|
| |
Separation from Parents
15 Jun 1846. We reached Mount Pisgah in
western Iowa about this time. Where crops that had been
planted by earlier pioneers provided us with the supplies
that we desperately needed. Jacob's condition had worsen and
it was impossible to move him further. A shelter was built
from bark peeled off elm trees to construct the shelter.
It was at this time that John W. Hess
separated from his parents, taking his family on to Council
Bluffs, located 130 miles further. It was at Council Bluffs
where the Church Authorities were then stopping. After making
father's family as comfortable as I could, I gathered my
wife, my own team and little out, and bade the rest of the
family goodbye and began traveling in Henry W. Miller's
Company.
During the journey, one evening, we were
overtaken at dark by Captain Allen, of the regular United
States Army. The object of his visit was to see if the Mormon
people would respond to a call for 500 men to help fight the
battles of the United States against Mexico.
Arriving about 10 Jul at Council Bluffs I
learned that four companies had been enlisted and organized.
George A. Smith advised me and other to enlist. After
considering the matter, I was enlisted in Company
"E", Captain Daniel Davis. My wife, Emeline, also
enlisted, as the Government had provided for four women to
each company of 100 men to go as laundresses.
I left my team, wagon, and little outfit
with my brother-in-law, D. A. Miller.
Going against the Mexicans
I was solicited to drive one team, and for
the comfort and convenience of my wife I consented to do so.
As I had the management of the loading, I could make the
situation and comfort of my wife much better.
20 Jul 1846. We took up our line of march
for Fort Leavenworth. It was at this time that I learned of
my fathers death, which had taken place on 22 Jun 1846.
In due time we arrived in Fort Leavenworth,
where we received our outfit of clothing, provisions, arms
and ammunition. After remaining her about two weeks, we
started on our march to Santa Fe, 1,000 miles away. It was a
very tedious march, to be performed on foot. Much of the
distance was with very little water or grass, and only dry
buffalo chips for fuel.
Upon reaching Santa Fe, we received word
that General Kearney was fighting the Mexicans in Upper
California and was about to be over-powered by them.. He sent
an express to Santa Fe to have the men of the Battalion
inspected by the doctor, and all able-bodied men fitted out
and put on a forced march to go to his relief, and all the
sick and disabled and all the women to be sent back.
"Then came one of the greatest test of
my life; it happened in this wise: I had been a teamster all
the way and had proved that I could take good care of a team
and was a careful driver, and as Captain Davis had his family
with him, and also his own private team, he wanted me to
drive it for him, but the intention was to send my wife back
with the detachment of sick men; this I could not consent to
and retain my manhood. I remonstrated with Captain Davis, but
to no purpose. I could not make any impression on him. I told
him I would gladly go and drive the team if he would let my
wife go along, but he said, there was no room in the wagon.
Then I told him that I would not go and leave my wife –
I would die first. This was a bold assertion for a Private to
make to his Captain, but the emergency seemed to demand it.
There were many other in the command who were in the same
situation that I was, who had their wives with them and
wanted to go back with them but had not the courage to make a
fuss about it."
Upon making further argument with General
Doniphan, the Commander of the Post, he agreed that all men
you had wives with them could go back with them. The joy that
filled the men.
The return detachment was composed of all
the men who had become disabled through the long march. The
teams with which we were outfitted were composed of given-out
broken-down oxen and not fit for any kind of efficient
service. The rations were very good in quality, but very
short as to quantity. Upon getting under way it was found
that we had only three-fourths rations of flour, beans,
sugar, coffee, pork, rice.
The time that we were allotted to travel
was the same as that of able bodied men. Our travel was slow
and soon we were on half-rations, as the furthest we were
able to travel per day was eight miles. We also had beef
cattle with us, some so poor that they gave out by the way.
By killing the poorest first we were able to economize the
beef that was available. In time we reached Fort Bent and our
supplies were fully replenished and replaced our out fits
with new ones. Traveling up the Arkansas River 75 miles to
Pueblo, were we put up houses for the winter. The houses were
of cottonwood logs split in halves and the pieces all joined
together in the form of a stockade. The winter was spent
drilling, hunting, and generally having a good time.
I joined with Captain Brown on his journey
to Santa Fe, to draw wages for the detachment, as a guard. We
began our trip on the last day of February 1847. The journey
was hard having encountered a great deal of snow. Upon
reaching Santa Fe, drawing our wages, we immediately returned
to arrive back at Pueblo and spring weather, about the 1st
of April.
15 Apr 1847. We began our march due north
for Fort Laramine, 300 miles, on the California road. It was
there we expected to find or hear of the Pioneer Company that
was expected to fit out and go to find a location for the
Saints. On the way we met up with Amasa Lyman and others. We
were able to get news of our loved ones and learned that the
Camp was ahead of us, led by President Brigham Young, and he
led by revelation. This renewed our efforts, so we pushed on
with fresh courage and finally came upon their trail about
two weeks ahead of us. Following their trail, we did not
overtake them as expected. The pioneers reached the Salt Lake
Valley on 24 Jul 1847, and the detachment arrived on the 28th.
Upon reaching the Salt Lake Valley we were discharged from
the service of the United State, "and I became a free
man once more."
Life
in Utah
Going into partnership with Jim Bevin, we
put up a whip saw-pit, and began to turn out lumber. It sold
readily. Winter was hard, with a shortage of food. During
this time another very discouraging circumstance took place,
crickets made their appearance in countless numbers and
attacked our grain crops. Providentially, the seagulls came
and completely devoured the crickets, so the balance of the
crops matured, and starvation was averted.
9 Sept 1848. I began my journey back to
Council Bluffs after my Mother and her children. In the
spring I was able to earn the means by which to bring them
home by guiding emigrants on their way to the gold fields of
California. I was hired for $200 cash money. This provided
the means by which I was able to get the rest of my outfit.
15 Apr 1849. Leaving with the emigrant who
had lighter loads than myself, they soon tired of being held
back by my slow progress.
27 Jul 1849. I arrived again in Salt Lake
with my mother and her four children. While I was away, the
land I had the year before was given to other parties, so I
went north to a place afterwards called Farmington and
located there. In the meantime, Daniel A. Miller came out and
brought my team and wagon with its contents, which I had left
with him two years before when I went into the Battalion.
With this and the outfit which I brought with me, I felt
quite well fixed to what I had been. As it was the council
for the people to settle close together for mutual
protection, I could only get 20 acres of land; but bought
more afterwards, as opportunity would afford.
JOURNAL OF JOHN W. HESS
My Father, Jacob Hess, was born in Franklin
County, Penn. On the 21st day of May, A.D. 1792.
In 1816 he married Elizabeth Foutz, my
Mother, who was born in the above State and County, June 4th
1797. The names of their children are as follows:
- Catherine Hess, born in
Franklin Co., Pa., Sept 10, 1817.
Polly Hess, born in Franklin Co.,
Pa., June 27, 1819.
Mary Ann Hess, born in
Franklin Co., Pa., Aug. 11, 1821.
John W. Hess, born in
Franklin Co., Pa., Aug. 24, 1824.
Sarah Hess, born in
Franklin Co., Pa., Feb. 22, 1827.
Ann Elizabeth Hess, born in
Franklin Co., Pa., Mar. 24, 1829.
