From Gary Tietjen, Ernst Albert Tietjen: Missionary and Colonizer (Bountiful, Utah: Family History Publishers, 1992), 352–59
Lydia Orena was the fourth daughter of Ernest Tietjen and Emma O. Erickson. She was born in Savoyeta Canyon near Ramah, New Mexico, on July 3, 1882. Like her mother, “Liddie” was short: 5 feet, six inches, but “she carried herself well: good posture would be the word.” She had hazel eyes and had her straight brown hair swept up into a knot which the French call a “chignon.”
Liddie remembered vividly the day when she and a younger sister were herding the milk cows in the bottom of the canyon some distance from the house. There were patches of willows along the creek bed. From the house her mother just happened to look in that direction and what she saw nearly made her heart stop. Winding her way down the side of the canyon, above the girls, came a mother bear with her cubs. Unless her attention was diverted she would come out right where the girls were. Emma O. ran for help—faster than she had ever run—up to the McNeill place, where by a stroke of luck she found Tom McNeill and his brother-in-law, Rube George. They ran to scare the bear if she would scare, and to kill her if she would not scare. Fortunately she scared.
Jose Pino, the Navajo leader in that area, lived down the canyon. He was a very firm friend of the family, but on one occasion he had made a face at the younger sister, May, and scared her out of her wits. She never thought of him except as the fiercest of savages. May was tongue-tied, a congenital speech defect that some attributed to the fright.
About the only formal schooling the Tietjen children had was at the school in Ramah, and this was between two and three miles away. Liddie managed to get three years of school. That first year or two they walked with Richard George and his brothers and sisters. At times it was biting cold and their clothing was not adequate. The trail was rough and rocky in spots. Her terrible fear of wild animals “made even the far off shape of an old tree, rock or bush some fearsome beast just waiting to devour small children.” Her fears were not completely unfounded, for Laura Young, her older sister, told her son that the coyotes were so curious they would approach quite closely. When she picked up a stick to throw at them, they would simply dodge it and stay where they were. Annie Bond recalled that the children built bonfires in the streets of Ramah and learned to dance there to the music of a harmonica, but occasionally they would hear the scream of a panther and would “scamper home.”
The children had shoes, but when the weather was warm enough, they carried the shoes and did not put them on until they reached school. Lydia’s daughter, Blanche, wrote that Lydia’s
“father must have had a good education [for] he gave the family a good background of the classics. Mother knew smatterings of poetry and literature that was given to all her family every day, whether we wanted to hear it or not. She would follow us around, reading snatches of whatever she felt we should know. My love of poetry and literature came through that source.”
If Ernest was the source, he must have picked it up through reading Church magazines, for he did not have much education himself.
When Lydia was eleven, her family moved to Bluewater, and school, when it was held, was in her own home.
“What social life existed was provided among themselves. Parties and dancing was in homes until enough people came to build a small log chapel … [Lydia] loved dancing … even after marriage and as long as she lived. When her family was growing up, she went to our dances as much as possible, seeming to enjoy them as much as we did. My father’s likes did not include dancing, but that did not keep her away and dancing every chance she had.
“After some years [at Bluewater] her father was able to build a rather large two-story adobe house for her mother and family. Living in plural marriage, her father had to build another house, no so large for his second wife, called Emma C. and her family.”
When Dick George was two years old, his uncle, William George, persuaded Dick’s father, Henry, to accompany him to St. Johns, Arizona. William had been called there by President Taylor because of his skills in grafting trees; he was to “help with the raising of citrus fruit.” St. Johns proved to be too cold for citrus, and he soon became destitute. His letter to the Church President tells us something of the condition some of the pioneers were in:
“Dear Brother:
“It is with Regret that I am Compelled to Write to you, To ask if you would be so kind as to send me my Releice from this place. I Desire a Honorable Releice and i now give you my Reasons For asking you For it.
