ELLIOTT  BRIGHTON

Introduction

            

The following information about my father's life and his parents I obtained from his beloved sister, Stella Nielsen about 1974 and his dear brother, Harold Brighton in 1989.

 

Many times I asked my father to tell me about his life, but he'd say there wasn't anything to tell — nothing worth mentioning.  I should have been more specific and persistent but I was young and thought I guess I thought he'd live forever.  He had a most interesting life.  He was a wonderful, gentle and loving father and friend.  I wish he were here I could record more so my children had more stories and information about their grandfather.  Todd was the only grandson born before my father's death.  Dad worshipped Todd.  He found great enjoyment being with him as often as possible.  He lived in Salt Lake but visited us often when we lived there and in Brigham and Hyrum.  Todd was born about the time we moved to Brigham.  Dad bought Todd a little red tricycle.  We later moved to Hyrum, Utah.  My father would come and stay with us a few days at a time.  He loved playing with Todd and taking him for treats.  I particularly remember them together at Dave's Drive In where my father let Todd play the pin ball machine.  Todd had the opportunity of knowing and loving his grandfather for 3 years.  Reed and I  received a call about l a.m. the morning of October 4, 1970 from Florence Brighton, father’s ex-wife, who told us the sad news that my father had died alone in his apartment in Salt Lake.  Even though Florence and my father had been divorced prior, she looked after him still.  I truly believe that my father's spirit visited Todd that night.  He was a very sound sleeper and never awoke during the night — but this night Todd awoke screaming and crying.  We held him and rocked him, trying to settle him down.  Eventually he went back to sleep.  A short time later we received the call from Florence.

 

My point in telling about my father's relationship with his grandson illustrates how much he loved Todd, and I know he would have been so thrilled in his role as grandfather to our other five children.  One time before we had any children father had a heart attack and as we were on the elevator together he perhaps thought he was dying and made the sad comment, "I never had any grandchildren."  It is equally sad to me that our other five children never knew my father on this earth.  I often wonder if in the spirit world those who have passed on have contact with spirits yet to be born, for that being the case, I like to think my mother and father knew our children before each of them came to this earth.  But if not, I have faith we will be together after this life. I feel such a desire to know my ancestors that have passed on that for this reason, besides abiding by the directive of our Prophet.

 

I am attempting to compile what I know of my parents so my posterity will know who they were and gain an appreciation of their strength and goodness — that they may desire to live up to their great heritage and receive courage and determination to live righteous lives that they may influence others in this world for good.

 

The following information I, Dixie Brighton Conger, daughter of Elliott Brighton, received from Stella Brighton Nielsen which she had written down.  I also am including information from a visit I had with Aunt Stella when she recorded a cassette tape for me after my father had died.  Elliott comes from Utah Pioneers.  His great grandfather Grown on his mother's side was architect of the Tabernacle roof.  His great grandfather and grandmother Brighton settled Brighton, which now bears his name.  They were handcart pioneers.

            

"Elliott was born Saturday, August 11, 1900 at Diamond, Juab Co., Utah--now a ghost town.  First there was Eureka, Mammoth, Silver City, and then Diamond.  Diamond was quite a flourishing little town at that time.  It was up by the Showers Mine, which his father, Dan Brighton, was the superintendent.  There was a little grocery store and three saloons.  There were lots of boarding houses.  The men who worked at the mine used to board at the town." 

 

"When Elliott was about a month or so old his mother took the children and me, Stella, to visit her parents in Millcreek which was up above Murphey's Hill on the county road in Salt Lake.  Now this county road is now called Highland Drive but at that time it was called County Road.  Her parents were George Scott and Josephine S. Scott.  She had a brother who was home named Ernest and a sister Grace and brother Bert and younger brother Rulon.  We stayed there awhile and we never went back to Diamond.  It seems like my father gave up being the superintendent of the Showers Mine.  So we stayed there for some time and then we were able to rent a house in Holladay that was owned by Wagstaffs.  They rented us two rooms because their children were all going to the University of Utah and they wanted to move closer into the school because it was quite a ways away and there was no transportation unless it was buggy and horse of course."

