It is very difficult for young men born in Utah, and still more so
for those who have immigrated from other countries, to understand how
Utah, with its fair valleys, which now bloom as a garden, could ever
have been so barren and desolate as they have heard the old pioneers
describe it. Now, look where they may, they see beautiful homes, lovely
fields and orchards; majestic shade trees and waving meadows. "Is it
possible," say they, "this beautiful scene could ever have been the
dreary waste we have heard our fathers describe?" It is even so, and
the writer, in whose memory those scenes are still fresh, will endeavor
to illustrate by a few reminiscences.
It was on the 22nd of July, 1850, that on my way to the California
gold fields I first entered the valley of Great Salt Lake, but it
seems as if 'twere yesterday. As our little company of a half dozen
wagons, emerged from the mouth of Parley's Canyon, a vast expanse of
gray desert met the eye, livened only by a growth of stunted sunflowers
upon the slopes of "benches" at the foot of the mountains. Gray, gray,
everywhere; nothing but the bluish gray of sage-brush and greasewood
covered the whole face of the land. Not an acre of meadow or green
grass to be seen anywhere; the only green visible, being a thin line of
willows along the Jordan, or the small streams flowing into the valley
from the mountains. We saw squaws among the sunflowers with baskets
and paddle in hand, beating the sunflower seeds into their baskets;
the seed ground between two flat stones into a coarse meal, forming
material for their only kind of bread. The Indians cultivated no land,
but subsisted upon game, fish, sunflower seeds and roots; and when
grasshoppers and crickets were plentiful, they gathered them by the
bushel and baked them for future use in pits, which they dug in the
ground and heated by fires made in them. Sometimes the poor natives
had not even this to eat, and to preserve life, {430} had to subsist
upon the inner bark of cedar and juniper, and seed bearing grasses.
Although the scene upon entering the valley of the Great Salt Lake
was desolate in the extreme, away in the distance was a sight that
gladdened the eye and caused tears of joy to flow from more than one of
our party. For months had we toiled slowly onward, living upon bacon
and flour--flour and bacon--month after month. "And now," we thought as
we saw the distant houses, "now we may get something good to eat--some
milk, butter, green vegetables!" What luxuries! who can appreciate such
things until long deprivation has made them precious?
We drove through the scattered town of small one-story adobe or log
dwellings, but saw nowhere a sign displayed to indicate store, grocery
or other place of business. I afterward found there were a few small
second hand stores in town; one on Emigration street, as Fourth South
was then called; one east of President Young's block; and one or two in
other places, but none on Main street, which at that time was lined on
both sides by a simple pole fence. No shade trees or orchards were to
be seen; if any fruit trees had been planted they were too small to be
casually noticed. Some tall native cotton woods stood along the south
branch of City Creek, which ran southerly through the lot formerly
owned by General Wells. The other branch of the creek ran westward,
through the Temple Block, and thence found its way to the Jordan.
The Old Fort on the present Sixth Ward, or Pioneer Square, was still
inhabited by families who had not yet been able to build upon their
own lots. Everybody was busy--no loafers standing about--every man
engaged in the mighty work of building a new state in the midst of
the desert. And every man was a farmer. Food is the most important
requisite of life; people may and do live without clothing or comforts,
but food they must have or soon they die. So every man's great desire
seemed to secure food for himself and family--a desire sharpened by
the sufferings of the infant colony during the two previous years of
partial famine.
One thing struck a stranger as very odd--the sight of money disdained
and refused in making trade. For instance, I buy some butter or
vegetables, and offer money for it--"Can't you let me have some sugar,
sir, or some dried apples, instead of money?" I answered that we have a
little of such articles left--hardly enough to last us to California,
and again offer the cash. "Oh, do let us have a little dried fruit; it
is so long since I had any!" And so we found there {431} are things
more desirable than money. This was a common experience during the
summer of 1850--money refused, and better pay--food--demanded. It may
be different in Utah today.
Other things--strange things--were noticed by our party. Not an oath
was heard from any of the Mormon settlers; and if a Gentile uttered
one, he did so carefully, as we understood a man was liable to a fine
for swearing. Not a drunken man could be seen--for there were no
drinking hells allowed until Gentile Christianity forced them upon the
people. And there were no houses of ill fame until the same corrupt but
overpowering force introduced and sustained them. "Why," said they,
"you must be like other people--you must have all these things." They
judged Mormons by themselves.
No one thought to fasten a door at night--there were no thieves; and
a woman might pass through the streets alone at any hour of the night
with perfect safety. Is it so today? If not, is it "Mormonism" or its
opposite that has wrought such a woeful change? There is no doubt as to
the answer.
