Richard Ellwood Carruth – Part 1 – Life Story

My name is Richard Ellwood Carruth.  I was born on April 27, 1920, which day was a Tuesday.  My father was John Ellwood Carruth and my mother was Eliza Jane Branch Carruth.  I am the fifth child in a family of eight, being the first son after mother had four daughters.  I was born in Coalville, Summit County, Utah where I lived until 1928 when we moved to Ogden, Weber County, Utah.

Some of my earliest recollections of life are the good times we have always had as a family.  The sleigh riding we did on the old school hill and Black’s Hill, where we could coast down the hill and through a field and if the conditions were right we could go out on Chalk Creek when it was frozen over.  Of course, the only problem for having such a long ride was the long walk back to do it over again, but in the excitement of the good times we didn’t seem to worry about the little inconveniences.  I guess this has been the foundation for part of my philosophy of life. That life would be full of happiness even though there are inconveniences or troubles along the way.  If one can keep their eyes on the good time, and the Lord provides many of these through obedience to His will, the sorrows and trials of life will soon pass and the happy memories of life will remain as a guide to even greater happiness.

I remember one time when along with some of my cousins we caught a dead mouse and chased Louise (my sister) until Aunt Maude Carruth made us throw it away on the ash pile, and then when Aunt Maude went back into the house we couldn’t find it again in the ashes.

I recall going to church in the old Coalville Stake Tabernacle and in Primary and Sunday School having classes by pulling curtains together to form the classroom, but it was always noisy and hard to hear.  I remember one time when I received a very fine compliment.  At one of the meetings I had to sit by myself as there weren’t any seats left to sit with the family.  In that Tabernacle there were no benches, but individual seats on the main floor so we couldn’t bunch up as we do now on the church benches.  After the meeting my mother told me that one of the Sisters had told her how proud she should be because of the reverent way I had been during the entire meeting.  It was always fun to sit in the balcony and watch the people down below.  The ceiling in the Tabernacle had paintings of some of the leaders of the church and their eyes followed you wherever you went.  It was a good way of being reminded to keep quiet as eyes were watching you.

I remember going there for our Christmas party when Santa would come and give bags of candy and nuts to the kids.  I recall when my uncle Ray took the part of Santa that when they turned out the lights and he came from up behind the organ that he fell down the stairs and scared a lot of kids that Santa had been hurt.

One time in my life Mother and Dad and the girls went on a vacation to Yellowstone Park and left me and Frank with Aunt Corneel and Uncle Dave Barber.  When the folks came home we weren’t there as we had been taken to Salt Lake for a trip of our own.

I had a lot of good times there in Coalville.  There were plenty of friends and relatives and always seemed there was plenty to do.  We used to hike to the caves on the north side of town and make stews while there.  Dad used to take us out hunting squirrels and fishing.  Mother wasn’t too pleased about the hunting, but we enjoyed it in just shooting Dad’s 22.  I remember that one night while we were on Chalk Creek fishing Edna caught a fish, but mother wasn’t sure that it was long enough and had her throw it back in the creek before Dad could come and measure it.  We were always going to minstrel shows and musical productions as that is one thing Dad enjoyed doing, especially singing.  I remember going to the old Opera house in Coalville where they held their performances that after one performance when Dad came out Frank and I wouldn’t have anything to do with him because he had not removed his black face and we didn’t recognize him.  The old Opera House was unique in its own way.  The floor could be tilted so that each one could see the stage and then when dances were held there the floor was leveled.  It may be from watching Dad and knowing the good times he had while performing that I found so much enjoyment in performing myself.

We lived in two different houses in Coalville.  And old one in which I was born and then Dad built a new one.  I remember the tall pine trees that were around the old one and the picket fence in front.  The new one seemed kind of bare as there was no grass or trees.  I spent some time raking the yard around the new house and from then on have had a great desire to keep the area around my houses neat and clean.  And so have spent a great deal of time planting, watering and mowing the lawns around the different houses I have lived in.  Some people have thought that I should work my children harder and make them do the yard work, but I have enjoyed it too much and have replied that they can work on the yard around their own homes.

