Born: 19 August 1917 — Logan, Utah
Died: 11 June 1942 — Massachusetts
By Cyril Whatcott
His story would be lost unless I record what I remember. He was born in 1917 in Logan and died on a mission in the New England States in 1942. Uncle Seth was only five years older than I was which made me a tenth member of the Pulley family in some respects. I used to wear some of his old clothes as he handed them down. We did a few things together despite the disparity of our ages. Upon one occasion he gave me an all day sucker if I would stay home. That really broke me up. I wanted to go but couldn’t turn the candy down. He used to get paid for delivering the Herald-Journal and on his way home would stop and buy ice cream and candy for himself and me. I always felt he was good to me.
He made a car from an old washing machine motor and a few planks. I was the first one to drive this vehicle. I guess it went about 10 or 15 miles per hour. I remember the kids had to really run to stay up with it. He also did some lathe work.
We used to play tennis at six in the morning. I would get up and then have to get him up. He was a much better player than I, but used to tell me I made him work at it a little.
He advanced to other jobs at the paper office and finished about three years of college when he was called on his mission. He became a District President and wound up with a companion who would not do the work. Since he had a leadership position, he went out and did the work alone. He was decapitated by a moving train toward the end of his mission. Apparently, his death was an accident.
Uncle Seth ordained me a Deacon and for years, I was curious about this Priesthood lineage. It can be found in other records.
Seth was good on the lathe and in woodwork. He was good in school. He was a very gentle person without guile, very straight forward and a good person. I think he would have gone on his mission knowing in advance the results. He was well loved by all his family in particular and by all his friends in general.
When I was young, I had no bike. He used to let me ride his. One of his brothers was alarmed. The bike would be broken or ruined. I remember Uncle Seth saying, “Let him alone, it’s just a bike.” This just happens to be a small incident I remembered through the years.
He was a good uncle and I just want his memory to survive.