Gudmundur Remembered

Iceland Visit Shines Light on Forefather

By Joanne Denison

Published in the Seattle Times 2006

Last May, I flew to Iceland to meet my great-great-great grandfather, Gudmundur Gudmundsson.

This wasn’t going to be easy since Gudmundeur has been dead for 123 years and he isn’t even buried in Iceland, but in a quiet corner of Draper, Utah.

How did he get there?

Better yet – why?

All my life I had heard about our Icelandic forefather who came to America to join up with the Latter-day Saints in “Zion.”  In fact, one dedicated cousin took it upon herself to write his story for the family.  It was, of course, so wrapped in the trappings of Mormonism that our back-sliding branch of the family gave it short shrift.

The little history languished in my mother’s papers, but not in my thoughts.  My desire to see “from whence we came” has never faltered.

The day we arrived in Iceland was cold and windy.  Leaving the airport, we passed lava fields striving to pull a gray-green blanket of moss-like vegetation over themselves as if seeking lost warmth.

The fishing village of Keflavik furnished our first touch of color.  Roofs of bright red, deep blue and brilliant green lit up the gray landscape.

In Reykjavik we were greeted with gray as well, and the addition of trees beginning to leaf, with fragile daffodils and scrawny forsythia blooming to belie the cold wind.

As I started to write this I found I could not separate the man from Iceland.  Iceland formed his character and fortitude.  Living with volcanoes, with weather that turns horizontal at the snap of a finger, in darkness and half-buried in snow during the winter, and scraping a hard won existence from an unwilling earth or an angry sea, he learned, as did most Icelanders, to create light for himself in the midst of great darkness.

There is an old Icelandic saying, “Better shoeless than bookless.”  The living example of this lies in the culture House in Reykjavik, which holds many of the Icelandic Sagas as well as ancient books written on leather, cloth or any other material available – books made to carry, read and reread.

Gudmundur was born on a farm named Artun in the southwest of Iceland where the Gulf Stream brushes the land.  The little farm with its sod houses sitting side by side for warmth is gone, but the tiny parish church of Oddi which seats just 40, still stands atop a knoll facing a lonely landscape.  The church yard is full of aged Gudmundsson headstones.

As was the Icelandic custom, Gudmundur was “fostered” to a neighbor who could see to his education.  At 20, he spoke Icelandic, Danish, German and English.  Gudmundur’s neighbor also began training him to be a goldsmith and then sent him to Denmark to polish that training.

This proved to be a fateful move.  One Sunday he came upon Mormon missionaries telling of a new church in America.  He became the first Icelandic convert to the Mormon Church and returned home with missionary fervor.

Gudmundur’s family rejected him and his new-found faith, but he persevered and converted a number of Icelanders from the Westmann Islands.  (Vestmannaeyjar_ = large enough to win him honor in the Kulture House in Reykjavik along with his beloved books.  Unfortunately, he would never know that because the honor would not come until the next century.

When he was 32, he signed on as a cook aboard a ship filled with Mormon converts from Denmark.

As a member of the Seventh Handcart Company, this descendant of Norwegian kings pulled his way across the United States.

Gudmundur never returned to Iceland, but he left his mark there as a young man.  He only lived to be 58, but he also made his mark on Utah with his converts.

This man, who knew how to fill the darkness of the long Icelandic winters with the light of his mind and creativity of his hands, founded a family that has continued to find joy in that gift.

I wish I could say to this remarkable man in his native Icelandic, “Tak, Gudmundur.”

Austin's Book on Smoke Abatement

In 1930, Austin Gudmundsen wrote a book about his work in Smoke Abatement.


http://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015077566357;view=1up;seq=1

Horsley Ancestors - Photos

Here are pictures of me and my ancestors on my Horsley line.

