The Awakening of the Desert

In March, 1912, the curtain fell and closed the last act in McKenzie's life. He was a devout Mormon, had often preached in the tabernacle and maintained local dramatic art along high moral lines.

Gibbon classes among the most furious sectaries of religion much persecuted, such Christians as the Hussites of Bohemia, the Calvinists of France and the Paulicians of America in the ninth century, but he was too just a historian to put all their leaders outside the pale of worthy citizenship.

So when I have sat in the presence of the venerable Mrs. Emeline B. Wells, now 85 years of age, I have always been inspired with profound respect for her noble character and high culture. She was an early Mormon pioneer and is still editor of "The Woman's Exponent," an accomplished writer and conversationalist.

When I read her exquisite poem "The Wife to the Husband," I am led to the conviction that whatever there may be wrong in Mormon teachings there are women among that people who have exalted conceptions of domestic relations.

In the old days the Tithing House was a large adobe structure situated near the Tabernacle, where was received in kind a tenth of the surplus, as a consecration, and after that, one tenth of the increase or earnings annually. The earliest revelations to Joseph Smith in 1831, commanding the payment of tithes, are quoted in Times and Seasons, Vols. IV and V. The later alleged revelations and instructions are published in the several Mormon journals.

The present offices of the church are now installed in a large and well-appointed building, which is as complete as are the offices of any other great modern financial institution. As one passes by the bookkeepers into the vaults and directors' room it seems as if one were visiting the headquarters of a huge, well-ordered business corporation.

It is not strange that many of the active men, who were at the front in Mormon affairs half a century ago, are no longer seen on the streets of Salt Lake City. Time, however, has dealt kindly with the now venerable Hiram B. Clawson, twice son-in-law of Brigham, a man once quite as prominent as any other in the social, business, and military life of Utah. In the panic of 1873 he was sent East with H. S. Eldredge to arrange an extension of the obligations of Zion's Mercantile Institution, of which he was then superintendent. His work was conducted with success, and in less than eight months the entire liability, amounting to $1,100,000, was fully paid, a considerable portion of it being transmitted through the firm of which I was a member. He finally stated that the losses of the Company at that time, through bad debts, did not exceed one-fourth of one per cent, which was as decisive an indication of the integrity of the people as could easily have been found anywhere in that calamitous year. In my last interview with the old gentleman we discussed this experience, as well as our memorable interview with Brigham Young, already reported in another chapter.

The practice of polygamy is rapidly declining among the Mormons in Utah. In response to the demands of the Saints themselves, Congress, in 1862, and again in 1882, enacted laws which it was hoped would remedy the evil. The law of 1862, known as the Edmunds Act, declared such cohabitation to be a misdemeanor. Nevertheless, within the past six years I have been sheltered in a Mormon home, located somewhat outside of the Utah line, where three women were present as the wives of the host.

Whatever may be the relations between husband and wives, there can be no perfectly amicable relations between the Mormons and other people in our country while these conditions continue. There is to this day an undisguisable sentiment of distrust of each other on the part of both Mormon and Gentile elements in Utah, the like of which does not seem to exist between adherents of other religious faiths in our country.

This statement leads us to consider what seems to be the fundamental cause of the greater part of the Mormon suffering and trials in the years gone by, and of their many conflicts with national and state governments, for which the mass of that people are certainly not responsible.

Orson Pratt, the Apostle, said "There can be but one perfect government – that organized by God – a government by apostles, prophets, priests, teachers, and evangelists."

We read in the Millennial Star, (a church organ) 1844, reasons why Joseph Smith, the prophet, should be and logically was the president of the United States. In that year he was formally announced as a candidate for that office (see Times and Seasons, June, 1844). By virtue of his supremacy in the church he was also at the same time Commander-in-Chief of the Nauvoo Legion, and Mayor of the City of Nauvoo.

The reign of King Strang, referred to in another chapter, was a theocracy, and was in harmony with the Mormon precedent established by the first prophet.

"I am and will be governor, and no power can hinder it," were the words used by Brigham Young in a discourse in the Tabernacle, 1853, as quoted by Bancroft in his History of Utah, page 481.

The assumption of civil authority by the Roman Pontiffs in the Middle Ages, as a divine right, was not more autocratic than was the attempted usurpation of civil and religious sovereignty by the men whose words and acts are hereinbefore set forth.

On the other hand, if Divine revelation of more recent date than that which was alleged to have come to Joseph Smith on Cumorah Hill is believed to have come to an American woman, and this later revelation is honestly accepted, and its inspired author is revered by thousands of good and intelligent men and women, it is not surprising if the Book of Mormon, and other prophetic deliverances alleged to have been received from time to time in the dramatic and mysterious manner that appeals to the credulous, should also be accepted and obeyed by the faithful.

