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Rebecca May Eames Dec 28,1886-July 25, 1955   Compiled / Written by Evelyn Gledhill Wentz Rowley and William Ray McKnight      Picture: Courtesty of Rich Eames

    Rebecca May Eames was born on December 28, 1886 in Preston, Franklin County, Idaho.  She was the fourth child and the third daughter born to David Cullen Eames and Elizabeth Cluley Greaves.  The family lived in a white frame house that was eventually expanded from two rooms into seven rooms.  The home was located two and one half miles northwest of Preston, on 80 acres of land which David Cullen Eames had homestead.

            May’s early life was filled with experiences typical of many young rural people in the late 19^th century.  Her father had cows, horses, sheep, turkeys, geese, pigs, ducks, dogs, and a beautiful garden on the west side of the house.  Her mother grew many vegetables and berries, which could be stored in a big rock cellar or in a potato cellar.  What the family could not use was put into the buggy and driven downtown to give to all their friends and relatives who didn’t have gardens.  May enjoyed the excitement of waiting for cream to rise in the big pans of milk that were kept to cool in the cellar.  She would help skim off the cream and turn it into butter.

            A few steps north of the cellar there was a pump, which was used to get water into a tank for use in the home, and to water the animals.  The home was lighted with kerosene lamps, which were taken out to the lawn each Saturday to be filled with kerosene, have the wicks trimmed, the chimneys washed, and then replaced to their rooms.  May helped her mother make their own soap and pillows.  Her mother showed her how to catch the geese, turn them upside down on her lap and pick the down off from underneath their tummies.  They put the down into a big washtub and filled it into pillows.  The whole family had goose down pillows.  Feathers and straw were used in their mattresses.  They used a scrubbing board to clean their clothes and the ironing was done with irons heated on the stove.  On Saturday nights, May and her brothers and sisters all took baths in a round tub in the kitchen where it was nice and warm.  All the children had bedrooms upstairs, where in the winter it got quite cold.  At night before the children went to bed, their mother filled the oven with bricks or stones to get them nice and warm.  The children would wrap them in towels to carry upstairs and stuff them in at the foot of their beds. 

            May grew up in a home that was filled with a testimony of the gospel.  Family prayers were offered around the dining room table.  All the chairs were turned with the backs against the table and the whole family knelt to have their prayer.  The children had a chance to offer the family prayer, but all were impressed by the faith of their father, as he would pray in a low and serious tone.

            In times of sickness, it often took hours for a doctor to travel two and a half miles from town to the Eames home in a buggy because of the muddy roads.  Consequently, the very first thing that would happen when a member of the family fell ill was to be administered to by their father.  These spiritual influences had a lifelong affect on young May.  She would draw on these reserves many times throughout her life, and be a strength to others by her example.  May was determined to attend church as a girl and would bring home news for the rest of the family when circumstances limited their attendance. 

            May learned to sew and quilt from her mother.  The Eames home was a gathering place for many a quilting project.  Every fall when the sheep were sheared, the family kept what they needed and sold the rest.  May learned from her mother how this wool was prepared for quilting.

            Because her parents were kind and hospitable people, May’s friends and the friends of her brothers and sisters always enjoyed visiting in the home.  They had an organ that they used for singing and dancing, and in the later years a phonograph.

            One of May’s favorite winter activities was riding into town in a surrey pulled by horses.  Her father would put straw down in the bottom by their feet, along with warm bricks to help keep them warm.  They were covered by heavy quilts, and the horses would have bells placed all over them. 

