with her work so she could go visit friends. If ever she would try to miss a dance, a crowd would come to their home and insist on her coming, saying, ‘We can’t have a dance without Ann’ as she was sometimes called. She was witty, humorous and freehearted.
“One of her friends told me years ago that ‘It doesn’t matter what time of the day you saw Annie, she always looked as if she had just stepped out of a bandbox.’ Mama cried easily and was kind and forgiving. Grandma Tietjen said Papa told Mama once to give all she wanted to because that made her the happiest. Besides being generous, she was industrious and always kept her house clean and orderly. As a little girl I think the thing that I remembered the most about her was her consistency in the things she did and most of all in keeping her word. Whenever she said she would do something, she’d always do it. She never let us down.”
The Stevens brothers had originally settled in Bluff, Utah, with the Hole-in-the-Rock company. There was not enough land there to support them, so they came up the river to Fruitland, New Mexico, some of the first settlers in that area. In 1886 Joshua Stevens had homesteaded some land on the La Plata River in Colorado. He sold his property to a Mr. Bigler, but his claim was jumped by the some outlaws the moment he vacated in favor of Bigler. Joshua and Alma Stevens asserted their rights and a physical struggle was followed by a gunfight in which John Deluche and Sherman Hilton were killed and Alma was wounded in three places. The Stevens brothers were arrested for murder but released for justifiable killing.
Because of possible retaliation and because Joshua was a polygamist under threat of arrest, Joshua went to Mexico. His brothers, Alma and Ed, helped him move his cattle and possessions. On the way, they passed through Bluewater and stopped to rest the cattle. All three brothers took a liking to Annie Tietjen, but they had to move on. When Ed returned, he came by Bluewater, courted Annie and married her, then moved to Fruitland, New Mexico. (When the Mormons were driven out of Mexico in 1912, Joshua stayed, but was killed by two Mexicans when he attempted to drive them off his property.)
Annie Tietjen married James Edward Stevens on October 11, 1898, in the Salt Lake Temple. Four children, Edward, Amy, Merrill, and Ernst, were born in Fruitland. Ernst lived only seven hours. To the Mormon pioneers, death was sad but not final: it was not something to fear. Amy was four years old at the time, and her first memories are of that event. She says,
“Ernst was born and passed away in the night. The next morning I remember going into the room and seeing Mama lying in bed. She pointed to a little square table that stood out in the middle of the room. On top of the table lay something covered with a white doily. She told me to look under the doily which I did. There I saw my tiny, little, black-haired brother dressed in white. Then, realizing they were going to bury him, I begged them not to, but to let me have him for a doll.”
Soon afterward Ed and Annie moved to Bluewater. Amy writes that
“We lived a block south of Grandpa Tietjen in a little two room house with a lean-to on the west for bedrooms … Mama never was too well while raising her family. Much of her time was spent in or on the bed, but she was never idle … At one time she had knit a large red shawl which I still have.”
One of the demanding physical tasks Amy remembers her mother doing was washing. The clothes had to be soaped good with a bar of harsh lye soap, then scrubbed up and down on the corrugated steel washboard until they came clean. After rinsing, the clothes had to be wrung out by hand. White clothes were boiled first to make them easier to wash, and a plunger of galvanized steel was used to agitate the clothes by hand. Lye was added to the water in Bluewater to soften it.
Many childhood experiences were frightening for Amy. When the ground became dry and cracked, her cousins told her the cracks were where the Devil would come up and get her. When the Bluewater Dam broke, she says,
“I watched the flood from the upstairs attic window of my Grandparents’ home … The little town of Bluewater was located in a little cove at the foot of some small hills on the west, and out of the path of the rushing water … I saw big logs go bouncing and rolling along like sticks in that muddy water.”
Amy tells us that
“It was our custom while living in Bluewater to go to the San Juan Valley to visit our grandparents who lived in Fruitland … My biggest worry when starting out on those trips was the fear of crossing the San Juan River by team and wagon, as we had no bridges in those days. The trip consisted of 50 miles to Gallup, New Mexico, then 100 miles across the Navajo Reservation, then across the river and another 20 miles on the north side of the valley going east to Fruitland. Those last 20 miles were like heaven in comparison to the country we had just passed through. Such a beautiful valley, green with alfalfa, corn fields, fruit trees of all kinds, and shade trees that grew on each side of the streets, which were so big and tall that their branches came together at the top, completely shading the street below … Oh, how I dreaded crossing that river. While the horses were being persuaded to enter the current of the river … I would seek the back of the wagon and bury my head in a quilt so I couldn’t hear the splashing and the churning of the water while we crossed.”