 

"Elliott was blessed in the Old Holladay LDS Church.  He was named Elliott.  I didn't go because I had to stay home to take care of Harold.  I always felt that I had been cheated out in not going to see Elliott named.  Elliott was the only bald headed child from any of Dan's children but he was a cute baby and he was a good baby.  We lived there all that fall and winter until May when the University let out and the people wanted to move back to the house.  We had met many very fine people.  Josie moved back to her parents for awhile.  It was a day or so before school was out so I stayed with Will Flagstaff and we stayed there until it was time to go to Brighton."

 

Tell me about Daniel's wives and your relationship within the family:

 

"My mother was Evaleo McCarthy and she died giving birth to Evaleo Brighton.  The baby was taken to live with Daniel's parents, William and Catherine Brighton who lived next door.  Then Daniel married my mother's sister, Angelena McCarthy who was an older sister of my mothers. "They were married April l895.  Shortly after that my grandfather died from blood poisoning from a felon and Catherine had died the year before.  Angelena died l895 after she gave birth to her son, Daniel Stewart Brighton.  Then in June l897 my father, Daniel H. Brighton, met and married Josephine Scott.  He met Josephine when the folks were having a well dug by the Flowers family and my father went up there to help them work on the well and he met Josephine.  She was always called Josie.  I guess they fell in love at first sight.  But her parents were very unhappy because at the time she was going with a fellow named Lou Saunders and he wanted to marry Josie and after she met my father, Dan, she didn't want to marry Lou Saunders any more.  Lou said, "I'll ask your parents if I can have you and if they say yes, I'll marry you."  She said, "I won't have you."

 

She decided to marry Dan and her folks were very unhappy.  When she took her little trunk, packed her things up in the little blue trunk, she had to drag it out.  Her daughter, Florence Covey, has the trunk today.   She had to drag it down the little gravel path to the buggy that was out in front.  So one of her little brothers, Bert, saw that she was dragging it, so he came and helped her carry it to where my father, Dan, saw her and he helped her lift it up and put it in the buggy.

 

They went off to town and got married.  The next day they moved up to Brighton where my father and his brother Tom were to run the Brighton hotel.  Tom was a silent partner because he had a job running the street cars in Salt Lake and couldn't get away so my father Dan ran the hotel.  They hadn't been married too long when Josie's mother and three children, Grace, Bert and Rulon came up the canyon to stay at the hotel.  They were given the only suite of rooms in the hotel.  They ate at the dining room in the hotel where it was all waiter service.  It was a very high class hotel in those days.  My father lots of times ran the stage himself.  I was staying in Smithfield at that time."

 

How did the family come in order?

 

After Elliott, then came Ernest.  He was born in Bountiful, the third of January 1903.  We were living in Bountiful in my Grandmother McCarthy's home which was just a block below the tabernacle.  Then came Catherine who was born what is now just north of Olympus High School September 10, 1904.  Then Florence was born in Sugarhouse the 23rd of January 1908 just north — then it was called 12th South but now it's 2lst South and 12th East. 

 

The Irving School play grounds now occupy the grounds where this home was.  When we were living in that home in April 1913 Josie had another child, Paul.  Paul only lived 6 days and he died.  Dr. Morton was the man who delivered him and Mrs. Hill was the friend who helped the doctor.  He needed professional help and it was born so rapidly he was hurt during delivery and the doctor tried to save both of them but the baby lost too much blood.  He was buried in Millcreek Cemetery near where Josie's father was buried but now it's called Aleutian Gardens.  

 

How did Josie die? 

 

"The night before she died Elliott borrowed a bicycle from one of his friends and he went out to see me, Stella, on the County Road and on his way back he stopped to talk to a friend and at that time the Rio Grand Railroad was on fire so they got up on top of a hay stack and watched the fire burn.  What little boy wanted to hurry home when he could be on top of a haystack watching a great fire in Salt Lake with flames leaping in the air and not knowing what was on fire.