            In May’s home, emphasis was placed on going to school.  This was not always an easy task.  May told of walking to school on very cold mornings over a hard crust that covered the snow.  Many times the snow was so deep that only the tips of the fence posts were showing.  At first, she attended a one-room red schoolhouse close by.  Later, she attended the Oneida Stake Academy in town.  Her ambition was to be a teacher.  In later years she shared a small apartment in town with her sister Lillie which made school much more convenient for them.  May loved to read and she would do so whenever she could, even outdoors.  When she was reading outside and was called into the house, she would slip her books under the steps for her next opportunity.  May excelled in school and after three years was valedictorian of her high school class.  After graduating from high school, she attended the academy for one more year to prepare for teaching.  She taught first grade for one year in the elementary school.  Her favorite subjects were dramatic arts and English.

            In the midst of her schooling, at age 18, May became bedridden for three weeks with a serious bout of spinal meningitis.  She was very ill and even the vibration of someone walking very carefully up the stairs without shoes caused her great pain.  Eventually, she was well enough to get out just a little to go to church, but she could not let anyone touch her without severe pain going up her back.

            One summer May discovered that a young man named Thomas Ray Gledhill had come to work on the David Eames farm.  Over a period of time the young couple became attracted to one another, and May all of a sudden found herself spending more and more time out in the fields with pitchers of lemonade.  Eventually this relationship ripened into real romance.  Once after Ray had been gone away to school, he returned to the Eames farm home in a horse drawn buggy.  May watched anxiously for Ray from the balcony, which allowed her to see up to the corner that turned west for the last half mile to the house.  She had rehearsed with her younger sister Ilah, how to operate the phonograph to play “Angel Serenade”.  Always meticulous in her efforts, May wanted to have the perfect setting for when her sweetheart arrived.  When she saw the buggy coming, she would rush down the stairs and wait for Ray to pull up to the hitching post out front, where he tied up the horse.  Ilah turned on the phonograph while May walked straight up the path to meet her sweetheart.  According to her instructions, Ilah was supposed to immediately disappear and help mother. 

            May and Ray were married in the Logan temple on July 18, 1907.  It was a happy and festive occasion, and many family members helped in the celebration.  A lovely wedding dinner was given by May’s oldest brother David and his wife Pearl.  During the dinner the neighbor boys with the help of some Eames boys, Nathaniel and Leland, decided to “shivaree” the new couple and circled the house banging pans with spoons, singing, dancing, telling jokes and laughing.  They were not permitted to come inside which made this shivaree mild compared to that which awaited the couple in Utah.

            The newlyweds arrived in Mt. Pleasant with mother and father Eames and Ilah.  Ray’s cousin Joe Barton met them with his friends and escorted the group to his home, with the exception of Ray.  They put him on a donkey and rode him through town with bells hanging in the donkey’s tail.  As if this was not embarrassing enough, they also put a mustard plaster on his chest.  In all, however, the young couple’s honeymoon was very pleasant as they spent time at both Bear Lake and Fish Lake.

            Soon afterward they went to Chicago where Ray enrolled in Northwestern medical school.  Life in Chicago was very different for May and her young husband.  In letters back to the family, she described the struggles financially encountered.  Beans and bread were staples nutritionally, sometimes for weeks at a time.  She wrote of the smoke and soot that were in the city air and how she longed for the fresh air of home and the beauty of Yellowstone Park, and the west in general.  Illness was also a problem and May once nursed ray back to health for three weeks during a terrible fever.  In one six month period of time they moved five times; twice because of cockroaches and bedbugs, and three more times because their landlords found out that they were Mormons.  Being LDS was a trial in and of itself.  Once at a meeting of medical wives the conversation turned to the subject of Mormons.  May spoke up and said that she was a Mormon and from that time on her best friend never spoke to her again.  They were proud to be LDS and availed themselves of every opportunity to share the gospel with others.  Some of their best friends were members and fellow students.

            Perhaps the greatest achievement while living in Chicago and certainly the highlight of the experience was the birth of their first child, Ora Mae, on June 17, 1908.  May’s mother and sister Ilah came to Chicago to give assistance at this important time.  The apartment was so modest in space and furnishings that six-year-old Ilah slept in a small assembly they called a bed, which was made up under the kitchen table.

