Tag Archives: Colonia Pacheco

G. Heber James

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1910 – 2006

G. Heber James, 95, left his mortal existence on July 2, 2006. Heber was born in the Mormon Colonies in Colonia Pacheco Mexico on September 24, 1910. His parents were George Heber James and Sarah Nelson. Heber’s father died one month prior to his birth. He then went with his mother and older sister, Vinetta, to Thatcher, Ariz., where he was raised until he moved to Phoenix in 1930. Heber was preceded in death by his wife of over 70 years, Norma Morris, and their daughter Jacalyn Sue. Heber outlived all of his siblings and countless friends and relatives. He owned and operated Nelson Electric Company, a supplier of Kohler generators and engines, for close to 50 years. He was self-taught in all his endeavors. Heber could build and repair anything and everything. He was a dedicated member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He is survived by his son Gerald (Quola), and daughters Janet Morrison (Reed), Judi Ronnow, Joyce Williams (Gene), Jeanne Despain (Allan), Josephine Foutz (Don), 32 grandchildren, 102 great-grandchildren and 24 great-great-grandchildren. Please join us for a celebration of Heber’s life on Saturday, July 8, at the Glendale Stake Center, 8602 N. 31st Ave., 11 a.m. Viewing 10 a.m. Interment on Monday, July 10, 2006, at Thatcher City Cemetery. – See more at: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/eastvalleytribune/obituary.aspx?n=g-heber-james&pid=18372930&fhid=2950#sthash.ayTKhzVL.dpuf

Marian Lunt “Heaton Lunt of Colonia Pacheco”

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Marian L Lunt’s book, Heaton Lunt of Colonia Pacheco, was a lot of fun to read.  The biography was written from audiotapes recorded by her father-in-law, Heaton Lunt, I don’t think that Louis L’Amour or Zane Grey could have written better stories than the life Heaton lived.  It is like a Hollywood screenwriter had John Wayne or Clint Eastwood in mind as he created a script filled with banditos, hermits, army scouts, wild animals, and gunplay.

Marty Robbins must have been singing about Heaton in his western gunfighter ballads.  Heaton even uses the words outlaw when referring to an extra ornery horse that needed to be “broke” and mentions riding underneath a hanging tree where the nooses were meant for he and his compadres.  I was hoping he would use the word iron when referring to the six-shooter he smuggled back into Mexico, but I guess that would have been too Hollywood.

This is one of those books that you don’t mind staying up until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning reading (I did). Even the next day while you are dragging because of lack of sleep, you can’t wait to stay up until the wee hours of the morning again to finish it.

Although the book starts out with great stories of adventure, it wasn’t until near the end of the narrative that I realized just how Heaton was able to live through these ordeals—his positive attitude and outlook on life. Heaton had a great attitude.  Here’s an example:  I remember people describing how hard it was, during that Depression.  Many a time I’ve told people, when they were bellyaching about what a hard time they were having, I used to say, “I don’t think it’s so hard; my kids are just as fat now as they were in the good times.  It must not have hurt them.”

He goes on to say:

The Depression…as bad as it was, we make it sound worse that it really was.  I think it was a good lesson for the country in general.  It’s getting about time for another lesson.  They’re getting so ungrateful, so wasteful.  To me, I can’t pity people who holler about hard times when they’ve been wading through such good times  (pg 420)     

Heaton remarks are straightforward and honest.  He shows humility while staying self-confident in his perspectives and abilities.  He shows us extreme clarity when he said, “Well, it’s like I believe, lots of times, success is management, and we managed.” This is sage advice for our day as we deal with trials we face in our lives.

You’ve heard people say that we need wilderness to remind us that there are still wild places and wild things in the world; well, we need to remember that there really were men like Heaton Lunt who overcame tremendous adversity and dangerous situations.

Heaton Lunt was a man’s man who lived a life full of adventure, but was faithful to his Latter-Day Saint tenants to the end.   It’s good to know that these kind of really existed and their lives were much more exciting than even Hollywood can contrive.

