Chris & Julie Petersen's Genealogy

Emily Jane Adair

Female 1865 - 1949  (83 years)

Personal Information    |    Notes    |    All    |    PDF

  • Name Emily Jane Adair 
    Born 28 Dec 1865  Washington, Washington, Utah, United States Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Gender Female 
    Died 3 Oct 1949  New Harmony, Washington, Utah, United States Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Buried 5 Oct 1949  New Harmony Cemetery, New Harmony, Washington, Utah, United States Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Person ID I555  Petersen-de Lanskoy
    Last Modified 2 Apr 2015 

    Father George Washington Adair,   b. 27 Jun 1837, , Pickens, Alabama, United States Find all individuals with events at this location,   d. 9 Sep 1909, Hammond, San Juan, New Mexico, United States Find all individuals with events at this location  (Age 72 years) 
    Mother Emily Prescinda Tyler,   b. 28 Jan 1847, Council Bluffs, Pottawattamie, Iowa, United States Find all individuals with events at this location,   d. 11 Mar 1917, Hammond, San Juan, New Mexico, United States Find all individuals with events at this location  (Age 70 years) 
    Married 28 Jan 1864  of Washington, Washington, Utah, United States Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Family ID F395  Group Sheet  |  Family Chart

    Family Edmund Carbine Grant,   b. 11 Sep 1858, Kaysville, Davis, Utah, United States Find all individuals with events at this location,   d. 16 Oct 1949, Cedar City, Iron, Utah, United States Find all individuals with events at this location  (Age 91 years) 
    Married 4 Feb 1885  Nutrioso, Apache, Arizona, United States Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Last Modified 22 Oct 2015 
    Family ID F394  Group Sheet  |  Family Chart

  • Notes 
      1. Per website had 8 children: Edmund Leroy, Eleanor, Emily Adelia, George Albert, Pansey Grant, Floyd Grant, Rosamond, and Gladys.

      2. Burial website below has name as "Emily June Adair Grant" - Jane shows up as name though in 1880 Census.

      3. Censuses:
      1870 US: Beaver City, Beaver, Utah:
      George W. Adair, 31, M, W, Farmer
      Emily, 22, F, W, Keeps House
      George W., 9, M, W
      Emily J., 4, F, W
      Daniel T., 2, M, W
      Samuel P., 4 1/2 [months], M, W. [Note curious of Jemima Ann Adair who would have been age 7 in this census but is living with Valentine Carson as an adopted daughter at this time.]

      1880 US: Nutrioso, Apache, Arizona, FHL film 1254036 (National Archives Film T9-0036), p. 18B:
      George Adair, farmer, age 43, b. AL, father and mother's birthplace unknown.
      E.P. Adair, age 33, IA NY NY.
      Emily Jane Adair, dau., age 14, UT.
      Daniel Adair, son, age 10, UT.
      Wm. A. Adair, son, age 8, UT.
      John W. Adair, son, age 6, UT.
      George N. Adair, son, age 4, UT.
      Ruth Adair, dau., age 2, UT.

      1900 US: Harmony, Toquerville Town, Washington, Utah, p. 2 of 4, 22 Jun 1900, 194/195:
      Edman C Grant, 41, Sep 1858, md. 15 years, UT NY NY, sheepherder.
      Emely J Grant, wife, 34, Dec 1865, md. 15 years, 8 total children with only 6 living, UT AL IA.
      Edman L Grant, son, 14, UT UT UT.
      Elener Grant, dau., 13, UT UT UT.
      Emely Grant, dau., 11, UT UT UT.
      George A Grant, son, 9, UT UT UT.
      Floid Grant, son, 4, UT UT UT.
      Gladis Grant, dau., 9/12, UT UT UT.

      1910 US: Harmony, Washington, Utah, p. 1 of 3, 3 May 1910
      Edmund Grant, 51, md. once currently 25 years, UT US US, sheepherder.
      Emily Grant, 44, md. twice currently 25 years, 8 total children with 6 living, UT AL IA.
      George A Grant, 19, UT UT UT, sheep herd.
      Floyd Grant, 14, UT UT UT, odd jobs.
      Gladys Grant, 10, UT UT UT
      Edmund L Grant, 24, md. once for 0 years, AZ UT UT, shearing sheep.
      Mary A Grant, 21, dau. in law, md. once for 0 years, no children, UT South Africa US.

      1920 US: Harmony, Washington, Utah, p. 1 of 4, 13 Jan 1920, 2/2:
      Edward Grant, 61, UT UT NY, general farming
      Emily Grant, 54, UT AL IA
      Floyd Grant, 24, son, single, UT UT UT, sheep herder.
      Glaydus Grant, 20, dau., divorced, UT UT UT.

      1930 US: Harmony, Washington, Utah, p. 2 of 4, 19 Apr 1930, 12/12:
      Edward C Grant, 71, first md. at age 27, UT UT NY, general farming.
      Emily J Grant, wife, 64, first md. at age 20, UT AL IA.
      Gladies Whitehead, dau., 30, UT UT UT.
      Blaine Whitehead, grandson, 9, UT UT UT.