            Upon graduation from medical school the Gledhills moved back to Utah, near Ray’s family in Richfield.  Here Ray began his practice and May settled into her steady homemaking career.  For two years they lived in a rented home and enjoyed planning and watching their new home being built.  A large, cream-colored brick house located at 309 West Center Street became their new home.  It was at first only one level but as the family grew, they added an upstairs.  In order to accommodate the interest of all their friends, they held an open house for three consecutive nights.

            Soon after arriving in Richfield, May began to experience health problems.  First, in 1909, she suffered an attack of pleurisy that lasted three weeks.  This was followed by a miscarriage after six weeks of pregnancy.  Seven weeks later she had a sever hemorrhage that was successfully treated.  This success was short lived however, as she suffered a second hemorrhage two months later which was even more severe than the first.  For the next eight months she suffered sporadic hemorrhaging which required her to stay in bed for a couple of weeks taking tonics and being nursed.  Finally, in about September 1910, she developed great discomfort in her pelvis and hips.  Ray had her examined by five of the best doctors in the state, and she visited two hospitals, including the LDS Hospital in Salt Lake.  Despite faithfully following their advice, her symptoms grew worse.  She had minor surgery three time to no avail, and at last the decision was made to do a major operation.

            May had been ill for 1 ½ years when in April of 1911 she was taken to the Mt. Pleasant hospital to be operated on.  The surgery revealed a large tumor of the uterus and it was immediately suspected to be malignant.  The doctors at once advised that a complete hysterectomy be performed.  But May had just recently received a wonderful patriarchal blessing in which she was promised more children and good health.  She had great faith that the blessing would be fulfilled.

            The following is a portion of what was published in a book called Gems of Reminiscence, by George C. Lambert, and was written by Ray upon invitation.  It was entitled ‘Remarkable Patriarchal Blessing.

            “…Just prior to this time President William H. Seegmiller had just been released from his duties as stake president of Sevier Stake, an office which he held with honor and credit for thirty years, and had just been appointed a patriarch in the church.  Mrs. Gledhill requested him to give her a patriarchal blessing, and among other things he promised her first she should become a well woman, and second that she should become a mother in Israel of additional children.

            She was operated upon by two of the best known doctors in the state.  On opening the abdomen they found a large tumor of the uterus that was also attached to the bowel.  The doctors consulted each other and told me that the growth was probably the most fatal of all growths known in surgery today, and that the only hope of saving her life would be by the removal of the uterus and surrounding tissue, and even then her prospects for recovery would be small.  Then the faith [which] my parents and teachers had tried so hard to instill within me came to my rescue, and I told the doctors that she would live and that I would under no circumstanced consent to have her uterus removed and thus prevent the fulfillment of a prophecy uttered by the servant of God in a patriarchal blessing to my wife.  I was told that it would recur, and that she would lose her life if I refused, and that according to all the teachings of science and their own extended experience it would be very unwise to leave any part of the uterus.  I told them that I would trust the Lord, and in this I was not alone, for Mrs. Gledhill had made a special request before being operated on that, whatever else was done, not to allow anything that would make impossible the blessing that she had received, and to which she clung with great faith.

            The result was that about one-third of the uterus was removed in order to get the tumor.  The doctors gave us very little hope even of her recovering from the operation.  She slowly and gradually improved; it seemed, for five months when I discovered that the growth was recurring.  Just prior to this I had received the following heart-rending news:  The pathologist of the LDS Hospital, who made the microscopic examination of the tumor that was removed, wrote me in effect as follows: he was ‘sorry’ [that] the whole uterus had not been removed, and it was a question in his mind if it wouldn’t be best even yet to have the complete removal of the uterus undertaken as this would give the only hope of recovery.

            Another doctor wrote me saying that all the authorities he had consulted said that these tumors are fatal, no matter what is done.

