A Big Sister's Tribute

In 2003 my late mother, Helen Bay Gibbons (1921-2015), wrote this sweet tribute to her younger brother, Earl Maxwell Bay (1927-2018):

"Uncle Bud"
Earl Maxwell Bay (1927-2018)

April 13, 2003
Dearest  Bud:

Your most generous tribute and expressions of love in your letter of March 23 touched me deeply.  What a  very special man you are!  I am highly  honored to be your sister.   Your entire life has been one of thoughtfulness and kindness to others.  Thank you for all you have done for me, and now for this appreciated but not truly deserved letter.  Frank was touched by it also, and said, “Be sure that letter is preserved.  Why don’t you include it in your personal journal which is a bound book each year, so it won’t be lost.”   It is a treasure!

I have long recognized that putting ideas and events in written form gives them an increased power and permanence lacking in spoken form.  Your example of writing such messages to each of your children and grandchildren has got me thinking that I ought to do the same thing in our family, to let each loved one know how precious they are to me and to Frank.

My memories of you from your birth are sweet and warm.  Bernice could not pronounce the word “brother,” so called you “Little Budda”, and in spite of Mama’s urgent efforts to insist that we call you Maxwell,  you became known as “Budda” and then as Bud.  You far outshone me in courage, even though you were more than five years younger.  We  were trying to handle a feisty cow who didn’t like our leading her new calf away from the corral to the window of our house to show it to Bernice who was quarantined with scarlet fever.  You were only about five years old, but I turned the rope over to you.

When Dad had to leave town to find cash-paying work, you were the one to milk the cows, and do other manly chores for Mother when you were in your early teens.  You were so willing and so dependable.  You moved to the big West High School  as a senior, I believe.  What a change from Piute High!  What an adjustment being the new kid, having to defend yourself from bigger bullies.  One night  you and other teens were milling around in front of our house late one night, and the neighbors complained about the noise.  You were the one who went to apologize to the neighbors.  

You got a job working for peanuts, washing windows at a downtown store, and ushering in a theater.  When I told you goodbye at the train station, you whispered to me, “Don’t worry about money.”   I exhausted my limited cash while coming home from my mission on a bus (in order to stop in Phoenix and meet Frank’s mother en route).  So when my  friend and I stopped in Flagstaff to see you while you were there in officer training in the Navy, I soaked you for my share of the hotel room.  You never complained, although  you were hardly rolling in dough.

You worked your way through the university and became an engineer, while you and  your beautiful Betty were young, struggling  parents.  You saved and worked and bought your home at 4629 South 1130 East.  You were always there for your brothers and sisters.   

When Elvon suffered an accident out in the boonies somewhere, you did not hesitate but drove directly there to bring him back to the hospital in your station wagon.  Years later,  he tried to start a business as a building contractor, and was stiffed by  a company for whom he had built a big store.  He did not have sufficient capital to manage such a delay, as he had planned to pay for materials for other projects from the payment of the completed project.  He was in serious financial difficulty, and he told me that you  had gone to him and offered to borrow money on your own home to bail him out.  He knew that even that was not enough, so refused your offer.   I think it was a source of pride to  him that he gave up his own new home, his business, and worked to pay off all his debts without cheating his creditors.  But he was touched, and so was I,  by your loving generosity, so typical of you. 

When Dad was critically ill in the VA Hospital, and we were called to his bedside in the middle of the night, we all gathered to be near him.  Charlotte came with her son James Hill, his wife, and their son who was ready to enter the mission field.  The nurses and doctors were worried because there were so many of us.  (Usually, they had patients  with no one who came to visit.  The medical staff decreed that to protect our father,  we could not enter his hospital room until he fell asleep. Then, quietly, two at a time, could slip into the room for a minute or two without disturbing him. Charlotte announced, “The  out-of-town people go first.” Elvon was irate. “I will see my father before any out-of- towners.” Charlotte backed down, and we all got to see him briefly. Finally, he passed the  critical stage, and one by one everyone went home to bed except you and Mary and me.  I sat by his bedside for an hour, and then you said you would stay the rest of the night.  So  you got in your car, followed me home and then followed Mary to see that she made it OK, and then returned to sit with Dad the rest of the night.

After his death, you reluctantly assumed the duty of executor of his estate.  The attorney who was helping us was concerned that there would be a family struggle, with all the Bay children and all of Charlotte’s children who had been sealed to Dad in their adulthood.  Because of your diplomatic approach, Charlotte’s children told you, “We don’t want your father’s money.  All we want is his good name.”  You, however, insisted that they receive what he had specified in his will.  Dad had specified that Charlotte could remain  in the home until her death.   However, she did not want to remain in the home, so  you added her name to the list of the seven of us, handled the sale of the home and split the money eight ways.  There was absolutely no squabbling in our own family over who got what piece of furniture or other assets.  It was because we all had perfect trust in you, and valued our relationship with one another far above any physical legacy. The lawyer was amazed at the lack of ill feelings in the disposition of the matter.

For years, you were always on hand to help Uncle France.  No natural son could have been more kind to him.  You again reluctantly assumed the heavy duty of managing his estate, paying his bills, dealing with the accountants and legal matters.  (I was going through a time of physical anxiety and pain and did not think I could handle it.  Instead, you and Betty helped me , gave me encouragement that my pain was not going to be permanent.   Betty taught me some helpful exercises, how to “crawl like a dog” to get up from the floor.  She did me more good than the doctors).   

Even after your near-fatal heart attack, you were doing things for Uncle France and for Florence, taking them to the doctor, picking up medicine, etc., at the risk of your  own health.  After her death, you often spent the night on  Uncle France’s couch to be there to help him get safely to the bathroom.  You supervised his treatment in the hospital and his move to St.  Joseph’s Villa, and we promised him that he would not have to die alone.   I was so grateful that the Lord enabled us to keep that promise.

Then came the very difficult task for you as administrator of his estate, following his wishes as to the generous disposition of his property and money.  What a headache!   It took a  year.   Again, your natural talents of honorable kindness, diplomacy, and tactful confidentiality, assisted by Betty through the whole process, enabled you to conclude the  settling of the estate.   I never could have done what you did, and did so well.