“I was called to Come to St. Johns one year ago last May, and I sold my place in Mendon, Cachie County for Fifteen Hundred Dollars, Witch I have Consumed all But three small ponies, hardly sufficient to move with.
“Our Bishop as Been kind to me in Leting me have seed Grain. I put in fifteen acers of grain and i Dont think that i Shall raise Fifteen Bushels. all Died Want of Water, have Drawn from the Relief Fund till i cannot sume up Corriage to ask for any more my Wife is now gone to Ask the Bishop for Some Flour as we have none in the house at this time: this is rather tuff to have to go [to] the Church For your Suport When i am able to earn our Lifing if i Could Get work to Do to earn it.
“I have buried two of my Children Since i Came here Last year and Some of my horses have Died and the Last Cow i had Got Drounded about Four months ago this is the reason i am So hard run For means; it looks uterly imposible For me to suport my Family, my children have Cried once for Bread Since i have been here. But i had something to sell then to Buy Something. Dear Brother I Desire my Releice So that i Can Get back time anofe to earn Some Breadstuff For the Winter For i Can not get it here, only from the Flour that was sent here from Utah. Dear Brother Please send me an honorable Releice for I Do not Wish the Church to Support me when i am able to work for my living if i could get the Work to Do. I have a wife and six living Children now Please do not Delay Answering. your Well Wisher and Brother in the Gospel of Peace. William George.”
William was released and Henry George moved to Ramah in 1885. We have seen previously that he faced very difficult times there. They lived in Savoyeta Canyon near Ernest Tietjen until Dick George was eleven years old, then moved to Dingle, Idaho. Dick and Lydia walked to school in Ramah together. Dick remembered vividly
“hearing and seeing some of the soldiers telling of the capture of old Geronimo, crafty old chief of the Apaches. These soldiers were from Ft. Wingate … The military was trying to trap Geronimo who was still making frequent raids among the small settlements and isolated ranches … After numerous tries of capture and always failure, some bright captain did a bit of military strategy. It was concluded that when the soldiers were on the trail of Geronimo and near hearing distance of the Indian camp, the old fox would wait to hear ‘taps’. He then knew the soldiers would camp, he then would do likewise. So one nite ‘taps’ were played, but no camp made and the whole Indian camp was taken by surprise. Soldiers said all fought like demons, especially the squaws. They outdid the warriors. Their method of handling the bows and arrows was unique. They would lie on their backs and with their feet push the bow while pulling the arrows with their hands. The effect was fatal if one was in their line of fire!”
Adeline George described how her mother and father met after not seeing each other for fifteen years:
“One day Mother went over to Aunt Mary McNeill’s place to visit. While there, Mother asked what Aunt Mary had heard from Dick and if he had married. Aunt Mary looked at her and said, ‘That is funny, Lydia, I just received a letter from Dick and he asked about you, if you were married or if you had a boy friend. What shall I tell him?’ Mother then told her to tell him to write.” Mary wrote: “She is waiting for you, Dick!” “They began writing to each other and soon they arranged to meet each other. By this time Mother was about twenty five years old. Dad was about the same age as they were only a few months apart. Mother thought she was doomed to be an Old Maid. They were to meet in Albuquerque as that was the closest train station, Dad coming from Idaho by train. Mother’s brother, Uncle Alma, was to take her there by wagon and team, their only mode of transportation. Mother’s younger sister, Aunt June, who was very beautiful and had taken almost every boy friend Mother ever had, insisted on going along too. Mother did not want her to go because she was afraid Dick would take one look at her and that would be another boyfriend she would lose.
“They went to Albuquerque and waited for the train to come in. Mother said she saw a tall black-curly-haired man get off and she knew it was Dick. ‘My heart was in my throat’, she said, for he was so good looking. When they met and he shook hands with all of them, he turned back to Mother and took her by the hand and said, ‘So this is Lydia’, and never took another look at Aunt June. Before they were married, Dad bought a piece of land and built a log cabin, consisting of two large rooms. Mother made curtains and bought dishes and made bedding to furnish it. They took the train to Salt Lake City and were married in the Temple, April 2, 1908. About ten months later their first girl, Blanche, was born in that little log cabin. Two years later, almost to the day, Adeline was born, but by this time they had moved to the Zuni Mountains, Dad setting up a sawmill there. There were nine children born to their union, and we had many happy, joyful days and years together.”