            I then turned to my textbook on this subject and read as follows: ‘seventy-five percent of all cases terminate fatally within six months.’  The in italicized words it said, ‘Cyncisiomia malignant is the most fatal of all known tumors, [and] that by an early and complete removal of the uterus before metastasis has taken place in some cases, it has been reported, have been cured.’

            At times in the past I have felt that my troubles were great, but now it seemed that all the powers of evil were arrayed against me.  So that I humbled myself before God as I never had done before, although all my life I had been a praying man.

            I took these letters of the above quoted from within my textbook and read them to President Seegmiller and then asked him point-blank if it was he who had made the promise, or if it was from God.  I told him I must know immediately, yes or no.   President Seegmiller, in his calm but positive way, told me that when his hands were upon my wife’s head with his eyes closed he saw her a well and perfect woman, and said he, ‘I cannot take back what I have said, for it is from God.’  From this moment on there never was a moment that we have ever doubted or lost faith in this promise.

            Mrs. Gledhill was operated on again.  The tumor had recurred as predicted.  This time she refused to go to the hospital and I operated on her myself, putting my trust in God.  I found several tumors had started and it was impossible to remove them all, so I removed the large one (about the size of an egg) in the scar of a previous operation and left the others on account of the great hemorrhage.  About two weeks after this operation, inflammatory rheumatism set in, and for eight long weeks we ‘wrestled’ with the Lord for her life; nor were we alone, for we summoned all available help.  Her name was sent to all the temples for the prayer circle.  The Primary Stake Board, of which she was in the presidency, prayed for her as a board and individually.  Her kindergarten class in Sunday school prayed for her and brought her bouquets of flowers to her bed, and for five weeks two elders called and petitioned the Throne of Grace in her behalf.  Finally, it seemed that the Lord tested us sufficiently; she became better and finally well.

            There is the second part of this blessing I want to tell you about.  Mrs. Gledhill had been in good health for nearly three years, and we became very anxious for the Lord to grant us the second part of His promised blessing, namely that additional children should come to our home.  We talked it over and decided that when we went to the temple to do work for the dead, we would have Mrs. Gledhill washed and anointed for this special blessing.

            On arriving at the temple we told President Anderson that we had great faith that the Lord would keep his promise to us, but we were impatient and wanted to intercede for the Lord to grant us this blessing now.  When the sisters were washing and anointing Mrs. Gledhill, the Spirit of the Lord whispered to her an assurance of our desire, and at the conclusion of this holy ordinance she came and told me of this assurance and that she knew it was from God.  President Anderson, who was mouth in the prayer that was offered in her behalf, at the conclusion of this holy ordinance promised her the desire of her heart.  After working in the temple two or three days for our dead, we returned home.

            In the required time from this temple blessing, God gave us an eleven pound son, notwithstanding the predictions of the doctors to the contrary.  Our hearts are so full of gratitude that we would tell the whole world of this modern miracle.  On hearing of Mrs. Gledhill’s condition, one of the doctors wrote and asked me to take her to a hospital to be confined, and suggested that operative interference might be necessary.  But instead of doing this, we called in the elders at this critical hour, and our baby was born naturally.  No sooner had the birth occurred than I sent word to the doctors, who, by the way, are very dear friends of mine, and told them of our promised son.”

            The delivery of Preston, although an answer to May’s fervent prayers, was not routine by any means.  May would have to stand up when she felt a labor pain coming and Ray, with the assistance of a nurse, would push down on her stomach.  Ray also had a sheet tied around her waist because of his concern that the partial uterus would split open.  He felt that the faster they could get the baby into the birth canal, the safer it would be for mother and baby.

            Following Preston, May gave birth to Utahna, Evelyn, Theodore Roger, and Ilah Dean, who were all born two years apart and with normal labor.  Three years and seven months after Ilah Dean, she gave birth to David Eames, making seven children in all.   

            Several years after May had been operated on for the malignant tumor, she met the doctors who performed the first operation at a medical convention in Salt Lake City.  They were both surprised to see her and one remarked that he never expected to see her alive.