Since receiving your wonderful letter, I have reread your Personal Statement of Faith.   What a treasure that is!   Your powerful witness of the truth, your honest and effective descriptions of your values and your faith will have greater influence that you can now know in the lives of your descendants for many generations.  Those written words of testimony along with your personal written tributes to each of your children and grandchildren will live through the generations to strengthen your family.  It has far more value than any monetary or physical treasure you could ever bestow.  I value your words and so will my descendants.  You have set a high bar for all of us to achieve.

What you have done for me, has been repeated over and over for other members of the family—Mary, JaNel, Paul, and Phil—and their offspring.  You have blessed us all in  ways too numerous to recount.   We are all honored to have such a man as you—a true Saint, a true Christian gentleman—as our brother.   God bless you always—you and Betty and your beautiful family. 

Much love, 

Helen

Homes We Lived In, by Helen Bay Gibbons

Ruth, Suzanne and Mark Gibbons in the backyard
of the Yale Avenue House, about 1957

I found this little document, written by my late mother, Helen Bay Gibbons (1921-2015). It was in her computer files and is entitled: "Homes We Lived In." Using Google's "Streetview" application, I've added contemporary (2019) photos of these ten homes, as well as the eleventh (and final) home of my late parents, at Canyon Road Towers, 123 East Second Avenue in Salt Lake City.

"Homes We Lived In: The Francis M. Gibbons Family: Ten Moves in the First Ten Years"

by Helen Bay Gibbons

140 West North Temple, Salt Lake City

1.   Frank and Helen. Small rented apartment at 140 West North Temple, Salt Lake City, Utah, during World War II  - June to December 1945.   Now part of a  Church parking lot. 

666 East Second Avenue, Salt Lake City

2.   Frank and Helen. 666 Second Avenue, SLC, another small apartment:  kitchen, bathroom, and living room with a fold-down wall-bed we called “the Cave.”    Now part of an LDS chapel parking lot. January to April 1946. 

1334 East Fifth South, Salt Lake City
This property is immediately adjacent to Mt. Olivet Cemetery where
Frank and Helen Gibbons are buried. Their grave is about a hundred yards
Southeast of the gated entryway visible on the far left.

3.   Frank and Helen. Small house that we bought at 1334 East Fifth South, SLC. 

April 1946 to December 1947.  When Grandpa Earl Bay had a severe coronary heart attack and almost died, we sold the house to invest the money in Grandpa’s business, Bay-Way Venetian Blind Company to help him. The parking lot of Friendship Manor now located where our little house stood. 

23 West 400 North, Salt Lake City

4.    Frank and Helen. Rented basement apartment across the street from the Capitol Hill Ward at 23 West Third North (now 400 North) in Salt Lake City.  One room with kitchen. Bath across a public hall outside the apartment.  Pretty awful, January to September, 1948, but with good landlord, Brother Willard Jones who served in the Salt Lake Temple Presidency. 

160 Kellogg Avenue, Palo Alto, California.
This house is in a highly desirable neighborhood near Stanford University
and is now worth well above seven figures.

5.     Frank and Helen. Our own small home at 160 Kellogg Avenue, Palo Alto, California, September 1948 to September 1950, when we sold the home in preparation for the birth of our first child. The home we loved was later razed and replaced with a larger, fancier home. 

6.    Frank, Helen, and SUZANNE. SUZI’S first home was in Stanford Village, a former World War II Army Barracks remodeled into apartments for married Stanford students. Much less expensive living.  We lived there from September to Christmas 1950, when lack of funds forced Frank’s withdrawal in his last year of law school in  Stanford University and transfer into University of Utah Law School. 

1210 East First South, Salt Lake City

7.  Frank, Helen and SUZANNE. Rented basement apartment, 1210 East First South, Salt Lake City, a fine old Holy Cross Nurses’ Home remodeled into separate apartments, ours probably the laundry room in the past –- very damp.  We lived there from January 1951 until Frank graduated from law school in August, 1951.  Then, the Bishop of University Ward called him as a missionary, with the  student Seventies Quorum in the ward agreeing to support him in the mission field, as recommended in April Conference. We accepted the call, but I felt sad, knowing I would have to leave my baby and go back to work to support myself and Suzi. 

8.   Frank, Helen, Suzi and MARK. MARK’S FIRST HOME:  23 West 3rd North (400 No.) upstairs apartment.  Frank wanted Helen and Suzi to be safe while he filled his mission, and he trusted Brother and Sister Willard Jones, our former landlords.  Also, it was near Grandpa and Grandma Bay and Mary and Bob Ellis.  Then, in October General Conference, the Brethren rescinded the request for Seventies Quorums to support and send married men into the mission field.  Frank began studying for the Utah State Bar exam, so I went back to work for a couple of months so he could spend full time preparing.  Mary Ellis took care of Suzanne while I worked.  As soon as Frank took the bar exam in December, he went back to work and I quit my government job.  Besides, I was pregnant again.  Mark was born in June and came home to that upstairs apartment.  We lived there from August, 1951 until about January 1954. 

72a West 200 North, Salt Lake City--Ruth's first home
This house is directly across the street north from the Conference Center,
which is fitting, since Ruthie sang in the Tabernacle Choir for many years.

9.    Frank, Helen, Suzi, Mark and RUTH. RUTHIE’S FIRST HOME: 72a West First North (200 No.) We were the first tenants in a new apartment building which had more room for the four of us, and where we were more comfortable.  Frank by now was working with the law firm of Senior & Senior and we had a more comfortable income. 

1784 Yale Avenue, Salt Lake City

10.   Frank, Helen, Suzi, Mark, Ruth, and DANIEL. DAN’S   FIRST HOME:  1784 Yale Avenue, a dream come true!   Frank’s client kept asking us to took at the home, and even though we still had a very small income, when we first saw the house, we both KNEW it was OUR HOME. It was a true miracle, a perfect haven of peace and love and beauty, where we lived happily ever after until our children grew up and moved away. 

