Whistlin’ Joe

My father, Elmer Isaac Ashton was born in Woodruff, Utah on May 14,1907 to George and Idella (Eastman) Ashton. He was the fifth child in a family of seven, four girls and three boys. In his lifetime he was a sheepherder, cowboy, coal miner, farmer, and logger. More importantly, he was the man I called Daddy.  From the stories I’ve been told Daddy was a happy little boy and learned to whistle at a young age. His two uncles, Rawl and Marsh Eastman, nicknamed him “Whistlin’ Joe.”  

His name became Joe Ashton and he signed Elmer only on legal documents. Rawl and Marsh looked out for him and became his role models, as Daddy spent time with them, and away from his father, who could be abusive. Daddy spoke highly of his mother, a kind, caring person, and a positive influence in his life. Her death when he was a teenager devastated him. An accident while riding in a buggy caused injuries confining her to a wheelchair, in the last years of her life. Even when in the wheelchair, she continued her job clerking at a small grocery store. Daddy told the story, of her adding the bill in her head, faster than an adding machine, seldom making a mistake.

At the age of fourteen Daddy’s father sent him out to a sheep camp to herd sheep, while he attended to business matters. Daddy had no choice but to do as his father told him. He talked little about his childhood when I was growing up, but admitted to being afraid going to the camp alone. I can imagine that during the daylight hours he did quite well, keeping the herd together, and with the help of his dog, he brought them close to camp, where they bedded down for the night. As darkness fell, he would have felt brave, though surely on the inside he was as frightened as the lambs he had been sent to protect. Terrified at night with only a dog for company, he lay staring at the stars, listened to the howl of coyotes and prayed that all the sheep in his care, would still be alive come the next morning. 

Sheep camps were lonely places usually only one man, one or more dogs, and one or two horses. The “camp” best described as a covered wagon or simply canvas stretched over a frame and set on wheels. Sheep camps had to be moved periodically, after the herder found new pastures for the sheep to graze. A sheepherder could go for months without seeing another person and often ate the same diet day after day.  I imagine only the basics were included in Daddy’s camp. Most important was the rifle that stood near the doorway, then food; including flour, sugar, dry beans, bacon and canned foods. Packed away in a duffel bag was a change of clothing and a warm coat. In the summer he slept outside, under the stars, and in winter, a bunk with warm bedding was built into the sheep camp. 

Daddy was lucky this first time out, his father returned to relieve him after a week. I imagine the week he was alone. On the first night, he had fresh lamb chops, potatoes, and biscuits that his mother slipped into his saddlebags before he left the house. Daddy not only learned how to care for animals and brave the world alone, he also learned the basics of cooking. Through trial and error he taught himself how to make a pot of bacon and beans or lamb stew and sourdough biscuits. Mistakes had to be eaten or fed to the dogs, as food couldn’t be wasted.