If the many revelations and commands published to the Mormon people through the medium of their prophets be accepted and obeyed, and all under the honest conviction that such revelations are of divine origin, it necessarily follows that the Mormon hierarch that issues such decrees is the arbiter and guide of Mormon conduct. The Mormon laity believed that these supposed divine commands emanate from a higher source than do the acts of Congress, and that civil authority is centered in the head of their Church. It would, therefore, be brutally illogical to lay upon the women of Utah any unnecessary burdens of censure for their violation of Congressional and other secular enactments before mentioned, especially as they have not profited but only suffered from the violation dictated and enforced by conscience. None the less it remains true that Mormon rule and practice are not in harmony with the spirit and genius of American institutions, neither can they be until the laws of the land, which they have a part in framing, are unreservedly recognized and obeyed.

A defection in the Mormon Church, led by Joseph Smith, Junior, then in Plano, Illinois, was the subject of much controversy during our visit. These dissenters were known as Josephites. Their creed, denouncing polygamy and declaring that Brigham Young had apostatized from the true faith, is set forth in Waite's The Mormon Prophet.

Much of the merchandise that was on our incoming ox train was consigned to William S. Godbe, who was at the head of the so-called Godbeite movement, for which revolt he and others were ex-communicated and "delivered over to the buffetings of Satan" "for the period of 1000 years," which seemed to be the approved conventional term of buffeting to which recusants from the Orthodox Mormon Church were uniformly condemned. Whether any abridgment of this millennium might be expected in recognition of good behavior, seems never to have been revealed even to the most highly favored.

In opposition to Brigham's policy, Mr. Godbe had strongly urged the development of mining in Utah, – a fact that might have recommended him to the friendly consideration of the accomplished Buffeter, who is thought to take much interest at least in coal mining.

It was on the evening of October 8th, immediately after my return from a trip to the mountains, that I was invited to a conference with Governor Charles Durkee, Judge Fields, and Dr. O. H. Conger, at which time among other topics were discussed the perplexing state of political affairs in the territory and the situation with reference to mining industries.

At that time Dr. Conger was developing in the interest of other parties a promising silver mine, which Godbe investigated with some care. It was located up in the Wasatch range, at the head of Little Cottonwood canyon, and three years later it became historic and notorious as the Emma Mine.

The sale of it three years later to an English Syndicate for 1,000,000 pounds sterling has taken rank as one of the most prodigious mining swindles on record. At the time of this sale the original owners had parted company with the venture. To give his younger friend a view of the attractive scenery, I was invited by the doctor to accompany him on a trip to the new diggings, which were up on the side of the Twin Peaks. The ride up that wild gorge, one of the grandest in Utah, was intensely interesting. The water race at the mine, newly cut through a ledge of marble yet unstained by exposure and therefore white as snow, wherein to conduct the wonderfully transparent mountain stream, was a striking feature. The whiteness of the conduit made the clear water invisible, except when it received the reflected sunlight. A careless pedestrian might easily attempt heedlessly to walk down in the bottom upon the marble bed. In dipping from the surface it was necessary to feel one's way to where the pure air ended and the water began. The white marble channel bed was the chief cause of this uncommon transparency. The miners' cabin built from logs of balsam fir, the berths filled with twigs from that fragrant tree, and the brilliant wood fire in the massive open fireplace in which were burned resinous balsam logs, made the great room redolent with a delightful perfume, which I have never forgotten. But all these suggestions of purity were smothered later in the ethically malodorous transaction already mentioned.

Incidentally I continued the ascent of the Twin Peaks, from the top of which is doubtless obtained the finest possible view of the Jordan Valley and Great Salt Lake. To this remarkable body of water a brief reference seems appropriate. It has been so frequently described that it seems proper only to state on the authority of the American Encyclopedia that it contains 22 per cent of Chloride of Sodium (salt), with a specific gravity ordinarily of 1.17, and is probably the purest and most concentrated brine constituting any large body of water on the globe.

Having bathed also in the Dead Sea I have found its waters to be equally transparent and about equal in buoyancy, the specific gravity being about the same as that of Salt Lake. The most noticeable difference in effect is the prickling sensation and the smooth oily feeling of the Dead Sea waters, which are attributed to the presence of nearly 3 per cent of Chloride of Calcium; a bitter taste is also imparted by the more than 10 per cent of Chloride of Magnesium. The desire for a rinse in fresh water is strongly felt on emerging from the Palestinian Sea. The warm spring, which as already stated had at one time been pre-empted by Dr. Robinson, was a favorite resort where we occasionally took a plunge. The waters have a temperature of 95 degrees and are impregnated with sulphur.