Christena Hess, born in
Franklin Co., Pa., May 11, 1831.
Harriet Hess, born in
Richland Co., Ohio, Aug. 18, 1833.
Lydiann Hess, born in
Richland Co., Ohio, July 24, 1835.
David Hess, born in Ray
County, Mo., Feb. 18, 1837.
Alma Hess, born in Ray
County, Mo., June 3, 1839.
Emma Hess, born in Adams
County, Ill., May 17, 1841.
In 1832 A.D. my Father moved to Richland Co., Ohio, and
located a piece of heavy timber land, cleared a piece of
ground and opened a small farm, and the prospects for a
better living were quite flattering, considering the many
difficulties consequent to a new country.
In March, 1834, my Father,
Mother, three eldest sisters and myself, were baptized into
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints; previous to
this we lived in peace with our neighbors, but soon after we
were baptized our neighbors began to speak evil of, and
persecute us in various ways.
About May 1, 1836, my Father and
his family moved to the State of Missouri and settled in Ray
County of that State, near Pomerroy's Ferry, or Richmond
Landing, on the Missouri River, where we lived on a farm
which we rented from John Arbuckle, until the expulsion of
the Saints from Caldwell County, when with them we removed to
the State of Illinois and settled in Hancock County of that
State. Here my Father again settled on a piece of wild land,
and in our extreme poverty we began to open a farm, and after
much privation and toil, we succeeded in getting a
comfortable home.
The many years of labor and hardships that
my Father has passed through caused his health to fail, and I
was the only boy in the family, therefore, the greater part
of the labor devolved upon me.
In the meantime I had bought forty acres of
land for myself and had made some improvements during the
fall of 1844, and during the spring and summer of 1845 I was
putting up a hewed log house, while the mobs were burning the
Saints' possessions in Morley's Settlement, near Lima, in
Hancock County, but I continued to labor with my might until
the violence of the mob was so great that we did not feel
safe in remaining on our farm longer; so we moved to the City
of Nauvoo and occupied a part of the house belonging to
Bishop Foutz, my Mother's brother. We had left most of our
supplies on the farm at Bear Creek, and before we had time to
get them away, they were destroyed by the mob, and we were
again left almost destitute.
In November, 1845, my Father
was stricken down with a shock of paralysis and lost the use
of one side, which rendered him entirely helpless.
In the meantime I married Emeline Bigler,
who was born in Harrison County, Virginia, August 20, 1824.
At this time the word went forth among the people that the
Church would leave Nauvoo in the spring. One may well imagine
the situation we were in, to start on such a journey, when we
had been robbed of nearly all of our substance, and my poor
Father lying helpless in bed, but it being the only
alternative to get away from the fury of the mob, I began to
gather up what I had and commenced to get together an outfit,
and the best I could do was to rig up two old wagons and two
yoke of oxen, one of which was my own personal property. I
arranged one of these wagons with a bed cord for my Father to
lie upon, as he could not sit up. It took one entire wagon
for his convenience, and then it was poor enough. This left
one wagon to be drawn by one yoke of oxen to carry the outfit
for the entire family – eight in number – while all
the family had to walk every step of the way, rain or shine.
But notwithstanding all these difficulties, we fixed up the
best we could and on the 3rd day of April, 1846, we started, crossed the Mississippi River and
camped on the Iowa side of the first night, in a drenching
rain.
April 4th, we started on the
wearisome journey, but with our heavy loads and the incessant
rain that continued to fall, our progress was very slow, --
the best we could do we could only travel from five to eight
miles per day. As my Father occupied one of the wagons, the
rest of the family had no shelter only what they could get by
crawling under the wagons, and much of the time we were
obligated to cut brush to lay on the ground to keep our beds
out of the water. Women and children walked through the mud
and water and wet grass and waded many of the streams so that
their clothes were never dry on them for weeks and months
until we reached the place called Mount Pisgah, in the
western part of Iowa; here the advance companies of the
Pioneers had planted corn and vegetables for the benefit of
those who should come afterwards. We concluded to stop at
this place for a time as our limited supplies were about
exhausted and my Father was so much worse that it was
impossible to move him any further, so we constructed a
temporary shelter of bark which we peeled off from the elm
trees that grew in the vicinity; this was about the 15th
of June, 1846.
Word had gone out that President Young
would fit out a company to go to the Rocky Mountains that
season to locate a settlement and put in grain the next
season for the benefit of themselves and those that would
come the following season.
Seeing that I could do nothing where I was,
I concluded to take my own team and what I had, and go to
Council Bluffs, 130 miles distance, where the Church
Authorities were then stopping. So I made my Father's family
as comfortable as I could with the limited facilities I was
in possession of, and taking my wife and my own team and
little outfit, bade the rest of the family goodbye and
started, traveling in Henry W. Miller's Company.
We were overtaken one evening about dark by
Captain Allen, who was accompanied by a guard of five
dragoons, of the regular United States Army, all of whom
camped with us for the night. The object of their visit soon
became apparent by questions asked by them: viz., that they
were sent to see if the "Mormon" people could and
would respond to a call for five hundred men to help fight
the battles of the United
States against Mexico. This indeed
was unexpected news; -- while the people of the State of
Illinois had driven us out, and while we were scattered on
the prairie of western Iowa, with nothing, in many instances,
but the canopy of heaven for a covering, to be called on
under these circumstances for 500 of the strength of the
camps of Israel, seemed cruel and unjust indeed, but such was
the case, notwithstanding.
We arrived at Council Bluffs about the
tenth of July and found that four companies had been enlisted
and organized. I was advised by George A. Smith and others to
enlist, and after considering the matter, I concluded to do
so, and ws enlisted in Company "E", Captain Daniel
C. Davis. My wife, Emeline, also enlisted, as the Government
had provided for four women to each company of 100 men to go
as laundresses.
I left my team and wagon and little outfit
with my brother-in-law, D.A. Miller, to be brought on the
next year, as the Government had provided two six-mule-teams
to each company. I was solicited to drive one team, and for
the comfort and convenience of my wife I consented to do so,
and many times I was thankful that I had done so, as these
teams had to haul camp equipment which consisted of tents,
tent poles, camp kettles, etc. Which filled the wagons up to
the bows, and the women would have to crawl in as best they
could and lie in that position until we stopped for camp, and
as I had the management of the loading, I could make the
situation and comfort of my wife much better. For this and
other reasons that I will not mention, I was glad that I was
a teamster.
About the 20th, day of July, we
took up our line of march for Fort Leavenworth. About this
time I heard of my Father's death, which took place on the 22nd
day of June, 1846, at the place I had left him, and inasmuch
as he could not recover, I was thankful to God that He had
relieved him of his suffering, although it was a dark hour
for my poor Mother to be in – left in such a desolate
and sickly place without her natural protector; and with four
small children and nothing to live on.
In due time we arrived in Fort Leavenworth,
where we received our outfit of clothing, provisions, arms
and ammunition. We remained there about two weeks, after
which we started on our march to Santa Fe, a distance of one
thousand mile; a very tedious march, to be performed on foot,
much of the distance with very little water or grass, with
dry buffalo chips for fuel. We passed over one desert eighty
miles across; the only means of carrying water was in
canteens holding two quarts each, one of which was carried by
each man. A great many of the men gave out by the way and had
to be helped in by others, the stronger carrying water back
to their comrades.
