No attempt is made here to write a history. I leave that task to more competent people. I
apologize for personal references to myself, being unable to find another way to put on paper
some of my memories, which I have been requested to do.
Thomas WADDOUPS was born March 14, 1816 at Aston Lee Wells, England. He
arrived in the Salt Lake Valley August 24, 1868. With him came his wife Elizabeth Porter and
children Hannah, Elizabeth and Mark. William and Mary Ann emigrated first in 1864 and
Thomas came in 1866. Four of their children, Joseph, Nathaniel, Edmond and James died in
England in infancy. Grandfather was a tenant farmer in his native England on the farm of a Mr.
Izatt. Grandmother died at Centerville, Utah August 25, 1884. Their home was of adobe
construction, containing two rooms in front and a lean-to of two rooms in the back. Later
grandfather married Elizabeth Knighton, a widow. They occupied the home in Centerville. He
was a well built man of about five feet ten inches and weighed about 170, was straight backed,
trim, with powerful shoulders.
On the way to the valley they were met by Wallace W. Willey on the plains of Wyoming.
He had been sent by Anson Call to exhume and bring to Utah the body of his son, Vosco, who
died while en route home from a mission to England. A box was prepared in which to place the
remains, which, with the help of several men, were duly placed therein. Wallace, because of the
stench, became violently ill and was placed in a bed in one of the wagons. Grandfather drove
Vosco’s remains to Utah. He was forced to remain about one half mile in the rear of the rest of
the wagon train because of the stench of the box's contents. I am sure this was punishment
because grandfather had a very sensitive stomach. I have frequently seen him empty his stomach
if he contacted any disagreeable odor. No doubt he did a lot of retching on the way across.
Grandfather was an industrious, kindly man, a staunch friend of young people. At his
funeral service in October 1900, B. H. Roberts publicly said, “That man has done more to keep
me out of trouble than any other man”. Grandfather was a student of human nature and though he
didn't know the name for it, he was a psychologists during our close association and we were
working side by side nearly every day on the farm of my father. I admired his sterling qualities
and he seldom made a mistake in disciplining me and I was not easy to handle. He would me
over someone else's shoulder. He couldn't have punished me worse, and it was done without
resentment on my part. He was a plodder, never fast. It was difficult for him to adopt new
methods of doing things. He'd say “That wasn't the way he did it in England”. He was a staunch
friend and a potent enemy, with an abiding faith in his religion. In constant attendance at church
services, too modest to want public acclaim. I am told, however that at one time he was a Sunday
School teacher, a Ward teacher always. I have been told by John T. Williams, a young man of the
ward, that Grandfather was frequently called upon to administer to the sick. John said he would
just talk to the Lord. He was ordained a Patriarch before his death by President Joseph F. Smith.
The following incident will perhaps tell the kind of man he was as well as explain why
children loved him. When I was in my early teens, he and I delivered two loads of carrots to
Bishop Elias Morris at Salt Lake City. While there a hard blizzard arose, accompanied by severe
cold. Grandfather scoured the neighborhood for something to keep “the lad” warm on the way
home. He secured an old overcoat and a number of old quilts. I was put in the overcoat and the
quilts were wrapped tightly around me. Grandfather sat out the storm clad in just a short coat and
no cover for his knees. His only concern was for my comfort.
As a young man, grandfather lost not only the sight, but one complete eye, from a gun
bursting when he fired it. He was always clean of body. Grandmother Knighton saw to that. She
regularly prepared good meals for him. She made his shirts, which he insisted extend to his ankles.
They also served for night shirts. On Sunday he wore the same kind of shirt, and a yellow silk
handkerchief was used for a necktie. At one time we were topping sorghum used for making
molasses. My brother will had the misfortune to cut out a deep gash in his hand. Grandfather
pulled out his long shirt tail and with his cane knife cut off a yard, more or less, with which he
bandaged Will's hand, remarking, “I don't know what mother will say”. I never heard him use a
vulgar word, neither did I hear him swear.
I knew him as an honest, kind Christian gentleman. I have always said, and I repeat, if my
life could be lived in such a way as to merit the love of my grandchildren to the extent that I loved
him, I would be entitled to a high place in Heaven. These are some of my impressions of our
grandfather - a man with a heart