It is stories of people like Heaton Lunt that made me want to start Las Colonias magazine.  We need to keep these stories alive and in our collective conscious. These stories need to be saved and shared with future generations. Click on the link below to purchase the book through Amazon

Heaton Lunt book

George & Hyrum Naegle’s Encounter with a Bear

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George & Hyrum Naegle’s Encounter with a Bear

(Copy of a letter written by George C. Naegle to family members in the U.S.)

 This letter will come as a great shock and surprise to you and the members of our family in Utah and Arizona, but the pen will feebly convey to you the sad news of the fate of our dear brother, Hyrum Naegle, who from the horrible wounds inflicted by an enraged bear, died last night at 10:00 o’clock.

This letter will cause you to feel with us the bitter pangs of degree at this untimely death. I now send you a report of the whole circumstances. Nearly every winter some of us boys have gone to Gavilan Valley, about 15 miles from here in Pacheco to the west on the Sonora side of the Sierra Madres, to the ranch. Here we would stay through the week and return home each Saturday night.

We were all very busy because father and some of the boys were at the new ranches we had purchased in Sonora. We were there usually alone, one at a time, to look out for the stock, especially to save the calves and colts from bears and roaming mountain lions and sometimes big  grey timberwolves which have been so destructive this spring. At least $300 worth of stock we have lost.

When brother Hyrum came home Saturday night he said he had encountered a very large bear, but did not get him, reporting also he had seen tracks quite thick. So we both went over last Monday. Tuesday we hunted in different directions and found several of our best calves gone. We then decided to go together, down the Gavilan River and back up North Creek and gather all of the calves and cows together. I believe that was the first time either of us had written to gather the entire spring, even when two of us were together on the ranch.

We would ride in different directions so we could get around the stock and over more country. As we came up North Creek, driving a little bunch of cattle, and on turning a curve in the Canyon and had just emerged from a point of the hill, Hyrum exclaimed, “there is the bear next mission point!” It was a monster too. Instantly we jerk our guns and jumped to the ground. Hiram had a 44 Winchester and I had a 45 Marlan. We ran a few paces to a clearing where we had a full view in fair chance at them, and old bruin was going along the bottom of the canyon.

Hyrum put in the first shot, and I the next, both hitting him. In rapid succession we fired several shots and I think most of them struck the bear. As he (the bear) climbed the hill on the opposite side of the canyon, my third shot brought him rolling and bawling down the incline.

Hiram said, “that got him” but he lay only a second on the ground then gathering himself up, he scrambled 20 or 30 yards before falling under the oak tree. Hyrum suggested, “Let’s leave our horses and take it on foot,” and started after him. But I, having only three cartridges in my magazine, waited a few minutes.

And excitement of trying to put in more cartridges, one unfortunately caught the first one and held it fast. I couldn’t force the cartridge in nor out until I got my pocket knife out. By that time, Hyrum was across the creek and climbing the hill. I came out above him or on a level with him.

I looked in shouted to Hyrum not to follow directly after the brood, but to come in below him. “Go straight up the hill and come out about him.” Hiram did so and soon he reach the top. He fired three shots, Bang! Bang! Bang! as quickly as he could.  I think that there must have been on the run well Hyrum were shooting, and with the third shot got out of sight or a little raise.  In a hurry to adjust my gun to get there, I did not look up again until I got the cartridge out and another one in and by that time both Hyrum and the bear route site. I jumped in my mule, a fleet little animal, and with my gun in my hands dashed cross the canyon. Fortunately I did, for had I taken the journey on foot, I would have reach there too late.

When I arrived to the top of the hill, I could neither see nor hear anything of Hyrum or the bear. I called, “high room, where are you?” But received no answer. I spent on the course I thought they had taken. I had gone but a few rods over a little raise when I saw the bear a little above and along the hillside. But I could not see Hyrum. Rushing toward the bear, I could see he had something bloody his mouth, munching and growling.