Finally we reached Santa Fe, but during
this time General Kearney was fighting the Mexicans in Upper
California and was about to be over-powered by them, so he
sent an express to Santa Fe to have the men of the Battalion
inspected by the doctor, and all the able-bodied men fitted
out and put on a forced march to go to his relief, and all
the sick and disabled and all the women to be sent back.
Then came one of the greatest tests of my
life; it happened in this wise: I had been a teamster all the
way and had proved that I could take good care of a team and
ws a careful driver, and as Captain Davis had his family with
him, and also his own private team, he wanted me to drive it
for him, but the intention was to send my wife back with the
detachment of sick men; this I could not consent to and
retain my manhood. I remonstrated with Captain Davis, but to
no purpose. I could not make any impression on him. I told
him I would gladly go and drive the team if he would let my
wife go along, but he said there was no room in the wagon.
Then I told him that I would not go and leave my wife –
I would die first. This was a bold assertion for a Private to
make to his Captain, bu the emergency seemed to demand it.
There were many others in the command who were in the same
situation that I ws, who had their wives with them and wanted
to go back with them but had not the courage to make a fuss
about it.
By this time I had done all that I could
with the officers of the Battalion, but they either could not
or would not do anything for me, so I resolved to go and see
General Doniphan, the Commander of the Post. I asked John
Steel to go with me, he being in the same situation as
myself. We went to the Colonel's Quarter, found the Orderly
at the door, asked permission to see the Colonel, and with
our hats under our arms we entered the Colonel's Quarters and
called his attention to our business. He informed us in a
very stern manner that it was reported to him that the men
who had women there wanted to go on and let their women go
back, and in accordance therewith, provisions had been drawn
for the battalion and for the Detachment, and there could be
no change made. I told him that we had not been consulted in
the matter; he told us to leave the Quarters, gruffly
remarking that he had left his wife. I thought I would
venture one more remark, which was, "Colonel! I suppose
you left your wife with her friends, while we are required to
leave ours in an enemy's country in care of a lot of sick,
demoralized men." This seemed to touch a sympathetic
cord; he called very sharply, "Orderly! Orderly! Go up
to the command and bring Adjutant George P. Dikes." I
whispered to Steel, "The spell is broken; let's
go."
In a short time Adjutant Dikes returned to
the Command and climbed upon the top of the hind wheel of the
wagon, shouting at the top of his voice: "Oh! Oh! All
you men who have wives here can go back with them. I have
seen men going about crying enough to melt the heart of a
crocodile, so I went to the Colonel and had it
arranged." I said, "You hypocritical liar; you will
take the credit that belongs to others." This remark he
did not hear, but, however, the object was accomplished, and
in a short time the Battalion was on the move west, and the
Detachment on the move east by north-east.
The Detachment was composed of all the men
who had become disabled through the long march which they had
performed on foot. Their outfit of teams ws composed of
given-out broken-down oxen that had been used in freighting
supplies of the Government across the plains and were not fit
for any kind of efficient service, so they compared very well
with the majority of the men Our rations or provisions, were
very good in quality, but very short as to the quantity, the
Post of Santa Fe being very short of provisions at the time.
Also after we had gotten on the move, we found we had only
three-fourths rations of flour, and every thing else in
proportion, such as beans, sugar, coffee, pork and rice, with
the difficulties mentioned above, together with the fact that
we were only allowed the time to reach Fort Bent that a lot
of able-bodied men would be allowed to make the same journey
in. Our slow traveling soon put us on half-rations as eight
miles per day was the best we could do. We had a lot of beef
cattle, but they compared favorably with the rest of the
outfit, so poor that many of them gave out by the way. Great
economy had to be used by killing the poorest first; the
reader can imagine that the quantity of the beef was limited.
As usual, on the march I had charge of a
team, but instead of a six-mule-team it was a team of four
yoke of poor oxen – quite a contrast; our progress being
so slow that we were put on quarter-rations in order to make
them hold out until we should reach Fort Bent. It seemed as
if we had gone about as far as we could go, when one morning,
after the guard had driven the oxen, into cam, it was found
that there were thirty head of stray oxen in the head, all of
them in good condition. Captain Brown gave orders to
distribute them in the teams of the Detachment, and with such
an addition of strength to our teams, we got along fine.
About noon, however, there came to our camp two men on
horseback inquiring for the stray oxen. Captain Brown told
them that if they had any cattle in his company they could
take them out. They replied that each teamster only knew his
own team. After examining our teams they claimed and took but
four of the thirty stray oxen. This still left us with
thirteen yoke of fresh cattle, which we considered a divine
interposition of the kind hand of God in our behalf, as it
seemed about the only chance for deliverance from starvation.
In due time we reached Fort Bent and
exchanged our dilapidated outfit for a new one, with full
supply of rations for the winter, which seemed to put an end
to all our troubles. We moved up the Arkansas River
seventy-five miles to a place then called Pueblo, where we
put up houses for the winter. These houses were constructed
of cottonwood logs split in halves and pieces all joined
together in the form of a stockade. Here we passed the winter
in drilling and hunting and having a good time generally.
It was then about seven months since we had
received any pay, so Captain Brown concluded to go to Santa
Fe with the pay roll of the Detachment and draw our wages. He
took a guard of ten men, of which I was one, with him. We
started about the last day of February, and had a high range
of mountains to cross, called the Ratton Range. We
encountered a great deal of snow, at times we had to tramp
the snow for miles so our pack animals could walk over it,
but in due time we arrived at Santa Fe. The money was drawn,
and we started on our return trip, got back to our quarters
at Pueblo about the first of April, and found spring weather.
We began at once to prepare for our march.
About the 15th of April, 1847, we started due north for Fort Laramine, three
hundred miles distant, on the California road, at which place
we expected to find or hear of the Pioneer Company that was
expected to fit out and go find a location for the Saints but
on our way we were met by Amasa Lyman and others who had come
from the Pioneer Camp. This was a happy meeting, and to get
news of our loved ones greatly relieved our anxieties, as we
then learned that the Camp was ahead of us, led by President
Brigham Young, and he led by revelation. So we pushed on with
fresh courage and finally struck their trail about two weeks
ahead of us. We followed their trail, but did not overtake
them as we expected to. The pioneers reached Salt Lake Valley
July 24th and the Detachment on the 28th
of July, 1847, and on the same day we were discharged from
the service of the United States, and I became a free man
once more.
I feel that the year's service described
above, is one of the noblest and grandest acts of my life,
for the reason that Israel was on the alter of sacrifice, and
the "Mormon Battalion", of which I was a member,
went as the "Ram in the Thicket", and Israel was
saved.
I was now in a country that was untried,
and one thousand miles from where any supplies could be
obtained, with only the outfit of a discharged soldier, which
consisted of a small tent, a sheet-iron kettle, a mess pan,
two tin plates, two spoons, two knives and forks, a pair of
blankets badly worn, two old quilts, ten pounds of flour, and
my dear, precious wife Emeline, who had been with me through
all of the trials and hardships and had endured them all
without a murmur. God bless her memory - had it not been for
her noble spirit to comfort men, I think many times I should
have almost despaired, because of the gloomy outlook, I
concluded a faint heart would not buy a baby a frock
(although we were not blessed with one at that time) and
began to get out house logs to put up a shelter for the
winter.