 

So when he got home the other children were in bed and everything was packed up to leave for Brighton in the morning and Mrs. Jacob was going to move into the house, so her boys had beds all over the floor and there was a bed out on the porch.  So when Elliott came home his mother gave him a sound lickin and he went to bed.  (This was the last memory he has of his mother — which breaks my heart thinking of how this memory must have hurt my father throughout his life.)

 

So after he went to bed Mrs. Jacob said I've got a piece of linoleum to take up to Brighton with you to put in front of your stove.  Mrs. Jacob forgot to bring the key along but she knew she could get in the window.  She got in the window and Josie started to laugh at this at this heavy set woman getting in the window.  She laughed SO HARD — she was a very hardy laugher — that something got snapped and she got awfully sick.  So Mrs. Jacobs crawled out of the window to see what was wrong.  My father had walked over by this time to carry the linoleum back and they laid her down on the ground.

 

Then my father took her shoulders and Mrs. Jacobs took her feet and they carried her over and laid her on the porch.  My father called Dr. Morton to come but he said I can't come — my car is in the garage — and he told him who to call.  I think it was Steel who lived on Highland Drive and my father ran down to get him to come up there.  He had to pull her tongue up for she was swallowing her tongue.  She died from what they called then Appaplexie which is hemorrhage of the brain.  When the children all awakened in the morning, they found their mother had died."

 

"The funeral for Josie was held in the old Sugarhouse meeting house.  The conveyances then were buggies and white tops and I think a wagon that went to the cemetery.  Afterwards my father went to the mines.  They didn't go to Brighton to stay."

 

(Uncle Harold told me that from this time on, my father and all his brothers and sisters were never ever together again at one time in one place.  I do know, however, that my father kept in contact with his brothers and sisters.  He was particularly close to Aunt Stella.)

 

"Elliott went to live with Uncle Will Brighton and Aunt Clara.  Harold went to live with his Uncle Ern Scott in Blackfoot.  Catherine, Ernest and little Florence went to live with their grandmother, Josephine Scott, on the County Road just South of 33rd South.  In those days it was called 14th South.  So I offered to take the children--the little girls and help them, but Grandma Scott said "No", I'm going to take them.  At the cemetery I said to my father, let me take the children and feed them, but the grandma said "No, the children are going with me."  So my father and Harold and Elliott came over and had a meal at our place, but the girls weren't allowed to come.  So the girls stayed there for some time with their grandma, but she was never satisfied with the money she was getting for the children."

 

(The following Dixie Brighton Conger, daughter of Elliott Brighton, recorded from conversing with Harold Brighton February 20, 1989, after his 90th birthday.)

 

This is the story of one particular Christmas Uncle Harold told as he remembered it.  My father was about 9 and Uncle Harold, about l0.  They lived in a house behind Irving school.  His father bought that home for about $l000.  After his wife, Josie died, Daniel lost the house because of financial reasons. The family didn't have much money, if any.  Daniel worked at the mines in Brighton and surrounding areas and when he came home the children were excited; however, he didn't stay long at home, Uncle Harold recalls.  He'd often leave and go uptown to the pool hall and spend his time there.  He says he can't remember times when his father, Daniel, would just sit around and visit.

 

It was the day before Christmas and Grandma Josie didn't have money to buy any gifts for the children or anyone.  Uncle Harold didn't believe in Santa, but said he pretended he did for the other children.  His mother asked if he'd like to go downtown with her.  "Come on, Harold, let's go downtown."  She borrowed the street car fare from Mrs. Jacobs.  Mrs. Jacobs took care of the other children as Josie and Uncle Harold went downtown to Walker Bank.  She said, "I remember that Mr. Walker owes your Dad $25." 

 

(Grandfather Daniel and Mr. Walker had been partners in some dealings in Brighton.   Uncle Harold made the statement that his dad said Mr. Walker put his money in the bank but he [Dan] put his money somewhere else.)