Canyon Road Towers at 123 East Second Avenue, Salt Lake City

Helen Bay Gibbons in South America, 1978

Helen Bay Gibbons, who served on the General Boards
of the Relief Society, Sunday School, Young Women, and
Melchizedek Priesthood MIA 

The following are two accounts, written by my late parents, Helen Bay Gibbons and Francis M. Gibbons, about my late mother's General Board assignment in South America in 1978:

Our First Visit to South America 

by Francis M. Gibbons

Several months after the revelation on priesthood was announced [in 1978], Helen received an assignment from the presidency of the Relief Society to visit sisters in several countries in South America. It was decided I would accompany her at our own expense. Sister Roy Hatch of Mexico, a member of the Young Women General Board, was assigned to accompany Helen, and her husband, Dr. Roy Hatch, had decided to accompany his wife. We teamed up with the Hatches at Rio de Janeiro. There we learned a quirky truth about Brazilian politics. Although Sao Paulo is by far the largest city in Brazil and its airport at Guarulhos is the busiest of all, all flights into Brazil must land at Rio, and the Sao Paulo passengers must then take a short flight into Sao Paulo. This oddity is the result of the international popularity of Rio as a vacation mecca for today’s jet set. In Sao Paulo, Helen and I were the guests of the newly appointed president of the Sao Paulo Temple and his wife who lived in an apartment in the Vertentes. Years before, Helen had worked with the temple president on one of the general boards. While Helen and Sister Hatch did their work with the local sisters, Dr. Hatch and I attended a session in the temple and also served as the witnesses of the temple sealing of a young couple from Uruguay. There was an interesting and unforeseen consequence of this sealing when we reached Montevideo later in the tour.

In Montevideo we stayed in the mission home, which was known far and wide as Tuttle’s palace. It had been built while Ted Tuttle resided there. Its popular name derived from the fact it was larger than most mission homes and had more amenities than the others. The mission president at the time was a man named Robinson who came from the Mormon colonies in Mexico. Thus he was well acquainted with the Hatches. We enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner with the Robinsons, sans turkey. However, they were able to rustle up some chickens.

We attended a sacrament meeting in Montevideo, where we were all called on to speak. Both of the Hatches spoke Spanish fluently, but both Helen and I needed translators. During my remarks, I noticed several sisters in the audience were weeping. I learned later the young bride whose sealing Dr. Hatch and I had witnessed in Sao Paulo was the daughter of the bishop in Montevideo. Neither of the parents had the resources to attend the services in Sao Paulo, so my mentioning it evoked the tears I mentioned.

Following the meetings in Montevideo, we were driven the length of Uruguay to the city Rivera, on its northern border. There was a light drizzle over part of our route, which brought out the ponchos on the cowboys we saw along the way. It was a delightful sight.

The streets of Rivera were crowded with ancient American cars. This was a condition we found in many South American countries. The city of Rivera is on the border separating Uruguay and Brazil. For most of the leaders here, Spanish was a second language for them, which was a blessing for us since they spoke Spanish haltingly, enabling us to understand easily.

When the sisters had finished their work in Uruguay, we flew to Buenos Aires, where Helen and I were accommodated in the mission home of Elder Robert Wells, the mission president. The Wells took us on a tour of places in the city that were especially interesting to Latter-day Saints. This included the place where Melvin J. Ballard dedicated South America for the preaching of the gospel. His dedicatory prayer included language that indicated the work there would begin slowly like the growth of an oak tree. This is exactly what happened. The Wells had a young daughter with them named Sharlene, who played the Paraguayan harp for us and who later became Miss America. Had we known this was the real Sharlene Wells, we would have given her more coverage in our diaries.

During our stay in Buenos Aires, the king of Spain was in Argentina on a diplomatic visit. Our visit to a notable restaurant coincided with the visit of the king and his party, so that we accidentally became part of the festivities honoring the king. Never again would we be that close to royalty.

Our flight over the Andes to Chile was memorable, as I was absolutely certain our plane wouldn’t make it. These mountains are HUGE. Eight years later when I was assigned to labor in South America as a member of the Seventy, we would learn much more about them. Here I renewed acquaintances with boyhood friend, Bruce Gibson, who was serving as a mission president. Later we traveled to southern Chile, where we visited with one of the daughters of Mary and Bob Ellis, who, it turned out, was the troubleshooter for the mission president. [This is Chris Ellis Quincy, who in 2019 is serving her third mission, and still "troubleshooting" wherever she goes!]

We parted company with the Hatches in Chile and found our way home separately. It was a joyous introduction for us to this fabled land and its wonderful people.

Source: From, "Francis M. Gibbons--Prepared to Serve" by Daniel Bay Gibbons, unpublished manuscript.

The Gift of Tongues

by Helen Bay Gibbons

In the latter part of 1978, The Relief Society General Presidency assigned me as an emergency substitute for another board member. I was to fulfill an assignment in South America even though my Spanish was extremely limited. Nearing the end of our tour of five countries, I participated in Regional Conferences with my companion, Jean Hatch, a member of the Primary General Board.

On Friday, December 1, 1978, we arrived in the city of Concepcion, Chile. On the following day we were to meet with members of three Stakes. Jean went to plan with the Primary leaders. I was ushered into a small classroom in the Stake Center where I would meet with a dear sister, Sofia de Arias, the host Stake Relief Society President. Hermana Arias spoke absolutely no English, and her Spanish issued forth in such a rapid-fire stream of words, I was unable to follow her. The American wife of a Church employee, Sandy Holland, who had served a mission in Chile, was there to serve as translator. There were five of us in the room: Sandy, Sister Arias, her secretary, one of her counselors, and I.

Sister Arias began explaining in her “machine-gun Spanish”, at first nervously, and finally with growing confidence, her plan for conducting the Relief Society session the following day. We were concentrating on communicating with each other, while Sandy repeated her Spanish into English, and my English into Spanish. We spoke to each other almost without thinking of language differences, intent on the content of our discussion.

As we were talking together, a special sweet feeling pervaded the small room. Then I noticed that Sandy and the other sisters were crying. It was then I realized Sister Arias and I were understanding each other in our own language before Sandy could interpret for us. “Lo entiendo," Sister Arias would say, (“I understand it.”)