I went in partners with Jim Benin and put
up a whip saw-pit, and began to turn out lumber, and as there
was none except what was sawed by hand, I found ready sale
for mine as fast as I could make it, which was slow, one
hundred feet being all we could turn out in a day. In this
way I managed to recruit our indigent circumstances and was
able to get a little bread-stuff, cornmeal at twelve and one
half cents per pound and flour at twenty-five cents per
pound. We got along all right during the winter. In the
spring we moved out on Mill Creek, and I began to put in what
seed-grain I had, which was very limited; this, of course,
cut off the bread supply. Then began our want of food.
Through the winter we dug what we called "Thistle
Roots", but by this time they began to leaf out, which
spoiled the root. We then resorted to the tops, gathered and
cooked in salt and water. This with some buttermilk, (which I
begged of Jim Brinkerhoof and carried one and a half miles),,
was all we had to eat for two months.
During this time another very discouraging
circumstance took place; the crickets made their appearance
in countless numbers and attacked our grain crops. We fought
them until we found that we were about over-powered, when
very providentially, the seagulls came and completely
devoured the crickets, so the balance of our crops matured,
and our pending starvation was averted.
On the 9th day of September, 1848, I started back to Council Bluffs after my Mother
and her children (whom I had left at Pisgah), as they had no
means to come out with. I arrived at Council Bluffs on the 2nd
day of November, rested a few days, and then continued my
journey to Pisgah, one hundred and thirty miles distant,
where found my Mother and her family all alive and well. It
was a joyful meeting. I stopped with them a few days to
arrange for the move in the spring, then went back to the
Bluffs to try to get work for the winter, as I was very short
of means to accomplish so great an undertaking. I engaged to
work for Apostle Orson Hyde for twenty dollars a month. I
worked one month, and then the weather got so severe that
out-door work stopped, then I was out of employment the rest
of the winter.
In the Spring I took all the means I had
and bought with it a wagon and a yoke of oxen, hitched them
up and went down to Pisgah to bring Mother's family as far as
the "Bluffs", not knowing where the rest of the
outfit would come from; but another interposition of kind
Providence – When I got back I found the country
swarming with emigrants on their way to the gold fields of
California. On finding that I had come over the road, they
hired me for a guide, giving me Two Hundred Dollars in cash
in advance. This was truly a blessing from the Lord that I
had not thought of. I was now enabled to get the rest of my
outfit. About the 15th day of April, 1849, we started, but a difficulty soon made its
appearance that my emigrant friends had not thought of –
they had horse teams with light loads, while I had an ox team
with a heavy load; so that I could not travel as fast or as
far in a day as they could. They would put me in the lead,
and I would urge my team on and make as far as I could to try
to give them satisfaction. I kept this up until they saw that
my oxen began to fail and would soon give out, then they went
on and left me. They served me a trick that the devil never
did, but I felt quite relieved, as I could then travel to
suit myself, which I did, taking time to hunt the best feed,
and my team soon began to recruit.
On the 27th day of July, I
arrived in Salt Lake Valley, having accomplished one more
magnanimous act by bringing my dear Mother and her four
children to the home of the Saints. I found my dear wife
Emeline well, and with our first child in her arms, which had
been born January 6, 1848, while I was away. This was indeed
a happy meeting, having been absent eleven months. While I
was away, the land I had the year before was given to other
parties, so I went north to a place afterwards called
Farmington and located there. In the meantime, Daniel A.
Miller came out and brought my team and wagon with its
contents, which I had left with him two years before when I
went into the Battalion. With this and the outfit which I had
brought with me, I felt quite well fixed to what I had been.
As it was the council for the people to settle close together
for mutual protection, I could only get twenty acres of land;
but bought more afterwards, as opportunity would afford.
On the 30th day of March, 1852, I married Emily Card (No. 2), who ws born in the
State of Maine, September 27, 1831. She was the mother of ten
children.
In March, 1855, I was ordained a Bishop by
President Brigham Young, and set apart to preside over the
Farmington Ward, and presided over said ward twenty-seven
successive years.
On the 15th day of November,
1856, I married Julia Peterson (No. 3), who was born in
Norway, September 29, 1837. She is the mother of four
children.
In March, 1857, I married Mary Ann Steed
(No. 4), who was born in England, November 27, 1837. She is
the mother of ten children.
In 1858, I was elected to the Utah Legislature; was elected
again in 1860 for two years, or two terms.
On the 31st day of January,
1862, my much beloved wife Emeline died of premature child
birth. This was one of the greatest trials of my life, as she
was the wife of my youth and had been with me through all of
our poverty and trials of life which we had passed through.
She died as she had lived, a faithful wife, a devoted mother,
and a true Latter-Day Saint. She was the mother of ten
children.
On the 25th day of April, 1862,
I married Caroline Workman (No. 5), who was born in the State
of Tennessee, March 28, 1843. She is the mother of ten
children.
On the 30th day of May, 1868, I
married Sarah Lovina Miller (No. 6), who was born in
Farmington, Utah, June 24, 1850. She is the mother of nine
children.
On the 4th day of August, 1872,
my beloved wife Emily Card died after giving birth to her
tenth child. This was another great trial to me, and to have
a lot of little children left without a mother. She died as
she had lived, a kind mother, a dutiful wife, and a faithful
Latter-Day Saint.
In 1876, I was re-elected to the Utah Legislature. I was
Colonel, commanding the Militia of Davis County for many
years, but when Governor Harding issued his famous
proclamation making it an offense to bear arms, I was
relieved from that responsibility.
About this time President Young called me
to a mission with some Lamanites located at Washakie, in the
northern part of Box Elder County. I have been engaged more
or less ever since in directing that people.
In September, 1882, I ws called by
President John Taylor and set apart to be the First
Councillor to the President of the Davis Stake of Zion, which
had been previously organized.
On the 17th day of March, 1885,
the people of Farmington prepared a feast for me at the
Social Hall to manifest their kindly feelings and a proper
appreciation of the long faithful labor that I had performed
during the twenty-seven years of my Bishopric. In this feast
nearly the entire ward participated. As a token of the good
feeling of the people, I was presented with a bust of
President Young and a set of books, the Church Works. The
evening was spent in speaking, toasts and dancing.
November 20, 1869. Today I started a
mission to the place of my birth, Franklin County,
Pennsylvania. Took the Union Pacific cars at Unitah, Weber
County, Utah; started at 2 P.M. and traveled over much of the
road at a rapid rate; much of it I had traveled over twice
before – once with pack mules and once with ox team. The
present mode of travel compared with pack animals or ox
teams, seemed a very great contrast – a very great
improvement.
The railroad runs over much of the route
that we traveled in coming to this country, and gave ample
opportunity to reflect upon the hardships we endured in the
slow progress we made, fifteen miles per day on an average
being all that we could do, in many instances. In gliding so
rapidly and easily over many places that I could remember
that I had passed in the depths of poverty, with lean almost
given-out animals, when I looked on such places and in my
mind made the contrast between the two circumstances, I could
but exclaim, "Oh, the goodness of our God!" and
shed a many a tear of joy and gratitude to the Lord for his
mercy to me.
