Meet The Prigmores--They're Among Best Americans

July 1952 newspaper article:

Since Friday is the 4th of July, and we all wave flags and talk loudly of independence, I should like to tell you about some good Americans. Although both Mr. and Mrs. Prigmore of Kaysville still carry their broad English accents, they are, nevertheless, as fine Americans as anyone could be.

'Way back in 1910 in Sheffield, England, Charlie Prigmore's uncle, one James Smith from Kaysville, went to study some geneology. It was not hard to persuade his nephew to come to America. Charlie, on the other hand, experienced little difficulty in persuading Bertha (who was not then Mrs. Prigmore) that here was the land of opportunity. So, in May, 1910, while hating to leave his native England, Charlie Prigmore came to America and straight to Kaysville. Bertha came a few months later, in October, and they were almost immediately married by the late Henry H. Blood.

The Prigmores were converts to the LDS church but they became Americans, too, as soon as they arrived. Immediately they started taking out citizenship papers, it took five years to complete, according to law, and they have been good citizens ever since.

Mrs. Prigmore is a dear little lady, still unmistakedly British in appearance and talk. She is a great lover of the literary. Her father was somewhat of a poet (Rose, one daughter, has some of her grandfather's writings in a scrapbook), and she inherited from and was encouraged by him to pursue matters poetic. The result is that you would travel far to find anyone with a wider knowledge of the best in English and American literature. She can quote reams of poetry-- including Shakespeare -- and for several years has been in charge of the literature lessons in the Kaysville First Ward Relief Society.

She says she has always found comfort and enjoyment from the poetry of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and likes to quote her "Psalm of Life" when she feels the need for some sort of uplift.

Charlie Prigmore, too, is an unusual person. When I was a child, I remember well the beautiful grounds surrounding the U.P station in Kaysville. There were roses, many other flowers, and a small hedge that spelled "Kaysville." He tells me that, back "on the other side of the water" he first started working with flowers when he was 16 on a huge estate.

When he had been in Kaysville only a few days, his uncle took him to Lagoon. Seeing the gardens there, Charlie said "There's a place I'd like to work." It so happened that the chief gardener there was looking for a helper, so he was hired. He worked there for five years, then later for the McDonald Roof Garden, and for seven years cared for the U.P. grounds.

There are three Prigmore sons and two daughters. Two of their sons were fighting Marines during World War II, seeing action on Pelelieu, Iwo Jima, and many other bloody places. One daughter, Edna, was a Wave, too, during the war.

The Prigmores are ideal citizend in many ways. They have raised their sons and daughters to be active members of society. I don't suppose, either, that any member of the family has ever done anything which was harmful to other people or to society. They are, indeed, the type of people who make America, and especially Davis County, the best place on earth!

---newspaper clipping does not give the author's name. The title of the column is "Personalities." Newspaper name is not known, probably not the "Davis County Clipper," but was possibly called "The Reflex."

About James Windross by Charles Prigmore

James Windross was Bertha's father, he was a good Christian gentleman, he believed in truth and honesty, he was a great man to study the scriptures. Sometimes in an evening we would read the bible and comment on what we had read. Sometimes Bertha (your mother) would play the piano and we would sing hymns. It was something like Home Evening. He was a writer for what was known as the Factory Times that was in Lancashire, and the pieces he used to put in the paper, he made lot of enemies because he believed in the right. Your Mother told me at one time there was a man very faithful at his job who was getting starvation wages, he felt so badly the way the factory had treated him with the hard work and low wages that he felt so sorry for him, he (Grandpa Windross) just broke down and cried. And this man had a large family. Well when the writeup was put in the Factory Times, it did not please the bosses too much. That caused a rumpuss, but Grandpa did not mind for he believed in fighting for the poor, helpless man who was being took advantage of. The last I see of him, Grandpa Windross, he had come with me from Sheffield to see me off on the ship, Zeeland. I shall never forget it, when I had to say good bye to go on the ship, he said, "Goodbye, trust in the Lord, and don't forget your prayers." And he tied his handkerchief on his cane and waved it as long as he could see. And I never shall forget his answer to my letter when I told him we were baptized into the church. His answer back: "Now you have joined the LDS Church is a sign you believe in it, so now, work for it, live for it and if needs be, die for it, and May God Bless you, love your father, James Windross. The temple work has been done for him. I am sure he is now rejoicing.

The above story was handwritten by Charles Prigmore for his children. At times I had a hard time deciphering the writing. I tried to keep it as close as possible to the way he wrote it. I have looked through Grandpa Prigmore's album dozens of times but I don't recall taking the time to read the note containing the above remembrance. I can just visualize Great Grandpa Windross tying the handkerchief to his cane and waving it.

Poem by James Windross

Shadows are we one and all;
A photo is a shadows play.
And written words like shadow fall;
The shadows of the mind are they.

Then shade this page whoe'er you be;
Tho' also here your mark must fade,
Except not immortality;
Where even light itself is shade.

Yet, all the same your hand display;
Yet, all the same your mind relieve,
If like the flowers we pass away;
Like them expressive let us live.

By James Windross
April 22, 1907

This was taken from a page hand-written by Grandpa (Charles) Prigmore.