(Compiled by Dennis B. Horne)
was twenty-six years old when I was born and I was forty-six when he died in
1964. He was a tall, thin man; always clean and neatly dressed. Father was very
orderly in his way of life. He was a good student of world conditions. I
remember that he read fine books. However, he never attended high school or
college. I am not sure that he even finished all of grade school. He lost his
hearing when he was fourteen or fifteen years of age. The first time he set
foot on a college campus was at Iowa State University in Ames, Iowa, where he
was invited to speak about the poultry industry in America.
When he was
just a teenager, Father started a business, then lost everything and started
over again—all by the age of nineteen.
he began to prosper and he enjoyed being his own manager. After several
successful years in the poultry and fish business, he sold his enterprise to
the Utah Poultry Cooperative Association and became the manager of their
poultry division. For many years he was one of three men in charge of the
cooperative. He eventually left that line of work and went back into business
for himself as a turkey broker.
I have always felt that he was the father of the poultry business in the state of Utah. He supplied poultry for Utah and most of the surrounding states for many years. He built the first turkey processing plants in Tremonton, American Fork, Moroni and Ephraim, Utah.
these years Father was not active in the Church. In spite of this I felt very
close to him. I later learned that I had misunderstood his attitude toward the
Church. I thought he was not interested in it just because he was inactive. I
found out later that when he got hearing aids and could hear he began to attend
Church regularly. When he passed away he was a high priest and studying the
gospel trying to catch up.
While I was
presiding over the New Zealand Temple, about twenty-two years after his death,
I walked into the celestial room in the temple one morning. As I turned the
comer I looked to the left and saw my father standing there all dressed in
white. His hair seemed to be whiter than I remembered. As I stood looking at him carefully, I
discovered that I was standing in front of one of the large mirrors in the room
and was actually looking at myself. I then realized how much I looked like my
father. I stayed in that room for some period of time just thinking about that
experience. I had some tender thoughts about my father. I continue to do so
even though I am much older than he was when he passed away. He was a good
father and always good to me.
Sam, went on a mission to Brazil in 1935 and did not return until 1938. During
that time I turned twenty years of age. For about a year before he returned, I
had been causing problems for my mother and father because I also wanted to go
on a mission. My father, who at the time wasn't active in the Church, did not
want me to go until Sam came home. In those days few families had more than one
missionary out at the same time. This was near the end of the depression and
there weren't many missionaries out—few families could afford the cost. During
that year I had some difficulty with my father. I was sure that he was an
atheist. I was also certain that he did not know what the Book of Mormon was,
or any of the Standard Works. As far as I knew, he had never read anything of a
religious nature. He had educated himself by reading many other good books.
Sam came home and approval was given for me to go on a mission. Sam had lost
his hearing in the mission field. My father had lost his hearing when he was
fourteen-years old. I think Dad was certain that I would loose my hearing too
if I went on a mission, but I still wanted to go.
31, 1938, I received a letter from President Heber J. Grant calling me to serve
a mission in New Zealand. On October 24, I entered the mission home and left
with four other missionaries for New Zealand on November 6.
leaving on my mission there were one or two parties held in my honor by friends
and relatives. I received some lovely gifts. Father gave me the most expensive
gold watch he could buy. I wore it for many years until it would run no longer.
I still have it among my keepsakes. He also gave me his large diamond ring,
which is worth considerable money.
But, the one gift that touched me more than all others was a
triple combination—also from my father. He had written in the front, dated
October 1938, "To Glen from Dad who is proud of you for your determination
to do that which you believe is right." I couldn't believe that he had
chosen a triple combination as a gift for me.
old book is in pretty poor shape, but it has survived through many years and
many travels. Occasionally I read Dad's note in the front of that book.
reflect on this event, I realize that no gift has ever meant more to me,
considering the circumstances, than that triple combination with Dad's own
handwriting in it.
Charles P. Rudd grew up in Salt Lake City. As a very young boy he began working
in a grocery store. By the time he was 14 he had a good job. By the time he was
19 he owned his own business and was off and running with his life‘s work in
the fish and poultry business. He shipped fish in from the Northwest and
processed chicken from all over the Western United States. He sold his products
to restaurants, cafes, hotels, eating houses, and really started the poultry
business in Utah.
was not active in the Church. When he was 14, he lost his hearing. You would
need to talk directly at him, because he could read our lips and get along
well. He couldn‘t hear anything at meetings, so he didn‘t go to church;
however, he contributed constantly to the Church, mainly thanks to my faithful
when an older man, my father called me to his office. I had been a bishop for
ten years. When I arrived at his office, he closed the door and said to me,
“What priesthood do I hold?” I said, “Dad, you are a teacher.” He said, “How do
you know?” I said, “I have seen your membership record.” He said, “Well, in my
ward they had me down as a deacon. I don‘t want to be demoted at this stage of
life. You get hold of the bishop and get him to put me where I belong.” When I
left his office, I knew he cared about the Church.
the home teachers went to call on my father and mother. During the
conversation, he was told that the chapel they had been meeting in for the past
four years had not been dedicated. He didn‘t know what that meant, but he said,
“Something is wrong.” He was told that they had never raised the money. He then
made some unkind remark about the leadership of the ward.
night the bishop came. He said, “Charlie, I hear you don‘t like the way we run
the ward.” He said, “I didn‘t say that, but I do think that you should have had
the money raised a long time ago. Somebody surely isn‘t doing his job.”
bishop called him to be on the finance committee to raise the rest of the
money. My father said that he would be glad to do that. He asked to be given
the names of all of the high priests in the ward. He said, “I will talk to
them.” He said, “Bishop, they may hear words they are not used to, but we will
get the money. Get ready to dedicate.”
than six months they had all of the money and the building was dedicated. Dad
then became active and was ordained an elder. Not long after, my two brothers
and I went with Mom and Dad to the Manti Temple. It was a great day for my dear
mother who had been working in the temple for years. Not long after that, Dad
was ordained a high priest. Before he died, he was studying and reading Church
books all of the time.