I forgot to state that at the time I was
called on this mission, there were two hundred other Elders
called to different parts of the United States. We all
traveled on the same train in four palace cars, had an
enjoyable time crossing the plains, and in due time reached
Omaha, on the Mississippi River; there we separated, each one
going on the route best suited to him
I took the Northwestern Railway to Chicago.
At Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I got off to visit my cousin, David M.
Secrist, who lived near that place. I visited with him a few
days then continued my journey to Chicago, where I took the
Chicago, Fort Wayne and Pittsburg Railroad, and the
Pennsylvania Central to Harrisonburg; there I switched off on
the Cumberland Valley Railroad to Green Castle, in Franklin
County, Penn. At that place I found my dear aunt, Mrs. Riley
was a sister of my dear Mother. The family had heard of my
coming and met with open arms, and made me very welcome. I
felt very much at home here, indeed; I made it my home much
of the time while I was in the country. Mrs. Riley was so
much like my dear Mother that I loved her as a mother. She
also had a lovely family. I preached the Gospel to them and
made a favorable impression, bu the prejudice at that time
ran very high and our doctrine was very unpopular, and the
time of my stay was short. They put off obeying the Gospel,
but nearly the entire family have since died, and while I was
with them I got their names and ages, and a few years ago I
did work for them in the Logan Temple.
My object in going east at that time was to
preach the Gospel to the living if they wanted to hear it,
and get genealogy of the dead. The former I succeeded in very
poorly, as the living did not care to hear; the genealogy of
the dead ws very meager, as they had failed to keep a record,
and the only way that I could get the names and ages of the
dead was to go to the cemeteries and obtain them from the
stones that marked their last resting places, as my people
had been very particular in keeping the record on the
head-stones. In visiting the graves in both public and
private burying places, I got all the names I could –
perhaps fifty in all – and have done work for them in
the Logan Temple.
I found all my relatives on my Father's
side of the house all well off, with a few exceptions. The
old people came and settled in Franklin County, Penn. In an
early day when it was new, possessed themselves of the
country, and having good staying qualities, made themselves
well-to-do. The old people – my Father's brothers and
sisters – with few exceptions, are dead, and their
children are in possession of the country, which is hard to
excel. This is the situation I found them in, and all of them
belonging to some kind of religion peculiar to their own
notions, and being much prejudiced against
"Mormonism" they did not care to listen to me.
February 15, 1870. Because of pressing
business at home, I had spent about all the time I could
spare, and having secured all the genealogy that I could get
at that time, I bade farewell to all of my dear friends, and
on the 16th day of February 1870, I left Green
Castle on my return trip over the same road that I came;
arriving in Harrisburg the same day, here I bought a ticket,
which cost me $70. I left Harrisburg at 4 o'clock for
Pittsburg [Pittsburgh]. In due time I arrived in Chicago
safely, and on quick time; here I took the Northwestern
Railway for Cedar Rapids, Omaha, where I arrived on the 22nd
of February. I left Omaha, February 23rd and on
the 25th I arrived in Ogden. I also reached my
home the same day and found all well. I had been gone about
three months, and felt well satisfied with my visit to the
place I was born.
Sep. 15, 1887. I left my place at Plymouth, Box Elder County,
Utah, at 12 o'clock noon, went to Logan, and there joined
Bishop Zundel and two Lamanites John and Jim Brown, and
secured a part of our outfit, consisting of one baggage
wagon, two work horses, two riding horses, two horses and a
buggy. I furnished horses and buggy, the Church furnished
baggage wagon, Bishop Zundel furnished two horses to pull the
wagon, and the Lamanites furnished the riding horses.
The object of this mission was to carry a
lot of presents to Chief Washakie, who was camped on the east
side of the Wind River Range of Mountains, now in the State
of Wyoming. The presents consisted of five hundred pounds of
dried fruit, one bale of blankets, shirts, underwear, and
silk handkerchiefs in great numbers and varieties.
September 16. We left Logan City, traveling
up Logan Canyon, found the country very rocky but the road
good considering the country that it passes through; camped
for the night, having no accident through the day.
September 17. Traveled up the Canyon,
reached top of divide about noon; in Dean's Hill got a lot of
pine hens and had our first feast of wild meat, which we
enjoyed very much. Traveled down the east side of the
mountains to Garden City, thence up the Bear Lake shore to
Laketown; camped for the night with Bishop Nebeker. Bear Lake
is the most beautiful sheet of water that I have ever seen
– water as clear as crystal, and gravely bottom at a
great depth. We obtained a supply of oats for horse feed.
September 18. We started this morning at 8
o'clock, crossed over a ridge and traveled down grade to Bear
River; found it almost dry; traveled across the country to
the mouth of Twin Creeks where we struck the Oregon Short
Line Railway. There we camped for the night and had our first
feast of Mountain Trout, John having secured a fine string of
them.
September 19th. Started at 8
o'clock; traveled up Twin creeks, also up the Oregon Short
Line R. R., which comes down the Creeks, the wagon road
crosses the railroad nineteen times, very dangerous in
places, just room enough for the wagon to pass when there is
no train at that time; camped at the tunnel on the summit of
the ridge. This tunnel is 800 feet through. Started at 2
o'clock, traveled over the ridge down to Ham's Fork, went up
Ham's Fork for three miles, camped for the night. There we
saw our first antelope, which were very wild and not
come-at-able.
September 20th. Started at 8
o'clock; traveled over some very steep hills; struck the
Lander Road which used to be one of the main roads that the
gold seekers traveled to California by the way of Fort Hall.
We struck a very steep hill almost perpendicular, hitched
both saddle horses to the end of the wagon tongue and pulled
by the horns of the saddles; traveled down the hill to
Fontinell, near Green River, and camped for the night.
September 21st. Started at 7:30,
passed over some rough, hilly country on to Green River, then
up Green River 13 miles to a beautiful stream called LaBarge;
noon halt, started out at 1 o'clock, traveled 24 miles up the
river, good roads, camped for the night on river bottom, good
grass.
September 22nd. Broke camp at
8:30, crossed both Pineys, a beautiful streams of water, wide
bottoms, good meadow land by the thousands of acres; antelope
in large herds but very wild; traveled over a ridge due
north, struck Marsh Creek, caught some nice Mountain Trout;
waited for baggage wagon to come up; wagon came up, then we
found we had taken the wrong route and gone out of our way.
Started at two o'clock, traveled over High Cobbler Stone
Ridge to the fork of Green River; this is the main fork of
Green River, a large stream of beautiful clear water.
September 23rd. We have gotten
out of our way; went for 10 miles down the river, struck the
trail, traveled due east over Large Cobbler Stone Ridge down
on the east fork of Green River; this fork has a great amount
of water in it at some seasons of the year, but low at
present. Noon halt; at 2 o'clock started up the river;
hereafter must travel without a road through heavy sage
brush; made slow progress across the bottom to river, and
camped for the night.
September 24th. The mountains to
the northeast begin to look very high and difficult to cross.
