Out of the Mouth of Babes

Thomas Forsyth.

There are a lot of fascinating stories of the pioneers who settled Utah, early converts of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Among these are many conversion stories, some of them very unique.

The following was written from the pen of Thomas Forsyth recounting his own conversion around the year 1844. He was born in Scotland in 1813 and came to the Americas as a young boy with his family where they settled in Canada. He married Isabella Donald in 1839.

While living near Lake Huron he received a letter from his Uncle James in Scotland. His uncle asked him if he knew anything about the Latter Day Saints. “You will know them. Joseph Smith is the head one of them.”

Thomas Forsyth recounts the rest of the story in his autobiography:

“I had never heard of the Latter Day Saints till he asked me that question in his letter. In order to answer his letter I began to inquire who these Latter Day Saints were and where they were. I could find out but very little about them. But all I found out I wrote to him. But the next year there was a Mormon Elder came to my Mother-in-law's place, about seven miles from my place, and gave out notice he would hold a meeting there. I was at that time very curious to find out whether there was a God or not and if there was any way to worship him, for all I had heard in that line was a mass confusion to me. So when I heard the Mormon Elder was going to preach the next day [Sunday], I said I would go and hear him.

“My wife's youngest brother was at my home that night and was going home the next morning so I made up my mind to go with him and as soon as breakfast was over I went to fix to go. My wife was in the act of putting a necktie on me. Her brother stood close by my eldest and only son [at that time he was 20 months old] who was sitting in his little chair with a piece of pasteboard in his hand. We were not talking about the Mormons, nor about what they preached for we did not know anything about them; yet he held the pasteboard in his hand and moving his head as if he was following a line of reading, he repeated these words, “The Mormons preach Jesus' Gospel.” He repeated these words some three or four times as plain as I or anyone else could say them. When we heard him we were struck with astonishment for we knew he had never heard these words by anyone. When he noticed us looking at him, he laughed and threw the pasteboard away.

“We went to the meeting and heard the Elder preach, and I knew then and there that he preached the truth and I commenced to investigate, and very soon I was convinced that there was a God and that I had found what I had been looking for and praying for, for I had truly been praying for about two years, and no one knows the joy that filled my bosom only these that have experienced the same feeling that the finding of the Gospel brings to them.” 

Thomas Forsyth remained faithful to that gospel message for the rest of his life. ♠

[Source: "Autobiography of Thomas Forsyth" at familysearch.org.] 

Grave of Thomas Forsyth in Toquerville, Utah. He died in 1898.

Angel Moroni in the Manti Temple

Recently I attended an open-house for the Manti Temple. I was extremely excited because this was one of the original pioneer temples of the church and it was only the second time in its 135-year history that it had been open to the public for tours. 

I drove three hours to get there and when I did there was a long line that stretched to the north of this regal structure. As I waited for over an hour, I met several people from all over the state who had also traveled great distances. 

For those who have never seen it, the Manti Temple is arguably one of the most spectacular structures in all of Utah. Whether you're driving from the north or south, the temple stands as majestically as a medieval castle, perched atop a hill overlooking the small town of Manti. It took eleven years to build, constructed in a day with no modern tools. Instead, it was built by pioneer grit, bolstered by the strength of their faith. Built by members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, it was the second temple completed in Utah 

Imposing sight of the Manti Temple as seen from the south side of town.

On a personal note, I have a familial connection with the Sanpete Valley. My great-great-great- grandfather, Charles Shumway, was among the very first settlers who entered the valley in 1849. The virgin land had yet to be tilled. As one might expect, there were conflicts with local Utes that lead to deaths on both sides. Even though Charles moved on by the time construction began on the temple, he played a vital role in the beginnings of that community. 

But as I waited in the long line, my mind was drawn to another story of the Manti Temple. 

Several years ago I had a man whom I'd never met get a hold of me. His name was Bernie Johnson and we were distant cousins. He had a binder full of stories that he wanted to share, most of his ancestors. One of them that was of particular interest was that of his great-great-grandfather, Jons Peter Ahlstrom.

Jons Peter Ahlstrom.

Peter, as he was known, was born in 1835 in Malmö, Sweden to Ole Nilsson Ahlström and Ingeborg Månsdotter. Around the year 1854 the family joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. By 1855 they began their journey to America to join the Saints in Zion. 

Their treacherous journey to the Salt Lake Valley took nearly four years. In that time they traveled by boat, train and foot. During their crossing of the Atlantic Ocean, they experienced “heavy seas and hurricane weather,” their boat catching fire and a collision with another vessel. 

In Burlington, Iowa they paused their trip because they were out of money. Father Ole Ahlstrom obtained a job felling trees, but was killed when one rolled on top of him, fracturing his skull. This left Peter, at the age of 21, in charge helping his widowed mother. 

While in Burlington, Peter married a young woman named Mary Larsen. Their first baby died after ten days. When their second baby was nine weeks old they had enough money to finish the trip west. Mary walked the entire way to Utah holding the baby in her arms except when crossing rivers. They reached the Salt Lake Valley in August of 1859. 