 

Uncle Harold and Josie walked into the bank, took the elevator to Mr. Walker's office and asked the receptionist to talk to Mr. Walker.  She reported that Mr. Walker would not be in and the next day was Christmas.  In desperation, Josie took Uncle Harold's hand and left the office, down the elevator and as they were turning the corner she saw Mr. Walker coming in.  She explained why she had come and he said, "Oh, come upstairs."  She followed him up and gave her the $25.00 he owed Daniel.  She and Uncle Harold then went shopping for some gifts for Christmas for the family.  He said he just didn't know what on earth they would have done, had she not seen Mr. Walker that day. 

 

Elliott  joined the navy when he was 15 or 16 years old.  Later he spent a few years at Duck, North Carolina, helping new found friends fishing in the ocean.

 

Uncle Harold told me the following stories about my father and Brighton:   "My Dad got a job for us up to Brighton during the winter where we could make about $500 to stay long enough and shovel the snow off the roofs and the snow was 8 to l0 feet deep.  It would smash the cabins down and I was just a kid, too, and I don't now understand why my father would let us go up there.  We had to go to Park City on the train.  We had to go 9 miles from Park City over to Brighton on our skis in January.  He made arrangements through the Utah Power and Light for us to get some skis at Park City to go over on.  In between Park City, 4 l/2 miles from Park City and 4 l/2 miles from Brighton there was the Comstock mine. I knew the Comstock mine because I'd been from Brighton over to the mine, but I hadn't been from Park City to the Comstock mine.  I didn't know the way that way.  There were gullies, hills and ravines so we went and stopped at the Silver King mine and we asked them there what way to go over there to the Comstock.  He said, 'I'll tell ya.  Just follow the ski tracks.  There were some fellows from the University up here the other day and all you have to do is follow those ski tracks and that'll take you up that way.'  It was in the morning we got up there, about 9 thirty or ten o clock.  We started out.  We were well equipped as far as clothing was concerned.  We had everything else in a gunny sack strapped on and away we went.  It was getting later and later all the time.  We left the Silver King and went up on top of the ridge.  We could see the tracks, alright.  And we got on top of this ridge and by gosh, we come down this ridge and down around like this and by gosh, we were right back at Park City again. 

 

Instead of going up the hill, we come down.  Then I know now, and I knew afterwards, that as soon as we saw that we were back to Park City, to stay there.  It was getting too late then.  So, I said, "We'll go up this gulch."  So we went back up that one, the one we came down, and we kept going and it continued on and after we got up so far it was getting dark, the wind was blowing and 20 below O anyway and it was getting colder by the minute.  The moon was shining through the clouds.  Elliott was getting tired. 

 

I wasn't quite as tired because I'd been used to it, but he'd been used to that lower climate.  The further we went, the tired'er we got and I started thinking, by gosh, what if we're in the wrong gulch.  I got to thinking, what if we should have been in that other gulch, over the hill?  And we kept a plugging along, plugging along.  We had to put a rope around us because we kept slipping back.  I took Elliott's duffle, carried what he had.  He said, "How far did you say it was?  You said it was around the next turn."  I said, "Well, maybe it's the next turn." He said, "That's what you always say." 

 

So finally we came to a power line, and by golly, we had to crawl under the power line.  We were afraid to touch it.  We could see it by the moonlight.  We went down over the hill — we'd been up on top--and I got to thinking, gosh sakes...what if that goes down, over the ridge, into that other ravine.  I was worried, but I didn't tell Elliott.  After we crawled under the power line I looked up on the other hill all the way along and I spotted the power line going over the side and it made me feel better.  I said, "Come on."  He said, "No, I got to rest."  "No, come on." 

 

Elliott lost his one overshoe coming down over the ridge — couldn't find it.  We put everything into one gunny sack and then we took the gunny sack and put it around his foot and tied it.  We made a fire — got under the pine trees and took the dry limbs and made a fire under there and we did get warm.  Then it'd melt down where we had that fire.  The limbs were easy to break off next to the trunk where it was dry.  We went around the bend and I could see it opening up and I didn't know what time it was--we didn't have a watch.  So we kept a going and kept a going.  Finally we saw the outline of a house in the snow.  You couldn't see any wood or anything, but just the outline of the snow.  I said, "My gosh, I think we're here."  We got closer and closer and yea, it was a house. 