At 8:30 broke camp and climbed over hills, washouts, and sage
brush; difficult to travel; made slow progress; met some
Indians who informed us that Chief Washakie had gone on a
hunt; not likely to see him; camped for the night.
Sunday, September 25th. Camped
about twenty-five miles from the foot of the mountains; are
told the mountains are very difficult to cross over to Chief
Washakie's camp; considering this, with the fact that we
could not see him if we did cross, we concluded to send and
Indian over and ask the chief men of the camp to send a
delegation over to receive the presents. We were in camp
waiting for them to return. The Indians in the vicinity who
were hunting, began to gather into our camp, and we held
meetings with them, preaching the Gospel to them, and a
number of them became converted and demanded baptism.
September 27th. Still in camp
waiting for the messenger to return; health good, appetite
good, and conscious that we are in no immediate danger from
our enemies that we had left so far in the rear in Utah, the
Anti-Mormon raid being in full blast when we left.
September 28th. This morning our
express men returned with Chief Washakie's son and three
other of the principal men of the tribe. Dick Washakie, a
son, is a noble looking man, about 6 feet 4 inches tall, well
proportioned, speaks good English, about 25 years old, well
dressed in the American style, fine, gentlemanly appearance,
and must sooner or later be a great leader among his people.
After greetings and breakfast were over, we
all sat down, had prayer, John Indian being mouth, after
which Bishop Zundel preached to the Lamanites that had
gathered in – twenty in number; talked about one hour.
John preached next. Jim Brown followed, after which I bore a
powerful testimony and prophesied of the future of that
people; much of the spirit of the Lord was enjoyed. After
several meetings, the Lamanites asked to be baptized, which
was attended to with much pleasure. Bishop Zundel did the
baptizing and I did the confirming. After we had gotten
through with the ordinances of baptism, the presents were
delivered, and after a hearty handshaking we separated from
our kind friends; the Lamanites going east and we south-west
on our return trip; traveled ten miles through sage and
greasewood and camped for the night. Jim killed an antelope,
which was very acceptable, as we had very little meat on our
trip so far.
September 29th. This morning we
baptized four more Indians – two men and two women.
Broke camp at nine o'clock and traveled over to Green River;
camped for noon, and traveled over a ridge to Piney's two
fine streams of water; meadow and farm land in abundance;
camped for the night.
September 30th. Broke camp at
seven o'clock traveling up the largest Piney, much of the
time in the middle of the stream; very rough canyon and very
difficult pass over several high ranges; traveled until after
dark down a steep mountain side, almost perpendicular; camped
on the creek in a narrow gorge.
October 1st. Had now gotten
through the range of mountains, sixty miles distant, and were
at the head of Star Valley; traveled down the valley to the
mouth of Salt River, camped for the night.
October 2nd. Laying over to rest
the horses; started at noon up Salt River, and camped for the
night near the Summit.
October 3rd. Started at 7
o'clock; came out of the canyon and reached Montpelier, noon
half at Amasa Wright's place, fed, got dinner, then traveled
to Georgetown; stopped for the night with Nicholas Barkdall,
my brother-in-law, were treated royally.
October 5th. Started at 7
o'clock; nooned at Soda Springs, started at 2 o'clock; camped
for the night with Serl Hale; were treated to the best his
house afforded.
October 6th. Started at 7
o'clock; came over the ridge, camped at Church Farm, fed, got
dinner, broke camp at 1 o'clock; traveled to Weston Creek,
fed, lunched and then we separated, Bishop Zundel and the
Lamanites crossing the range of hills into Malad Valley, and
I going by way of Clarkston and reaching home at nine
o'clock; found all well; had traveled sixty miles on this the
last day, and about seven hundred miles on the entire
journey.
I thank and praise the Lord, who has had
His kind and preserving care over us while fulfilling this
mission of peace to one of the largest friendly tribes of
Indians in this part of the country.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Ogden City, Utah, November 23, 1895. This morning, in company with Ezra T. Clark, John
R. Barnes, and Ephraim P. Elleson, I left for Omaha,
Nebraska, to attend the Trans-Mississippi Congress to be held
at the place on the 25th of said month. We crossed
the plains of a thousand miles without an accident. I passed
my first night in a Pullman palace sleeping car, and with all
of its grandeur in appearance, I could not sleep; two men in
one berth is one too many for comfort; the car being very
warm. Arrived in Omaha about 8:30 and took the street car to
the Millard Hotel. This Hotel was selected as the
head-quarters of the members; charges $3.00 per day. We had
first-class fare an two good rooms for our accommodation; all
of the accommodations there were on the modern plan,
first-class style, with colored waiters, who were all very
polite.
November 26th. Held three
sessions today. All the members were invited to a reception
given by a gentleman whose name I have forgotten; we were
royally treated to all kinds of drinkables, also candy and
ice cream.
November 27th. Held one session.
In the afternoon the members went in a body, by invitation,
to visit the Omaha Smelter where they reduce silver and lead
ore to bullion, from there it is shipped to Wales, and there
refined; a great amount of business is done there. The same
afternoon we took the street car five miles to South Omaha to
visit the stockyards and slaughter houses. A great amount of
slaughtering and packing is done here. After looking through
the mammoth establishment we went back to the Hotel.
November 28th. Thanksgiving Day.
Crossed the bridge over the Missouri River, went to Council
Bluffs, held meeting with a small branch of the Church
presided over by Robert Huntington; had Thanksgiving dinner;
had a good time after dinner and went back to Omaha; took the
street car, went three miles up the River towards Florence
(once Winter Quarters) then back to the Hotel; had supper,
packed our grips, and got the lunch basket recruited. Union
Depot.
November 29th. At 8:10 we took
the train for Ogden, securing our berths in the Pullman
sleeper, "Susanna". Cold north wind blowing.
Green River, November 30th.
8:15. Green River was once a thriving railroad town when the
road was being built, but now it is dilapidated.
Echo. November 30th. 12:30. Had
a pleasant trip, were favored with the company of President
George Q. Cannon all the way across the plains, which we
appreciated very much.
Ogden. November 30th. 2:10. All
in good health and spirits; changed cars for Farmington,
reached home in safety; found all well, glad to see each
other.
This was a pleasure trip to me, in very
deed. I had an opportunity to form the acquaintances of
influential business men from different parts of the country;
made acquaintances that will not be forgotten very soon.
January 15, 1894. Today William R. Smith, President of the Davis
Stake of Zion, died after a severe, lingering sickness of six
months, of cancer in the intestines. This was a severe shock
to his family and to all the people of the stake, as he was a
first-class man, a good president, and good father, and a
friend to all good people; his faithful memory will live in
the hearts of the people.
About this time I was called by the
Presidency of the Church to take the Temporary Presidency of
the Stake in President Smith's place, with Brother Hyrum
Grant as my first counselor to assist me. Of course, we took
hold and did the best we could, but because of the long
sickness of our latest President, all public Stake matters
were much run down so we had to labor with our might to get
matters straightened up.
March 4, 1894. Today at the Stake
Conference in East Bountiful, I was set apart to preside as
the President of the Davis Stake of Zion with Joseph Hyrum
Grant as my first counselor; set apart by Apostle Franklin D.
Richards and Heber J. Grant, Apostle Richards being mouth.