Brigham Young advised them to move to the Sanpete Valley. They arrived a couple weeks later at Fort Ephraim where that winter they lived in a cellar Peter had dug. He built a fireplace and chimney and covered the cellar with willows, straw and dirt. The following summer they were able to build themselves a one-room adobe house, of which they were very pleased. 

This is not intended to be a detailed biography of Peter Ahlstrom's life. Suffice it to say, they lived a very hard life on the frontier, although throughout the years they gradually increased their level of comfort. One thing that enabled this was when Peter was able to procure his own tools, allowing him to take up once again his trade of carpenter and cabinetmaker which he had learned before leaving Sweden. He eventually built the family a larger home which included an orchard and livestock. 

Black and white of Manti Temple.

This brings us to the point in Peter's life that is relevant to our topic. By 1877 construction was beginning on the Manti Temple. Peter was employed as a carpenter and thus he built a little shed where he could keep his tools and sleep. During the eleven years of construction, Peter would work at the temple for six days. Each day one of his daughters would walk from Ephraim to give him food for lunch and supper. Then on Saturday evening he would walk the seven miles home so he could be with his family on Sunday. This would cause him great pain and fatigue because several years earlier he had an accident which left him lame. On Monday morning he would return to Manti where he would repeat the process. 

I will now quote the story Bernie gave me: 

“Peter was assigned as 'overseer' of the temple complex. After the roof was on the temple, Peter slept each night in a room in the basement. The night following the private dedication, Peter remembered he had left the window of a room on an upper floor open. He lit his one-candle powered lantern and hobbled up the stairs to close the window. Returning to go back to his room, he paused at the hallway to the sealing rooms. He starred in awe and amazement. His little candle could cause a few shadows to flicker on the walls for a few feet. A beam of light shimmered from the narrow gap under the closed door of the sealing room at the end of the hall. It was far brighter than any artificial light Peter had ever seen. The only thing Peter could compare it to was a beam of sunlight—a single beam of brilliant sunlight penetrating the darkness. 

“With fear and trepidation Peter approached the door, unlocked it, and slowly opened it. Standing above the alter he saw a personage clothed in white robes. A brilliant light surrounded him and filled the whole room. Shutting the door behind him, he hastily hurried back down the hallway, down more stairs, and into the doorway of President Daniel H. Wells' office. It was well after midnight; President Wells was probably the only other mortal still in the temple. 

“Trembling and quite frightened, Peter stammered: 'President Wells, there's an angel . . ., there is an angel . . .' Peter was unable to say more. President Wells calmly replied: 'Peter, no one needs to fear to see an angel of the Lord. It is not given to everyone to see them. But this is Moroni's temple and he has been here all day.'” 

For anyone unfamiliar with the history of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, Moroni was a central figure in the Book of Mormon and lived approximately 400 A.D. Later, as a resurrected being, he appeared several times to Joseph Smith, not only instructing him, but also leading him to the golden plates, from which Joseph would translate the Book of Mormon. 

Depiction of the angel Moroni visiting the boy Joseph Smith. (photo courtesy of Church Newsroom)

There are several stories in the Manti area of the angel Moroni. Some have been passed down as family stories while others have been nearly lost. Some are nowadays probably considered as folklore or myths. But the truth is that there are many accounts and many are first-hand. There is no doubt in my mind that most of them are largely true. 

After waiting an hour in the long line I was finally able to go inside the temple. It had been closed for two years to make renovations on the structure. They made their best effort to retain the pioneer spirit. Most of murals on the walls and furniture dated back to the late 1800's or early 1900's. Although several stories high, there was still no elevator in the building. 

Back side of Manti Temple.

As I walked through the temple I marveled at the craftsmanship. Great detail was given to things such as doorknobs and woodwork. Leading from one level to another were spiral staircases that seemed to twist perpetually upward. My mind wondered if perhaps Peter Ahlstrom could have worked on the fine wooden railing of these stairs. 

Several of the walls were covered in murals, some of which were painted by pioneers such as C.C. Christensen. The most famous mural, painted by Minerva Teichert, depicts several scenes in the world, including at the front an Indian chief standing above a valley with a temple in the background. 

Mural painted by Minerva Teichert.  (photo courtesy of Church Newsroom)

Spiral staircase at Manti Temple. (photo courtesy of Church Newsroom)

The largest room was an assembly hall with several pews and pulpits. In this room were several windows, all made with the old-time wavy glass, letting in the outside light. 

On the higher levels were several sealing rooms with an alter in the middle. One of them in particular was very ornate with a chandelier hanging above. As I walked by and observed I couldn't help but to wonder which of these rooms was used by the angel Moroni. 

The open-house for the Manti Temple only lasted three weeks. After this it would be rededicated and then only available to members of the church who are in good standing. 