“I have a vivid recollection of another trip while returning from the San Juan to Bluewater. Some of the water on the Navajo Reservation was alkaline, and if our horses drank it, sometimes it would make them sick. Papa stopped in the afternoon to water the horses. A beautiful sorrel mare called Babe began to act sick. She became so ill we were forced to stop and unharness her. It was dusk and 10 miles to a little trading post, the nearest place to get medicine for Babe. Papa, seeing the situation, unharnessed Babe and the other horse, gave Mama a few instructions and got on the well horse and started for the trading post.
“Let me remind you we were on the Indian Reservation among savages and the round trip to get help was 20 miles (riding a work horse, at that, it was a long way). I could see Mama was worried and frightened. After all, we were in Indian country. Then there was Babe, a beautiful mare, so sick, rolling from side to side in the dirt, then getting up and shaking the dirt from her coat and repeating it over and over. Mama made a bed in the back of the wagon and put us to bed. I don’t remember what happened when Papa got back, or if he got back with the medicine in time to save Babe.”
Not long afterwards Ed moved his family to Verdure, Utah, near Monticello, where he established a cattle business called Verdure Livestock Company with Joe Barton, John and Elmer Decker, Dick Butt, and George Dalton. Annie had a lot of fun out of life. Amy says that
“One evening Mama had taken us out to the barn where the men were doing chores. A cousin, Victor Burnham, who was working for Papa, found an egg in the manger. Victor dared Mama to suck the egg for a dime. Dimes were dimes in those days and you never saw very many. Mama, the sport she always was, sucked the egg and Victor gave her the dime. I thought that was pretty great, Mama had earned a dime! Mama took the dime and laid it on her dresser and later Victor saw the dime and repossessed it! We thought he was a pretty poor sport.
“While living by Bartons, one of our biggest pasttimes was running footraces. Adults and young alike, all entered into the sport … Mama and Jenny [Barton] became great friends. One afternoon Mama and Jenny were sitting on the porch of our two-room house when they decided that Edward and I should run a race. We were to go out to a footbridge and then run back to where they were sitting. The winner was to receive a nickel. As Edward and I walked out to the footbridge to begin our race, he said, ‘I’ll give you a headstart to the footbridge and I’ll still beat you.’ I took him up on that and won the race! Edward was so disappointed when I got the nickel, he couldn’t hold the tears back. Jenny felt so bad for Edward she got up to go to her house to get him a nickel too. I remember my mother’s reaction was, ‘No, Jenny, he has to learn to accept defeat.’
“Papa bought the old Bob Hott Ranch. It was the first ranch at the head of Verdure Canyon at the foot of Blue Mountain. I cannot even begin to describe the beauty of the canyon. Jenny [Barton] would ride her little pony, Pollix up to vist and always the big black and white dog, Purp, tagged along. The afternoons on these trips were so much fun going up along the creek gathering choke cherries or wild currants for jelly. I remember the laughs they would have. Maybe I have mentioned … how much wit and humor Mama had. Grandma said no one could be around Annie and not be happy. She was always making them laugh.
“One day in particular, I remember after Jenny had visited and it was time for her to go home, Mama was trying to boost Jenny up on Pollix. She would get Jenny almost on her horse when old Purp, the dog, would come on the scene. Up he’d jump, grab hold of one of Jenny’s shoes with his teeth, then sit back, growling and pulling until he would pull her off the horse. Then … they would laugh until they were weak. They kept this up until they finally succeeded and Jenny was on her way home.
