Born September 22, 1856, at Venesborg Gustava, Elfsborg, Sweden, John William Heder left Sweden with his parents and older brother and sister in 1863 for America. They arrived there, in New York, on June 20, 1863 after 2½ months from the time they left their home in Sweden. It took them another 4½ months to travel from New York to Salt Lake City, in Utah, arriving there on November 9, 1863, having left their home in Venesborg, on April 12th of the same year.

 
Scratching Out a Living in Utah

The day we arrived in Salt Lake my father found a small, one-room adobe house for us to live in, in the area which is now known as Millcreek. We had to walk some distance to this little house, carrying our belongings. Father carried the bedding. Mother carried the dutch oven containing about two pounds of rice -- all in the world we had to eat. When we were within a quarter of a mile of the house, she, being very tired, set the oven down by some bunch grass, and walked on with the other few things she was carrying. When she returned for the dutch oven, and the rice, it was gone. In the place where it had been was nothing, and that is exactly what he had for our supper—nothing.

The next day Mother, Gustav and I started out into one of the wheat fields to glean what was left in the stubble. We gleaned for a couple of days, then the owner came and sent us away, saying he needed that grain for his cows and horses. But we were allowed in other fields and gleaned one row at a time. In this way we secured a little to eat.

The next year father rented a farm and raised wheat on shares. Two hundred bushels was his share. Mother and Gustav and I again gleaned wheat on various farms -- to the amount of twenty-one bushels. This we sold for $8 per bushel and bought a cow and a yoke of oxen. They said the oxen had crossed the plains with immigrants six times. They were old, and poor. But we soon got them in shape so we could use them.

In the fall of 1865, we moved to Huntsville, about 20 miles northeast of Ogden. Here we settled permanently. A man named Peterson got father’s wheat to pay his debts, promising to give father in return his own wheat, which was in Huntsville. That would save father hauling his wheat so far -- a big saving.. But when father went to get his wheat, Mr. Peterson had only a very few bushels and that was frozen, making it unfit for bread. Now we were up against it again for something to eat. So father went to the mountains to peel bark from pines and haul it to Salt Lake City to sell to the tannery for money to buy bread. It took him ten days to peel the bark, make the trip to Salt Lake and back with a sack of flour.

The next year, 1866, father plowed and put in crops, but they froze and didn’t amount to much, so he continued his bark peeling. The following year, 1867, the crops were a little better, although the wheat was frostbitten some.

During these years, I was herding cows and sheep for one cent a head, helping along a little in this way. I had to go barefoot, and my feet and toes could hardly stand it. Sometimes I would find some old Indian moccasins, patch them up, and they would last perhaps two or three days. The next year, 1868, my father put me to helping him on the farm.

All this time, we had been living in what was our first home in Huntsville -- a dug-out. It had two tiers of logs above the ground, a roof of logs covered with dirt, and a fireplace made of adobe, and the chimney protruding above the logs about one foot. In the winter, the snow was generally three feet deep, or more, and often crusted so hard we could walk on top of it, and all we could see of the dug-out was the smoke coming from the chimney in the snowdrifts.

In 1868, we planted wheat and it grew nicely, fine prospects for a good crop. Father and I went to the mountains for logs to build us a new home. As we left in the morning we sat for a few minutes on the hill and viewed the beautiful little valley -- all green with growing grain and grass. Our wheat stood about eight inches high -- a beautiful sight.

When we had our logs cut and loaded, we started for home. On reaching the spot where that morning we sat looking out over the valley, we just could not believe our eyes! Instead of beautiful green fields, everything was black! Grasshoppers had completely cleaned the fields of every spear of grain and every blade of grass it seemed; then they had laid their eggs and flown away. So it was the same thing over again.

The war on grasshoppers continued for about three years, and we had to live on half-rations most of the time. Our breakfast usually consisted of a little flour and bran bread and a cup of skim milk.

In the year 1871, we began again to raise good crops, and the earth yielded forth her strength.

When the Union Pacific Railroad was being built through Weber Canyon, father got work and made some money, and from that time on we got along pretty well. Crops matured better too, and we built another, better house, which still stands (1938).