This cabin had porch on it and sloped out.  The snow filled it all up except but just a bit and then it slipped down into the house.  We crawled down into this here hole — no light or nothing in there.  I hit the side of the wall with my foot.  I felt around.  We had big mittens on.  I laid down and felt the window and I kicked the window — just the top of the window.  The bottom was covered with snow.  I just kicked the window out, laying on my side,  and took my mittens to break any jagged glass out and you could hear it falling inside on the floor.  We went in there, crawled on my side, and I didn't know how far it was from the window to the floor, so I slid down and it was just a little ways.  And when we got inside, we lit the candles we brought — couldn't light them outside on account of the wind.  This room was vacant.  Then Elliott came down through the wall — so he leaned up against the wall inside the cabin. 

 

Then I went scouting around to see what the hell was in there.  I went into the left.  It was a big, majestic stove.  It was a cook house and wood was stacked all around.  The mine wasn't working.  They put in over a million dollars of equipment and never turned a wheel. 

 

I don't know whether they did in later years or not.  Anyway, we made a fire — put papers in there and lit the fire and it began to burn.  Put the lid back on, and it began to smoke.  Then I thought the chimney was plugged.  So we couldn't stop the fire, so we ran into the other room to try to find something, went into one room and there was a mattress that was hung up on the ceiling, rolled up and hung up the ceiling so the rats wouldn't chew it. 

 

Finally, we went in the far room and closed the door after we come out and behind that door were picks and shovels and everything.  I figure they were suppose to be there.  So I grabbed a pick and shovel and went up on the roof again.  I could tell about where that pipe was from the distance away.  There was no sign of it, but I just had to guess.  I guessed about right.  The moon was the bright. 

 

It was about the only thing that saved us, too, because it was bright out there.  So I started to shovel.  So I started to shovel.  I'd shovel, break a chunk off, and about half the size of this table would come off at one time.  It was hard snow and I had to roll it down over the side and I kept a going and finally got out about 4 or 5 feet  and the shovel went in easy and I knew I hit close to the pipe because it had melted out around the pipe from the sun hitting it, it eventually melted about that far out.

 

Boy, that felt good when I hit that pipe.  Then I shoveled some more and then I got to the top of the pipe and they'd put a bucket on top of the pipe to keep the snow from going down in, so then I had another problem.  I had to go back and start shoveling some steps because I couldn't get down there with a pick to get that bucket off. So I made the hole bigger and started working my way down.  I got my pick in the top of that bucket and it come off easy because it was warm.  I couldn't hardly get out of there because of the smoke.  It came right now.  Then I was feeling pretty good.

 

I went back down into the cabin and Elliott was sitting down against the wall.  He'd about had it.  The fire started a roaring.  It had just been smoldering before.  We never ate that night.  We got these mattresses and rolled them out on the kitchen floor.  We slept in between the mattresses.  I don't know what we put under our heads for a pillow.  So we slept and by golly, when we woke up, it was dark in there, so I had to crawl out that hole to see if it was light, and when I got out there, the sun was right up above us.  Then we fixed something to eat we had in our sack. 

 

We knew from there where to get over to Brighton.  We melted snow for water and had plenty to drink.  We got over to Brighton late in the afternoon.  We got over to Brighton faster because we knew the way.  Elliott was feeling pretty good.  When we got there, somebody had broke into our cabin and left the door open.  The snow had drifted down and covered the door up.  We went through the upstairs window.  We had shovels in there and we cleaned out all that doorway to get the door shut.

 

I can't remember how old we were.  Elliott stayed in North Carolina maybe 5 or 6 years.  I can't remember.  We stayed up there about two weeks or more and we got all the cabins done, but there was a big storm come up and I said, "Elliott, we better get out of here."  We didn't fully shovel the last place off and so anyway, we started down the canyon, and by gosh, I bet it snowed two feet from the time we left Brighton until we got down to Maxwell mine which was about two miles.

