Life Story of James Ransom Skipworth

James Ransom Skipworth was born in Wyberton, Lincolnshire, England, September 25, 1882. His father was Ransom Skipworth. His mother was Harriet Houghton. He was the first child born to this marriage, besides 3 sisters and 1 brother. He had an older half-sister, born to his mother by a first marriage, Rose Brackenborough, whom he loved very dearly. She saved him from drowning at the age of 3.

When James was very young his parents moved from Wyberton to Boston, Lincolnshire, England, where he spent all of the years at school, completing it at the age of 14. It was then that he went to work as a gardener, then as an apprentice to an upholsterer. Not being able to see much future in this type of work, he went to work as an apprentice blacksmith, where he stayed about 2 years. This work didn’t seem to have enough excitement to it so he and 2 other boys, George Sampson and Charlie Creek, left home to seek a fortune. This was a very common thing in those days. They decided to buy a striking machine and travel with the circus, across the country, but being unable to buy one of these machines, they gave up the adventure. While in Doncaster these 3 young lads fell in with some miners, so they decided to try their hand there. They went to a little town of Goldthorpe, but were only there a few weeks, they were all so very homesick. Dad decided he had had enough so started for home, a distance of 50 miles on foot.

Later he went to Gainsboro where he got a job as apprentice in Marshall & Sons Boiler Making Shop, where he served his apprenticeship. He became very ill during this time. His mother came and took him back to Boston and nursed him back to health and he then returned to work at Marshall’s.

It was about this time that he met Mother, Annie Maria Fields. He fell so madly in love he went in circles, being a very jealous suitor, if another man ever looked at mother. They were married in 1903. They ran a fish shop in Slothe Ferry and had some very

exciting experiences while there, later moving to Grimsby, Lincolnshire, England.

It was in 1904 that Dad joined the Later-day Saint Church, and from then on he was a staunch Missionary of the Gospel, teaching the Gospel every opportunity he had. Many times Dad was mobbed by crowds on street meetings. One night the mob tried to throw him in the docks but they were blessed and he and the missionaries were able to get away and go safely home. The missionaries never held a street meeting without Dad. He was never afraid to preach the gospel.

Dad worked on the Great Central Railway in Grimsby, working on the large steamers that traveled on the continent.

By now it was 1914, and the World War broke out. Dad was sent to be Key Man at the Immingham Docks which were controlled by the government. After the war Dad and 3 other men, friends of his, started a boiler repair company for themselves. It was doing very well, when 2 of the men absconded with the company’s finances and Dad lost several thousand dollars.

All this time the urge to come to Zion had been very strong, but since his mother was still living and felt very badly any time leaving for America was mentioned, he didn’t leave until his mother passed away.

Dad was Sunday school Superintendent, Counselor, Secretary, Mutual teacher, Branch President for a number of years in Grimsby.

In Hillspring, Dad was secretary of the Sunday school, Teacher in Sunday school, Teacher of Seventies, President of sixth Elders quorum. He is High Priest at the time of this writing, 79 years of age.

Additions:

Jim worked as a blacksmith and later as the caretaker of the school at hilspring. for awhile they helped in the catering business to make ends meet. James Ransom Skipworth Passed from this life While visiting his daughter in Long Beach California. 27 November 1963 and was buried next to his eternal companion in Hilspring. 

These words must have been written on the chalkboard one morning of Grandpa’s birthday because the copy in his book of remembrance is on a piece of scrap with some arithmetic on the back and in Grandpa’s handwriting.

Someone comes to our room every day,

To sweep and clean and dust away.

For over twenty-five years, this person’s been there,

No wonder we see some grey in his hair .

We’ll do our share to keep the room neat,

By putting away books and cleaning our feet.

We’ll try to keep the washrooms right,

So they won’t be such a dirty sight.

With these few lines we send to you

Birthday Greetings, fond and true.

I suppose youthful impressions are the most important. My over-riding impressions of my young days in Canada is one of joy and youthful happiness. It seems that I had unlimited freedom to experience, the rural atmosphere of Southern Alberta.

Riding, hiking, swimming in the summer, ice skating, sleigh riding in the winter, and of course the traditional week end dance during my high school years. These pleasant thoughts were all made possible by understanding, kind parents whose thoughts and actions reflected their one concern for the welfare of their children and grandchildren. After high school I left for Utah and college and only spent a few summer months at home after that, so my memories are mostly filled with events prior to that time. I cannot remember a time when Mother was not at home with good food baked and ready for tasty meals. She was always active with her hands making all types and varieties of things, generally for someone else or for some event in the community. My earliest thoughts go to her interest and ability to make flowers from crepe paper and then her interests spread to all types of hobbies -beads, sewing, knitting, crocheting, etc. always doing something while telling Father to wash the cream separator cleanly. Mother preferred her handy work to the farm the cows, the hay, the horses. I believe she ever equated farming with muddy roads, dirty corrals and tracking dirt into the house. The most pleasant of memories are mine when I think of life with Father. From that first gray mare that he bought for me, trips to get winter fire wood, summer haying and the large overshot stacker that we built, cutting ice from Merrill’s lake for the delicious ice cream we made all year long, even cows Father assigned me to milk morning and evening, ice skating each winter on the many lakes, spring planting, fall harvesting, stacking the grain in long straight rows, the annual scout trips into the Canadian Rockies, the occasional trips into Cardston to see a movie and singing the songs we heard to the cows for weeks thereafter. Father was always a busy man as all farmers are. I don’t remember him ever taking a vacation in my youth. He was a good provider and we always had plenty to eat and wear. By today’s standards we would call it a hard life but I never felt that way. All was pleasant because Father and Mother were there. Life was influenced by church activity and the faith that our parents portrayed and it was this steadfastness that gave us assurance and security in our young lives. There was no question about the standards we lived and the activities we participated in because they set the example and we followed. So to them I owe a deep debt because I was raised in the best environments and influenced by loving parents who cared.