Olive Nunn Wixom (1903-2003) owned a local hand dipped chocolate business for many years. The cover for the box was designed by her husband Earl Partridge Wixom (1900-1988). He was an artist with a Master’s Degree in Art and Ceramics.
This set of scales originally belonged to Frank Adams, who opened one of the earliest grocery stores on Main Street in Layton. Olive worked there as a checker at Adams Market. Frank later gave her space in his store to have a glass fronted candy case where she sold her hand dipped chocolates. Frank sold the scales to Olive and they sat on top of the candy case. She used them for the rest of her life as she moved her business to various places over the years, and for many of those ran it from her own basement and later her daughter in law’s LaRue’s basement. The scales were originally white, Olive’s husband Earl painted them gold.
This old copper bathtub belonged to pioneer and namesake of Layton, Christopher Layton. It dates back to about 1875 and was used for many years. It is on display at the Layton Heritage Museum.
A BIT OF HISTORY: Ernest Layton Home located at 341 Church Street
“The home was built about 1911 by Ernest Layton, a local businessman and descendant of Christopher Layton. Ernest, called “Ern” by his friends owned a farm implement and hardware store on Main Street in Layton. He also had a car dealership where he sold Chalmer’s cars. Ernest was born August 25, 1869. He married Andra Elizabeth Flint in 1899. They had three children, Itha Flint Layton, married to Clair Whitesides, Leda Flint Layton, married to LeGrande Hess, and Golden Flint Layton. It was Ernest’s second wife Laura Lucy Sandall who lived with him in the home on Church Street. She was famous for her delicious apple pies. At that time the home included 8 1/2 acres of land. Rudy Van Orden purchased the home from Laura Sandall Layton. Brian and Carol McKinlay owned the home and remodeled the kitchen. They sold it to Dorcas Stevens – Lakeside Review 9-15-1992″
Nostalgic memory of a summer day in 1956 spent in Liberty Park, Salt Lake City. Mom bought us Cotton Candy. My brother Brent and I were fighting over who was getting more than the other. We tried to give a taste to my baby brother Alan. He would have none of it, and kept pushing it away with hand gestures and funny faces.
“I don’t want any part of what you are trying to give me”
Be sure to take special note of my fabulous dress. It was my very favorite in the whole wide world. I would have slept in it, but mom wouldn’t let me. The “squaw dress”, as they were called were all the rage in the 1950’s. Thanks to the kindness of my Grandma and Aunt, I too owned one of the coveted frocks. They also bought the cute doggy purse that adorned my outfit. It was a wonderful accessory and status symbol for any 6 year old. Yes a stroll at the park devouring spun sugar on a hot summer day, it doesn’t get any better than that!!
For reasons unknown, I was always fascinated with this souvenir tin that sat in our hall cupboard for many years. Grandma Murdock and Aunt Mary Stroud brought it back from their trip to Canada (along with my adorable doggy purse). It was filled with fancy butterscotch.
Souvenir of the Coronation
In later years mom rolled pennies and nickels, tucking them away in the tin. On occasion I opened the cupboard door just to admire it’s beauty. Mom would yell “Kristine what are you looking for? Get out of that cupboard and close the door.” She had no comprehension of it’s mesmerizing powers. That little box held adventure and mystery for a little kid. All these years later, I now display it on a shelf in my living room. The Queen no longer has to be locked behind closed doors. I can look at her anytime. Yes she still brings me wonder and joy.
Summertime in the 50’s and 60’s brings back a flood of favorite memories. We looked forward each summer to “The Paces Dairy Queen Man”. We stood in the middle of 4th West and 1st South with our nickels and dimes clasped firmly in our little fists, hoping to catch a glimpse of that oh so familiar truck. We couldn’t wait to part with the change our mother’s had given us moments earlier.
At last the faint sound of the music, like an old organ grinder with bells, kinda warped as a kid’s toy running down on batteries. Once our keen ears picked up the sounds getting closer, we scrambled to be first in line. My baby brother Alan would cry and threaten to tell mom if we didn’t let him first in line. We pushed and shoved and found our place, it was all part of the ritual.
Once the truck was within our sights, it would only be a few moments before we would be licking away in Ice Cream Heaven. We shouted and screamed for him to STOP. Each time he visited our neighborhood we lived in fear he would not see or hear us (only if he was blind and deaf).
The front of the truck was bright red and the back was white and looked like a giant refrigerator. Bright blue and white striped fringe and awnings were part of the decor. The words “Pace’s Dairy Ann” were boldly stamped on the side. I know what you are thinking – why do you call him the “Dairy Queen Man?”, if he was clearly the “Dairy Ann Man”. We didn’t like the name so we always called him what we wanted.