      1. Photo as older woman on file, plus several other photos.

      1. "Memories of Grandma Emily Jane Adair Grant" by Marguerite Neilson Mecham, May 28, 2000:
      "This is in no way intended to be a life story or history, Just a series of thoughts, memories and a few facts pertaining to both of my grandparents, Emily Jane and Edmund Carbine Grant. There will be few concessions made to the time periods or categories. I just intend to express on paper what comes to mind as I reflect back to these two special people.
      Emily Jane Adair was born 28 Dec. 1865, in Washington, Washington County, Utah. A daughter of George Washington Adair and Emily Prescinda Tyler Adair. She married Edmund Carbine Grant, 4 Feb. 1885, in Nutrioso, Apache County, Arizona.
      They had 8 children, 6 of whom lived to adulthood...
      Eleanor (Nell)
      Edmund LeRoy (Roy)
      Emily Adelia (Emma)
      George Albert (Bert)
      Pansy — died at about age 2
      Rosamond – died shortly after birth
      Emily considered Kanab, Utah, her hometown. I have no idea when the family moved there, or h0w long they stayed, but her fondest Childhood memories were of living there and she was forever a little homesick for Kanab.
      Her father was sent to Kanab by the church to be an assistant to Jacob Hamblin who had the responsibility of acting as Indian Agent in that territory. Apparently the Adairs lived next door to the Hamblins and the children played together. Jacob Jr, was a particular favorite of Emily's and I have inherited a letter from Jacob Jr., written to her in the late 1920's. It concerned a personal matter and has no application here.
      I have no idea of when my Grandparents moved to New Harmony, however, my mother, Emma, was born there, 14 Jan. 1889. The house that was lived in at that time was remodeled sometime after mother's birth, but long before my time.
      Grandma was quite an emotional person. She felt everything intensely. Moving quickly from pleasure to tears and vice versa, at least that was so in my years of remembrance. She felt much sorrow and compassion for anyone, or anything, in an unfortunate circumstance — or what she perceived to be unfortunate.
      She also had a great sense of humor with a dry wit. When she told a story she wanted it to entertain, or to be dramatic and effective. Her favorite saying was, "there's no sense in telling a story if you can't make it good." Grandpa would get irritated if she exaggerated a point or two to make the whole thing more entertaining. Grandpa was straight down the line with everything he did or said. Every fence post had to be straight-every rock exactly in it's place. Grandma could also be straight-laced and sometimes very narrow minded in certain situations.
      Speaking of her sense of humor, grandma enjoyed joking (we would call it kidding now a-days), with a perfect straight face and matter of fact manner. Sometimes one could not be entirely certain if she was being humorous or not, (unless you knew her very well).
      One of my favorite stories about her happened one time when she went to Salt Lake City with my parents. My sister, Ilene, lived on 33rd south and State street in Salt Lake. One afternoon Grandma sat on Ilene's front porch for several hours watching the ebb and flow of the city — the never ending stream of traffic. Finally, she arose, walked into the house and remarked, "My hell, Ilene, don't these folks ever stop and go to the bathroom"? Ilene convulsed with laughter.
      Grandma loved the color red. To her anything red was pretty – jewelry – clothing – accessories, trimming on a dress–flowers–the list goes on. A favorite item was a red brooch. (She called it a "breast pin"). Another was a string of red beads. To give her a gift that was red insured a hit.
      I remember when Uncle Bert would go away on extended sheep shearing trips he would always bring his mother a big, red satin covered box of chocolates on his return home. She'd put it on the mantelpiece or organ for awhile to be admired. Then in time it would be placed in the trunk that held her treasures. It would remain unopened until the next year when Uncle Bert brought a new box. Then the old one would be opened for consumption. But, by this time the chocolates would be dried up and/or wormy.
      Grandma loved music and dancing. She would attend every dance she was able and would keep time by patting her feet throughout every song. I can't recall ever seeing her dance except once and that was a time when a young, brash, stranger thought he would be really clever and ask her to dance. Grandma certainly surprised him (and all the rest of us) by accepting, and surprised him even more by executing a very stately, commendable waltz.
      She thought nothing could be more enjoyable for anyone than a dance, and she thought everyone of her grandchildren old enough to attend should not miss out. If she learned that one of the grandsons planned not to attend because of lack of funds she dipped into her meager purse and insisted he take the price of the dance ticket. She would not accept refusal. It would hurt her to know he would miss out on the fun if she could do something about it.
      Emily and Ed Grant dearly loved Emma's husband, Jim. He loved them as much and was closer to them than his own parents who he didn't see very often at all. Grandma and Grandpa so enjoyed hearing my dad sing and play guitar accompaniment. He knew many songs. In the history I wrote of my mother's life I told the story of how my parents met when Jim came to New Harmony with the Neilson family orchestra to play for a dance.
      One of my earliest memories was of seeing Grandma in tears as my sister, Bernice, accompanied herself on the piano and sang "Ramona". A popular song of the day and one of Grandma's favorites. She was proud of Bernice's talent and her beautiful voice.
      Grandma was fiercely loyal, caring and generous to family, friends and all whom she loved and respected. However, at times, she could be quite scornful and hold something of a grudge against those she believed had wronged a member of her family, a friend, or anyone at all, as a matter of fact.
      Emily, or Aunt Em, as most of the residents 0f New Harmony call her, took much pleasure in young people, from tot to teenager. They in turn enjoyed her. She got a kick out of helping to foster the idea that she was something of a character. She loved to talk and joke with youngsters as they passed her front yard on errands, or going to and from school. Sometimes making her remarks and questions nonsensical and ridiculous for their entertainment.
      In all my remembrance she was quite a heavy set woman who had some difficulty getting around much. Grandpa would wait on her all he could, doing chores and errands. (Her grandchildren helped with that, too.) Mother would do most of the deep cleaning and send one of her daughters to sweep the floor and dust furniture every once in awhile. By the time I was in my teens we were doing much of the laundry and all of the ironing. I remember what a chore it was to iron her big dresses and "shimmies". By necessity mother made all of her clothes, and very often her "dressiest" dresses were required to have some sort of red trimming.
      The Grandparents opened their big hearts and provided a home for three Grandchildren and a nephew when necessity arose, and to a great extent finished raising them until they were able to be on their own.
      When the oldest daughter, Nell, died as a fairly young mother, and left four youngsters. The two eldest, Erma and Grant, then made their home mainly with their mother's parents. The two youngest stayed with the father.
      Erma became almost like a daughter to her grandparents, living with them until she married. She and her husband remained very attached and loving to the old folks, visiting as often as possible through the years.