An inexpressible spirit of love filled the room. When the planning session was over, all of us embraced each other as sisters who knew we had shared a miracle.

Source: Computer files of Helen Bay Gibbons (1921-2015) 

Oral Interviews of Francis M. Gibbons (1921-2016)—Part 5

(Interview of Francis Marion Gibbons conducted by Daniel Bay Gibbons September 19, 2001 in Salt Lake City, Utah)

My Literary Awakening

Francis Marion Gibbons
as a schoolboy in St. Johns, Arizona

Books in the Homes of Parents and Grandparents

DBG:    Dad, tell me about books in these three homes: the homes of your grandparents and your home.

FMG:    Well, in our home my father had a nice set of Shakespeare.  I think it probably went to Andrew.  My father was an avid Shakespeare reader.  He loved it.  And he had a sizeable library there in St. Johns. I can’t tell you the other books that he had, yet knowing my father I’m satisfied that they were the classics, and he enjoyed reading the classics.  In the Gibbons home, there were a lot of books, but I can’t tell you what they were.  I know this, that in addition to regular reading in what you might call classical literature, my Grandma Gibbons liked novels.  She loved a good novel.  In the Christensen I can’t think of one book that I’ve ever seen.  Now in “The Room” there could have been a little bookshelf there, but I never focused on it, never paid any attention to it.  The Christensens were not intellectuals.  The Christensens were practical people.  Knowledge was for the purpose of doing something, achieving things.  On the Gibbons side, reading was a joy.  It certainly was with my father all of his life.  

DBG:    It sticks in my mind that I’ve heard two things about Grandpa’s reading.  One, someone mentioned to me once that he liked Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.1

FMG:    He loved it.

DBG:    And another that he was reading Shakespeare the week between his accident and his death.

Works of Shakespeare owned by Judge Andrew Smith Gibbons
Currently owned by Daniel Bay Gibbons
His wife wrote: "Andy was a great reader. He loved Hamlet best of all. The night he died, he had been reading Shakespeare. It was on the table by his bed."
(Adeline Christensen Gibbons, typescript biography of A.S. Gibbons)

My Father’s Love of Shakespeare

FMG:    I can believe that.  Oh yeah.  He loved Shakespeare.  In Phoenix we had a more sizeable library.  As to what it contained, I can’t tell you, because back in those days I really didn’t take a lot of interest in literature.  I really didn’t.  I’ve told you how I really became interested in literature.

DBG:    I don’t remember that.  Why don’t you tell me.

Library of Francis M. Gibbons at 1784 Yale Avenue, Salt Lake City, circa 1967
Standing: Francis M. Gibbons, Suzanne Bay Gibbons, Mark Bay Gibbons and Ruth Bay Gibbons
Seated: Daniel Bay Gibbons and Helen Bay Gibbons

The Awakening of My Interest in Literature

FMG:    It was an occasion on my mission.  I had made a trip to, I think it was Senatobia, Mississippi with President Whitaker.2  We had driven down there with Sister Whitaker and two of the lady missionaries from the office to hold a conference.  We arrived early one Saturday before the Saturday evening meeting.  We stayed in the home of member that had a two story home.  And the second story really was one big room with screens all around.  Obviously it was the room of a student.  So President Whitaker and I went up there to relax before the evening meeting and he wanted to take a nap.  I wasn’t sleepy, and there were a lot of books in a case there.  While President Whitaker was sleeping I pulled down a copy of Pope’s Essay on Man , and I spent an hour or two reading that, and I was absolutely enthralled with that language.  That was really the first time I had taken an interest in good literature.  Alexander Pope.

My Early Plans for a Business Career

Of course, before I went in the mission field I was focused on a business career.  I wanted to be a business man.  I wanted to perhaps become a C.P.A.  And I had taken correspondence courses in accounting from LaSalle.  And I’d set up in my room, and I had an adding machine and I’d taken a lot of accounting in High School, and because of my work in the store I had envisioned I was going to have a chain of stores, “Franks”, and so my whole focus was in the area of business and accounting, and I’d just never had an interest in literature.  But that was the spark that set me off when I read Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man.

New Direction Found on My Mission

That mission really changed my life, because when I came home from that mission I never wanted to be a bookkeeper, I never wanted to own a store.  I wanted to be a lawyer, and I wanted to be a good one.  And I wanted to be an educated man.

The Beginning of My Desire to Write

And interestingly enough, the desire to write never occurred until I was fifty.  It was with that High Council and the Bishops in the Bonneville Stake that set me off on the path of writing.  I’m still in that mode now.

Helen Bay Gibbons and Francis M. Gibbons, 1986
In Dad's study and writing room in Canyon Road Towers, Salt Lake City, Utah

My Future Writing Plans at Age Eighty

Now I’ve got to tell you this.  I may never have the chance to tell you this in another context.  I still have problems with my hip.  I have to do a lot of stretching.  I have a regimen night and morning to stretch out my hip.  The other day I was here in my room my hip slipped out on me, or something, and I was troubled, and so I needed to do a little stretching. I usually do it in the living room, but I decided, why don’t you stretch out here on the floor.  And there’s not really a lot of room in here, so I stretched out with my feet there [north], and my head was over here [south, under the window].  And after I’d done my stretching I was resting my head on my right arm, and I looked over in the bookcase, and wedged in between two books was a little tiny pamphlet.  I’ll show you.  Now this is it.  This little tiny pamphlet was wedged in between those books.  So I just reached in for that pamphlet.  And it happens to be a talk that B.H.  Roberts gave around the anniversary of Joseph Smith’s centennial in the early nineteen hundreds.  And so I later read it, and its got just a little section in here in which he talks about the Garden of Eden and Adam-Ondi- Ahman and the fact that this is the Old Country here, the United States.  The Old Country isn’t over in the East.  And it just opened up my mind to a whole new. . . .