            May was completely devoted to her husband and family.  She selflessly gave of her time and energy for their desires and concerns.  She was a great help to her husband in his medicine practice.  She spent hour of her time every month doing the bookkeeping and sending statements to Ray’s patients.  She was also prompt in passing along telephone messages to him from those who needed care.  This was largely because of her love for him, and her natural empathy and compassion for the ill that comes only to those who have themselves endured physical suffering.

            May was an excellent homemaker.  She had many demands on her time as a mother of seven active children.  Her cooking was outstanding and she was a fine seamstress, spending weeks in the summer making and altering clothes for the children so that they would be dressed properly.  She also took special pride in seeing that Ray was neat-looking, by working on his clothing Saturday evening while the rest of the family was planning some sort of recreation.  She was very conscious of manners and was a real lady.  She took time to teach these important values to her children.  On wash days, when time was at a premium, May sometimes made sego, or “lumpy-dick” from milk that she thickened with flour.  She loved rice pudding and called herself the Chinaman who could live on rice.

            May was a fine gardener and canner.  Two cows were purchased so that the boys would be kept busy caring for them.  With the milk from these two cows, May made butter and cottage cheese.  The extra milk was sold to the dairy by the boys for their spending money.  She raised vegetables and canned plenty to last through the winter months.  She also oversaw the canning of several hundred quarts of delicious local fruit.

            May not only gardened vegetables, but also had a beautiful flower garden.  She spent hours tending to her honeysuckles, pansies, asters, lilacs, roses, and gladiolus, which were her very favorites.

            Although raising seven children presented many demands on her time, May was active in the community sharing her talents and pursuing friendships with her peers.  She was active in the PTA and was an ardent supporter of the arts.  She was a member of the Richfield Study Club, the Knife and Fork club, Daughters of the Utah Pioneers, and President of the Medical Auxiliary.  She enjoyed meeting every other Sunday evening with Ray and 28 neighbors and friends to study the gospel with the Sunday Night Club.  She also participated in other social groups and enjoyed their parties, often being the hostess for their get-togethers.  May was always pleasant and popular with their friends because she was genuine and had a fine sense of humor.  Many of her friends remarked how they felt uplifted after having a cheerful visit with her.  Her bubbling laughter was a joy to family members and friends.

            May always enjoyed the monthly outing she and Ray took to the Manti temple.  She felt very strongly about temple work being a privilege an opportunity, and impressed these same feelings upon her children.  Her service in the Church was extensive as is manifest in the following list of positions: 1^st Counselor in the Stake Primary Presidency, Aug 1910-Aug 1914; 2^nd Counselor in the 2^nd Ward Relief Society, October 1915-Feb 1917; President of the 2^nd Ward Primary, Jan 1918-Dec 1922; Junior girl teacher in the MIA for several years; the first president of the 4^th Ward YWMIA, Aug 1920-Jun1937; and a Sunday school teacher for the 8 year olds for ten years until illness the last few years of her life forced her to resign.

            May was 4ft. 11in. tall but she convinced the children that she was five feet even.  When they would ask how tall she was, she would straighten up her shoulders and say, “I’m a good 5 ft. tall.”

            In the last few years of her life, May suffered three different strokes.  The third stroke left her crippled physically and mentally.  She was living with Ora in Salt Lake City when she suffered her fourth stroke, which took her life on July 25, 1955; just five months after her husband had passed away. 

            May’s tremendous influence for good was felt by all who knew and loved her.  She was loyal to her friends and family and was honest in all her dealings with others.  She had an instinctive refinement for beauty and truth, which was portrayed in the way she managed her home and led her life.  Her ideals were high and her family was, and ever will be, elevated by her standards of proper and gracious living.  Her life was a lesson in excellence; an excellence that for so many people was all too illusive to achieve, was for May a natural way of life.

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