      Grant remained in the house until old enough to go out and work. He worked and stayed at the Grant ranch with Uncle Roy and Aunt Sadie, and also in town doing chores and helping with the cattle and other stock. His life progressed from there. Grandma and Grandpa Grant's home always had a welcome mat out for him, and Grandma always had a very soft spot in her heart for dear Grant.
      Gladys, the youngest daughter, with her son Blaine, lived for several years with her parents after unfortunate marriages. Later she married a good, loving man. This marriage was of short duration as Gladys passed away at the age of 36. Blaine, 15 years of age, soon returned to the home he'd known for most of his life. Having never had a relationship with his biological father this was a natural move. He lived with the grandparents until joining the Navy during World War Two. On returning from active service he married a wonderful girl. They made their home with Grandma and Grandpa for a time then built a home on a corner of the Grant property.
      Blaine and wife, Fayone, loved and helped care for his dear Grandparents until their deaths. He had always been as another son.
      When Emily's younger sister, Ruth Huntsman, died she left a young son, Julius. The boy became difficult for his father to care for and consequently was sent to New Harmony to live with his Aunt Em and Uncle Ed. I hope my memory is somewhat accurate in saying he was somewhere in the age range of 11-13.
      This was a very courageous thing for the three of them to attempt. Julius was a rebellious, bitter, angry, lonely boy. It was hard for him to conform to necessary rules and discipline, and was resentful of these things. Aunt Em and Uncle Ed were too old to handle this kind of burden. Although Julius's basic character was good and the old folks hearts were touched by him, the challenge was almost too much.
      Time passed the situation improved some. Julius found a place in the community - a place with young people of the town and with our extended family. When he was grown up enough he, too, went to work helping Uncle Roy and later taking a few seasonal jobs that opened up around the area. He became acquainted with a sweet second cousin who loved and understood him and they married. In spite of the trials, I don't believe Aunt Em, Uncle Ed or Julius ever regretted those years.
      Emily and Ed Grant had many trials and sorrows. They lost four of their five daughters.
      I have mentioned the loss of Nell and Gladys, dying as young mothers leaving small children. Also, a daughter, Pansy, at about 2 years of age and Rosamond who died shortly after birth. And as far as they knew the youngest son, Floyd, no longer lived.
      The last time the family had heard from Floyd was not long after the close of World War One. From then until after his parents died in 1949 the family assumed he was dead. I wrote a detailed story many years ago about him, his return home and reunion with the family. As long as my Grandparents lived I remember them grieving for Floyd - their wondering if he might still be alive, their longing to know what happened to him. He returned about a year after his parents passed away. The family all thought many times how tragic it was that he hadn't found his way home sooner. Then we would rationalize that this shock in their advanced age would have been too great.
      These loving parents grieved deeply along with their children when sorrow, trials and adversity visited them. The loss of Roy's first wife, Mamie, dying in the early stages of her first pregnancy. The death of Emma's first Child, "J" Grant, at the age of 10 months, Nell's son De Ray, born with severely crippled legs; Gladys' first Child, and only daughter, Nola, dying after a few months of life. Later on, Emma's oldest daughter, Bernice, stricken with a Cerebral Hemorrhage at twenty-seven. All severe blows to this family.
      On the other side of life, there was great joy when all the Grandsons serving in the armed forces returned home at the end of World War II.
      I mustn't forget to mention Grandma's love for the Indian people. This must have begun in her early Childhood in Kanab when life was somewhat intertwined with them.
      For many years in the fall months, a few Indian families would pitch their tents on a small hill just east of New Harmony, The main purpose would be for pine nut hunting, but most every day the squaws would go from door to door, with their sacks, begging for food. When they came to the grandparentme communication. Grandma would joke with them and they would laugh and joke back. She loved it! Although we kids would sometimes be afraid, her reassurance and example would overcome our trepidation.
      Grandma would go out of her way to strike up a conversation whenever she would see Indians in Cedar City or any other place. She especially loved the papooses strapped to their cradle boards.
      I must have inherited these genes because I, too, learned to love that wonderful and interesting race of people at a fairly early age of life.
      Severe bouts of anxiety would often overtake Grandma especially when she was ill. She was afraid of death. At these difficult times Grandpa would come for mother's assistance. When Dad was available he would also have a soothing and reassuring influence on her. Sometimes night spells would be the worst occurrence and Grandpa would be urged to go for Emma and Jim.
      Strangely, the last summer of Grandma's life when she was so ill, her fear of death seemed to be gone and she never mentioned this old anxiety. Perhaps death was a welcome thought then. She would, though, often cry and talk about the happy days of her childhood in Kanab - about loved ones in her family she had lost.
      By this time of my life I had been working and living away from home for a number of years. During that last summer of the Grandparents lives I was able to leave my job quite frequently to come home and help out. My parents were worn out and not well themselves due to the worry and constant care.
      The night Grandma died I was asked to stand watch while my parents went home to try and get a few hours rest. Grandpa's life was fading, also, but his situation wasn't as acute as Grandma's.
      I sat within a few feet of her bedside. The old mantle clock ticked away the last few minutes and hours of her earthly existence. I counted the seconds between each of her harshly drawn breaths. Every little while I would rush to her bedside thinking that the last breath was the end, but she struggled on. The clock struck the hours and the half-hours, and I was scared every minute. Shortly after the clock struck two my parents came to relieve me. I went home. Frightened as I had been, I was still glad to be able to spend these last few hours with my dear Grandma. She passed away awhile after dawn.
      Emily Jane Adair Grant, died peacefully at her home in New Harmony, on October 3, 1949 Edmund Carbine Grant, died peacefully, also, in the Iron County Hospital in Cedar City on October 16, 1949.
      Both funerals and burials were held in the New Harmony Chapel and cemetery.
      At this writing in May of the year 2000, there are eight surviving grandchildren.
      2 of Emma's 7 children, Marguerite Neilson Mecham of Milford, Utah and James Dayle Neilson of New Harmony.
      4 of Bert's 9 children, Sheldon and Dallas Grant and Sharon Grant Prince, of New Harmony. Also Richard Grant of Las Vegas, Nevada.
      2 of Glady's 3 children, Blaine Whitehead and Bevan Iverson of New Harmony.
      I'm sure the other grandchildren would have some different insights; experiences and stories of our unique and interesting Grandparents.
      I expressed deep and grateful tribute to my Grandma and Grandpa Grant for the huge and much loved part they had in the first twenty-seven years of my life.
      I take full responsibility for all that is written here. If there are any inaccuracies it is perhaps because of some fading of my memories in this my seventy-eighth year."