 

It was hard to even go down the hill with those skis.  It was snowing and a blizzard.  Boy, was it a blizzard, cold snowy blizzard.  But before we left there was one fellow we went to see him about having the snow off his roof, but he said, "No, I put stoves in there and blocked it off pretty good.  I don't think I'll need it this year."  His cabin crushed in.  We didn't clean every bit off, but we took most of the weight off and go around the eves and cut around the eves.

 

When we did that, the cabin would pop because it would take the pressure off and they'd pop  So we'd quit when they popped.  We did a lot.  We made about $500 and in those days that was a lot of money.  We got down further before we got to Brighton and this guy, Fisher Harris, says “When you shovel my roof off, in the pantry up in the pantry there's a quart of gin” and I said, “Ok.”  So we passed that cabin before we got to ours and I said, “Wait a minute, and I'll be back.”  I went in there, and I had a big pocket in my jacket and I put that in there.

 

Before we got down the canyon, there was a barn that was a half way point and in the summer people would stop and water their horses there and the stage would use that a lot.  There was a little hay loft above, so we went in there and fixed some sandwiches.  I had a six shooter on.  I gave that to Norman.  (I think this had been Uncle Harold’s father's — Daniel's — gun.)  I never had occasion to use it, but we sat in this stable and sat there and ate and we'd finished and sat there resting and all of a sudden I heard a rrrrrrrrrr up above in the hay loft.

 

It was a small room and the room shook.  We never knew what it was, but we got the hell out of there.  There was some animal in there hibernating.  We could have seen him if we'd stood up and looked over the edge, but we weren't about to do that.  Then, down the canyon we went.  Then the creek was opened up and we got drinks.  I said, "Elliott, how would you like to have a drink?" 

 

He said, "Yes, I sure would."

 

"Here,” I said.

Then I gave him the bottle, and he got mad at me and didn't say anything the rest of the way because I hadn't said anything to him about it and had kept it all the time.  We had quite a time.  We drank it all.

 

We got down to Holladay, and we walked clear over to the street car line and carried our skis after we got out of the snow country.  We caught the street car and put skis on top of street car and went into town.  We were living at 8th East and between 2nd and 3rd South.  My father was there and Catherine.  They were glad to see us home.  What we'd drank was now starting to take effect on us now in that warm room.

 

I can't understand why papa let us go and do something like that, nine miles from one place to another and knowing that kind of snow and cold.  I can't imagine, but it's a good thing we were in the right canyon or we wouldn't have been here today.     

  

It was always that way.  We just had one hell of a time.  Had to depend on neighbors and everything.  We were always tickled, us kids were, when papa came home, but he'd never stay long.  He'd go to town to the bars.  They put up the Hygeia Ice Land there in Sugarhouse and mother says why don't you get a job there and stay here in town, so he went over and got a job at the ice land but it only lasted a little while.

 

He (Daniel) didn’t like it.  He wanted to get back to the mine.  The money was few and far between.  How we got along I don't know.  Virginia has all our old letters and things in her trunk.  The trunk got burnt.  It was out in the shed and burnt a lot of the stuff.  Even burnt my discharge papers.  I had to send for more.

 

It was quite a life for all of us and now I realize Elliott would come and stay with us a day or two, but where he went from there, I can't remember.  Your mother went on a mission and then he went and married another woman while she was on her mission.  And when she came back he divorced this woman and your mother and him both married.

 

What did you do at home? 

Oh, we'd play--we'd play around the house.  See, we started school the same day, Elliott and I.  The house isn't there anymore.   I went to school at Irving Jr. High.  That's where we lived.

 

Where did you live before you lived there? 

Oh, I don't know — so many places.  We'd just move from one place to another place  I guess when we didn't pay the rent we'd move to another place.  Oh, I can't understand how my mother Josie put up with it.....not now....not knowing now.    When you're a kid you don't know.  What is, is.  You don't know the whys or whatever.

 

Do you remember other Christmases? 

Oh, they were all about like that one.  We'd never have very much, maybe a mouth organ and an orange or a banana and hard tack candy.  You know, candy was cheap those days.  You could take a penny and go to the store and get a whole handful of candy. 