Joyce Gudmundsen Richardson (me!)

about 18 years old

Bernice Hattie Sayre Gudmundsen

My Mother

about 22 years old

Violet Rosella Horsley Sayre

My Grandmother

About 20 years old

David Robert Horsley

My Great-Grandfather

about 23 years old

He immigrated from England to Utah in 1897

Mary Susan Hall Horsley

My Great-Great-Grandmother

about 90 years old

England

Memories of Dad

I was just listening to music and the tune brought back memories of my Dad, Richard Austin Gudmundsen.

One day, not to long after we moved into our new house in Tustin, there was a heavy rain.  We had not yet put in a lawn, so the rain carved little streams through the dust in the backyard.  My Dad looked out the window and said, “Look, there is the Mississippi River, and the Missouri River flowing into it.” He continued to tell us about the ”rivers” in our backyard.  I didn’t really understand the geography then, but it was fun anyway.

Another time we were in a boat on a lake.  I can’t remember which one.  My dad was rowing us around the lake and giving us a “tour” of the world.  He pointed out different counties, and when we saw a person standing on a rock, fishing, my Dad said, “There is the Statue of Liberty!”

Sometimes he told us stories of history.  He was a brilliant, and very fun dad.

I will add more to this as I think of things I want to remember.

Richard - By Joyce

Memories of Dad
Richard Austin Gudmundsen
1922 – 2012

By Joyce Richardson

My Dad is the kindest, most patient, strongest, most fit, most handsome, and certainly the most brilliantly intelligent man in the world. I’m sure my brothers and sisters agree with me.



As a little child I remember how fun he was. He got down on the floor and gave us “horsie” rides on his back. He could be very silly and made us laugh. Sometimes on Saturday mornings he would make us pancakes or waffles for breakfast.


When I was five years old, he would play classical pieces on the record player and taught me the names of the pieces as well as the composers. I could name them after hearing just a few notes. I remember on one 4th of July he played patriotic music on the record player as we marched around the room holding little flags. The picture is Dad with Scott, Annette, Mark, and Joyce.



He also played the piano. He had only had a two or three years of lessons but could play beautiful, complicated pieces such as “Clair de lune” and “Rustle of Spring.” As he played, we danced around the room. I have a very early memory of him playing the piano at his parent’s home. I was probably about 5 years old.



Music was very important to him. His family always sang together and they had wonderful voices. When his parents or brother or sister came to visit we would all sing the traditional old songs such as, “I had a Dream, Dear,” or “High Sierra Sweetheart,” all in four-part harmony. Dad composed hauntingly beautiful music for his favorite poem, “The Cherry Tree.”



When I was in Junior High School I had a bad habit of missing the bus. My dad would drive me to school when this happened. Eventually, I didn’t even try to catch the bus and he drove me every day. On the way to school we would sing in parts. This is probably my most precious memory of him, just my Dad and I, together.



Dad was fit and strong. He played tennis every week. Sometime he took us to the local school to play while he played hand ball. In the summers, we went camping in the High Sierras in California, and later at Red Fish Lake in Idaho. We hiked to beautiful streams and lakes where we fished and played in the beautiful mountains. In the evenings we could gather around the campfire to sing as Dad accompanied us on his guitar. On rainy evenings we stayed in the tent and played games such as Rook. Over the years we vacationed in Zion National Park, The Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, and Grand Teton’s Park. One year, we took our tent trailer on an extended trip to Canada. We also had many little outings to go on picnics, go up to Big Bear to play in the snow, go to the beach, and go to Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm. After my Mom got him a ping pong table for Christmas, Dad and I enjoyed playing that together. We also played shuffle board in the back yard.



Dad was very intelligent. As a young boy he enjoyed experimenting with his Chemistry Set, sometimes with explosive consequences. In school he had been an exceptional student. In one college course, the instructor graded tests on the “curve,” but the teacher had to leave Dad’s scores off the curve to prevent everyone else in the class from getting a failing grade. As a graduate student, he did his doctoral dissertation on “Photoelectric Mixing of Incoherent Light,” an important experiment that helped pave the way for laser technology. The materials from that experiment were eventually housed in the Smithsonian Museum. He worked as a research physicist for Rockwell International and later as a consultant.