After three children were born, Richard decided to go back to his hometown, Montpelier, Idaho. Two years were spent there … “Lydia was not happy away from her folks, so they decided to move back to New Mexico.” Richard resumed the sawmill business.
Lydia had a cheerful, even temperament. Her daughter Adeline wrote that
“One time when I was about fourteen years of age and was learning to sew, I took a beautiful piece of material mother had been saving to make her a dress. We didn’t have much and material was hard to come by. I cut and sewed her a dress … I was so anxious for her to come home and see it. When she did, I remember she took one look at it and went in the bedroom, never saying a word to me. I know she cried, for I had ruined the material, the dress was too small, and not done in a neat way. When she came out she did not bawl me out or say mean words to me, she put her arms around me and thanked me for trying. I then cried too. She taught me more about love and patience there than I have learned since.”
Her son, Elmont, was impressed “with the confidence Mother had in me to drive trucks and cars and to fix her washing machine.”
“Carefree, happy days”, wrote Blanche, “then tragedy struck the family. Our eleven-year-old brother, Weldon Alma, and Elmont were riding with my father in a Model T truck loaded with lumber from the mill, taking it to Grants, New Mexico. My father had been letting older brother Leslie jump off the slow moving truck and try to catch prairie dogs. At times he says he was successful. On this trip, Weldon wished to do the same. He was given permission. A couple of tries and then it happened. He failed to grab hold of the side of door, slipped, and was run over, killing him instantly. Les tells me he remembers my father telling that he had dreamed that something like this would happen. I suppose he never really forgave himself. He always contended that if he had not let the boys do such or if he had been watching more closely, it would not have occurred. My mother felt otherwise; she said it was time for Weldon to go. She was not too shocked when my father came back to break the news to her. She said her mother had been at the screen door all day.”
This accident was a turning point in Dick George’s life. He moved his family into Bluewater where they could join in Church activity and began to show an interest in his religious heritage.
Of her Mother, Blanche said:
“She loved my father and as far as I can judge, their marriage was a satisfactory one … Perhaps Mother was more religiously dedicated. She never held a leadership position, but she was an excellent follower … She especially loved her boys. Here again psychology had its effect; she would always tell them they were ‘good’ boys, consequently all of them turned out to be good boys. None picked up bad habits of the world … There must have been some ‘Viking’ genes transferred from Mother’s side to them. They all learned to fly. Stan, in the Air Force in World War II, had the only formal training, and it was useful to the rest of the brothers after the war. Flying then was not so popular in our area and the planes they flew were rejects picked up wherever possible with parts from wrecked ones. On a little sand strip they all learned by trial and error the science of flying. Eventually all got their legal pilot’s and commercial licenses. It was and is their love and Mother much approved, encouraging them all the way.”
With that many pilots in the family it was inevitable that there be a serious accident.
“Leslie was flying from Bluewater to Gallup to take his shift as a Santa Fe fireman. As he was landing, fog cut off his vision and he crashed, being thrown through the windshield. He managed to stand and make his way to the highway where a lady from Window Rock took him to the hospital. Sixty stitches were taken in his head and his left eye cut, but he recovered satisfactorily.”
In 1950, with all but one of her children married and gone, Lydia went to Ashland, Oregon for a visit. While there she had a severe stroke and never recovered completely. When she was well enough, she was taken back to Bluewater, but could not walk. She sold her home and her remaining years were spent in Ashland. She died in 1960. Dick George lived until 1969. The heritage he left his children was honesty and integrity. He was known for these virtues throughout his life in all his business dealings.