Brother F. D. Richards stated to he
Conference that my name had been considered by the first
Presidency and the Quorum of the Apostles, and it ws decided
unanimously that I was the man. It was put before the High
Council and they were unanimously in favor; it was also put
before the Conference, and I was unanimously sustained.
I had presided over the Farmington Ward as
its Bishop for twenty-seven successive years, and had labored
as the First Counselor to President W. R. Smith from 1882 to
1894. I got along with this very well, or reasonably
satisfactorily, but to accept the responsibility of presiding
over the Stake seemed a great responsibility, and so it has
proved in every sense of the word. It has caused me to feel
very humble and to live as near to the Lord as a man of my
temperament could do, but through the help of the Lord I have
done the best I could, and as to how well I have succeeded, I
will leave to the Lord and my charitable brethren and sisters
to judge. I pray most earnestly that I may continue to be
faithful and humble in the future in my labors among the
people, that I may put my trust in the Lord and have His
approval, then I will be content.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * *
This is an addition
to my Father's history [Written by Clarissa Hess, May 31, 1949]. When he dictated that, he was old
and sick. He touched on the high lights of his life; but
didn't say anything about our home-life, the human side of
the picture.
The husband of many wives and numerous
children; how he housed them, clothed them, how he fed them,
is just as important to me as the wonderful work he did for
the church and his country. For it shows just what kind of a
husband and father he ws and his determination to live up to
the teachings of the religion he had accepted.
He never faltered or lost faith during his
long life of trying to overcome obstacles that were placed in
his way in his climb upward. His faith and his desire to do
his duty was just as strong up to the time he drew his last
breath as it had always been. He accepted the law of Polygamy
which was given of God through [the] prophet Joseph Smith, as
he did the Gosped [Gospel] of Jesus Christ, and lived both to
the letter. He was a wonderful father just and true, and I
love him with all my heart. My hope and faith is that I may
be where he is some time, somewhere.
The following is the memory of my childhood
and young womanhood up to the time I was married.
I was born in Farmington, Davis County,
Utah, August 13, 1880, daughter of John W. Hess and Frances
Marian Bigler. The first I knew about polygamy and remember
was when I was 7 years old. My sister, Amy, was born the 22nd
of Jan. 1885. It was real winter. The snow was terrible deep
and cold. We children were wakened in the night and dressed
and wrapped up warm. Mother and the little baby were rolled
up in the feather bed, just as they were, and Father and
Bishop Moroni Secrist carried her out to the bob sleight. It
was half full of straw and a lot of hot rocks and bricks and
blankets. They packed Mother in and us children in around
her. Bishop Secrist drove. Jacob Miller, his councillor
[counselor] stood at the back of the sleigh on the runner.
They took us up through Kaysville and down
in a big field to the home of Brother Roush [Roueche?]. He
was a very dear true friend of Father's; he and his grand
wife. We lived there for three weeks. They carried Mother and
the baby upstairs into the bedroom and put her to bed. There
was a nice warm fire burning. The room was warm and
comfortable.
The house was a large red brick, and was
lovely inside and out. Sister Rouse took care of Mother and
he baby. There was a crowd of young people there. Their
children and their friends and we three children didn't lack
for care or entertainment.
The reason we were there was some of
Father's good friends reported that there was a new baby in
the family. Then one of Father's real friends came to him and
told him he had better get Mother and the baby out of the way
cause the United States Marshals were coming to get her and
the baby as evidence against Father. If they could do that,
they would try to put him in the penitentiary. This was my
first knowledge of polygamy and the terrible persecutions
that followed.
Soon after this happened, Father moved
Mother and us children up to the Bear River flat. He ws one
of the first dry farmers up there. He and his older sons took
up all the land that the law allowed. We had a nice big two
room house painted red, to live in.
My life there, as a child, was very happy,
with all my brothers and sisters and their families living
within walking distance. The log school house sat on the
hill. We held church service there, danced and held parties
there; didn't lack for amusement. I have known my dear Mother
to fry doughnuts and make pies for the whole crowd.
My grandfather Bigler, (mother's father)
lived about six miles away, and another five miles on, my
great-grandmother (his mother) lived. He drove ox-teams up in
the mountains to harl [haul] big logs out. Once in awhile he
would let us children go with him. It was fun, but I think we
were an awful nuisance. My great-grandmother had the biggest
black eyes and the kindest heart that ever beat in a human
breast and Grandfather, her son, was just like her. I sure
love to think about them.
I well remember the first time the U.S.
Marshall's paid us a visit. Old Judge Heed rode over to our
home one night to tell Father the marshals were over there at
Plymouth, dancing and drinking and bragging that they were
coming over and drag Old Hess out and take him to the pen.
Judge Heed wasn't a Mormon, but he was a very good friend of
Father's. Father got up; saddled his horse; put his
binoculars over his shoulder, and rode out into the wheat
field down over a little hill and went to sleep. The wheat
was way up high, -- all headed out. They wouldn't ever be
able to find him.
Soon after daylight the boys were all up
doing chores. I was milking the cow and the day's work had
begun. In rode the marshals in their fine single black buggy,
with a matched team of Greys. One of them took a terrible
oath and said, "Look at that baby milking a cow."
My brother came and carried the big bucket of milk in. I
could milk, but the bucket full ws too heavy. The Marshall
asked for Father. Joe told them he wasn't there. They didn't
believe him, so he took them on a searching tour of the
corrals, cow stable, chicken coop, stack yard, pig pens,
granary, buggy shed, then into the house. Mother was sick
with the headache. The feather bed was puffed up on the back
of the bed. Marshall Franks took hold of it to raise it up.
That made mother mad and she sat up and pulled it over to her
and said, "If you think he is under there, just take a
good look.["] His face got read and he walked out.
He pulled the children's bed out and looked
for a trap door, went into the clothes cupboard and looked
for a hole in the ceiling and Joe told him to go right up,
there was the stairway. He turned away, disgusted. They sure
had a good opinion of themselves, but they were the scum of
the earth.
Father was going to Farmington. The
marshals were sure determined to get him. So he thought he
would put on a disguise. He never had before. He always had
his beard on the sides of his face shaved, clean, so he
bought him a big black beard that went all around his face
from ear to ear. He left home in his one-horse black buggy,
got through Ogden and thought he was safe. When who would he
meet but the marshals. They looked at him pretty sharp, but
he didn't pay any attention to them and they went on by. He
gave a sigh of relief, when he heard someone coming and the
heads of the grey horses came passing by the buggy. The
marshals yelled, "Halt," and Father stopped. They
said, "Well Hess, if you hadn't had that false beard on,
we took him to Salt Lake. But he never spent a night in jail.
His friend, the businessmen that he dealt with, in Salt Lake,
bailed him out and he was pardoned.
When I was about eight years old, Father
turned the dry farm to some of his boys, and we moved back to
Farmington to live. Soon we saw the end of the marshals and
their raids. But for a while they would come every few
nights, along before day light, when we were all asleep, and
frighten us to death; come right in our homes, searching for
Father. One night two of the girls ran down through the
orchard. Marshall Franks yelled, "Halt". They ran
all the faster and him after them. He shot over their heads.
They fainted and fell in the weeds.