As a child I was impressed that I could ask him any question, such as, “Why is the sky blue?” and he could answer and explain so that I understood. A funny memory is Dad writing physics equations on napkins at restaurants. Evidently his mind was on a problem at work. One time he kept the napkin, so he must have solved the problem. Years later I encountered a “Far Side” cartoon that gave us all a laugh.



Sometimes at the dinner table, or in the car on long trips, Dad would tell us stories about history. I especially remember the story about Hannibal and the elephants crossing the mountains. In my high school physics class I got the highest grade in the class because I discussed the lessons with my dad who gave me further insights into what I was learning. After Dad retired, he became a novelist and worked to improve that craft.



He was very supportive of us. In high school I found I was not good at learning Spanish. My dad helped me create a huge, relief map of South America as an extra credit project, and gift for the Spanish teacher, which dramatically improved my grade. In high school biology he bought the extensive equipment I needed for a project raising hamsters.


Dad was kind. He was soft spoken and patient. I only remember him spanking me once. That was because I had “sassed” my mom. After he spanked me he cried and asked my forgiveness. He always had time for us. He expected great things from us but was unconditional in his love.



My dad is my hero. I love him with all my heart and look forward to the time we can all be together again.


This picture is Dad and Mom with Joyce, Annette, and Eileen.

Richard - Childhood

Richard Austin Gudmundsen

Childhood and Young Adulthood

Excerpts from the Memories of Myrl Goodwin

We were eagerly looking forward to our baby’s arrival. Richard was born December the 27th, 1922 here in our apartment in Salt Lake City. I wouldn’t go to the hospital. Some time earlier, Aunt Mabel had a baby in California, and she saw the baby when he was born; she knew what he looked like. Later, the nurse brought a baby to her and it wasn’t hers. And though the nurse insisted it was, Mabel made such a fuss they kept bringing in babies until she recognized her own. That scared me so, I wouldn’t go to the hospital. So I had Richard at home.

Richard was a beautiful 9 pound baby with big brown eyes and nice hair. He was always so lovely and such a sweet baby. We had a happy time there. Our great friends, Genna Bradshaw who married Mark Clark, lived right next door. We used to take our babies for walks most every day.

We were to be blessed with another choice spirit. Lois was born in the LDS Hospital March the 28th, 1926. What a little beauty she was. We were only privileged to have her until February the 14th, 1929 when she was 2 years old. She passed away within twelve hours of meningitis. What a sorrowful time that was. She was such a beautiful and brilliant child. The gospel gives us great joy when we realize that if we live as we are taught, we can have her in the world to come. When she died, dear little Richard put his arms around me and said, “Don’t cry Mama, she’s still ours.” Tear, tears, tears as I write this now. We took Lois to Lehi. We have a burial spot there, and that’s where she’s buried. So every year when we go up, we can go to her little graveside and decorate it and appreciate the blessings of having had her at all.

Uncle Stanley Goodwin was a tease. I remember one day Dick said to Stanley, "My father is as strong as an elephant, isn’t he!" And Stan laughingly said, "Well, a middle-sized one!" We had lots of joy with them while they were there in our home.

Austin had received a Sabbatical leave from the University of Utah, and he was going to Carnegie Institute of Technology in Pittsburgh and also doing some work in connection with the United States Bureau of Mines. So we had to pack up everything, taking our Essex car loaded with the necessities and moved to Pittsburgh where we lived that year.

PITTSBURGH

We went to church the first Sunday, but it was over before we could find it. We did learn the church was to be dedicated the next Sunday, so we were early this time. And while we were on the lawn, President Heber J. Grant called Austin over to him and said, “I want you to be President of the Branch.” The surprise is a story in itself! Austin was so surprised that he should be called when President Grant didn’t know him; he had never seen him before. But the prophet promised him that if he would take the position, the Lord would bless him, and he would be able to fulfill the assignment very well along with his educational studies.