During the summer my companions, Ben and Fred, made a trip to Montana. They assured me that the primary purposes of their expedition were business and seeing the country but who would suppose that they would fail to find the young ladies from whom they had separated at the Parting of the Ways!

Later in the season they took the stage for San Francisco and thence sailed for New York via Panama. In the meantime, it became my duty to make a number of excursions, some of which may be of sufficient interest to describe.

CHAPTER XXVII

The Boarding House Train

THE boarding house train of the older days was not an institution peculiar to the West alone, for we know that tramp outfits afforded protection to wanderers in ancient times, and even now in the Orient and for an agreed pecuniary consideration the peripatetic traveler may plod along as best he may, or possibly ride at times, and have the dust of the train and the society and fare of the Cameleers.

Although more or less familiar also with the mode of travel as seen in the early immigration to the west of Lake Michigan, I had never seen anything of its kind quite so picturesque or that in America brought together so heterogeneous a party of men, as the boarding-house train that I accompanied through the mountains in September, 1866.

The time had arrived when it was hoped that our big ox train would be approaching the mountains, and desiring to meet it and assist in bringing it through the canyons, I watched for an opportunity to join some East bound train. The late summer and early autumn had given us time to dispose of some merchandise that reached Salt Lake earlier in the season, and I was now free to leave the city.

Learning of a small mule outfit that was about to start for the Missouri River, I concluded arrangements for transportation.

This transportation embraced the so-called "grub" and the conveniences of a covered wagon in which one might ride on easy roads, the expectation being that the passenger would walk up the hills or over difficult tracts.

The captain of the outfit, a big, burly freighter, seemed proud to have come from Pike County, Missouri, which he stated had produced the most distinguished men whom he had ever known.

It had not been my privilege to meet any of the passengers booked for this Missouri outfit until their arrival at the corral at the appointed hour for starting. In accordance with the custom of the country, each passenger was to furnish his own lodging; in other words, each brought such blankets as were supposed to be necessary for protection at night. My bundle was deposited in the rear wagon, as I was desirous of securing the advantage of an observation car, which would afford an unobstructed view behind us. All the vehicles were ordinary large wagons with canvas covers.

My companions in that wagon were two young men from Ohio, each of whom had recently purchased a broncho horse, which he intended to take back to the States and incidentally to use under the saddle, as he might have opportunity, on the Eastward journey. These two quadrupeds were haltered to the rear of the last wagon, which they were expected to follow. That the bronchos might become gradually accustomed to a burden upon their backs, the young men had cinched tightly upon them their bundles of blankets. Thus equipped we rolled out from the city up the terraced slope of "the bench" toward the entrance into Parley's Canyon. (It may be stated that the bench is the narrow level table land, evidently an ancient shore line, that skirts the foothills of those mountains and indicates that during some period the waters in the valley reached that high level).

The young men had commented favorably on the docility of their bronchos, which had for a time followed the wagon in a satisfactory manner, and expressed the belief that the animals would afford great comfort on the long trip, by enabling them to take horse-back rides.

On entering an area covered with sage brush, a new purpose seemed suddenly to enter the heads of the uncertain bronchos. It may have been inspired by the sight of a little patch of grass on the otherwise arid bench, or it may have been an innate inclination to do something unexpected, an inclination very characteristic of the broncho. Suddenly and almost simultaneously they dropped back on their halters and were soon free and making a flight for the brush. The young men watched their next proceedings with dismay. Having reached an eligible location in an open space, the bronchos at once began a series of evolutions so interesting that the train was brought to a halt. In his favorite pastime of bucking, the broncho has no peer among all the quadrupeds of the earth. It had been my privilege and misfortune to make a personal test of this form of amusement and with the usual results, but never before had I seen it so successfully performed upon inanimate matter, as on this occasion in the sage brush of Utah.

The bundles upon the bronchos were light, and were strapped tightly upon them with double girths. The buckers operating closely together apparently entered into a contest, to ascertain which of the two could first relieve himself of his impedimenta.

While the train was at rest, the boarders and drivers secured favorable positions, where they might witness the match. Our captain from Pike County, Missouri, broke forth into curses, berating the intelligence of any man who would buy such good-for-nothing creatures, and yet he was the first person to assist in their capture. Again and again the bucking bronchos, facing each other, repeated their vicious plunges, leaping into the air with heads down and backs curved upward, and coming down upon their fore feet, until in some way the bundles were dashed upon the ground and their contents were widely distributed under the animals' feet, after which a sense of victory and freedom seemed to come over them, and only after a long pursuit were they again secured. During the time that I remained with the train, no human being ventured to mount the refractory brutes.