      2. FHL book 779.248/N1-H2g "The Harmony Valley - and New Harmony, Utah, History and Memories," compiled by Sheldon B. Grant and Kay Daun. Pace Edwards:
      Pp. 121-122: "Independence [Taylor] was always called 'Uncle Penn.' His only known residence in New Harmony was the house across the street from Tom and Vilo Pearce's home (now owned by Mike and Alex Ashby) and south of the Post Office. Uncle Penn owned a six-acre lot east of his home and about 40 acres north of the cemetery and below the dry field ditch... He also owned another 20 acres on the south side of Lower Joe Lee Creek... Edmund Carbine Grant owned ground west of Uncle Penn's. These two men were not only neighbors but also true friends. Their lots joined on the north, and their stables, barns, and stockyards were less than 100 yards apart. They traded work on their places in town and on the farms on Joe Lee Creek, a tradition that carried to the third generation. Sheldon Grant said, "Grandfather would farm out his grandsons to help this good man." He remembers working on Uncle Penn's farm, riding a horse, weeding, irrigating, cutting corn, and other farm chores. Uncle Penn's granddaughters would also ride the horse to help with the crops. Through marriage, Uncle Penn and Edmund Carbide Grant also became related when Edmund married Emily Adair, a sister to Joseph Adair who had married Uncle Penn's daughter, Sarah Adelia Taylor... Independence Taylor died March 21, 1942... [and is] buried in New Harmony Cemetery. Their home recently sold, but the Adair family still own the property to the east. None of the Adairs presently live in New Harmony, but they are hoping to get the property they own annexed into the town of New Harmony for a subdivision.
      Pp. 134: Edmund Carbine Grant was born September 11, 1858, in Kaysville, Davis County, Utah, to George Roberts Grant and Mary Adelia Carbine. His only sibling, a sister, died as an infant. When his father, George Roberts Grant, went to California and left him with his mother, Mary Carbine Grant, she married William Warren Taylor. Edmund was about five or six years of age when he moved to New Harmony with his mother and stepfather. StepChildren sometimes have a hard time being accepted by their new parent. Edmund was the oldest boy in the family, but there was friction between him and his three half-brothers and stepfather. It was perhaps inevitable that he would leave home while still a young man. Edmund had excellent skills in handling and caring for horse teams. By the time he was ten years old he was driving them, and by age 15 he could handle them as well as anyone and better than most. When he left home it was only natural for him to go into the freighting business, He was very good at it and enjoyed the excitement of the lifestyle it represented. John D. Lee had been called to Arizona to start a lumber mill in the early 1870s. Edmund C. Grant and John D. Lee became very good friends. It was in Arizona that he went to work for Lee. John D. Lee became a father figure to young Edmund. Edmund said to many of his grandchildren, 'A finer, more outstanding, square-shooting man I have never known.' If anyone ever made derogatory remark about John D. Lee, Edmund would bristle and say, 'Humph! I do not believe it.' Edmund met and married Emily Jane Adair on February 4, 1885, in Nutrioso, Apache County, Arizona. Their first child and son, Edmund LeRoy Grant, was born there on November 21, 1885. Their remaining seven children - Eleanor, Emily Adelia, George Albert, Pansey, Floyd, Rosamond, and Gladys – were born in New Harmony. After moving back to New Harmony, Edmund continued to do what he liked best for several years - freighting. He made regular trips to Lund, Utah, (before the railroad came into Cedar City), and to Cedar City, Hurricane, St. George, or anyplace else where he could find work. It was an honorable profession and was much in demand at that time. The omnipresence of semi-trucks and trailers on modern highways indicates that it still is. On one trip Edmund camped for the night and began to prepare his evening meal. He always fed, watered, and blanketed his horses before attending to his own needs. Another teamster came by and asked if he could camp with him. 'Sure, it's a free country,' Edmund said. 'Take care of your horses. Supper will soon be ready, and you are welcome to eat with me.' After the meal and the remaining camp chores were completed, the two men talked for a time around the campfire. Edmund then suggested that they roll their beds together. 'It's going to be a cold night, and we will keep warmer that way.' The man replied, 'You don't want to sleep with me, I'm lousy.' 'Good Hell - so am I!' Edmund exclaimed. The next morning he really was. When he reached home, his wife washed and ironed all his clothes and the bedding and eventually got rid of the lice! After he slowed down in the freighting business, Edmund Grand managed several sheep herds for Wilson Imlay in the Hurricane valley and other places. Later he ran a small farm south of New Harmony. He continued to do some freighting, primarily for himself and his friends. He also did all the work that any other pioneer did, although on a smaller scale. He taught his boys and grandchildren the value of work early in their lives. He know horses - his first love - and taught his children and grandchildren about livestock raising. Edmund and Sidney Goddard were good friends and spent time together at Goddard's ranch eight miles north of New Harmony. He was a hard worker, a good father, husband, and grandfather, and a true friend. He rode his pinto horse saddled until he couldn't saddle it anymore. Then he led it to a big log on his place and rode the horse bareback. He was still riding when he was close to ninety years old."
      Pg. 136: "Emily Jane Adair was born December 28, 1865, at Washington, Washington County, Utah to George Washington Adair and Emily Prescinda Tyler. She married Edmund Carbine Grant on February 4, 1885, in Nutrioso, Apache County, Arizona. Emily's maternal grandfather was Daniel Tyler. He was a pioneer, and educator, and was prominent in both the Church and community. Daniel was well versed in church doctrine, and exercised the spiritual gifts of prophecy, speaking in tongues, and the interpretation of tongues many times throughout his life. Before his baptism he was slow of speech, but afterwards he was blessed with a fluent tongue. Daniel had close associations with the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum. He was a member of Zions Camp and suffered mobbing and expulsion with the Saints. He also attended the School of the Prophets and was a member of the Nauvoo Legion. He filled several missions for the church, and was one of the men who responded to President Brigham Young's call to serve in the Mormon Battalion with the United States Army. Thirty-six years later, at the insistence of his comrades and with the encouragement of President John Taylor, Daniel compiled what came to be recognized as the accepted history of that incredible adventure."
      Pg. 142: Sidney C. Goddard and LeRoy Grant, son of Edmund and Emily Adair Grant were partners in two adjoining ranches. Sidney never married. He died at age 67. "Sidney left his ranch to Emily Adair Grant. Her son, LeRoy, lived on the ranch and operated it along with his own property. When Emily Grant died, the ranch became property of Emma G. Neilson. By this time the Goddard name had been dropped and it was called the Grant ranch. It is still called the Grant Ranch on signs and maps, although it is no longer the property of any Grant descendant. A. Cannon Huntsman, a son-in-law of LeRoy and Sadie Grant, now owns and operates that part that belonged to LeRoy."
      Pg. 143:"Joseph Welton Adair, Sr. was born November 6, 1881, in Washington, Utah, [Kerry's note – error: should be Nutrioso, AZ] to George Washington Adair and Emily Presinda Tyler. He was a brother of Emily Jane Adair. He married Sarah Adelia (Susie) Taylor who was born Nov. 6, 1882, in New Harmony to Independence and Julia Anner Taylor. Soon after Joseph and Sarah Adelia married, they moved to Farmington, New Mexico. All their five children were born there. Farmington is a farming and livestock area located on the San Juan River. They lived there for about 22 years. Eventually their longing for the area where they were born and raised and the aging of their parents brought them back home. They sold their holdings in Farmington, and with team and buggy, wagons, horse, mules, and an Angora goat herd, they covered the 600-mile journey to New Harmony, arriving during the summer of 1925. The Angora goat business was booming in New Harmony at the time. A total of 10,000 head were owned in the Valley, and Joseph Adair owned 1,000 of them. He summered them in the East Mountain area and wintered them on the Arizona Strip. Joseph and his two oldest sons, Joseph and Mark, were with the herd most of the time. They used two riding mules named Tom and Betty. Joseph W. Adair, Sr. died Nov. 9, 1926. The load of caring for the goat herd then fell fully upon Joe, Jr., age 18, and Mark, about 15. The children at that time ranged in age from six to 22 years. The two youngest children, Ruth and Riley, were in school in New Harmony. In 1933, when Lurene Pace Taylor moved into the Max Pace home, Susie Adair and her family moved into the home of Independence Taylor to care for her aging father. Uncle Penn was 79 years old at the time. Susie Adair eventually married Randell Lunt. When Independence Taylor died, his home lot and other property near town became her property. When Susie died, the property became owned by Ruth and George Smith. Both Joseph Adair, Sr., and Sarah Adelia Taylor Adair Lunt are buried in the New Harmony Cemetery."