Dick had his picture taken with the prophet which we all prize too.

I used to have to take Dick to school almost every day and call for him. He was in the first grade. Darling Lois had passed away. We had quite a hectic landlady. She drank and it was bad. But we were on the third floor where she couldn’t get to us very often, and she wouldn’t let anyone come up and bother us either. She was very kind to us. She had a rooming house and had students going to school. When she’d get on a binge she’d throw their books and clothes out! When violence like this came, we couldn’t stand it, so we moved into a lovely one-room kitchen, bedroom, living room combined. It was very compact. The kitchen closed into the walls. Dick slept in the large dressing room off the bath. He had quite a good time there until someone stole his bicycle from the garage. He was sad about that.

He got acquainted with a little Jewish boy in his class. This little Jewish boy, Aubrey, wouldn’t go to school unless Dick would go with him and always wanted his mother to sit in class with him. So she made arrangements with me to let her chauffeur pick Dick up and take them both to school. For quite some time this liveried chauffeur would take Richard and Aubrey to school and bring them home. That was quite a good thing for me because I was trying to type Austin’s thesis. It was quite a task because I couldn’t type very well, and it took me so long, especially as I had to look up all those technical names and spell them correctly. So I appreciated them taking Dick to School.

(Note from Joyce: On the first day of school, little Aubrey would not leave his mother. Dick walked up to him, took him by the hand and took him into the classroom. Richard told me that he enjoyed playing with Aubrey; he had a play room with a wonderful electric train layout.)

I want to tell of some of the earlier things that have happened and of the trip Thelma and I and Richard took. While Austin was at school, Thelma came back to visit with us in Pittsburgh. And she said, “Let’s go on a trip. I’ve saved up a lot of money and I want to take you on a trip. I can’t go by myself, so I want you to go with me.” It was all right with Austin, (he couldn’t go.) Richard was in first grade, so we took him out of school.

We went to Washington D.C. then up to New York and New Jersey, and we saw all the sights on the way. Then we went over to Niagara Falls. And from there we came back to Pittsburgh. We were gone about two weeks, and we had a lovely trip together.

BACK TO UTAH

Then we bought a house at 546 on University Street in Salt Lake City. Austin was now back home at the University. It was a beautiful little place. It was not far from the University.

WISCONSIN

We hadn’t been there (Salt Lake City) very long when someone, a representative from the A.O. Smith Company of Milwaukee, came and offered Austin a position as Associate Director of Research. So again we moved, this time to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It was in the dead of winter of 1930. I had the flu; my bed was the last piece of furniture to leave for the new home. We went to Lehi and as usual stayed at the Goodwin’s, a very wonderful place to be, that large home with a sweeping verandah now around the house on two sides. It was a sweet home to all of us. We spent Christmas there. Richard was baptized by his father in the Lehi Tabernacle on his birthday, December the 27th. We left by train for Milwaukee the next day. Arriving there, we located a fine family hotel in a small place, Wauwatosa, which is a suburb of Milwaukee. We stayed there until we could get a home. We were happy with the one we leased on 82nd Street in Wauwatosa. It was two-story, a colonial home, a very lovely place. (Note from Joyce: The photo is of Richard and his Uncle Ralph Goodwin)

We spent much of our leisure time in Washington Park. Stanley fished in the children’s lake, and in winter Austin took all three of the children tobogganing. What a grand time our family had together. (Note from Joyce: Dad (Richard) told me that to protect the children from crashing into the trees when they were sledding in the park, large bales of manure were placed around the trees. The children returned home rather “fragrant.”)