While living in the new house, Frank had the Scarlet Fever and we were summoned home from school and spent the next 6 weeks in being quarantined at home.  Dad spent that time with Grandmother Carruth and mother had to put up with the children.  Dad used to come to the corner of the lot so we could see him, but we were not permitted to leave the house.  I was a little jealous of Frank for he was given a new set of play things consisting of a shovel, rake and hoe.  After the time of quarantine was over we had to fumigate the entire house and each of us had to take a bath and leave our old clothes in the house.  It was interesting when Frank came in the room where the others of us were, we wouldn’t dare to even go towards him in case he was still contagious.   The house was then sealed shut and some powder was burned to cleanse the air and belongings in the house.  In those days when anyone had the measles, mumps, chicken pox or any other contagious disease there was a sign put on the house warning all people to stay away until the situation was cleared up.  I remember one summer it seemed like we were kept in the house all of the time as each disease went from one to another of us children.

On July 31, 1928 our family consisting of Louise, Edna, myself, Frank and Russell moved from Coalville, Utah to Ogden, Utah.  It was a hot day and we were all crowded into the old Buick we had.  I remember Mother tried to bring the butter that was left on a plate and it melted and left a stain on the carpet on the back floor of the car.  In those days it took about two hours to drive from Coalville to Ogden, but this day it sure seemed a lot longer.  What with all of the family and things that mother wouldn’t let the movers handle.  We had Slade Transfer and Storage from Ogden come up and move our belongings.  Mother had a real new electric stove in the new house, but Dad sold it with the house and so for the next long number of years we used a combination wood and gas stove for our cooking and heating part of the house.  We lived at 2140 Monroe Boulevard where Dad bought a house with a store in front which provided us our livelihood.

To be sure that we would have time to get to school on time, Frank and I took a trip to the top then of 22nd street to the Lorin Farr School and timed ourselves.  We found we could make it just fine.  I remember the winds that used to blow out of Ogden Canyon and how hard it was to walk to school with the wind blowing from the East.  Of course, it was easy when school was over and we had the wind at our backs to blow us home as we spread out our coats and caught the wind.  We also used to catch trucks and cars as they left the Mckay Market and hang on behind to have them pull us through the snow during the winter.  I remember one wild ride that Kellers Meat truck gave me.  It was going so fast I thought I was a goner.  I finally let go about Quincy Avenue and headed right into a snow bank and was almost buried.

The snow we used to have during these winters was very deep.  I recall shoveling the snow from our sidewalk and piling it on the parking until it was so high we couldn’t see the cars driving down the street.  Then one time we piled the snow beside the store and to the west of the house and made us an igloo.  I was working on my stomach on the ground digging out the middle when somebody called my name and as I turned around to see who it was a snowball hit me directly in the face.  Boy, I came out of the igloo really sputtering and spitting.  I never did find out who threw it.  We used to shovel the snow off of the garage to keep it from caving in and then we would jump from the roof to the snow and see how deep we could fall.  One time we shoveled the snow from the Condie’s house (they lived next door to the south of us) and then we were able to slide from the top of their roof which was a two story house, clear down to the ground as the snow was packed to the edge of the roof.  There haven’t been many winters since that have give us as much snow as I remember then.  Maybe it was because I was small and it towered over us so much.  But I have always liked the snow and have enjoyed shoveling the paths and sidewalks wherever I have lived.

The depression of 1929 really put us in a tight spot.  Dad had plenty of money owing him on credit from the grocery store that he was running, but no one could pay him and he then could not pay those he owed.  It is interesting to know that Dad repaid everyone of the creditors that he had and would not take out bankruptcy as many suggested that he should.  It took him a long time, but I can’t help but be very proud of Dad for his honesty and integrity.  I remeber reading a letter from Shupe-Williams Candy Company congratulating Dad for paying off his debt to them.  I hope that I can keep the name of Carruth as clean and known for honesty as he has.  I recall the times that we used to cut cardboard out to fit in our shoes when they wore out and we couldn’t afford new ones or to have them fixed by the shoemaker.  I still remember the fixings we used to do with the rubber soles that we used to glue on, only that when they got wet the glue dissolved and the sole used to flap like a dog’s tongue.  It was real interesting to run along and have the soles of our shoes going flap, flap.  Mother used to take the grocery ads and find where the various items she needed could be bought the cheapest and then we would walk all over town to buy them.  Dad took a job in Evanston, Wyoming with his cousins in the construction business and he lived in a tar papered shack as they built bridges over the Bear River north of Evanston.  He also worked in the Becker Brewery in Evanston for some time.  We used to sit out on the gutter and watch each Friday or Saturday for him to come home.  He used to ride the rails from Evanston and walk up from the railroad yards.  Or when he had a car we used to guess which lights were his as each car turned the corner where we could see.  He always made us happy and I can only remember one time that I felt that he was ever discouraged.  I owe an awful lot to both my Dad and Mother for the teachings they gave me.  Not only the teachings by word of mouth, but by the way they lived and how they tried to always live by what the gospel taught.