At this point I was determined to make it back after the dedication. I got the idea that I would love to come back in a year or so with my daughter, Jenna. ♥ 

 

Peter Ahlstrom is buried in the historic Manti Cemetery, just below the temple.

 

The Day the Devil Came to the Logan Temple

Marriner Wood Merrill was no stranger to the miracles of God. As a boy of nine years old growing up in New Brunswick, Canada he beheld a vision in which he saw into the future. Although he didn't understand everything at the time, in this vision he saw Joseph Smith, Brigham Young (both of whom he had never met), the Saint's journey to the west, and the practice of polygamy. 

In 1852 he was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints by missionaries in New Brunswick. 

Soon after that he joined the Saints on their westward trek to Utah Territory. During this journey while on the plains he witnessed another miracle. While attempting to swim across the Platte River to retrieve strayed cattle he lost his strength and began to be pulled under by the heavy current. He was almost to the point of drowning when suddenly a sandbar formed beneath his feet. He stood there safely until someone was able to come and rescue him. Suddenly, the sandbar disappeared. Marriner felt confident that the hand of God had saved his life. 

Statues of the pioneers on their journey to the West.

Three years passed and he was now establishing himself in the Salt Lake Valley. On a cold day in January 1856, Marriner was loading five large logs that would be used to make houses onto a sled. The ground was very slippery. He had one log loaded and as he turned to load the second, the first shot out and struck him hard, pinning him atop the other logs. The log that pinned him down was ten inches in diameter and twenty-two feet long. He could scarcely breathe, let alone move. 

He was sure that he would die a cold death there on the mountain with no one else around. An earnest prayer poured from his heart as he plead with the Lord to help him in this dire situation. He continued the attempt to extricate himself, but to no avail. Within a short period of time he began to fade and lose consciousness. 

When he finally came to, he was about a mile down the trail and sitting atop an orderly stack of five logs. His ax was lodged in the top log and his whip lay at his side. The oxen pulled the load as if nothing strange had happened. Marriner attempted to move, but could not budge due to the soreness of his body.

Later in his autobiography he said: “Who it was that extricated me from under the log, loaded my sled, hitched my oxen to it, and placed me on it, I cannot say.” 

Many years passed and Marriner Wood Merrill dedicated his life to the building up of the church. He moved to northern Utah where he served as bishop in Richmond for eighteen years. He was successful in farming, raising stock and the milling industry. With this he supported his eight wives and forty-five children. 

In 1884 he became the first president of the Logan Temple, which was just a three-hour buggy ride from Richmond. In 1889 he was ordained an Apostle. 

Hattie Merrill Morrison Farmstead in Richmond, Utah.  Hattie is the daughter of Marriner,.

Marriner Wood Merrill.

During the days of polygamy raids, Marriner lived in his bedroom on the second floor of the west tower of the Logan Temple. There were periods when he didn't leave the building for several weeks. 

During this time he relied on his son, Marriner Wood Merrill Jr., to take care of things at home. You can imagine his despair when his son passed away from illness at the young age of forty-two. Marriner felt that God had betrayed him. He was busy doing the Lord's work and his son was taken when he needed him most. 

His attitude changed, however, when one evening his son appeared to him in his bedroom in the temple. “Pa,” he said, “I am where the Lord wants me to be. I have been called home to preach the gospel to the people you are doing the temple work for. This work is more important than anything I could be doing on earth, and it is not pleasing to the Lord for you to grieve as you are doing over my death.” 

Needless to say, Marriner never grieved again over his son's death, nor did he complain about hardships in life. His testimony of the work in the temple grew tremendously. 

Logan Temple.

Perhaps this experience prepared him for the next. During the final decade of his life President Merrill had an encounter in the Logan Temple that is unlike any encounter I've ever read about. The following is an excerpt from a work written on the first hundred years of the Logan Temple: 

“Logan Temple President Marriner W. Merrill was sitting in his office one morning in the early 1890's when he heard a commotion outside. Stepping to the window, he saw a great congregation of people coming up the temple hill, some on foot and others on horseback and in carriages. President Merrill's first thought was, 'What will we do with so many people? If we fill every room in the temple, it will not begin to hold them all.' 

“The riders tied their horses up on the hitching posts or turned them loose on the temple corrals, and walked complacently about the front grounds, without seeming to have much purpose in mind. They were a rather odd looking group, and were dressed quite shabbily. 

Sketch of Logan Temple.

“They made no effort to enter the temple, so President Merrill went out to greet them and see what he could do for the group. He said to the leader: 'Who are you, and who are these people who have taken possession of the temple grounds unannounced?' 

“He answered: 'I am Satan, and these are my people.' Brother Merrill asked: 'What do you want and why have you come here?' Satan replied: 'I don't like what is being done in the Logan Temple and have come to stop it.' That was a bit of shock to President Merrill, and he answered: 'No, we will not stop it. This is the work of the Lord and must go on. You know that you or anyone else cannot stop the work of the Lord.' 