[Tape ends here.  FMG went on to discuss how this pamphlet set him to meditating about an entirely new focus for his long-planned book on The Spiritual Dimensions of America .  It will no longer be a work just about the founding fathers, although that will be part of it, but about the rich history of the American continent from the days of Adam through the Jaredites, the Mulekites and the Nephites and into the present era.  He then showed me a copy of the Life of Columbus, which he and Mom had recently found among the books of their library.  It formerly belonged to Elder Levi Edgar Young. Many years ago Dad purchased this book and several dozen other books, as well as a silver engraved platter, from the daughter of Elder Young.  Dad recalled that this daughter was concerned that the value of the books would be diminished because her illustrious father had written in them. Dad then recounted the following significant experience had after his mission with Elder Levi Edgar Young].

My Interview for Position of Secretary to the First Council of Seventy

When I was on my mission, Oscar A. Kirkham toured it.  At that time Jack Anderson was doing the publicity for the mission.  And so Jack had set up interviews with radio stations and newspapers along the way.  And it was decided that Jack would accompany them on part of the tour, and I would pick up the tour in Jacksonville and finish it with Kirkham and President Meeks and their wives.  So we worked it out that way.  Not long after, when I was released from my mission and after I was released from the service – after my mission I went into the service and then I was discharged from the service in 1946 – that was the year that they held the last dance out at the pavilion at the lake in connection with June Conference.  So Helen and I went out there, and we were standing at the rail looking out over the lake, but who should come up behind us, but Oscar A. Kirkham.  And he had remembered me from touring the Southern States Mission, and he said, “Brother Gibbons.  We (the First Council of the Seventy) have need of a Secretary to direct the office of the First Council.  And when I saw you I thought of you and your work with Brother Meeks.  Will you come in and talk to Elder Levi Edgar Young, who is the Senior President of the Council?”  And I said, “Yes.  I’ll be happy to do that.”  So I went in and sat down with Levi Edgar Young, and he seemed to be very much impressed with me.  And he said to me at the time, in substance, “If the decision were mine alone, I would employ you now.”  And he said, “But I’ll have to talk to my brethren.”  He said, “Will you come back at such and such a date and we’ll talk further.”  So I went back, and Brother Young said, “Well I brought this issue up with the brethren”, and he said, “Everybody seems to be in favor but Richard L. Evans.  And Elder Evans said, ‘We should not deprive this young man of the opportunity to get his education.’” And because it was not unanimous, I wasn’t hired.  Now isn’t that interesting?  And you can understand Elder Evans, knowing his focus on education, and why he would take that position.  Then, he’s the man who ordained me a Bishop. But because of the inscription of Levi Edgar’s signature in this book, I thought you’d be interested in that.  Its interesting to speculate what course life would have taken had I gone there at that time.  I was interested just recently.  I noticed the obituary of the man whom I would have replaced.  His name was Arnold White and he later became a very successful businessman here in Salt Lake City.  Brother of Woody White 65, who owns Bonwood Bowl, who is a lawyer, and Arnold White had been the Secretary to the First Council of the Seventy for many years, and he stepped down in 1946.  So I thought you might be interested in that little piece of history.

DBG:    Very interested.  Well this has been a good session. Lets get the rest of the account starting next week.

FMG:    All right.

1 Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was the English author of the many “Sherlock Holmes” mysteries, including the Hound of the Baskervilles.

2 William Porter Whitaker: FMG’s first Mission President.  Born April 2, 1882, at Centerville, Utah, a son of Thomas W. Whitaker and Hannah Waddoups. He was baptized July 6, 1890, ordained a High Priest June 24, 1912, by Geo. F. Richards, and a Bishop Feb. 27, 1921, by James E. Talmage.  Served as Bishop of the Pocatello 4th Ward, Pocatello Stake, Idaho, from 1921 to 1924.  Andrew Jenson, LDS Biographical Encyclopedia ,, Vol. 4, pages 578 - 579. He was appointed in 1940 to preside over Southern States Mission to succeed President Merrill D. Clayson.   Conference Report , October 1940, page 3.  In April Conference of 1941 he was one of only fifteen mission presidents serving in the entire Church.   Conference Report , April 1941, page 2.  By October 1942 he was one of seventeen mission presidents.   Conference Report , October 1942, page 2.  In 1943 Heber Meeks was appointed to succeed William P. Whitaker as president of the Southern States Mission. Conference Report , October 1943, page 7.  After his mission President Whitaker was called as the President of the Pocatello Stake.   Conference Report , April 1944, page 17.   In October of 1946 he spoke in General Conference.   Conference Report , October 1946, page 93.  He later offered the closing prayer at the April 1949 General Conference.   Conference Report , April 1949, page 30.  President Whitaker was released as Stake President in 1953.   Conference Report , October 1953, page 5.

Allen Bannatyne Stoneman—"Wow! What a Ride!"

My sister, Ruth Bay Gibbons Stoneman and her husband,
Allen Bannatyne Stoneman

The last few days we have celebrated the life of my brother-in-law, Allen Bannatyne Stoneman, who died suddenly on January 30, 2019 at the too-young age of 65. At the time of his death he was serving as the Bishop of the Canyon Road Ward in downtown Salt Lake City. He leaves my sister Ruth, five children and twelve grandchildren. He was laid to rest yesterday in the Salt Lake City Cemetery.

First Introduction

My three siblings and their companions:
Front row: Mark and Shari Gibbons
Back row: Allen and Ruth Stoneman; Suzi and Tim Burton

I first met Allen when I was fourteen years old. The date was February 10, 1972— exactly forty-seven years ago today!  My late father’s diary tells the story in his patented understated prose:

Last night two young men named Alan Stoneham and John Ashton, who are officers in the West High Seminary, called to visit Ruthie. We invited them to have family prayer and dinner with us, and surprisingly, they accepted! (Diary of Francis M. Gibbons for Friday, February 11, 1972)

Here is my recollection of the event. In the early evening, shortly before dinner, our doorbell rang. I answered the door. There were two young men standing on the porch, one rather short with glasses, and the other massive, at least six feet three, muscular, radiating health, vigor and joy. His cheeks were rosy and he was grinning ear to ear. The taller one asked in a booming voice, “Is Ruth home?”

“Sure,” I said. I invited them to sit in the living room and went upstairs to find my sister, Ruth. She came down, and the living room was soon filled with laughter and loud conversation. 