      3. Received from Don Smith, 2003, authored by Margie Mecham, 1968: "And a Pure Heart." Margie's grandparents in this story were Edmund Grant and Emily Jane Adair:
      "Two large pictures hung on the wall in Grandma's bedroom. One was the portrait of a sweet-faced woman, the other, a full length pose of a young sailor, hand on hip, and with a proud lift to his head. As a child these pictures greatly intrigued me, for I had always known that sorrow and mystery hung as an invisible shroud around the unfamiliar faces.
      When time and opportunity allowed, (such an occasion being rare as Grandma didn't like an unattended child dill-dallying in her bedroom), I tiptoed close to better see and study each face. A camera had preserved the features of two people whom I had never known but whose names were as familiar to me as my own. They had been greatly loved by those near and dear to me and so I loved them too. A little pang would strike at my Childish heart with the realization that they would never know of my existence— that I was Emma's and Jim's girl. Suddenly and unfailingly, goose flesh prickled my arms and I would shiver a little and turn away, wishing I hadn't stopped to remember what had happened to "Aunt Mame" and "Uncle Floyd".
      The loss of a member from any family circle is grievous and heartbreaking. Was it because Aunt Mame was a bride of less than a year; that she had never known much of happiness until she married my mother's oldest brother; that she had died in the early stages of her first pregnancy, that made her passing more tragic, harder to reconcile?.
      She had been a girl of numerous virtues and much character; loved and accepted by her husband's people as a fine addition to their family. Even Grandma would have been hard put to have found a more worthy wife for her adored first-born.
      Mamie and Roy were anxious for a baby. I have never known whether they had a short time of happiness knowing that she was with child before the nausea began, or if the terrible retching and vomiting was their first indication of her condition. This early symptom of pregnancy is, normally, far more uncomfortable and troublesome, than dangerous. But such was not the case with Mamie. All the medicines and home-remedies of that day did little, or nothing, to ease her suffering. She became weaker and more dehydrated daily and those who labored in the fight to save her life were all too helpless in the face of this uncommon development.
      A mantle of grief settled about the young husband and remained with him for the fifty more years that he lived. With voice's that trembled occasionally, eyes welling with tears, my mother and grandmother would tell of those first dark days and weeks of his despair. Endless hours each day found him lying on the floor, head cradled in his arm's, the mother and sister searching in vain for words that would comfort this beloved son and brother. The bright, hand-loomed carpet and musty straw beneath, absorbed each wave of tears and bitterness and saw the death of much that was Roy. With this dying went youth and the ability to really enjoy life; a little compassion and understanding for others went too. As I grew older I sometimes searched his face and manner for signs that would indicate this capacity to love so deeply and grieve so bitterly, but they were lost in the man I knew. When I made mention of this to my parents, they would shake their heads sadly and say: " he changed after Mamie died".
      The young man who had stood before the camera and tried so hard to look old enough to be in Uncle Sam's navy, had been a lad when his sister-in-law died. Floyd was a bright boy, curios and eager to learn something new. He was also a dreamer and a planner, with imagination and vision. He was a talker and a natural born salesman. Grandma always said: "No sense in tellin' a story if you can't make it good". And she practiced what she preached. Grandpa wanted no truck with this sort of thing and he grunted louder and louder as her stories got better and better. Floyd inherited his mother's talent for telling a story by both breeding and example and it was not unusual to see some of the local boys doing his chores while he told stories and entertained them. He was saved from being a young confidence man by his honesty, goodness, and love for people.
      When the disastrous flu epidemic struck, Floyd was one of the few who seemed to have an immunity. Day after day he went about making rounds; from house to house he went, doing the necessary chores, preparing food, nursing and comforting each stricken household, barely permitting himself a few scant hours sleep at night. Such dedication and devotion is rarely found in a teenage boy. Finally he reached the point of complete and utter exhaustion. Fortunately, by then some of the earliest victims were getting on their feet and the weary boy could permit the crushing load to slide from his shoulders.
      Floyd longed for the world and its wonders – he longed for the new and different – for excitement. Most of all he longed to find himself and his niche. His mother yearned and cried over him. His father plainly did not understand this boy who was so different and his patience grew thin.
      Everyone was singing, "There's a Long, Long Traile home – he sent his love to all. Then there was nothing more from him, or about him.
      It was not until I had a son of my own did I realize, to any degree, the extent and texture of this special kind of pain and suffering; There would be the first faint annoyance at him for not having written, at least another card, before now; The annoyance turning into nagging anxiety; Then mounting fear and frantic hours stretching between one day's mail delivery to the next. How did they bear it, my grandparents, bear the aching and the longing?.
      Looking back I realize that they took this great sorrow with more fortitude and dignity than most people could muster. As a youngster, however, I wondered why grandpa didn't have much to say to people but muttered a lot to himself and pulled at his hair in annoyance. His frail shoulders took everything that life brought his way, they bent a bit more with the burden but this man would never break. I wondered why grandma cried quite a bit and sometimes spoke of bitterness, saying it in such a way that you could taste the nasty acidness in your mouth. I wonder no more.
      After I had grown up, I questioned my father at length about Uncle Floyd. He said he had thought for years that Floyd was dead, otherwise he'd have been in touch. Even if he'd decided not to come home he had loved his parents, his brothers and sisters, and their babies – and it was not in his character to have deliberately hurt them so. It was my Dad's theory that Uncle Floyd had probably been murdered in some dark alley of a remote European City, robbed of his money and identification and subsequently buried in an unknown grave. My mother, and her parents, would never hear this bit of logic from Dad but I was sure this must be, or pretty nearly so, the right answer. Mother never spoke of her brother's returning, she was certain he would not, but she could never bring herself to say out loud that she believed him dead.
      This time the songs were "Don't sit under the Apple Tree, "Praise the Lord and Pass The Ammunition," "The White Cliffs of Dover," and the world was at it again. One day a special letter came for Grandma. The postmark and address were strange. Grandma and Grandpa were something like eight-two and eighty-seven years old. Their health was not the best, of course, and their eyesight failing. Hope, that seemed dead these many years, flickered in the breasts of the poor, old folks. Grandma's heart pounded alarmingly and she trembled and cried. Grandpa controlled himself, as always, and called for a passerby to go after my mother. He could not let himself think that the letter was from Floyd until he had more to go on than what they could make out on the envelope, but they must wait, both knowing they could not be alone when it's contents were revealed, regardless of whether it contained a miracle, or it did not. My parents arrived – the letter opened. A local boy in Europe had thought of his hometown and it's people and had written to say "hello" to "Aunt Em" and "Uncle Ed." In my opinion it was then, and only then, that the lost boy was really given up, finally and forever.