In April of 1932 my sister, Edna, caught pneumonia and died.  At that time death meant nothing to me and it was just fun to be out of school and have so many friends and relatives come to the house.  I remember a little about the funeral in the Ogden 20th Ward recreational hall as the chapel was not completed.   Edna was always one member of the family who used to take my side when there was any argument or fight between any of us.  She was a great one for sports and loved to play ball, especially with the girls’ team during the summer in the recreation program that was carried out in the city and especially in Liberty Park.

As I have recorded the 20th Ward chapel was not completed by Edna’s funeral, but I remember the baseball banks that were passed around each sunday and we would put in pennies and nickels that we had earned and been given to help pay for our church.  It was finally dedicated by President Heber J. Grant.  We were all privileged to stand in line and each got to shake his hand.  This building has always held a very wonderful place in my memory for the wonderful times that I have spent there.  There was an original art piece of the Savior and his twelve apostles at the last supper that was on the front wall of the chapel.

The years from December 1932 through August of 1939 are called my patience years.  On Thanksgiving of 1932 our family was invited over to Uncle Albert and Aunt Nell Becker’s for dinner and during the day I played a bit of football with her four boys and my brothers.  When they brought us home that night as I stepped from the car I felt a pain in my left ankle and thought I must have twisted it a bit playing football.  I felt it again that night as I walked from the house to the street.  The next morning when I awoke the leg from knee to ankle was swollen and very painful.  I couldn’t walk on it because of the pain.  We were going to have a neighborhood football game on saturday with the 13th ward boys and I hobbled around trying to watch practice for that game and hoping that my leg would be okay so that I could play.  But the next day (saturday) it was no better.  Mother called the doctor (Henry W. Nelson) and he came to the house (regular procedure in those days) and gave me some of the worst tasting medicine I have ever had to take.  No sooner did it go down but it came right back up.  I used to kid Dad and tell him he had better back away before he had me take the medicine.  The doctor told us that he wasn’t sure what had happened, but felt that it would take a long time to cure.

For a whole week I stayed down and it seemed that it only increased in pain.  So on December 1, 1932, Thursday, just a week after I felt the first pain I was taken to the Thomas D. Dee Hospital.  I didn’t know then that I would be there for 5 months and that I had Osteomyelitis (bone infection).  I  was operated on the next day and for the first time in a week there was no pain in my leg.  The doctor told me that when they cut into the leg that pus spurted about 2 feet in the air and this released the pressure that had been causing most of the pain.  I remained in the hospital and after the first release of pain the leg didn’t seem to get any better.  I had x-rays taken and nothing showed up.  Because of the pain the doctors decided to take me back to the operating room and take a personal look.  So about the next week I was operated on for the second time.  This time they cut clear to the bone and found it diseased.

They kept me there for over two hours while they cut and chipped out the diseased bone.  Dad tells me that he could hear that activity outside of the operating room where he was waiting.  After that operation the pain seemed to leave me.  I have felt that this problem I had was much like the experience that Joseph Smith had when he also had the bone in his leg cut out.  I can really appreciate what he went through without the aid of anesthesia.  I know that I wouldn’t have liked to even try it.

The normal procedure from then on was to use a salt solution to clean out the wound every day when the doctor came to check my leg.  This did not seem to produce the results that the doctor wanted.  He told Dad that the infection was getting ahead of the treatment and they couldn’t seem to clean it all up.  I didn’t realize how serious it was.  I could have very easily lost my leg.

The doctor asked me if I would let them use maggots on my leg.  It was a procedure that was discovered during World War I when the soldiers that were wounded and left on the battlefield had wounds that healed faster and cleaner than those that were immediately brought in and cleaned up.  It seems that the maggots will only live on diseased flesh and not touch that which is good.  So on Easter Sunday of 1933 they placed regular fly-blown maggots in the wound.  They were about the size of a dot from the point of a pencil.  They claimed there were about 1,000 in each batch that they put in my leg.  They were shipped to us from the Mayo Clinic. After placing them in the wound there was a screen placed over the wound so that we could watch them.  By Tuesday night I had had enough of them for they crawled out under the screen and I found them all over my body.  They had grown to a size about an inch long and as round as a match stick or larger.  As we tried to wash them out of the wound they just didn’t want to leave such a feast and so we had to pick them out with tweezers and discard them.  We placed three more batches in the wound during the next couple of weeks and there wasn’t enough diseased flesh for the last batch to survive.  The doctor told me that they were the only thing that saved my leg.