Not seeing Hyrum anywhere, I feared the bear had him down. Then the my whore, no tongue can tell, I saw his blue overalls under the bear’s body. He was knawing on Hyrum’s hand. I shrieked, “My Lord, he has got my brother down!”

The stirring up of my mule cause the brood to drop the hand and pick up Hyrum by the head. I did not dare shoot for fear of hitting the wrong target, the bear or Hyrum, as perchance the shot may not prove fatal to the bear.

I jumped off that mule to take if your aim, being then quite close. My jumped to the ground frightened the bear. Instead of touching Hyrum again or making for me, before I could level to shoot, he started off.

Hyrum rolled over on his face, rose to his hands and knees. Then I could see my brother was not dead. But oh, such a bloody site, I am not able to describe. The bear was then about 30 yards from him. I fired and brought the brute to the ground but he got up and turned on me. But, as I turned, he fell and grabbed in his mouth a dry pine limb about the size of my arm. This he crushed as though it were a corn stock, and with it in his mouth he started off again. The third shot brought him writhing to the ground. And, as my last cartridge was in the barrel of the gun, I proceeded to within 6 feet of his head and put a bullet through the brain of the huge brown bear. I then rushed back to Hyrum. All this was done in less than half the time it takes to tell it.

Now comes the time of trying ordeal for me. There alone with Hyrum’s mangled body, 15 miles home and no help, how I cried and prayed. The poor boy was still resting on his elbows and knees with blood entirely covering his head, face and shoulders and streaming to the ground.

The first thing I did was to support is headed administered to him, after which she cried for water. I galloped to the creek and returned with my hat full of water and washed his head and face the best I could. Such a mangled head and face you never did see. The school was laid bare from the top of his for head about 4 inches back and then one other wound that we did not discover until just before his death when some portions of his brain oozed out. Two of the bears large teeth had penetrated his brain on the back and the other side of his head and just at the corner of his right eye were seven or eight ugly gashes, laying back his skull.

There was a loan cut down the right cheek into under the jaw and his upper lip was half torn off. In all, there were 27 wounds on his head and face and the right hand was chewed through and through.

His left hand was bitten through in several places, also one fearful bite in the left leg just above the knee and went heavy imprint of the bears part, though not deep, on the right breast. Of course the wounds in his body were not easily seen it first but I could see Hyrum’s critical state, and also knowing that God alone could help us in our lonely and helpless condition.

I told Hyrum to exercise all the faith he had strength to and I would administer to him again. After this, Hyrum spoken I asked him why he went so near the bear. He said the bear got over a little hill, out of sight, and was lying down and that he did not see it and sell he was within 2 rods of him when the bear spring up and came after him. His gun would not fire, then he kept it leveled on the brood thinking every second that it would go off. When the bear was nearly upon him, he started running backwards, still trying to pull the trigger— but failed.

The bear struck him with his left paw and with his big right one, being on his shoulder, for it was disabled from one of the shots. The force the blow was so fierce it broke Hyrum’s jaw, knocking him to the ground.

The bear then jumped upon him, grabbing him by the head with his mouth. In order to protect his face and head, he put up his hands. About 8 feet from where my brother Hyrum Lake, I found his hat and gun and found that his gun was cocked and ready to fire and still containing three cartridges.

I think, that in the excitement, Hyrum had failed to press the trigger and that, I think, accounts for the gun not going off when he tried it.  After trying Hyrum’s broken jaw and getting him on his horse which I led, to my astonishment, he wrote a mile and a half the camp where I laid him on the bed and then washed and dressed his wounds as best I could.

I Bateman bandage them in salt water with a clean soft cloth. I gave him a little milk and cold water to revive him, as he had fainted a couple of times from loss of blood. He rallied and I asked him what should I do, go for help or try to get him home? He replied, “Oh, do not leave me here alone.”