“'If you refuse to stop it, I will tell you what I propose to do,' the adversary said. 'I will scatter this congregation of people throughout these valleys, and we will keep people from coming to the temple. We will whisper in their ears and discourage them from attending the temple. We will stop your temple work.' 

“President Merrill then used the power of the priesthood and commanded Satan and his followers to depart from holy ground. He said that within four or five minutes there was not a person, horse or buggy in sight. They just disappeared into thin air and were gone.” 

For the next ten to twelve years the work in the Logan Temple was very slow. Satan worked hard to thwart efforts of those going to the temple. There are several accounts of people intending to go, but at the last minute something happening so they couldn't. Still they pushed forward and often finished their journey to the House of the Lord. 

Nolan Olsen, writing on the first 100 years of the Logan Temple, put it this way: “The evil one's power and influence are real. He knows the value of temple work and would do anything in his power to keep people away. But he failed to recognize the faithfulness and devotion of the Saints in this area, for they were not easily discouraged.” ♠ 

 

Grave of Marriner Wood Merrill in Richmond City Cemetery.

 



Sources 

“Marriner Wood Merrill (biography),” Family Search, online. 

Merrill, Melvin Clarence. Utah Pioneer and Apostle Marriner Wood Merrill and His Family. Marriner Wood Heritage, 1980. 

Olsen, Nolan. Logan Temple: The First 100 Years. 1978. 

“Preaching to the Dead.” Family Search, online. (On “Memories” of Marriner Wood Merrill.)

Valentine Peak, Sweet #1

I recently turned 50 years old and decided to make a goal: In the next five years I am going to hike at least 35 peaks. I've kept a tally, and over my lifetime I have climbed 45 peaks, but considering that we live only once, I need to hasten the work. 

The most challenging aspect, however, is not necessarily the grit or drive. It's my health. 

Over the past three years I've had consistent abdominal pain. Sometimes it's mild, sometimes it's maddening. I've been to every specialist imaginable and no one can figure it out. In the mild form it's always present, but unpredictable flareups can send it into the more maddening form. Hence it is difficult to plan any excruciating event. And, yes, hiking a steep hill is considered excruciating. 

I had scans done on my abdomen and it was discovered I had an enlarged spleen and splenic varices (enlarged blood vessels between the spleen and liver). They ran blood tests which found that I have a Jak-2 mutation, which means my body makes too many red blood cells. The diagnosis: polycythemia vera. 

P.V. is a very rare blood cancer. It is progressive and there's no cure. For sure, I thought, this was the reason for my abdominal pain. Not so fast! The doctors concluded that it wasn't. They still have no answer. 

Fast-forward to right now and my P.V. is under control thanks to a very expensive injection I get twice a month. And my stomach still hurts. That's my life. 

So making a goal to climb 35 peaks in five years is daunting. Some days I feel confident, but others I feel so crummy that I wouldn't be able to climb any hill. 

That's why I need a goal. I need something to push me. I need to get all that negativity out of my head. I don't know that life is going to get any easier, so I need to live it NOW! 

For my first challenge I chose Valentine Peak, a not-so-famous summit near my home, but none-the-less, a good hike. 

One aspect that I like is that it begins at a cemetery. 

Parowan cemetery as seen from the trailhead.

As the story goes, Hiram Ackley Hendrickson (an early pioneer who is now buried in the cemetery) observed that if you stand on the corner of 500 West and Center Street in Parowan on February 14th, the sun will rise directly over a rocky crest east of town. Thus, he gave it the name Valentine Peak and it eventually stuck. 

The hike begins at 6,100 feet and climbs a well maintained trail through the juniper trees and a hill of red clay. I was surprised to see so many wildflowers of many colors, especially cushion phlox, a low-growing white flower with a hint of pink that almost looks like snow on the ground. 

Fancy decorations along the trail.

View of Tushar Mountains.

Trail as it ascends toward Valentine Peak, looking back.

Looking back down on the cemetery.

Whoever takes care of the trail has put a lot of care into it. There are multiple rest-stops with a bench or chair, as well as dog bowls accompanied with a bottle of water. There are also decorations scattered here and there, I suppose to help make the hiker happy. 

Valentine Peak looms in the distance. When I first caught sight of it, it was much further than I anticipated. The trail begins at a challenging slope, then mellows out for a while and even briefly travels downhill. But then it picks up in steepness again, and toward the end the final pitch to the summit is very steep. 

Indian paintbrush.

Cushion phlox.

Valentine Peak as seen from near the top.

View of Brian Head and ridge to Horse Valley Peak as seen from Valentine Peak.

The summit supplies a grand view. Most prominently to the south and east are the snow-capped summits of Brian Head, Horse Valley Peak, and the ridges that lie between the two. To the south is the road that runs up Parowan Canyon. To the north, even further in the distance, are the Tushar Mountains which rise above 12,000 feet. And of course you can see most of the city of Parowan, but the cemetery is covered by foothills. Beyond this you can see Little Salt Lake, which is normally dry, but this year is filling with water from the high runoff. 