Behind the scenes, my mother was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. We always ate dinner in the formal dining room at a set hour. Into this life of regimentation, Allen Stoneman appeared! Dad was downstairs in his library, with the gas log burning in the fireplace. Mom asked me to go down and get Dad for dinner. When I went down, he asked me, “Who is that upstairs?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Two guys to see Ruthie.”

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“Great Scott,” he said, mildly irritated that his evening dinner hour and repose should be interrupted. He went upstairs to meet the intruders.

From the upstairs hallway I could hear the conversation in the living room. He shook their hands, asked their names, and then the conversation went something like this.

“Well, thanks for coming. We’re just about to have our family prayer and eat dinner. Would you like to join us?”

(This was one of Dad’s favorite ploys to “get rid of people”—invite them to dinner)

To universal surprise, Allen responded, “Sure!” And our family was never the same!

First (and Lasting) Impressions

Allen was big in every way—in physical stature, in native charisma, in radiating spirit. His very cheeks seemed to glow with vigor and happiness. He was cheerful, pleasant, serene, happy. His attitude was incredibly upbeat. He truly lit up a room. His impact upon those around him was powerful. He was truly a “presence” in any setting he entered. And he had the uncanny power to lift the atmosphere and feeling in a room. He was like a great positive energy field, with the capacity to change weaker, negative energy fields of people around him. Part of his positive energy was a humane native wit that he shared continuously. He never allowed himself to be dragged into the negative vortex of dark personalities and conflict around him, but used good humor to step away from their poisonous, negative orbit. Allen was a peacemaker and a harmonizer.

Allen never seemed to react to the negative behaviors, criticism or human weaknesses of those around him. He was a believer in the unseen potential of everyone around him. I never saw him carrying a grudge. He seemed adamant that he was never going to label other people, to stereotype, categorize or prejudge. He seemed to have a vision of the potential of those around him. He saw the oak trees in the acorns.

He surely made me feel as though he saw potential in me. I was a painfully awkward and introverted fourteen year old at Clayton Junior High School when I met Allen, while he was a popular football player and Seminary President at West High. He was everything I was not, but he always treated me as an equal. He took a real interest in me, and he never laughed at or belittled me. I knew that conversation with Allen was safe.  It was also a lot of fun. He was filled with anecdotes and jokes. For many years he referred to me as “Daniel,” in a deep, Spanish accent, reminiscent of the comedy routines of Cheech and Chong. 

Allen as an Actor         

For many years Allen held forth on the stage. As a little boy Allen and his brothers performed on the stage in the Promised Valley production that ran for many years on the Church Office block. In those days there was an outdoor theater facing the Salt Lake Temple, located where the cascading streams and lawn run down toward the Main Street Plaza. Each summer there were almost daily productions of a play depicting the Exodus of the Saints from Nauvoo to Utah. At the conclusion of this play, always concluded at night, the floodlights would illuminate the temple. In any event, Allen performed in this play even as a little boy. His parents were also performers, and both sang in the Tabernacle Choir, and Harper Stoneman as a soloist during General Conference.

After Ruth and Allen were married and had settled in Bountiful, for many years the family performed in productions at the Pages Lane Theater. Julie and the kids and I saw most of those performances. 

Our favorite role that Allen portrayed for several years was as the Ghost of Christmas Present in the musical, Scrooge, and the role of Scrooge himself at least one year. Allen had a magnetic and charismatic presence on the stage.

For at least one year of the performances of Scrooge, Allen's third son, Max, played the role of Tiny Tim, singing the powerful song, "On this Beautiful Winter's Morning," while Allen, dressed in his role as the Ghost of Christmas Past, stood behind in the shadows. Yesterday at the graveside service, Max sang this song one last time.

The Extended Stoneman Family

Extended Stoneman Family in about 1976
Harper and Ena Stoneman are standing on left

Meeting Allen’s parents, Harper and Ena, and his siblings gave me deeper insight into the unique background of my future brother-in-law. I later had fairly close connections with Allen’s family. Allen’s Dad was the first-ever security officer for the modern Church, and so Harper occupied a desk in the lobby of the Church Administration Building that I passed whenever I would go downtown to visit my Dad, who was the Secretary to the First Presidency. Later, after my mission, I worked with Harper directly when I became a member of the expanded Church Security force and was assigned to Temple Square. Harper manned the security station at the gate to Temple Square, and I spent many hours talking with him. He was full of stories and anecdotes, having had a deep connection to the personalities of the Church for decades. Soon after his mission Harper had sung solos in General Conference, and his wife Ena had sung in the Tabernacle Choir. Having run the family grocery store, Stoneman Grocery, on “B” Street for decades, Harper also knew many residents of old Salt Lake City. Even later, Harper and Ena became clients of mine when I practiced law, and I prepared their wills.

A favorite memory of mine occurred on New Years Eve of 1978. This was a few months after my mission and I had gone on a double date with Ruth and Allen to hear Clay Christianson play a New Years Eve organ concert at St. Mark’s Cathedral. After the concert we drove up to the Stoneman house on “B” Street to watch the new year come in. A few minutes before midnight, Harper said, “All right, everyone. It’s almost time to go out on the front porch.” We all went outside and at the stroke of midnight a neighbor started playing a trumpet solo—Auld Lang Syne, I believe. The porches of all the houses up and down “B” Street were filled with neighbors watching what had been a decades-long tradition. 

Another favorite memory occurred at Thanksgiving in 1978 or 1979, when I was still single. It turned out that my parents were out of town for Thanksgiving, and so Ruthie prepared a Thanksgiving feast at our house on Yale Avenue. A few others were invited to join, including Allen’s oldest sister, Catherine, who is a truly gifted pianist. Before and after dinner Catherine played on our piano—now Ruthie’s piano—while we gathered around and sang. This was impactful to me, and part of my key development as a lover of music. The desire to have my children study piano was definitely impacted that day. I remember particularly to have been deeply touched as Catherine played the entire canon of Christmas carols by Alfred Burt that day. 