1957 Paces Truck
The big red, white and blue truck was magical to me. I was fascinated it had no doors on either side. I worried sometimes our “Dairy Queen Man” might just fall out onto the pavement. He would slide out from behind the steering wheel and immediately go to the back of the truck where the huge freezer door with the bright silver hinges opened up to reveal a wondrous array of ice cream delights. If you were tall enough you could actually peek into the freezer and catch a glimpse of the wire racks filled with enough ice cream to feed every kid in Kaysville.
In my memory I can’t visualize the face of the “Dairy Queen Man”. He appeared to look a lot like The Good Humor Man. Dressed all in white, with shiny black shoes and a little black bow tie. On his head he wore a hat that looked like the kind soda jerks used to wear. The most impressive part of his uniform was the bright silver coin changer he wore around his waist. It wouldn’t be long before our money disappeared into the round cylinders never to be seen again.
A lot of conversation centered around our selection of frozen delights. “What are you getting Vicky Lynn?” She would say “I don’t know what are you going to get?” Vicky Lynn’s mom always gave her more money to spend than we got, so I would always be jealous of that. So much to choose from: The Space Bar – vanilla ice cream with chocolate coating, The Astro Pop – fruit flavored popsicles all on one stick, The Yippee Cup – chocolate malted ice cream dipped in nuts and chocolate. My personal favorite, The Jet Bar – chocolate ice cream with chocolate coating, dipped in Rice Krispies.
Once the treats were in our hot little hands, it was time to retreat under the shade of the big tree in our front yard. All of the local neighborhood kids were there: me, my brothers Steven, Brent, Alan, Vicky Lynn and Utahna Hatch, Ronnie Crouch (my childhood heart throb), Carol Gale, Georgina Hyde, George A. Bremmer, Lynn Blood, Gwen Hutchings, and Kenny Hansen.
Yes I saved a Jet Bar Wrapper
We laughed, told jokes and teased each other while licking away at our ice cream. Those were the days. Little did I know how much I would miss them years later. Several years ago I savored a Jet Bar under the shade of a tree, but it wasn’t the same. Last year I went to Pace’s and they said they no longer made Jet Bars. I sighed and walked away with nothing.
When you grow up in a small town like Kaysville, Utah in the 1950’s and 60’s having your very own Potato Chip Factory in the neighborhood is a huge deal.
Sometimes in the early morning, if you went outside on our front porch and looked directly east, you would be able to see the huge white puffy clouds of smoke that filled the air. That meant the little chip makers were hard at work making those wonderful potato chips. The unmistakable smell of potatoes and oil that filled the air was yummy to say the least. It’s the same whiff you get when you first open a fresh bag of chips and the air hits them for the very first time. It wouldn’t be long before I was hounding mom to take me up to Bowman’s Market for our very own bag. Knowing the chips you’re eating with your bologna sandwich were actually made just a few blocks up the street was quite thrilling.
Each year at Kaysville Elementary, we would go on a field trip to tour the Clover Club Potato Chip Factory. The classroom would be buzzing with “chip talk” for days before the actual event. The teachers would write all of the rules for the long walk (actually only 1 block away) on the blackboard. We would either have to line up boy, girl, alphabetically, or the teachers would choose partners for us. I always feared being stuck with ____, who smelled like he just pooped his pants, or ____ who everyone on the playground knew had the worst case of “Cooties” in the world. Fear gripped me as the teachers decided our fate.
When the big day finally arrived, we were beside ourselves with delight. We had trouble curbing our enthusiasm and the teachers had to threaten us with the old “we won’t be going if you don’t be quiet routine” or “if you don’t settle down we will have to call in our Principal Mr. Rampton to come and have a talk with you.” We knew in the long run these were idle threats. The room mothers arrived and tried their best to keep us under control explaining over and over the “don’t touch ANYTHING rule” as if we were actually listening.
At the head of the line would be John Sanders, son of Hod and Clover Sanders, makers of the magic chips. Having John in our class was like having your own celebrity. We never tired of hearing his endless knowledge of elaborate details of the inside workings of the the factory.
When finally inside, they showed us how they cooked the chips and we watched in awe as the conveyor belts overflowing with freshly made golden chips took their long ride throughout the building, eventually filling the ever so familiar read and green bags to the brim with those tasty chips. The workers were dressed usually in white, at the top of the front pocket carefully embroidered in bright red cursive letters were the words “Clover Club”. Some of them wore funny paper shower caps. It seems silly now, but there was a time way back when I dreamed that someday I too might be wearing one of those white coats, being a proud employee of Clover Club.
At the end of our tour each one of us would be handed our own mini bag of chips to eat. I always thought that was so very cool. I tried to save mine as long as I could so I could show and brag to my brothers about my big adventure. I flaunted my bag of chips in front of them, taking great delight in going somewhere my brother’s didn’t get to go that day.