War Number II came and saddened all of us. At that time, Richard was inducted into the army. He was soon to be 19. He was in Utah going to the University of Utah summer school. He came home immediately and left for camp. Those two and a half years in the army were ones of great concern. He served with the third army with Patton, and what terrible times we had getting his letters to him and getting his. Some of them were partly burned. It was TERRIBLE, not only for us, but for all mothers and fathers and sons.

CALIFORNIA

(Note from Joyce: While Richard was serving in WWII, his family moved to Inglewood, California.)

It was time now for Richard to return from Europe. He was stationed in Czechoslovakia for six months after the war had ended. I’ll never forget the joy, the thankfulness in our hearts that he was safe from all that fighting. We were to meet him at the Union Station in Los Angeles. The train was late due to a wreck, so we returned home and came back early that morning. It was so foggy when we got out to the car, we just didn’t know how we were going to reach the station. You couldn’t see your hand before you. We almost got into the Hollywood Race Track as we were going along. The track was right at the end of 97th street just several blocks from our home. It was so frightening to just move by inches, but we made it to the station in time. And when we saw Dick carrying his duffel bad coming through the tunnel, I thought I had shed all the tears possible, but so joyous were we that the station master came over and let down the chain and said, “Lady, you can go to meet him.” I RAN. Dick looked so wonderful, was well and thrilled to be home. What a happy reunion all of us had together.

Richard was only home a week or so when he met lovely Bernice Sayre. In fact, it was the very first Sunday in church that he started taking her out. When a month was over, they were engaged and were married June the 24th, 1947 in the St. George Temple. They took our car on their honeymoon. We came home with the Sayres. (Cars were another thing that were frozen.) Dick went to the University of Southern California. Bernice worked and helped him get his Ph.D.

Richard and Bernice had six children. Joyce was born January the 15th 1953. Scott Austin was born September the 8th 1954 and went on a mission to Ireland. Mark Richard, who is now on a mission in Colorado, was born June the 29th 1956. Annette was born January the 30th 1958; Lee Karl, August the 7th; Eileen June the 10th 1965. They have a wonderful family with wonderful children.

Myrl - Memories 6

People in this story:
Myrl Goodwin Gudmundsen, Austin Gudmundsen, Dick: Richard Austin Gudmundsen. Stanley Goodwin, , Ralph Goodwin. Arleen Goodwin, Arema Goodwin, Ruth Gudmundsen Clark

Getting back to our married life experiences... It was in the summer of 1928 when Austin did some research work for the Layton Sugar Factory at Layton, Utah. We had purchased a new car, an Essex. It was a beautiful little car, two seated. The upholstery was so lovely, and it had a light inside. We were very proud of it.

We’d had previous to this a two-seated Ford. It had done it’s duty carrying our family to Lehi and back many, many times.

Ralph and Arleen and Arema stayed with us off and on that school year, (our brother, Stanley, also lived with us) while they were going to school at the University of Utah. They brought lots of joy and fun into our home. Oh, I’ll never forget the beautiful song that those three would sing, Austin, Stanley and Ralph. They sang, "Among My Souvenirs." (1927) (To hear it go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8G6S6eUmy_Y) It was so beautiful. Every time I would hear that in later years, it would make me so sad because I’d think of them. Stanley passed on in later years.

But Stanley was a tease. I remember one day Dick said to Stanley, "My father is as strong as an elephant, isn’t he!" And Stan laughingly said, "Well, a middle-sized one!" We had lots of joy with them while they were there in our home.

We’d go up to Fort Douglas where they had band concerts. They were warm wonderful evenings. It was just beautiful. It was so cool and lovely if anyone remembers those balmy summers in Utah. They were delightful. And we’d always come home around the A&W Root Beer Stand where we’d have a root beer. They used to give little glassfuls to the children, and they loved to go there too.

There are really a lot of things to remember. I wish they had the band concerts now. We did go to a band concert in Riverside with Ruth at one time which was very delightful, and I’ve often wished that we’d have some more of them.