So, for me, this is Peak #1. I have at least 34 more to go. I felt quite fatigued as I first began my ascent, but as my body warmed up it became easier. My worry, however, is how I will feel tomorrow, or the day after that. That's usually when the bad pain kicks in. 

 

 

Valentine Peak 

 

Miles from car (one way): 3.5 

Elevation gain: 1,950 feet 

Final elevation: 8,050 feet 

Valentine Peak.

Side story: 

There is a fascinating pioneer story that most likely occurred on Valentine Peak. In 1851, a 23-year-old man by the name of James Martineau arrived in Parowan and one day decided to ascend a mountain peak southeast of town to view the valley. 

After a five mile climb along a mountain ridge, scrambling over jagged rocks and ascending rugged cliffs, he finally arrived at the summit where he briefly enjoyed the fruits of his labor. Knowing that he didn't have much sunlight left, he decided to take a shortcut back to town. Instead of taking the circuitous route upon which he traveled, he would return on a more direct path. 

 

James Henry Martineau.

Although this path was more direct, it was also much steeper and he found himself sliding down ravines and jumping down small ledges. His downward leaps became more frequent and of greater depth. Things seemed to be going well until one leap took him down a tall ledge of which he couldn't retreat, and left him on a small shelf overlooking a 150 foot sheer drop off! 

Boy, was he in a predicament! There was no way up and no way to safely go down. He had no water, and had told no one where he would be. 

After a quick survey of the area, he decided his only chance of escape was to jump and hopefully land on a tall pine tree which stood below and some little distance from the base of the cliff.  The prospect terrified him. Unless the jump was executed perfectly, his life would come to a definitive end, either by being impaled by a large branch, or dashing his body against the hard ground. 

James Martineau may have descended the peak from this area.

Seeing no other way out, James decided to give it a try. He only had a few feet to gain a running start. As he made the attempt, his knees buckled and he nearly collapsed at the edge. 

He tottered back to safety and panted until he regained his composure.  He attempted the leap two more times, but with the same result.  Martineau described in his journal what happened next: 

"I reflected on the promises made by Patriarch John Smith (uncle to the Prophet, Joseph) in his blessing upon my head. I could not see that I had done anything bad enough to forfeit them, consequently I must live to fulfill them.  And so I gained faith enough to pray for strength and for safety in the leap I must now make. I arose, determined to do, or die and end it all. I rushed at the brink. And now, instead of weakness my sinews and limbs were as steel; I shot far out into the air, and in a moment found myself clinging to two limbs—one in each hand—with a grip like that of death, but safe and unharmed; not a shed of my clothing torn or disarranged, not a scratch or mark upon me. How this came about I had no knowledge, for I knew nothing as I fell swiftly through the air, and had no knowledge of grasping at or clutching a branch of the tree. But there I was, safe and unharmed. I now know I was saved by the power of God. He it was who guided my hands to the limbs by which I hung and enabled me to retain my hold when falling with so great speed, and that, too, without tearing my hands as such a strain would naturally do; it was He who gave me strength to leap out so far;—who steeled my muscles and strengthened my limbs, for no other power could have preserved me. I climbed down from one limb to another until the last one, and then hung and dropped from that about 20 feet to the ground—safe and unharmed!" ♠ 

 

 

(Source: Godfrey, Donald & Martineau-McCarty, Rebecca. (2008). An uncommon common pioneer: The journals of James Henry Martineau, 1828-1918. Religious Studies Center, Brigham Young University, p. 444)

 

The Vision of Samuel Orton

Samuel Taylor Orton was no stranger to divine manifestations. In 1856, as part of a handcart company crossing the plains, he became sick and fell behind. All at once a voice spoke to him and asked, “Samuel, are you here?” He answered,”Yes, I am here.” But when he turned around, he saw no one.

This experience got him thinking and he asked himself, Why am I here? He wanted to know if the cause he was walking for was a true cause. Just a year earlier he had been baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Now was a time of reflection. Did God the Father and Jesus Christ really appear to Joseph Smith? Was Brigham Young his true successor? If these things were true, Samuel determined he wanted to see a halo of light around the head of Brigham Young when he arrived in Salt Lake. 

He regained strength and was able to catch up with the rest of the company. They soon met with a team from Salt Lake who brought them flour. This helped immensely as they were all on rations and very hungry. They successfully made the rest of the journey. 

They arrived October 5th. The following day was conference and they met in the old bowery. Samuel took his seat and watched the people coming in. Then he saw President Young. Rays of light surrounded his head, just like he had envisioned on the plains. Even the brethren next to him had a faint halo about them. Then he heard the same distinct voice he had heard on the plains: “Now Samuel, if you ever apostatize, here is your condemnation.” 

Samuel Taylor Orton.

This was a powerful witness that stayed with Samuel his entire life. 

During that same month Samuel made the trek to Southern Utah in company of Joel Hills Johnson, who would become his future father-in-law. He lived and worked with Brother Johnson for eighteen months.