      The night Grandma died I sat by her bedroom door — she was in a coma and I had been told there was nothing for me to do except take a turn at waiting. In the next room Grandpa was waiting also — waiting for Grandma to go, then he would permit himself to die.
      In her eighty-sixth year Grandma had been trying all summer to give up her life. Grandpa had just turned ninety-one and was marking time. He didn't want to do anything inconsiderate, or selfish, like dying first, else it might disturb Grandma and cause everyone more trouble and concern. He would do hid dying like he had done everything else, as quietly, unobtrusively, and with as little fuss, as possible. Under heavy sedation he would not require attention that night.
      The handiwork I had thought would be a panacea for nervousness, lay in my lap. I had made determined effort to count stitches, but each time I lost track. It was impossible to concentrate with the sound of Grandma's harsh and labored breathing gripping at my heart. The old clock on the mantelpiece ticked a long time between each of those shuddering breaths and little darts of fear dried my throat.
      It would be over soon — the years spent running in and out of this house, (less frequently the past while, since I had been away from home so much), but still, each room, most every piece of furniture, or dish, held memories. The oddly matched couple who had lived here had been as much a part of my growing up—taken as much for granted — as the air I had breathed. Their blood was in my veins and I had in me some 0f their recognizable traits and characteristics. Mine were not the commonly stereotyped grandparents. They were distinct personalities and I had loved them as much for their faults and failings as for their many good qualities. It occurred to me then that I had loved them even more than I had known.
      Quietly and with calm purpose I went to Grandma's bedside to say my good-bye's. Before long my parents would come and send me home and I knew that she would be gone before I returned. Almost automatically, I raised my eyes to the two pictures hanging on the wall by her bed, then I prayed that Uncle Floyd and Aunt Mame would be among those spirits who would soon come to be her escort.
      Several days after Grandpa died I was alone in the house that had been my second home. The errand, for which I had come, took me to Grandma's bedroom. Feeling the guilt of Childhood I hurried to complete my task. Having finished, I looked around lovingly; the old trunk, (that bore resemblance to a malformed camel at rest), the chiffonier with it's worn, black paint; my eyes moved on to the brass bedstead and to the Bare Space On The Wall Where Two Pictures Had Hung!!!!!! who had removed them? Not my mother, I knew. Funny, I had never noticed before how dingy the walls were, how ugly and bare the room. There was really nothing here for me anymore. Grandma and Grandpa were gone—the pictures too, it didn't seem right, so soon. Without another glance I walked out for the last time, never to return, and I was cold and crying.
      In fiction writing the end of a story is placed in its correct position, all wrapped up and tied in a proper package. This is a convenience sometimes denied the writer of life and truth. On occasion, time magically turns the end of one story into the prelude of another. In this case, time being slightly less than one year.
      My parents had spent a quiet, Sunday afternoon in early fall. Along toward sunset a car was heard pulling to a stop. Dad's favorite chair is by the front-room window and he glanced out to see who their visitor might be. A rather seedy, middle-aged man, carrying a cheap suitcase, got out of the automobile and it drove away. Dad squinted a little, if he didn't know better he'd think that the person taking so much time to open the gate and walk up the path was Floyd Grant. Well, anyway, it was obviously a relative on Grandma's side of the family, for he had the Adair look.
      The knock came quietly, timidly. Mother went to the door and opened it. The man framed in her doorway said: "I was told I have a sister here."
      There is no clear explanation available, of what happened to Uncle Floyd in the thirty some years he was away. He tried at first to speak of those years and answer the questions everyone had for him, but the telling and the reliving would disturb him greatly. His sentences were often incoherent and the stories hard to connect together. With agitation came stuttering and we gave up trying for details, for straightening out discrepancies, or for tying up loose ends.
      Roughly then, without effort on my part to clarify here, these are the basics. A sick spell, shell shock and amnesia. At some early point he returned to the states. He married and lived in New York City and had two children. While riding her bicycle one day, his teen-age daughter was struck by a car and killed. This tragic loss of the only one who truly loved him brought about a complete mental breakdown. Prior to this he had been miserable and unhappy with his wife and his son had become a stranger to him. They were glad to put him in Bellevue Hospital and be done with him.
      For several years he remained hospitalized, working to repair his mind, to overcome the hallucinations and the nervous stuttering. His Doctors were among the best in mental health; two or three friends remained true and with their combined knowledge, skill and encouragement, he began to heal.
      With the gradual return to health came lucid memories and pictures of home and parents, brothers and sisters, and boyhood chums. How he longed for all of them, but he was afraid to break the long silence. Thru these many years whenever vague recollections, or flashes of memory would strike him, the urge to locate his people was strong but his wife assured him repeatedly that his family would be dead, or scattered, or both, and if they were not it had been too long, they wouldn't want to hear from him now. She had done her dirty work well and now he could not run the risk of finding out that she had been right.
      Being despicable in nature, the wife and son refused to sign papers for his release to their custody and he was confined for an extra year while the loyal friends and the Red Cross worked for his unconditional release and legal release. It was then he made a vow that when he left the hospital he would get a job and work at it sixteen hours a day until he had enough money to go home. He was going back to where his life began and regardless of what he found there, he would cope with it somehow. But oh!!! how he prayed that loved ones would welcome him home.
      Nearly eighteen years have passed since that Sunday afternoon in early fall. Uncle Floyd is getting along in years now. He is quieter, happy and content to live out his life close to his family and beloved church. During a recent visit, he told us, my husband and me, about his latest project. He was boyish and eager, as though he were about to go out and see the world — in a sailor's suit.
      The boy did not fit into a mold—nor does the man. Time and suffering have made the difference's greater and more apparent. Some call him an "Oddballn him.
      Invariably, when I think of Uncle Floyd, the twenty fourth Psalm comes to mind, for he is best described by these words: "He Who Hath Clean Hands and A Pure Heart; Who Hath Not Lifted Up His Soul Into Vanity, Nor Sworn Deceitfully."