“Mama was a very early riser all her life. Grandma, her mother, has told me, ‘Annie would do the chores and milk the cows in the summertime while it was still dark.’ She never outgrew that habit and as a small girl I remember eating breakfast in the summer by lamplight, so Papa could get an early start as he had to go about three miles from the ranch to the dry farm, where they would work all day using horses to get the land ready for planting crops …
“I remember Mama being a very consistent person. She was up early every morning putting the same clothes on as the day before, throwing our bed covers back to air them out with the windows open, then into the kitchen for breakfast, eat, wash dishes, sweep the floor, then back into the bedroom, windows closed, beds made and the room tidied. Then it was time for my hair to be combed in long braids. Girls wore braids, women wore bobs, women never cut their hair. Then I put on a freshly ironed and starched dress. I never remember being allowed to play before I was cleaned up for the day, and my hair combed.”
At Verdure Annie came into the modern age. Her washboard days were over:
“Papa was a very good provider, so it was that we were among the lucky few who had a hand washer. My brothers and I took turns pushing the handle back and forth, five minutes apiece to each batch. [This] swished the clothes back and forth in the hot soapy water to clean, then rung out by a hand ringer attached to the washer. After washday, followed ironing day. Clothes had to be sprinkled and rolled up the night before, ready for the following morning for ironing. Edward was a good ironer, therefore he received a lot of praise from Mama. So when it came my turn to iron, I would try so hard to iron as well as Edward, so I’d get praise too. We ironed with stove flatirons and they were heated on the top of the cookstove. To keep the flatirons hot, we had to keep stuffing the stove with wood.
“Farmers ate by lamplight at night after the chores were done. After supper one night I got a bright idea. I put my head on my arms on the table and pretended I was asleep. My idea was to get out of helping with the supper dishes. It worked! Mama did the dishes. That was great, … so the next night I tried it again. But that didn’t work out as well … Mama said, ‘Oh! Amy has gone to sleep.’ So they took me and put me to bed out in the log house. Then they all went back into the kitchen, leaving me alone. There was never a night but what the coyotes howled. I lay there frightened to death. It seemed that the coyotes were closer to the house than they had ever been. That cured me. I decided never to try playing possum again.
“I took my turns with my brothers, helping Mama sew on the foot treadle sewing machine by sitting on the floor in back of the machine and turning the big wheel (we worked an iron rod attached to the foot peddle then to the wheel), while Mama sewed clothes or rug rags for a rug … One day Mama, Jenny and I were in Jenny’s sewing room when Jenny opened up a large trunk and gave Mama some of her dresses that were out-dated, but beautiful material, to make over for me. Jenny had been an old maid from Sweden when she came to America and married Brother Barton. Mama was a talented seamstress and made all my dresses. I especially remember one of the dresses Jenny gave Mama to make over for me. It was made of a beautiful green material, trimmed with white lace and green braid. It was adorable and my favorite. Mama was asked where she bought the dress and when she said she had made it, everyone could hardly believe it.
“Whenever I went to play with a friend, I was only allowed to stay one hour. One time I over-stayed my hour and Mama came after me. She had a little willow in her hand, but she never used it. In fact, I can never remember her spanking me. She had more effective ways of punishing—making us say we were sorry, or being confined to a chair for so many minutes without talking. If we said anything naughty, we got our mouths washed out with soap and water. I don’t remember any of my brothers ever getting this treatment, but I did. I must have been the little spit-fire in the family. One day I got angry with Edward, my oldest brother. My vocabulary wasn’t very large, so I called him an old black pig, the worst thing I could think of. Mama heard me, so I got the works, including my mouth washed out.
“We feared the Ute Indians for they were savage and dangerous at times. They would come in bands on horseback, filling the road through the small canyon where we lived. The cliffs of the canyon were on the north side, rolling hills on the south, dotted with brush, trees, and scrub oaks. It was on this hill that the Ute Indians would camp. It was quite a sight to see their teepees dotting the hill and at night with their fires lighting up the hillside … Verdure Canyon was noted for growing choke cherries. So when the cherries were ripe the Ute Indians would come up the canyon to pick and feast on the cherries.
“One day the men were all in the fields working. Mama, Edward, Merrill, and I were in the house when all at once we heard a commotion and chattering in our front yard. We knew that meant Indians. I sensed Mama was frightened, but she knew better than to ever let a savage Indian know it. Mama had been raised with the Navajo Indians in New Mexico where her father … had worked among different tribes all his life. As Mama went to the door to open it and go out, I saw her lean her head on the door casing and shut her eyes. I knew she was praying. Then she opened the door and went out. Then, with her ability to entertain, she went up and took some of the choke cherries off the limbs the Indians were carrying. One by one she would throw the cherries into the air, then catch them in her mouth. The Utes thought this was great sport, and she had them laughing at her pranks.” With this atmosphere, Annie knew her children would be safe.