In the spring of 1858 he moved just a few miles northwest to Summit Creek where he and other single men took up farming ten acres. They were the first men of European descent to settle in that place. 

It was here where Samuel had his marvelous vision. The account is stated in his own words: 

“One day while I was plowing in the field, my oxen stopped suddenly and refused to go any further. No amount of persuasion, coaxing, or whipping did any good. So I finally unhitched and went home. The next day I started again, and when I got to the same place, they again refused to go, so again I went home. The third day I went again, determined that nothing would stop me from doing my work, but when we got to that same place, again I was stopped and I was rather provoked, so I went up to see if I could persuade them to go by leading the leaders. When to my surprise I then beheld a great battlefield with men fighting hand to hand. I recognized at once the Nephites and their colored brethren the Lamanites that I had read about in the Book of Mormon. I was convinced that we were standing on the battleground where they had a great battle. After the vision passed, my oxen plodded along without any further trouble.” 

Final Nephite Battle by Jody Livingston.

The location of the vision took place near the Summit Cemetery in Iron County, obviously many years before it became a cemetery. Even before I heard this story, I was told that the cemetery stood atop an ancient Indian burial mound. 

The cemetery is small and now has grass. There are several burials from the 1800's, the oldest I could find was 1864. There is a distinct mound in the middle of the graveyard, upon which there are several headstones. I don't know if this is the burial mound referred to by early settlers. There is no doubt that this entire area is hallowed ground. 

That fall Samuel Orton built a dugout where he spent the winter. The following spring he built a modest cabin. During that same season three families came from nearby Johnson's Fort and settled along the creek. That was the beginning of the little town of Summit. 

In November of 1860, Samuel would marry Julia Johnson, the daughter of Joel Hills Johnson. Thus began another saga, one which would take a tragic twist. Of this story I will write later . . . ♠ 

 

Summit, Utah Cemetery.

 

 

 

Sources 

“Samuel Taylor Orton (autobiography),” Family Search, online. 

Samuel T. Orton, “The Testimony of Samuel Taylor Orton,” handwritten ms. in the possession of decedents of A. Hills Orton, youngest son of Samuel; transcript available online at Family Search.

The Death of Alfred Whatcott (and what happened afterward)

The first European settlers arrived in the Panguitch Valley on March 16, 1864. They were hardy pioneers for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, most of them passing over difficult mountain terrain from Parowan or Beaver. Although higher in elevation, the valley seemed promising due to the relatively large water supply from the Sevier River. 

The new settlers hastily built “brush shanties and cellars” until more substantial accommodations could be built. A canal was dug to bring water to the fields. The townsite was surveyed and logs were hauled from the mountain. They named their new town “Fairview.” 

These early days were very grueling. Due to the difficulty of plowing and planting crops, coupled with the shorter growing season, the fall harvest was not as bountiful as they had hoped. And to make matters worse, the winter of 1864-65 was severe. Heavy snows blocked the passes before the local people could get their meager wheat harvest to the flour mills. They had to find other creative ways to grind their wheat. The men fished and caught whatever small game they could, but it wasn't enough to sustain the starving community. 

Old cabin in Panguitch Valley.  Mount Dutton in background.

It was during this time that a group of seven men made a journey over the mountain to Parowan to get provisions. The drifts were so deep that their light wagon and animals got bogged in the snow and couldn't move. Walking wouldn't do any good either because that, too, resulted in them sinking in the snow. 

A story that is now memorialized tells of the small group praying in a circle and then being inspired with the idea of laying quilts down and walking over the quilts. This they did, and to their amazement they did not sink in the snow. They continued all the way to Parowan where they successfully acquired supplies, which they brought back to the starving little town. 

Heavy snows resulted in heavy runoff the next spring. The heavy runoff in turn transformed the modest Sevier River into a swollen torrent that demanded caution and respect. The swollen river brought the first tragedy to the Panguitch community with the death of Alfred Whatcott. 

Cattle have always been a prominent scene in Panguitch Valley.

Alfred Whatcott was born in 1835 in Bethel Green on the east side of London. At an early age he became acquainted with grief and suffering. His father died when he was 7 or 8, then a few years later a sister died, and then a brother. By the age of 12 his mother died and Alfred was left an orphan. 

We don't know what Alfred did to survive during those difficult years after becoming an orphan, but we do know that at the age of 15 he became indentured as an apprentice on a merchant ship. He was bound for six years to Sed Nymph, a ship based in Stockton in northern England. 

Although the details of the story are lost in history, we know that in 1854 Alfred was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This would be a decision that would change the course of his life. Also, likely in that same year, he met Isabella Paxton. They fell in love and were married three years later. 

In 1863 the young family decided to join the saints in Utah. They boarded a ship from England to New York City, rode the train to Nebraska, then walked the wagon trail to Salt Lake City. They first lived 230 miles south in Parowan. They weren't there long before they decided to move over the mountain and settle in Fairview in the Panguitch Valley. 