      1. FHL Film 2456: "Early LDS Church Membership Records for Nutrioso, Arizona": Record of the Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Nutrioso Ward, St. Johns Stake of Zion. Page not noted:
      1. George W. Adair; father: S.J. Adair; mother: Jamima Mangum; 27 Jun 1837 at Pickens Co., Alabama; received 6 Apr 1885 from Kanab; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      father: S.J. Adair; mother: Jamima Mangum; 27 Jun 1837 at Pickens Co., Alabama; received 6 Apr 1885 from Kanab; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      2. Emily P. Adair; father: Daniel Tyler; mother: Ruth Welton; b. 28 Jan 1847 at Council Bluff, Iowa; first baptism: by Proctor; first confirmation: by Proctor; received 6 Apr 1885 from Kanab; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      3. Olive Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 27 Nov 1864 at Washington, Washington, Utah; blessing 27 Nov 1864 by Daniel Tyler; died 28 Nov 1864.
      4. Emily Jane Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 28 Dec 1865 at Washington, Washington, Utah; blessing Jan 1866 by James Richie; first baptism: by John S. Bunting; received 6 Apr 1885 from Kanab; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      5. Daniel T. Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 3 Dec 1867 at Beaver, Beaver, Utah; blessing 1867 by Daniel Tyler; received 6 Apr 1885 from Kanab; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      6. Samuel J. Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 3 Mar 1870 at Beaver, Beaver, Utah; died 30 Jan 1871; blessing 1870 by S. J. Adair
      7. William A. Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 7 Feb 1872 at Beaver, Beaver, Utah; blessing 1872 by Jacob Hamblin; ordained a Teacher 29 Jul 1888 by Allen Frost; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      8. John W. Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 10 Feb 1874 at Kanab, Kane, Utah; blessing 1874 by John Nuttall; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      9. George N. Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 23 Mar 1876 at Kanab, Kane, Utah; blessing 1876; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      10. Ruth Alice Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 16 Sep 1878 at Kanab, Kane, Utah; first baptism: 2 Jun 1887 by Allen Frost; first confirmation: 2 Jun 1887 by G.W. Adair; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      11. Joseph W. Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 17 Jun 1881 at Nutrioso, Apache, Arizona; first baptism: 5 Sep 1889 by L.J. Brown; first confirmation: 5 Sep 1889 by L.J. Brown; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      12. Rufus N. Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 16 Sep 1884 at Nutrioso, Apache, Arizona; blessing 1884 by S.J. Adair; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.
      13. Edna Irene Adair; father: George W. Adair; mother: Emily P. Tyler, b. 20 Jan 1887 at Nutrioso, Apache, Arizona; blessing by S.J. Adair; removed 25 Oct 1889 to Utah.