A few settlers lived in Davis county, and some where Ogden now stands;
also at Provo and its surroundings in Utah county. The country about
Bountiful--now so rich and productive--then lay an open waste, covered
only by a short, stunted growth of sage and greasewood, and to all
human appearances seemed utterly worthless. As the writer rode over it
in those days he would not have taken a mile square of it as a gift.
What was it good for? It would produce nothing--not even grass--without
water, and there was no water for it. "Yes," says the reader, "but
there is water for it now; why not then?" I will tell you. When the
Latter-day Saints settled Utah they blessed the land by authority of
the Holy Priesthood, that it should be fertile; and they blessed the
waters, that they should increase. The Almighty heard, approved and
verified their words. That is the reason in a nutshell; that explains
the great change that has taken place since Utah Was first settled; a
change well known to all the old pioneers. I hear President Kimball,
one day, when, in the spirit of prophecy, say: "As the need for water
increases among the people, so shall the waters increase from this time
forth. Write it down if you like, for it is true." I heard his words
and recorded them, and now testify to their truth, as shown by almost
forty years' experience since the words were spoken. The waters in
Utah have increased. Small rivulets, dry in summer, have become steady
streams, and much larger, and large streams have grown larger. Springs
{432} have broken out where they never existed before, as the writer
knows by personal observation.
In the spring of 1851 I went to where Payson now stands, selected a
farm and proposed to settle. At that time--March 10th--not a house had
been erected, but some were being built of logs, by seven families
lately arrived. Making known to them my intention, I was answered: "Oh,
yes, you may have all the land you want, but not water. We claim all
the water, and there is not enough for us." And so I went down to Iron
county. Water at Payson was scarce; the whole stream would have run
in a ditch two feet wide or less. How many people live in and around
Payson now? Hundreds, if not thousands, and all have water. So it has
been all through Utah. I remember on one occasion while traveling in
southern Utah, in company with Apostles George A. Smith and Amasa
Lyman, we stopped for lunch one day at a small spring which oozed from
a bank, ran a few yards and disappeared in the sand--the only water for
miles around. And this is how we got water to drink: One sat beside the
spring with spoon and tin cup, dipping a spoonful at a time until the
cup was full. Years afterwards, I passed that place again, and found to
my astonishment, five families living there, all supplied from the same
spring, with water enough for gardens and fruit trees. Many similar
examples might be noted, had we space.
For years after Utah was settled the country was considered the very
worst. President Young used to say it was a good country for the Saints
to live in, "for," said he, "no one else would or could inhabit it."
For years it required constant persuasion from the Presidency and
Twelve to keep people from wandering away to more favored lands, and
nothing but the wonderful faith of the people retained them. In spite
of all, many did go away, each year, feeling as if their hardships were
more than they could bear. But the great majority remained, sustained
by faith without parallel in the history of any people.
More than a thousand miles from the Missouri river; surrounded on all
sides by powerful, unconquered tribes of bloodthirsty savages; poor,
plundered of their all by ruthless Christian foes in Missouri and
Illinois; hated and despised by all the world; what but suffering and
death could they expect in their isolated desert home? Their clothing
would soon wear out, their ammunition needed for self-defense would soon
be expended, and all this would require a year's journey to replace.
But they could at least raise bread. "No," says
{433} Col. Bridger and other long residents there, "you can't raise
anything here. Frost every month in the year." He said he would give
one thousand dollars for the first bushel of corn they could raise, and
felt secure in his offer.
But the Saints did conquer the desert, by the blessing of Him who
rules all things; and their achievements in founding a prosperous
commonwealth as they did, in the face of almost insurmountable
difficulties, will yet be pointed to as some of the most remarkable
upon record. The silly babble indulged in by some of the enemies of the
Mormons--that Utah was desirable in the beginning--fertile, abounding
in water and verdant meadows--can only bring a smile to the pioneer who
remembers things as they were then.
Today Utah is a garden; but it has become so by the blessing of
the Almighty upon the untiring, Herculean toils of the Latter-day
Saints, who had faith in God and trusted their leaders. Their faith,
so steadfast and sublime, is called by the world fanaticism; but the
Saints know in whom they trust, and have no fears as to the future of
Zion. The fires of persecution and the blows of their enemies have the
same effect upon them as the flame of the forge, the anvil and the
blacksmith's sledge, upon the heated steel, solidifying and shaping and
tempering it more perfectly. And if some cannot endure the ordeal, but
fly off like the sparks under the hammer, it is only an evidence that
the remainder, purified from dross, is more coherent and stronger than
ever.
_"Ever keep in exercise the principle of mercy, and be ready to
forgive your brother on the first intimation of repentance."_
--_Joseph Smith, The Prophet_.
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