“One evening two or three months before Horace was born, Mama was playing jacks on a rug in front of the fireplace with our hired help. All at once she fainted and passed out. Papa grabbed her and felt for her heart. He was so frightened, but after working with Mama and wiping her face with a wet cloth, she came to … A few weeks [later] Papa hitched up a team to our buggy and took us all down to visit old Jim Hicks, an old bachelor who lived on a little farm at the east end of Verdure Canyon. Jim had a phonograph and played it for us. When he played ‘Silver threads among the Gold’, Mama got up and danced for him to the music. Jim really enjoyed that. He sat back, beat the time with his feet and clapped his hands. This dancing proved hard on Mama. She had to lay on his bed for awhile before we could go home. Mama was a cut-up and never passed up an opportunity to make someone laugh.
“Mama had written to her mother to see if she could be with her at the birth of her baby. Grandma got a ride with Brother Kartchner and his family going to Blanding, Utah. It took them ten days to make the trip by horse and wagon and Grandma was with Mama ten days before the birth of Horace … Mama had a dream in which she saw her body laid out. She told Grandma she wasn’t going to live and requested she be buried either in Fruitland, New Mexico, next to her baby Ernst, or at Blanding, Utah … Mama had ordered from Montgomery Ward mail order house a shipment of clothes such as white embroidery camisoles, petticoats, etc. Mama gave some to Grandma. Grandma protested, ‘No, Annie, you keep them,’ but Mama was never happier than when she could give something to someone else, especially her mother. They were very close.
“Friday night before Mama took sick, Mama held me on her lap and helped me sing to Grandma, ‘Oh, I Had Such a Pretty Dream, Mama’. It seems they always sang that song on Mother’s Day. It is still hard for me to sing that song, but I follow along trying to control my tears. Mama went into labor early Saturday morning. For a long time she had suffered with bad headaches because she had albumen, and it wasn’t long before she started into convulsions … Along Saturday evening it was plain to see, Mama couldn’t give birth without the help of a doctor.
“It was Morgan Barton who took the responsibility of getting a doctor from Moab … Morgan set the trip up in relays. Having different people with fresh horses and buggy stationed along the road from Moab to Verdure, a distance of 60 miles. Each outfit driving as fast as they could make the horses travel … The doctor arrived in the early hours of Sunday morning. It was a most beautiful moonlight night. Horace was born at 4 a.m. and Mama passed away four hours later … It was early that morning when they came in and told us Mama couldn’t live. I remember the sad, lonely feeling that surged through me. Merrill, only six, says he remembers them telling us and then how we knelt up in bed and prayed.
“Edward was ten, I was eight and Merrill was six at the time of Mama’s death. Edward, being older, took it very hard. That Sunday morning he sat under the shelf on the east side of the kitchen, the shelf where we sunned our milk dishes. Edward had a little knife with a chain which he carried. He held the knife in his hand hitting his knees and crying. Edward told me later in my life that Mama’s dying hit him the hardest when he would be driving the cows in from the pasture and as he neared the house, realized Mama wasn’t there.
“I couldn’t possibly end these memories of Mama without paying tribute to Aunt Olga Johnson, the third girl in the family. Aunt Olga tells how she got up May 18th thinking of getting herself and her three children … ready for Sunday School, but all she could do was cry. Then she got word about Mama dying. Aunt Olga was nursing her third child, Caroline, who was a fat baby and old enough to be weaned. Aunt Olga made preparations at once to leave for Verdure to help with the feeding of her sister Annie’s baby … Seraphine Frost, who lived a couple miles down the canyon … fed Horace until Aunt Olga could arrive from Cowley, Wyoming … Aunt Olga and children remained at Bluewater till Fall, at which time she left to go back to Wyoming … Edward, Merrill and I, after Mama’s death [at 34 years of age], lived with Grandpa and Grandma Tietjen for three years. After that time, Papa came and took us back to Utah.”