This was the first time this procedure had been used at the Dee Hospital and I had visits from doctors all around the area to see it.  I called the maggots my pets, but some people believe that some of them must have gone to my head as they think I have been a bit ‘buggy’ during my life.

I stayed in the hospital until monday May 8, 1933.  There were plenty of interesting things happen while I was there.  Dad visited me at least twice a day for the full five months.  I figure that for the 158 days at 3.5 miles a day he walked about 553 miles.  A fact that I greatly appreciate.  There were well over 100 patients in the children’s ward come and go while I was there.  I got acquainted with all of the doctors and nurses in the hospital and even went to the graduation services for the nurses after I left for about three years.  I spent Christmas, New Years, Easter, my birthday all in the hospital and had very many wonderful people come and visit with me.  It used to be the rule when I first went there that you could only have two visitors at one time and then they each had to wear a white robe during the visit.  I used to have so many people come to see me that I used to get in my wheel chair and ride up and down the hall outside the ward and visit those who came.

There used to be an old phonograph to entertain the kids but because I liked music so much and it kept the nurses busy changing the records that the hospital bought a radio for the ward and I got to have it over by my bed because of seniority rights, I suppose.  We always had fish on friday and chicken on sunday for our meals and because I got acquainted with the cooking area they occasionally sent me a double helping because I liked both so well.  They also used to send me a piece of pie for desert which was not allowed for the rest of the patients in the ward.

After I was released on May 8, 1933 I used to have to go down town to see the doctor at least twice a week for the rest of the time until my leg was completely healed.  The doctor used to shoot a colored solution in the various holes in my leg and from this could tell how it was healing.  I called it my subway system.  He wanted to make sure that it healed from the bone out and didn’t leave any poison under the skin.

I had to return to the hospital in July 1933 for a small operation to cut one piece of bone that had splintered and the doctor felt it would be better to do it in the hospital than at his office.  I remember going to the doctor’s office every day for a week as there was a bone specialist in town and the doctor wanted him to see my leg.  But he was too busy to ever get to the office and the only thing I did was read about every book that the doctor had in his office.

I had to use crutches for one full year after coming home and this proved interesting.  I got so I could walk faster than anyone on two good legs.  And it was interesting to see me play a little softball in the park on crutches.  After I got rid of the crutches the doctor wouldn’t let me play sports, but he would let me hike and dance.  And so as a scout I used to climb on the mountains east of Ogden and have always liked being in the outdoors although I never took up the sport of hunting or fishing.  I loved to dance and even remember the fun of learning while I was at Lorin Farr School.  In fact at our christmas dance one year, Lois Belnap and I won a prize for the best waltz.  Most of my dancing was at our church socials we had and I was always the first on the floor and the last to get off.  I remember watching when I was on crutches and vowing as soon as I could, I would dance all I could.

During the summers when the rest of the kids were out playing, the doctor had me in the house with my leg wrapped up with hot packs.  I used to watch from the window and laugh with them.  But then I would think “why am I laughing” and found it was very easy to get discouraged and wonder why all of this trouble had to be mine.  I have wondered many times just what a hard time I would have had in this life without this experience of learning patience.

Just a word about those hot packs.  Mother would take a piece of toweling and soak it in boiling epsom salt water and wrap this in a piece of flannel and place this over the wound.  This was then covered with a piece of oil cloth, then another small blanket wrapped around with a hot water bottle placed above the wound and this was followed with another larger blanket wrapped around the whole leg.  It used to keep warm for over an hour.  I had to use them both day and night and Frank used to say that when we slept together I used to kick them off and he received them.  To be able to maneuver and not have to sit in one place all day I used to place my drum strap around my neck and fasten it to a belt that I wrapped around the big blanket and with my crutches I could walk around the house.  To entertain myself I learned to play the piano and through my life have had some very interesting experiences playing for church, in the mission field, and for my own amazement.