      2. Date per website for Utah State Historical Society Cemeteries Database; 1 Jan 2002. Date and place per, Pedigree Resource File, disc #8, Pin #456941, submitted by Vern Hixson, 819 Mesa Court, Los Banos, California 93635; 6 Jan 2002.

      1. Date and place per, Pedigree Resource File, disc #8, Pin #456941, submitted by Vern Hixson, 819 Mesa Court, Los Banos, California 93635; 6 Jan 2002. Date and place confirmed with Nutrioso LDS Ward Records quoted above.

      2. Robin Adair indicates marriage record shows her middle initial as "P".

      3. 1910 census indicates she was married twice. Is it an error or was there an earlier marriage?

      1. Date per website for Utah State Historical Society Cemeteries Database; 1 Jan 2002.

      2. Date and place per, Pedigree Resource File, disc #8, Pin #456941, submitted by Vern Hixson, 819 Mesa Court, Los Banos, California 93635; 6 Jan 2002.

      3. Per website ; "Cemetery/Death Indexes (1852-1996) in Washington County, Utah," compiled by Wesley W. Craig, Ph.D: "Emily J. Grant, b. 28 Dec 1865, d. 3 Oct 1949, New Harmony Cem."

      1. Place per website for Utah State Historical Society Cemeteries Database; 1 Jan 2002. Date and place per, Pedigree Resource File, disc #8, Pin #456941, submitted by Vern Hixson, 819 Mesa Court, Los Banos, California 93635; 6 Jan 2002.

      1. "Pioneer South Utah Woman, 83, Dies at New Harmony. Tribune Special. New Harmony, Washington County, Oct. 3 - Mrs. Emily Jane Adair Grant, 83, wife of Edmund Carbine Grant, pioneer resident of this community, died at her home here Monday of ailments incident to age. Mrs. Grant had been a resident here continuously since 1886, when she moved with her husband from Arizona. She had been active in church and community affairs. She was born in Washington county, Dec. 28, 1865, a daughter of George Washington and Emily Tyler Adair, and was married to Mr. Grant Feb. 4, 1885 in Nutrioso, Ariz. Surviving are her husband; two sons, Roy and Bert Grant, and a daughter, Mrs. Emma Neilson, all of New Harmony, 21 grandchildren and 32 great-grandchildren. Five sons and daughters preceded her in death. Funeral services will be conducted at 3 p.m. Wednesday in New Harmony ward chapel, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Friends may call at the home of her daughter here from noon until time of service. Burial will be at New Harmony directed by Southern Utah mortuary of Cedar City." Salt Lake Tribune, Tues., Oct 4, 1949, p. 7.

      2. "Grant - Mrs. Emily Jane Adair Grant, 83, died at her home in New Harmony, Washington County, Monday of causes incident to age." Deseret News, Tues., Oct 4, 1949, p. 7.

      1. Per 3 Jan 2002 gedcom of Robin Adair; email: He is descendent through Daniel Tyler Adair.