Sevier River.

That brings us to May 11, 1865. One account claims that Alfred Whatcott was attempting to cross the Sevier River with a herd of cattle. Another, more probable account, claims that he had already crossed the river safely to obtain a load of posts for the new settlement. Whichever the case, the river was swollen from spring runoff and as he attempted to cross the river again, most likely with a large load of posts, his wagon capsized and Alfred was thrown into the river, unable to make it ashore. 

No one else was there, so it is impossible to know the exact details of the incident. To me it makes more sense that he was hauling posts because as some can testify, fast-moving water combined with debris or logs can be a dangerous combination. Maybe he hit his head or got sucked under. The Sevier River, even in its most swollen condition, is not a gigantic body of water. Therefore, I think there had to be another factor that contributed to Alfred's drowning. 

As soon as news of Alfred Whatcott's accident reached the townspeople, several men answered the call and spent several days searching for the body to no avail. The news must have been devastating to Isabella. They were in a new and wild land and she was a mother of young children. She was pregnant with their fourth child. And now her husband was drowned and the body was nowhere to be found.

John Black.

Three weeks later a miraculous incident took place in the cabin of John Black, a brother-in-law to Alfred and Isabella. As he was working he looked up and saw Alfred standing in the doorway. 

“I thought you drowned?” John exclaimed with surprise. 

Alfred assured him that he was indeed dead, but had come to help them find his body. He explained that those searching for his body had passed by it several times, but couldn't find it because it was covered with posts. He revealed that the posts were hidden behind a clump of bushes around a bend of the river. He gave enough detail that John Black knew exactly where to go. Alfred then asked that some men be sent out on a raft to retrieve his body. After giving his message, Alfred Whatcott simply smiled and faded away. 

You can imagine the surprise of Isabella when her brother-in-law came with the news that her husband had just visited him. John wasted no time in gathering a group of men to locate the body. And sure enough, it was located exactly where Alfred described: beneath the posts that were hidden behind the bush. 

Having been three weeks, the body was quite decomposed. They chose to bury him on the shore of the river. Some time later his remains were transferred to the Panguitch Cemetery. It remains there this day and is the only Whatcott buried in the cemetery. Isabella gave birth to a baby son four months later. Not long after that they moved to Kanosh. 

Grave of Alfred Whatcott in Panguitch Cemetery.

This story has a couple different versions, but this account is given by Alfred's oldest son, Henry, who paid a visit to John Black before he died. Uncle John told the story the same as he always had, swearing it was true. Henry pressed him further asking if he was sure it wasn't a dream. “No,” he responded. “I wasn't dreaming. It was in the afternoon and I was as wide awake as I am now.” 

For me, personally, I love stories such as these. A deeper study of Mormon history reveals many stories of angels, clairvoyant dreams, faith, miraculous healings and visions. These stories build my testimony and give me hope that there is life after death, and attest to me that there is a greater purpose to life. ♠

 

Sevier River at dusk.  Sandy Peak in background.

 

Zeke Johnson and the Raising of the Bones

Zeke Johnson.

Zeke Johnson was named after his paternal grandfather, Ezekiel. His father, Joel Hills Johnson, was a prominent pioneer and hymnist for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. His mother, Margaret Threlkeld Johnson, supported herself and her sister on the plains by selling buffalo chips to the railroad. At age twenty she finally made it to Utah, encountering Indian threats, losing oxen and dealing with broken wagons along the way. Needless to say, Zeke had adventuring blood in his veins.

Zeke was born in 1869 in Bellview, Utah (now Pintura). His life's journeys took him to Johnson Canyon and Kanab, Utah, then to Tuba City, Arizona. Eventually he returned to Utah, this time in Bluff, then in 1908 to the newly settled town of Grayson, which would later become Blanding. 

This new settlement was twenty miles north of Bluff on White Mesa. In addition to the Navajo and Ute Indians that lived in the area, the land was scattered with ruins and remains of the Anasazi, an ancient tribe that once flourished, but for reasons not entirely understood, decided to leave. 

Zeke had a working knowledge of both the Ute and Navajo languages and he was a friend to many. He gave the Indians produce from his garden and his wife, Annetta, would bake them bread. 

Over the years he spent considerable time on the land. In the area around Blanding he raised cattle and farmed, and had an orchard, vineyard and garden. Many places in the area are named after him including Zeke's Hole, Johnson Creek, Zeke's Bathtub, and Shirttail Corner. 

Ruins like these lay scattered all across San Juan County.

In 1908 or 1909, Zeke had an experience “on the mesa” that would stay with him the rest of his life. The land was covered in sage brush and pinyon trees and he worked hard to clear a few acres where he could plant some corn. He would plow a stretch of dirt, after-which his son, Roy, would plant the seeds in the furrow. He would then cover them up. As he worked he noticed remnants of ancient houses beneath the ground. 