I said to myself, “to leave him here alone, while I rode 15 miles over a very rough trail and returning with help could not be thought of.” Then again, of Hyrum riding so far in his critical condition, could not be hoped for nor expected.

But to my astonishment, he told me that with the help of God, and if he could be given support and strength to reach home and if I thought he could stand the ride home, he would start at once. So I quickly saddled a horse and provided myself with a 2 gallon can of water, which I later replanted should Bear Springs with cup and spoon. I put my coat slicker on Hyrum as it was threatening to rain. Then, for the third time, I administered to him, helped him into the saddle, making a role of a pair of blankets and a heavy camp quilt to put in front of him to support him in the saddle.

I thought I would have to use these for a bed for him before reaching home. We started at a steady walk, I driving the horse along the trail, he handling the reins of the bridle with his left arm. This went on until dark. Then I led the horse through the timber in over the mountains and by giving him, every few minutes, a sip of water he called for, I arrived at home with him at 10:00 o’clock that night. The accident happened at 3:00 o’clock on Wednesday, 22 June 1892.

In passing through our little town of Pacheco, I called our patriarch, Henry Lunt, to get some of the others to assist him in administering to Hyrum and dressing his wounds. I sent her Franklin Scott, his father-in-law, who sewed up the worst of his wounds, and also sister Olive Moffett to assist in caring for him.

We continued from there to apply every remedy within our meager knowledge to allay the fever and keep out inflammation. We also sent word to Apostle Thatcher to comment also have the doctor from Corralitos to come.

We continued our prayers and supplications for Hyrums recovery. Appearances, and to the astonishment’s of everyone who saw, Hyrum was making a fight for his life. Such a gallant effort to get well, until his noble spirit took its departure and fled this life.  He made short gasps, he opened his left eye, which had not been heard, and looked around as if to say goodbye. Then he very calmly and peacefully died. I think he was conscious to the last endured his sufferings manfully and patiently without murmur.

How he could endorse such a ride in his condition was so very characteristic of his extraordinary strong constitution. For not a grown or a sound he makes while the bear was upon him. Not one man in 100, or 500, could have borne what he did without complaining.

The tragic grief of those surrounding him at his death, and especially his young wife, was most heartrending. Hyrum was married in January. He was 23 and his wife was 19 years old.

I desire to add our gratitude to our heavenly father for his tender mercy in permitting him to reach home and his wife’s arms and his family before he died. It is a marvel to all how I got him home. I tell them it was nothing but the power of God who supported them, enabling him to reach his home.  Note: (Hyrum’s wife was pregnant with her first child at this time)

Dear Hyrum has a record in the Mexican Mission that will stand as a monument of honor for his excellent labors there. He was President of the Deacons Quorum for a while and up to his death was an acting Priest and one of my counselors in the Y.M.M.I.A organization. 

I remain in sympathy and affection, your brother.

George C. Naegle

John Kartchner

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John Kartchner

1851 – 1946

John Kartchner was born the first night following the day the Mormons arrived in San Bernardino, California, and he was the first white child born in that city. He was the fourth of his mother’s 11 children. He was born in a tent and the wind was blowing so hard that it was necessary for one man to attend each of the four corners of the tent so mother a baby would have protection from the bitter weather of the night.

When John was five years of age, he moved with his father and mother and their family from San Bernardino, California, to Beaver, Utah. In Beaver John lived the farm boy life. He was the oldest living son so he spent many hours with his young brother, Mark, hoeing weeds and doing farm chores. John’s father was nearly always in his blacksmith shop, so as John advanced in years a little, he took charge of much of the farm operation.

In 1865 the Kartchners move to what was at the time called “The Muddy” in Nevada. William D., John’s father, had rheumatism and it was believed that he would be better in the low climate of The Muddy. The father went ahead and then sent for the family to follow. John drove to yoke of oxen the long distance from Beaver, Utah to The Muddy, over very rough frontier roads. He was 14 at this time.