Allen as the Servant of Mankind

Our Wedding Party: 1980
Allen is on the far right
He helped almost everyone in this picture to move

Because of his size and physical strength, Allen was often called upon to help people move. I believe that he helped us, in one way or another, for almost every move we ever made in our married lives, including our move from one building to another when both Julie and I and Ruth and Allen lived in University Village. For that move, we didn’t use a vehicle, but carried furniture by hand from building to building. Most difficult was Julie’s piano, which as I recall Allen carried down the stairwell almost single-handed. He also flew back to New Jersey to help Mark load up a moving van and drive it cross-country to Utah with our brother-in-law, Tim Burton. (I don’t recall how I dodged that experience, but I did—sorry Mark!)

Allen never complained about being asked to help, but always seemed pleased to do so. It seemed to be part of his nature. After Allen’s death, we heard countless other stories about how he had willing served those around him, including mentoring generations of boy scouts, many from poor circumstances.

Allen’s Leadership Ability

Allen Stoneman sitting behind my late parents,
Helen and Frank Gibbons. Allen conducted
both of their funerals as a Bishop.

Not long after Ruth and Allen were married, they moved to Southern California where Allen went to school and worked. Almost immediately after they arrived, Allen was called as a counselor in the branch presidency. Thus began a lifetime of leadership opportunities. He was later called as a counselor in the bishopric in their University ward, then as Stake Clerk in the University Stake under President Cecil Samuelson. Later, Allen was called again at least two or three times as a counselor in bishoprics, and finally as bishop of the Canyon Road Ward, where he served until his death. In the Canyon Road Ward Allen conducted the funerals of both of my parents, who also lived in the ward.

I come from a family of Church leaders—my father having served as a stake president and later as a General Authority, and my older brother having served as a bishop and stake president himself. But I can say unequivocally that Allen Stoneman possessed more charisma, emotional and interpersonal intelligence, and native leadership ability than all of us Gibbons combined! He was truly a great leader and made a great contribution with his flock. Had his service played out on a more conspicuous platform, he would have been a world changer.

Birth of Ben and Trip to California

Gibbons family, 1975
I'm standing on the top left
directly above Ruth and Allen Stoneman

Ben Stoneman, the eldest child of Allen and Ruth, was born on July 12, 1976, about a month before I left for my mission to Germany. Ruth and Allen were living in California at the time. I recorded the event in my missionary diary, which I had started keeping:

Monday, July 12, 1976

7:00 a.m. At 4:00 this morning we were aroused from slumber by a telephone call from Allen who told us that Ruthie had entered the hospital and the baby was bound to arrive shortly. At about 6:00 we received a second phone call from Allen who proudly reported the birth of his first child; a son, Benjamin Bannatyne Stoneman, by Caesarean section. Early reports indicate a shock of black hair and a lusty yell. Ruthie, who was still awake, was reported to be all right and both she and Allen are very excited.

I was correct in my prediction of the sex of the baby (Seeentry for July 10). Ruthie will raise a lot of boys. Ruthie will be called blessed by many sons.

About ten days after Ben’s birth, I drove with my Dad to San Diego, where we picked up Mom, who had been staying with Ruth during her first week home from the hospital. We spent a week in Southern California, where we rented a beach house in La Jolla, near San Diego. During that week we spent many hours with Ruth and Allen and little Ben.  Here are some excerpts from my diary for that week, which give a little glimpse into the early married life of Ruth and Allen:

Tuesday, July 20, 1976

We left Yuma at about 9:00 and drove to San Diego, arriving at about noon or 12:30. . .  . In San Diego we had the car washed and then with difficulty found Allen’s and Ruth’s apartment on Altadena Avenue. A little Jewish woman finally gave us directions and we found it.

It was really good to see Ruthie and Benjamin and Mom. Benjamin is great. He has a very healthy set of lungs. Ruthie was looking very well and seemed to have that special look of motherhood about her.

Mom prepared lunch for us in their apartment.

The local Elders came by to get a glass of cold water. Apparently the local Elders are in and out of the Stoneman house. Their names were Rhodes and Nielson from Rigby, Idaho and Nephi, Utah respectively.

We all left (Dad, Mom, Ruth, Benjamin and I) for our beach motel room. We are checked into the Breakers Motel. After all was unpacked, Mom left for the store to buy groceries and Dad watched Benjamin sleep and ruminated in the room.

Ruth and I walked down to the surf with her twelve-string guitar. .  .  .  Ruth played and sang for me a song she wrote six months ago for her unborn child, and one which I think is called, “I Love November.” Ruthie’s art is tremendous.  . .  . Ruth told me that she only writes when her emotions are in an extreme, melancholy or joy, etc. She plays the chords that match her mood and then writes the melody and then later the words and poetry fall in place. .  .  .

Allen arrived at the motel at about 7:00 and we had dinner in our little kitchen.

After dinner Ruth, Allen, Dad and I took the Frisbee down to the sunset-lit beach while Mom stayed in the room with Ben.

Dad and Allen and I played catch until Dad tired out. Allen and I gradually went further and further away from the dry beach to retrieve and throw the Frisbee until we were both soaked through in the warm sea.

After our invigorating swim, we returned to the room to change and dry out. Ruth and Allen took Ben and went home but will return tomorrow.

Wednesday, July 21, 1976

. .  .  The day was spent swimming and relaxing or doing whatever seemed appropriate at the moment. The cloud cover burned off around noon and the sun shone through.

Mom arrived with Ruthie and Ben after she helped with the Stoneman wash.

Allen got here at about 6:00 after work and we had a nice dinner here in the motel. After dinner Allen and I went swimming. I was extremely tired this evening from a day of swimming and sun and went to sleep shortly after dinner.

Thursday, July 22, 1976

. .  .  We are in unit number 2 of the Breakers Motel just south of La Jolla, California. The unit consists of living room, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. See map.  The bedroom sleeps 2 and 2 more can be accommodated in the living room on the two combination bed/couches. There is a television set in the living room where Dad, Mom, Allen, Ruth, Benjamin and I have watched the Olympics every night.

Ruth and Benjamin arrived with Mom in the afternoon. Benjamin is a rather funny baby. He has an extremely powerful set of lungs and he lets everybody know when he is displeased. He has picked up many nicknames in his short life. Mom calls him “Garn.” Allen and Ruth often call him “Ben-Ha-Meen.” Also he is called “Cargo” boy.