In 1870 at the age of seventy eight, Elias Adams, local pioneer and brick maker, built a two story brick home complete with basement at 2000 East Gentile. He was assisted by Joseph, Joshua, and Hyrum Adams. One of his sons rigged up a pulley system to transport buckets of water to the house from a spring in a nearby hollow.
In the winter of 1886 Elias fell off the porch onto the frozen ground. He died of his injuries a few days later on February 17, 1886, one day before his ninety fourth birthday.
Photo taken in 1898. Left to Right: Delbert H. Adams, Caroline Adams Stoddard, Hyrum Adams, Hyrum Rufus Adams seated in buggy
SOURCES: History of Davis County by Glen M. Leonard pg 123; Layton Historical Viewpoint Rebecca Adams Nalder; Elias Adams The Pioneer, Memorial Dedication pg 24; Familysearch.org
When settlers first arrived in Kaysville, 1849 they made their homes and their living in West Kaysville. William Stewart, John Marriott and Robert W. Burton arrived in Kaysville together with their families in 1852 and eventually built cabins just south of Samuel Oliver Holmes (one of the first settlers) near what was a well traveled road along the last level of the lake, eventually called Bluff or Barren Road. Their homes became known as “Tradesman’s Row.” The location as you travel east in West Kaysville along Smith Lane, midway between Rouche Lane and Sunset Drive, is where the old Bluff came through. Sunset Drive did not exist in early settlement days. In about 1658 South Sunset Drive there is a bluff and a drop off. This marks the point where the old Bluff Road came from the Tradesman’s Row area on south Angel Street.
Tradesman’s Row – Old Bluff Road
Robert W. Burton was a blacksmith who mended farmers tools and made the first nails in Kaysville. William Stewart made and repaired shoes. John Marriott did many things, including the making of a sawpit in which he and Robert Burton sawed the first lumber for the settlers which provided doors, floors and windows. John Mariott is the ancestor of J. Willard Marriott, a wealthy businessman. The University of Utah Marriott Library and the BYU Marriott Center are named after him.
During the winter of 1851-52, before the cabins were built, William Stewart and his family lived in a wagon box. William kept busy in the wagon box making shoes. William’s wife would get a tin pail full of hot coals and put in the wagon box to keep the family warm. In March 1852, John Marriott and Robert Burton worked together and built three homes all in a row. William Stewart’s home was built with big logs, with a place for the door and a hole left for the window. There was no door or window to put in so they hung rags as best they could. It had a floor and there were open cracks between the logs along the walls. The chimney was made of big squares of sod put up like bricks. For the roof, they put some large logs across the top, then some rushes they gathered by the creek, and then a big pile of dirt on top of that so that it would keep most of the rain out. A large log was put across the room for people to sit on.
In those days, people made due with what they had or what they could find. They gathered dry grease wood branches and “buffalo chips” for fuel. Many of the early settlers could not get logs to make a home so they built a dugout which was a square hole on the north side of a hill. Emily Stewart Barnes (daughter of William Stewart) tells many interesting stories in her life history about the early days in this community. In 1856, Emily and Susannah (her sister) went to John Weinel’s flour mill. Susannah made Emily ask Mr. Weinel if he could give them a little flour. He looked at her and said, “My child don’t you wish you was in heaven? I have nothing but a little bran. I will give you that.” They were so pleased as they hurried home. The sack had no string to tie it and they spilled the bran, but gathered it up. When they got home with the bran, their mother made a cake, putting it in a frying pan to cook. When cooked, it became bran again as there was no flour left in it. They were so hungry they ate the dry bran.
This home was located at 191 North Main (corner of Main and 2nd North). It was built by Christopher Layton, It was made of adobe with granite cornerstones, and was finished in 1869 to become his 10th home in the local area. Here he and one of his Polygamist wives Sarah Barnes Layton entertained the many dignitaries, including Brigham Young, James E. Talmage, and Daniel H. Wells, who came visiting or were passing through. It was a hand place to stop and they were always made welcome with good food and lodging. The Bruce Major family lived in this home for many years. After they moved, it was the home of John and Sara Kneedy. The two huge rock balls were placed at the end of the sidewalk by Mr. Kneedy. He found them in the mountains of California in 1967 and brought them back to Utah.
Note: Christopher Layton (March 8, 1821-August 7, 1898) was a Mormon Colonizer, Polygamist and Patriarch. He helped establish the cities of Kaysville/Layton, Utah, and Thatcher, Arizona. The city of Layton, Utah is named after him.
Christopher Layton .
Sadly the home was torn down a few years ago to make way for a fast food restaurant called Dylan’s.
Dylan’s
One of the locally famous giant “rock balls’ is alive and well across the street, at Main Street. Lube.
Frank sold the scales to Olive and they sat on top of the candy case. She used them for the rest of her life as she moved her business to various places over the years, and for many of those ran it from her own basement and later her daughter in law’s LaRue’s basement. The scales were originally white, Olive’s husband Earl painted them gold.
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