The night came on as we turned into camp near the summit of the canyon. The familiar fragrance of fried bacon and coffee was beginning to pervade the atmosphere when the captain from Pike County gave the command to "fall to," which was his method of announcing to the boarders that supper was served. Drawing around the camp fire we faced the same old "Menu" and the same type of battered tin dishes and cutlery that we had become familiar with on our own train, except that the cooking and serving paraphernalia bore evidences of greater antiquity and more violent service.

We sat or kneeled upon the ground in a sort of irregular semi-circle. With but few exceptions each man was a stranger to all the others. Each man had a revolver in his belt, and in most cases the men had rifles with their effects in the wagons. Each was curious to know where the other fellow came from, and without much ceremony the blunt, but good-natured question, "Where do you hail from?" was propounded to one's neighbor in the circle. The roster was soon completed, and before we left the camp fire my record showed that one of the party had recently closed his apprenticeship under Morgan, the raider; another, an ex-confederate, was from Old Virginia; one was from the Sandwich Islands; one from New Hampshire; one each from Arkansas, South Carolina, Michigan, and Wisconsin, and two were from Missouri. Our cook was a young Snake Indian, but the rest of the crew had not yet disclosed any facts concerning their life-history.

From the members of such a miscellaneous gathering there came naturally some sparring and good-natured reviling tinged at times with acrimony, for the bitterness of the Civil War had not yet materially lessened. But after the first parry of words all realized that they were now comrades for mutual protection.

A quiet place was soon found up the mountain side, and wrapping my blanket around me I watched the bright stars until I fell asleep.

In the morning we had a touch of camp life that was calculated to bring to the surface that trait of character which would manifest itself in an hour of trial. The captain had been heard to shout from a distant point, where he was attending to a mule, to ask the young Indian cook why in h – l he didn't call breakfast, as it was time for the train to pull out. The brush fire had burned long enough to have boiled coffee many times, but the Snake Indian seemed to be wandering abstractedly round the wagons as if searching for some missing article. As the Captain approached and again demanded an explanation for the delay, the boy informed him, in the few English words at his command, that some one had taken the bacon. He declared that the great slab of meat referred to had on the night before been placed in the covered mess box at the tail end of the wagon.

The Captain again swore, and, with the air of a commander of men, proceeded in his endeavors to solve the mystery. Two mules had been picketed all night near the wagon, and the Captain, doubtless aware of the omnivorous habits of those amalgamated beasts, examined their surroundings, and observed squarely under the fore feet of one an elevated surface that appeared suspicious. He backed the mule, and with his foot scraped away an inch or two of dirt, beneath which he struck the stratum of bacon, disfigured somewhat by the heavy pressure of the animal's hoofs, but nevertheless recognizable as bacon. The mule had evidently, at some time during the night, lifted the lid of the mess box with his nose, and seizing the bacon with his teeth had undertaken the task of eating it, but finding some coarser food better suited to his incisors had abandoned the bacon in disgust, dropped it upon the ground, pawed dirt upon it, and then planted his feet on the pile.

"Here's your bacon," said the Captain, with an oath, and a sneer of superiority. "Now hurry up that breakfast." This event occurred prior to the development of our present theory of germs and the sterilization of food, so vexing to modern epicures.

An empty stomach needs no appetizing sauce. When I have listened to adverse criticisms concerning dishes served at elaborately prepared banquets, I have more than once recalled that breakfast of bacon and coffee prepared by a Snake Indian cook in the Wasatch Mountains. There was no bacon to be wasted.

On those clear frosty nights it was a pleasure to creep up the mountain side, and beneath the open starry sky to roll up in a blanket and be lulled to sleep by the music of streams rushing down those canyons. Strange as it may seem, no colds ever resulted from this life in the open air. Every breath inhaled in the waking hours or while asleep, was of pure air not vitiated by exhalations from the lungs of others, nor breathed in part over and over again. This immunity from colds is also true under some conditions that might seem seriously dangerous to one accustomed only to the comforts of civilized life. An example of this was afforded on Tuesday evening, the 18th of September, when we reached Quaking Asp Hill, near the summit of the Divide. A fine driving rain, which extinguished our fires, began to fall at dusk, before we had finished our bacon and coffee, and there were indications of a cold and heavy storm. That he might the better protect himself against the elements, the Sandwich Islander entered into negotiations to double our blankets, a proposal that was promptly accepted, as he was provided with one which was waterproof to place on the wet ground. Each of us had the regular double army blanket and overcoat. This was not the first rainy night that I had spent without a roof above me, but it was certainly the wildest.