It wasn't long until polygamy was abolished
by the leaders of the church. So that put an end to the
foulest persecution that was ever imposed on God fearing,
honorable men – hundreds of them. Like my Father, hunted
and tracked down just like wild animals. Their heads shaved
and put in the penitentiary. Someone, sometime will have
something to answer for. I hope they will anyway.
Now I am going to tell you how my Father
and his wives lived polygamy, because it took both him and
them to make a success of it.
Father was a very good manager in every
way. When my Mother married my Father, she was the last of
seven. His first and second wives were dead, -- Aunt Emmeline
and Aunt Emily. That left five families.
Aunt Julia lived about two miles out of
town. She was a Mormon convert from Norway. I have heard her
tell when she was coming over on the boat, they were eating
sweet corn on the cob. When her's was finished, she held it
up and said, "Please put some more beans on my
stick."
Aunt Caroline lived across the street. Then
there was Aunt Maryann, Aunt Sara, and Mother that lived
along in a row and I don't think there was any more than
fifty feet between the homes until after Father died. Then
there was a fence put up to keep the chickens where they
belonged.
Each wife had a good home, plenty of room
for orchard, berries, out-buildings, lawn, and flowers, and
were all kept up in good shape; Father at the head of
everything. Each wife had at least three cows to milk, which
she or her children took care of. They were all fed and
milked in the big cow barn, all went to the same pasture in
the summer. Each spring, three nice wiener pigs were brought
to each pen where they were taken care of all summer, and
ready for the pork-barrel in November. We always had our salt
meat – pork and beef and plenty of lard to last most the
year around.
Below the house, there was a big orchard
that we called Father's orchard, where we all met on common
ground. We had every kind of fruit that was possible to grow
in Farmington, where we all helped ourselves to whatever we
needed all summer. Then when fall came the winter apples were
picked and divided equally to each family. We used to dig
pits, not too deep, line them with straw and leaves and put
the apples in them and they were delicious when we would get
them out along in the winter as we needed them.
Down by the orchard, at the foot of the
hill, there were some beautiful springs, That is where we
raised our vegetables. The ground was ploughed, prepared and
portioned off to each family and we each planted and took
care of our own. There was quite a bit of competition among
the families, especially among us children. But Aunt Maryann
always had the first ripe tomatoes and cucumbers, which was a
big temptation, but she was kind and good and never refused
us anything.
Father always raised a big field of field
corn and squash [to] feed pigs and fodder for the cows. Some
of the corn was taken to the mill for cornmeal and the other
squash for the hogs. In the fall, we cooked the squash in big
black kettles and poured over the ground corn, and it really
made fat hogs. Then we always had a big patch of sweet corn.
Father would count the rows out, equal number to each wife.
We gathered our own, husked it, and fried it and took it to
Salt Lake to Teasdale's General Merchandise Store. (Store of
Brother Teasdale), where we could spend the money for
whatever we needed the most.
Father raised sugar cane, had it ground and
made into molasses. Each family had a forty-gallon barrel for
the year; also all the honey we wanted, if we were brave
enough to take care of the bees.
When haying-time came, there was also a
hayrack-load of groceries brought home to feed the boys. A
sack of sugar, one each of rice and raisins, a keg each of
pickles an syrup, sack of dry beans. That, added to the good
bread, butter, milk and eggs, vegetables and fruit – we
fed like kings. Lunch was always taken to the field in the
middle of the forenoon and afternoon. Father said boys
couldn't do their best on an empty stomach. One big farmer,
that hired a big crew of hay-men, made the remark that old
Hess got more work out of his five boys than he did out of
all his hired men.
Father never bought Christmas presents,
cause there were too many of us; but I have known to go to
Salt Lake and bring back twenty-five pair of shoes with
overshoes to match where they were needed.
He always brought calico, unbleached
muslin, and outing flannel by the bolt in each home where it
ws needed. We washed and cared our own wool to make our own
quilts, made our own rugs, and sewed carpet rags for out
carpets. Mother knit all our stockings and socks, did all our
sewing, beside the house work, washing and ironing, and I
never heard one word of complaint. She was wonderful as all
mothers were in those days.
Father's wives were all good mothers,
workers and managers. I love each one of them dearly and all
my dear brothers and sisters and hope and pray that we will
all meet on common ground again some where and live our lives
over again.
Father believed in spare the rod and spoil
the child. He was a terrible to whip, although he only
whipped me once and that was for quarreling and I needed it.
Father was very orderly about everything.
The machinery he used all summer was all greased and housed
for the winter. Each spring before farm work begun, the
harness was all washed, mended, oiled and greased and hung up
to dry. Father and his boys always drove fine big sleek work
horses that were well taken care of, as were the wagons and
hay racks. Three big loads of hay went to Salt Lake three
times each week. The timothy clover hay, he hauled to the
dray-men to feed their horses. Brought 21 to 23 dollars a
ton. That is how he fed and clothed his family.
One spring when I was about twelve years
old, the boys were all in the barn greasing harness. I never
did know just what they were quarreling about, but they were
just beginning to fight, when Father stepped in. He asked
what was the trouble and Lot, one of the boys, talked back to
him and wouldn't shut up. Father whipped him and he left home
and went up[ to Bear River to his brother, John. Father found
out where he was and wrote John and told him to hire him for
the summer, and he would pay his wage, which he did. When
school time came, Father wrote to Lot, asked his forgiveness
and asked him to come back home and go to school. Lot started
home about the first of November, with a bunch of other men
that lived in Farmington, One of the men in the bunch said
his horse was the fastest. They decided to have a race. The
ground was frozen hard and slipper Lots horse slipped and
fell on him. His ribs were crushed and thrust into his lungs.
He never was conscious. Well, it nearly killed father. He
walked the floor, night and day. He blamed himself for what
had happened. That ws about the end of his whipping. I have
heard him say to my Mother, when she was using her hand to
punish us children. Mother, don't you know that big bony hand
hurts. If you must whip, get a switch.
So I know he was sorry for lots of things
he did when he lost his temper or thought he was justified in
punishing. I love him and reverence his memory, cause he was
the salt of the earth. If I can only live a life that is
worthy enough to bring me where he and my dear Mother are,
that will be happiness enough for me.
One time, many years ago, quite a bunch of
Father's children and a lot of the neighbors, were playing
run-sheep-runout by the big barn in the street. It was just
about dark. Father thought it was time they were all in bed.
So he got a nice switch and as they ran by him, he grabbed
them and gave each one a whack and told them to go home or he
would give them some more. He caught one boy by the arm, and
gave him a whack. The kid said, "Don't you hit me again,
you big cuss. I'm not your kid." He was one of the
Grover boys down the street.
One of my half-brothers, Henry Hess, one of
Aunt Maryann's sons, was loading grain in a railroad car. The
passenger train came in. A lady stepped off the observation
car platform and come tripping over to him. "I would
like to see a Mormon", she said. "Can you show me
one?" He said, "Lady, I am Mormon." She said,
"Well, could you show me a polygamist child?" Henry
said, "Lady, I am a polygamist child, the titman of the
family of twelve." He was over six feet tall and
heavens, she went back to the observation car and he went
loading grain.
[Retyped from a copy in the John Hess
Family Organization files by Jay C. Hess Jul 29, 1991. Items
enclosed in this type of bracket added by JCH}
|