The Kartchners stayed at The Muddy for six years. Through this time John’s father ran his blacksmith shop and was the postmaster. John was in charge of the farming with his sisters and the younger boys. He raised corn, potatoes, squash, alfalfa hay, and truck garden items. The main cash crop was cotton which they hauled to St. George, Utah. Some of the cotton they would sell for much needed cash and some they wove into cloth, taking the cloth back to The Muddy for their own use.

In 1871, when John was 20 years old, President Brigham Young called all the Mormons from The Muddy and advised them to return to Utah. The Kartchner family lost their home and all they had developed at The Muddy. They had wheat up and growing fast, cotton ground prepared, and the farm was ready for a crop. Most of the Mormons set fire to their houses and barns and sheds and buildings.

During this early part of John’s life he had become a very good fiddler. He played hundreds of popular tunes for all kinds of square dancing and he didn’t need a drink to put pep into it. Where he went he was welcome. He played for house parties and public dances, much of the time for benefit dances and of course the house parties were mostly for the fun, and he had a lot of fun doing this service. He could play all night and not play the same tune twice John loved his fiddle and he liked anyone who enjoyed dancing.  He also liked anyone who can play a fiddle or guitar or an organ.

The Kartchners moved from The Muddy to Panguitch, Utah, in 1871. Here he met Lydia Amelia Palmer who later became his wife. They were married May 11, 1874 in the Endowment House in Salt Lake City. On return to Panguitch John built a long log house. He moved into the house in 1875 where his first child, Theda, was born April 29, 1875. John and his wife and their baby lived in the log house until the spring of 1876.  At this time he became interested in the United Order.  So, he sold all he owned in Panguitch and moved to Long Valley or Orderville.

In 1877 all the Kartchners were called to help colonize the northeast corner of Arizona. They settled in te area which carried the post office address of “The Little Colorado.” Here, through a period of time John was Presiding Elder. He was also foreman of one of the crews of men in the dam construction. The settlers attempted to build an earthen dam across the Little Colorado River.  When the rains came which brought flooding in the river, the dam did not hold and the settlers decided to move, giving up the project.

The committee was delegated to talk business with Mr. Stinson who owned a ranch in the location which is now a Snowflake, Arizona. The committee became discouraged and returned without making a deal for the ranch.  William Flake, John’s brother-in-law, then went to the Stinson place and purchase the ranch. Mr. Flake then invited all who wished to join him, and all the Kartchner clan moved to the Stinson Ranch (Snowflake).  A townsite was surveyed in each family drew to find which homesite or lots each would own. In this drawing, Mr. flake took his chances along with the rest. The town was named Snowflake in honor of Mr. Flake and Erastus Snow. Award of the LDS church was organized with John Hunt as Bishop, William Flake as First Counselor and John Kartchner  as Second Counselor.

While in Snowflake John met and married Nancy Jane Mann. They were married in the St. George, Utah, Temple, March 20, 1884. The Kartchners lived a rugged frontier life, but they were happy. He made himself part of all the activities for the betterment of the town. John ran a small farm, had milk cows, pigs, chickens, raised hay and grain, and always raised a good garden. In addition to these activities John ran a small herd of sheep on the open range.

All the time John was making people dance to some of the best country fiddlin’ they had ever heard. With or without pay the music was always the best he knew how to give, which was good. He loved every minute of it.

While in Snowflake, John served on the town Council, acted as deputy sheriff, and acted on the committee which selected the first County officers.

Early in 1885, President John Taylor advising people in Snowflake that any person who was about to be jailed for polygamy could if he wished, go to Mexico where the Saints were forming some colonies. Many of the men and some of the women decided to go to Mexico. Jesse N. Smith was President of Snowflake Stake.  He and Jesse N., Jr., Lot Smith, and Bishop John Hunt were among the ones to start for Mexico. John Kartchner was the only one who completely sold all he owned in Snowflake, and he and his family moved to Mexico. John and Bishop Hunt traveled together. Soon after they arrived in Mexico, Bishop Hunt received word that one of his wives he left behind in Snowflake had burned to death in an accident. Bishop Hunt rushed back to Snowflake and never returned to Mexico.