. .  .

Allen arrived here at about 5:00 or 5:30 and we had dinner and then watched the Olympics on T.V. until Allen and Ruth left.

Friday, July 23, 1976

Allen told me the other day that the LTM is the greatest experience on a mission. I am excited about my mission though I feel a little apprehensive and nervous about it.

Yesterday Ruthie and Allen and I took a walk along the beach after dinner last night. It was a pleasant experience in the sunset. We stopped and made a sand castle before returning.

Mom and I left the motel apartment at about noon and drove to the Stoneman’s apartment. We found Ruthie with Benjamin, who had just completed his breakfast and was burping.

Mom helped Ruth with the wash while I mowed, edged, raked and watered the yards. There are many interesting varieties of unusual tropical plants around the apartment.

When we returned to the room, I went swimming for several hours.

We had dinner after Allen arrived from work and then spent the evening relaxing. A game of Frisbee outside came to a speedy halt after Dad missed a catch and was hit embarrassingly in the mouth by the Frisbee.

Saturday, July 24, 1976

Ruthie, Allen and Benjamin arrived late in the afternoon and we enjoyed their company all afternoon.       

Sunday, July 25, 1976

Dad and Mom and I drove to the Stonemans house and picked up Allen, Ruthie and Benjamin and took them to their Sunday School at the College Branch. The branch meets in the San Diego Institute Building. We attended the Sunday School class taught by Allen. Allen is a great teacher. He is a member of the Branch Presidency.

We dropped Mom, Ruthie and Ben off at the Stonemans’ apartment and then Dad and Allen and I drove to get dinner. We bought five quarter-pounders, five french fries, five root beers and three apple and two cherry pies at a McDonalds drive in and then took them to the Stonemans’ house where we ate it.

After we had relaxed for a while, Ruth and Allen drove along with us in our car and gave us a guided tour of San Diego.

First we drove through Balboa Park. The park is beautiful and the way they have preserved the great trees and natural setting along the freeway is ingenious.

We went to the Mormon Battalion Memorial visitors center operated by the Church and looked through. .  .  . 

We drove through Coronado and I was impressed by this elegant, beautiful city.

Monday, July 26, 1976

Andy Gibbons and his wife Marsha and their children Andy, Steven, Emily and Rebecca came and had Family Home Evening with us on the beach and in the apartment. We had a dinner of Kentucky Fried Chicken and “MacFeasts” from Mac Donalds. It was quite cold and overcast, but Allen and I went for a swim after dinner.

We all retired to the room where we had ice cream bars for dessert.

Dad organized a program for Family Home Evening. Andy IV offered the prayer opening the meeting. Andy III brought his guitar in and sang several songs with his family. Ruthie played and sang the song she wrote for her unborn child. I played 2 songs on Andy’s guitar. Allen told of an experience from his mission. Mom told about President Kimball and about their trip to England.

Andy and Marsha have a real houseful. I was amused, when Allen began to tell the story from his mission, at the very outset one of the little boys said, “I don’t believe it.”

Tuesday, July 27, 1976

This is our last day at the beach. .  .  .

After our dinner, Allen, Dad and I adjourned to the beach where we played Frisbee. Ruthie joined us later.

When Dad tired out, Ruthie, Allen and I took a walk to the north of our motel.

Ruthie and Allen, according to my inexperienced estimate, are well matched. I can see them in a few years with a houseful of boys and still laughing and having fun. It is my wish that I may marry a wife who will be as suited to me as Ruthie is to Allen.

On the return walk home, Ruthie and Allen introduced me to a favorite pastime of theirs—composing poetry impromptu. One person starts the first line and the other person completes as quickly as possible with a second, rhyming line. The results are great!

Allen Blesses Ben

A couple of weeks after this California trip, Ruth and Allen and Ben returned to Salt Lake, where Ben was blessed. Allen’s blessing to his firstborn son impressed me greatly as a young man of nineteen. It has probably affected me more in my role as a father and grandfather than almost any other event of my life, other than the blessings I received from my own father. I saw Allen with new eyes dating from this experience. He spoke like a true patriarch, filled with love and power and vision as he pronounced a prophetic blessing upon little Ben. I recorded the event in my diary as follows:

Friday, August 6, 1976

In the afternoon Ruthie and Allen arrived with the boy Benjamin. Bill Stoneman was married today and they attended his wedding. 

Tonight was one of those nights where one enjoys family. The Gibbons and Stoneman families met in our shaded backyard where 12 of us brethren holding the higher priesthood took Benjamin Bannatyne Stoneman and stood around him as his great father gave him a fine father’s blessing. Those in the circle were myself, Mark, Dad, Grandpa Bay, Allen, Harper Stoneman, John and Bill Stoneman and some of the Stoneman relatives.

Allen pronounced the most beautiful blessing I have ever heard.

Allen's Posterity

Ruth Bay Gibbons Stoneman with her
grandchildren at the viewing of
Allen Bannatyne Stoneman

Allen and Ruth have five children, Ben, Sam, Molly, Max and Augie, and twelve grandchildren so far. At the viewing a few nights ago it was so touching to see the grandchildren gathering around my sister, Ruth, as they mourned their "Jumpertz," as Allen is known in the family. It brought to mind the line from the movie, Shadowlands: "The pain now is part of the love then. That's the deal!"

Assessment of Allen Bannatyne Stoneman

Sixty-five seems an awfully young age to “shoot on over,” as we say euphemistically in our family. On the other hand, when you’ve finished your life’s work, as Allen has, there’s never a better time to say finis. The night before Allen passed away, he returned home from receiving some outpatient surgery and spent several hours writing letters and finishing up some duties as Bishop of the Canyon Road Ward. He then wrote a letter to his siblings. Finally, before falling asleep, he spent some time watching videos of his grandchildren on the video app, Marco Polo. 

Allen’s early death reminds me of one of my favorite quotes:

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming ‘Wow! What a Ride!’

—Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955–1967

What a ride, my friend and brother, Allen Stoneman! What a ride!

Allen and I graduated the same day from the
University of Utah in 1983
Julie and Ruth were both pregnant at the time
and later that year delivered Jenny and Max