 

What did my dad like to do?

He liked to fix things.  He was very particular. 

 

Is that how your mother was? 

Yes.  And it was how my father was.  Washing dishes he had to have everything just so and Elliott, if there was nothing broken he had to fix it and fix it right now. 

 

Then your dad he stayed out around Park Valley a lot.  Your mother was living out there then, I think, wasn't she?  I never met your mother while I was out there — just Evelyn.  And he went out to work at the Gold Quartz Mining Co. — silver and gold. 

 

I never knew much about Ernest, either.  I did about Catherine because she was more around.  Ernest got so he wouldn't even talk to me.  He was peculiar in his ways.  I treated him good, yet when I sold my house in Firth, he came up and he'd stay with me and then when we lived in the basement.  Then Elliott came up one time  he brought Aunt LaVella, Uncle Rulon's wife — you never knew her, she died.  Rulon was my uncle, my mother's brother--he died in California. He brought her up one time, but they didn't stay very long.  Then Ernest came in l939 with another fellow with him that he worked with in the boats — this guy named Turkey was an artist for Walt Disney. 

 

Then when he got married  and said he was coming out.  He got married in New York.  He married an Italian named Clara, and she was a character.  It was during the war and  there was a ration on everything — you had to have stamps for everything.

 

 (I think it's not that simple--he DID get mad within himself often and tried to quit many many times.  My Great Grandfather, William Stuart Brighton, was very religious and I believe the majority of his children were also.  His son, Daniel, however as I can gather, was considered the ‘black sheep’ of the family.  I didn’t know this until our children were all born.   Grandpa Dan’s decisions, plus my grandmother Josie’s early death, made a big difference in the lives of his children, including my father’s life also.  I believe where much is given, much is expected — and doesn’t the opposite hold true — where one has less opportunity — the Lord will judge us accordingly?  One can see from this historical glimpse how drinking is such an evil and creates an atmosphere that affects relationships, circumstances and futures.  My grandfather and my father were wonderful people but the drinking destroyed so much potential.   — Dixie Brighton Conger)

 

Elliott comes from Utah Pioneers.  His great grandfather Henry Grow on his mother, Josephine’s side was architect of the LDS Tabernacle in Salt Lake City.  His grandfather William Stuart and grandmother Catherine Bow Brighton settled Brighton, which now bears their name, Brighton.  They were handcart pioneers.

 

Elliott was born Saturday, August 11, 1900, at Diamond, Juab Co., Utah — now a ghost town.  It was up by the Showers Mine, which his father, Dan Brighton worked as superintendent at the time.  Elliott was blessed and named in the old Holladay LDS Ward.  Part of his early years were spent in Sugarhouse, where he first attended school.  He spent his summers at Brighton where he first learned to catch fish, his great pleasure throughout his life.  After the death of his mother, Josephine,  June 1913, the family of five was split up.  Elliott went to live with his father’s brother, Uncle Will Brighton and Aunt Clara in Cottonwood.  Elliott helped with the farm chores.  At 16 Elliott joined the Navy.  Later he spent a few years at Duck, North Carolina, helping new-found friends who fished in the ocean for a living.

 

Elliott was married to Gladys Julia Kunzler March 18, 1932, in the Salt Lake Temple.  They had one child, Dixie Louise.   Julia died August 17, 1955.  At times he operated two different second-hand furniture stores and gas stations--one at Mt. Carmel in Southern Utah.  Later he was a construction worker.  He operated heavy equipment such as cranes and bulldozers.  His half sisters were Ruby who died in 1912, Stella Nielsen and Eva Tidwell–and brother Daniel.  Elliott’s full brothers and sisters were Harold Brighton, Ernest Brighton, Catherine Gibson and Florence Covey.  In comparison to our lives today, Elliott had a difficult life.  Despite his trials, he persevered and lived a successful life — one wherein he loved his fellow men, especially his family and friends. He was a generous, kind and good man.  Elliott died October 4, 1970 in Salt Lake City, Utah.