A short time after the John Kartchners arrived in Mexico, John began to help organize, survey, and do the things necessary to create the colony which was to be called Colonia Diaz. John’s wife, Lydia Amelia, lived in very poor health and in Diaz  her condition became rapidly worse. So, because of Lydia’s health condition, the John Kartchners moved up into the mountains of Chihuahua and help to settle Colonia Pacheco. It was in Pacheco that the Karch nurse spent most of the time they were in Mexico and it was in Pacheco most of John’s 18 children were born.

In Mexico, life for the Kartchners was packed with hardships. They lived an extremely rugged frontier life. They would go many weeks and even months without sugar. Part of the time they were fortunate enough to have molasses for sugar substitute. On rare occasions they would enjoy wheat flour. And sometimes there was not much to season the cornbread. It was common in most of the Pacheco homes to see a little container in a convenient place in the kitchen with a piece of rock salt and which had been gathered from the hill. Water would be soaking the salt and then the salty water would be used to season food.

John worked many different jobs trying to make a living for his large family. He was a fair carpenter, a good blacksmith, and a good sawmill man.  He worked at all these trades, but the deepest interest was in farming and livestock and he kept trying to get into this business.

In the evenings when the day’s work was done and the Kartchners would gather around in the frontier home, they would have good times. All the family would enjoy singing with each other and they would see many songs and also they would spend time testified each other of the truthfulness of their Christian faith. Some of the favorite songs of this family group were “All is Well,” ”We Thank Thee Oh God for a Prophet,” and “The Unknown Grave.”  They sang many of the songs of the prairies, the plains, the Indians, and the cowboys. And, of course they also enjoyed many of the current love songs. In those days new songs and the words to those songs traveled around very slowly, but they learned and kept in the family circle the decent songs they could hear and learn.

On August 10, 1896, Lydia Amelia Palmer Kartchner died in Colonia, Juarez. At this time Nancy was living in Dublan and when it became apparent she was going to pass away she felt heartbroken about Lydia. Nancy and Lydia loved each other dearly and had respect and trust for each other. After Liddy’s death the Kartchners moved back to Pacheco but for the rest of the time John lived in Mexico he owned a shack in Diaz, a home in Juarez, and a home in Pacheco.

By 1909, there was already some Revolutionary rumblings in the Sierra Madres. The rebel army by necessity had to live off the land. This condition made it more and more difficult for the Mexican colonists.  John Kartchner decided to leave Mexico and go to United States at this time. He sold, by contract, most of what he owned in Pacheco and stored the things he didn’t want to sell in a cave nearby. He never returned to the cave. He then went to Juarez with the intention of selling his property there. While in Juarez, Vanetta reached her 17th birthday and while a small group of children were playing at the party she fell off a spring seat which was placed on a double bed wagon. Her side struck the wagon tongue and within four days she died from this injury. The John Kartchner family then stayed in Juarez as until the spring of 1910.

By the spring of 1910 John had rounded up more of his cattle and made time payment sales of the things he could not take with him to the States. He left the colonies with three teams, two wagons, a white top buggy, and riding mare. He arrived in El Paso with one team and wagon, and sold them for money to live on and to travel by train to Bluewater, New Mexico. The Kartchners then went my team and wagon to Blanding, San Juan County, Utah, arriving in Blanding on July 10, 1910.

In 1923 John and Nancy had only two children left at home and at that time the family moved to the Salt Lake Valley. John Kartchner died February 3, 1946, in Salt Lake City. At this time his home was at 316 East on 13th South Street. Nancy Mann Kartchner died November 1, 1961 at Blanding, Utah.

Pearl K. Robertson, daughter

Pg 382 Stalwart’s South of the Border Nelle Spilsbury Hatch.