Grandpa Stickney
(This post is in the words of Birdean Fotheringham Duke, taken from her own writings. It is rather lengthy. Therfore, I will post it in parts. Today is part 1).
My grandpa Stickney was a farmer. He lived in Santaquin, Utah. He lived there all his life. His name was Joseph. His mother (I think her name was Julia) was the post office operator. He met and married Leatha May Taylor and they lived in Santaquin all their married lives.
Grandma's family came from South Carolina. Her father had fought and been wounded in the Civil War, and when they came west they settled in Payson, Utah. I saw this grandpa only once. He was sitting in a chair and I stood and gazed at him. He had an abundance of snow white hair and a long white beard. This grandma stood by his side, very sober faced, and just looked at me and my mother. I was not very old, but I can still recall how unhappy she looked.
My grandma (Leatha Taylor) was a short, stout, heavy set lady, while Grandpa was tall and thin. Grandpa had a sly sense of humor.or, while Grandma was a very sober faced, demanding woman.
Grandpa used to tell us stories about Santaquin, and about how Santaquin got it's name. He told us (his grandchildren) about an Indian encampment that used to be up the canyon, somewhere above the town. The Indians seemed to be peaceful enough, and they were occasionally down in the town, so the people got used to seeing them.
Then one night, Chief Santaquin crawled on his hands and knees out of his encampment until he was out of sight of the Indians, and ran to the settlement and alerted the white settlers that the Indians were on the warpath. When the Indians arrived in town, the town's people were armed and grouped, awaiting their arrival. A massacre was averted and the town was saved. The settlers were so grateful that their town, and the people were still there and all right, that they named the town after this brave and courageous Indian - thus Santaquin was now a town with an Indian name.
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