What happened next I will leave in his own words: 

“As I was plowing around I noticed that my plow had turned out the skeleton of a small child. The skull and the backbone, most of the bones of course were decayed and gone. Part of the skeleton was there, so I stopped immediately as my plow had passed it a little and I turned and looked back against the bar of the plow between the handles and was looking at that little skeleton that I had plowed out and wondering. All of a sudden to my surprise I saw the bones begin to wiggle and they began to change position and to take on different color and within a minute there lay a beautiful little skeleton. It was a perfect little skeleton. 

“Then I saw the inner parts of the natural body coming in--the entrails, etc. I saw the flesh coming on and I saw the skin come on the body when the inner parts of the body was complete. A beautiful head of hair adorned the top of the head and in about a half a minute after the hair was on the head, it had a beautiful crystal decoration in the hair. It was combed beautifully and parted on one side. In about a half a minute after the hair was on the head, the child raised up on her feet. She was lying a little on her right side with her back toward me. Because of this I wasn't able to discern the sex of the child, but as she raised up, a beautiful robe came down over her left shoulder and I saw it must be a girl. She looked at me and I looked at her and for a quarter of a minute. We just looked at each other smiling. Then my ambition was to get hold of her, I said 'Oh you beautiful child,' and I reached as if I would embrace her and she disappeared. That was all I saw and I stood there and I wondered and I thought for a few minutes. My little boy was wondering why I was there because he was down at the other end of the row anxious to come and plant the corn.” 

Old homestead on the mesa east of Blanding.

This miraculous experience left Zeke speechless. For years he was unable to recount it to anyone because it was so mysterious to him. Why should he, an uneducated and common man, be allowed to witness a resurrection? 

One day on the streets of Blanding he ran into Wayne Redd, a dear friend and Stake Patriarch. Wayne stopped him and said, “Zeke, you have had an experience on this mesa you won't tell. I want you to tell me.” 

Well, he told him, and since that time Zeke has recounted his story to thousands of people in meeting houses, temples and socials. But the question that still weighed on his mind was why he was allowed to witness such a miraculous manifestation of God's power. 

Again in his own words, Zeke recalls how he received an answer to his question: “One day as I was walking alone with my hoe on my shoulder going to hoe some corn, something said, 'stop under the shade of that tree for a few minutes and rest.' This just came to me and I thought I would, so I stopped there and this was given to me. 

“It was in answer to my prayer. I prayed incessantly for an answer as to why I was privileged to see that resurrection. I was told why. When the child was buried there it was either in time of war with the different tribes or it was winter time when the ground was frozen and they had no tools to dig deep graves. If it were during time of war they couldn't possibly take time to dig a deep grave. They just planted that little body as deep as they could under the circumstances. When it was done the sorrowing mother knew that it was such a little shallow grave, that in her sorrow she cried out to the little group that was present, 'That little shallow grave, the first beast that comes along will smell her body and will dig her up and scatter her to the four winds. Her bones will be scattered all over these flats.' There just happened to be a man present holding the priesthood (a Nephite or a Jaredite, I don't know which because they had both been in this country.  I've been in their houses and know it.) This man said, 'Sister, calm your sorrows. Whenever that little body is disturbed or uncovered, the Lord will call her up and she will live.' Since that time, I have taken great comfort, great cheer and consolation and satisfaction with praise in my heart and soul, until I haven't the words to express it, that it was I that uncovered that little body. Thank you for listening to me. I just can't tell this without crying.” 

Looking toward Sleeping Ute Mountain from Mustang Mesa.

For me, another fascinating aspect of this story is the parallel it has with a more ancient narrative from the Bible. From time to time as I have read accounts of our faithful pioneers, I have come across stories that seem to closely resemble those that have been recorded in scripture. It is as if the Lord is duplicating the story to reaffirm the authenticity of the scriptures and also to manifest His power. 

The story I refer to is in the Old Testament in thirty-seventh chapter of Ezekiel⸺and I do not believe it was mere coincidence that the experience on White Mesa happened to a man named Ezekiel. I believe it was intended. 

I refer to Ezekiel's vision of the valley of bones: 

1 The hand of the Lord was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which was full of bones, 

2 And caused me to pass by them round about: and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very dry. 

3 And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live? And I answered, O Lord God, thou knowest.

4 Again he said unto me, Prophesy upon these bones, and say unto them, O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. 

5 Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones; Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live: 

6 And I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that I am the Lord. 

7 So I prophesied as I was commanded: and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone. 

8 And when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came up upon them, and the skin covered them above: but there was no breath in them. 

9 Then said he unto me, Prophesy unto the wind, prophesy, son of man, and say to the wind, Thus saith the Lord God; Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.

10 So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army. (Ezekiel 37: 1-10)

This vision most likely has a dual interpretation, not only foreshadowing the physical resurrection that would come after the death of Jesus Christ, but also as a prophecy to the restoration of the House of Israel. But I can't help but to see the striking similarities between this vision and the miraculous experience of Zeke Johnson. ♠

 

Empty field with Blue Mountain in distance.