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Speaker: Glenn Rawson
Hi, this is Glenn Rawson. One of the most powerful ways to share history and heritage is by the telling of stories. We began sharing inspiring stories nearly 30 years ago. Each of those stories is true and was intended to inspire and strengthen faith. Over the years, those stories have reached millions around the world. This podcast is for you to listen, learn and enjoy.
I just wanted to begin with a sincere thank you, for your support. This is going to be a little bit different than some of the devotionals that I’ve done in the past so I hope it goes okay. As always, I pray that you will have a prayer in your heart tonight, that the stories and content that I share will be well-received and that it might answer specific prayers and needs for those that are listening. I intend to have some fun tonight and let me begin first of all, with this.
The first half of the devotional, I’m going to be telling stories out of a brand new book produced by History of the Saints and this is the place, Heritage Park. The book is called, Remembering – The Children of the Pioneer Trail. It’s a brand new publication. If you go up tonight on historyofthesaints.org, right at the top of the page there, we’ve got the book now listed. It is a beautiful book. I want to just tell you what the book was about. Now, this is a devotional, it’s not a sales pitch. So, I am telling you where the material comes from. If you want to get the book, that’s your business, it is historyofthesaints.org. But again the title of the book is Remembering – The Children of the Pioneer Trail, and the stories I’m going to share, some of them, come straight out of that book. The purpose of it is to tell what life was really like on the Pioneer Trail, not the overblown romantic drama that you see in some movies, and certainly not the doom and gloom that you see in some others. No, it’s what life really was like on the trail on the basis of those who were there. What did they say about it? So, as I said, we will talk about everything – from mosquitoes to buffalo and everything in between.
First Story: Mary Ann Weston – Maughan
Let me begin, with one of my favorite characters in pioneer history, a mother by the name of Mary Ann Weston Maughan. For those of you that live in the north end of Cache Valley, the tiny little community of Weston, Idaho, it’s named for Mary Ann Weston Maughan of Gloucestershire, England. How this lovely woman found her way from Great Britain to Cache Valley, Utah, well, that’s quite a story.
Mary Ann was born in March 1817 to Thomas and Elizabeth Weston. In 1840, she was among the first to join the latter-day saints, though the rest of her family did not. In December 1840, she married John Davis in Gloucester, England. After only 4 months of happy marriage though, John passed away. On the events of the funeral, Mary Ann recorded this in her autobiography.
“When all had taken their last farewell to their loved one and the coffin closed, the club then took charge of his remains and I was alone in the wide world. He was buried (her husband) in a nice, quiet corner of the graveyard of Tirley, Gloucestershire and I have never lost sight of that place, although 50 years ago.”
Mary Ann was advised by her family physician to leave that place, or she would soon follow her husband to the grave. Accordingly, she determined that she would come to America to be with her people, the Latter-Day Saints. The last and hardest trial, she said, was to take leave of my father, mother, brothers and sisters.
“My dear good mother was most brokenhearted to see me go, but father was more calm. I wondered at this for I was his favorite child. He asked me the name of the ship, and when she would sail. I told him all the particulars, thinking he would come and bring mother to see me at the last before we set sail. My two little sisters clung around my neck saying, “We shall never see you again.” I had not told them this for I knew the parting from them would be very hard.”
Well, of her departure, Mary Ann wrote the following:
“Oh, the grief and sorrow of this time I can never forget, thus on the 4th of May 1841, I left all that was near and dear to me to travel some thousands [of] miles alone, and cast my lot with the people of God. I was quite sick and overcome with the grief and sorrow I had passed through in the last three months. Myself and others wept all the way. Now I had left all and was traveling alone to a land unknown to me, but I had cast my lot with the people of God and in Him I put my trust.”
Mary Ann came to America. But I tell you that story, because for everyone who crossed that trail, coming to the Mountain West, they left somewhere and someone behind. They always left someone behind. They left home and family, culture, place, sometimes country and came a very long distance on a dangerous journey to come here to Salt Lake and then out into the colonies from there.
When Mary Ann arrived in America, she married again, becoming the stepmother to the five children of Peter Maughan. Over the next decade, where her husband and the Saints journey, Mary Ann followed, keeping a faithful journal.
Thus it was, that in June 1850, Mary Ann , with her family, set out in the Warren Foote Wagon Company ,to cross the plains to the Salt Lake Valley. Now, as I said, she was a great journal keeper and very, very observant to the things going on around her. Thus, July 18, 1850, near Fort Laramie, Wyoming, she wrote:
“This morning, the weather is very hot. We were obliged to stop in the heat of the day for about two hours. Only traveled 2 miles, only traveled 12 miles.”
And then she continued, “Past 12 graves, we hear there is a place near here where there are 200 buried. If so, this must be a general camping ground. Near us, we see some painful sites where the wolves have dug up the dead, tore their clothing in pieces and eat up the bodies.”
And then she changes the subject, “By digging, we get water plenty, but poor weather.”
She continues on. And again, I am giving you an idea of what the trail looked like through one woman’s eyes. She wrote about [this was earlier in her journal] between Scottsbluff, Nebraska and Fort Laramie so we’re back to the east on the trail when she talked about this. She said,
“We are again permitted to renew our journey which lies through the buffalo country. They are seen by thousands and this country seemed to mate for them being high bluffs and deep ravines. In the ravines, there are plenty of cedar and water. We can see the bluffs as far as the eye can reach. We traveled 12 miles, past 11 graves. At night, we came up with our company. We’re glad to see them. All are well. Weather – cool and pleasant. One day, while traveling through this country, the road was near some hills on our left, the river being some distance to the right, our company saw a moving mass on the bottom, near the river. We could not tell what it was, whether Indians or not, but they came rapidly towards the hills. And our train, being a long one, was standing right before them. We soon saw that it was a large herd of buffaloes that had been to the river for water and were now returning to the hills. The brethren stood by their teams, as there was a great danger of our oxen’s stampeding and running away. Many sincere prayers were offered for our safety. Mr. Maughan stood in front of my oxen and the boys by there’s. My wagon being the first one was in the most danger. The large herd came bounding on until the leaders saw their way blocked. Then, they hesitated a moment and then swerved to the right, and all galloped by in front of my wagon, so that we had a good view of the noble creatures. They were the largest I ever saw and we were glad to see them go.”
Another entry in her journal, further down the trail. This is most poignant.
“About noon, as we were traveling along on a good, plain road, my little Peter, about three years old, was sitting in the front of my wagon, between his brother Charles and sister, Mary Ann. They were looking at a cow that had lost one horn. Peter leaned forward, lost his balance and fell before the wheels. The first one passed over him and he tried to escape the other one. But alas, the wagon stopped just as the hind wheel stood on his dear little back. The brethren ran up from behind and lifted the wheel and took him from under it. He was bruised internally, so that it was impossible for him to live long. We did all that was possible for him but no earthly power could save him. He did not suffer much pain, only twice for a very little time. The people left their wagons and gathered around mine, and all wept for the dear little boy that we knew must soon leave us. ”
“I had talked to him many times to be careful and not fall out of the wagon , or he might be hurt very bad. He only spoke twice. I said to him, Pete, did you fall? And he said, Yes. And seemed to know that he would leave us and asked for his father. I didn’t know that his father had fainted and fell down the road for the brethren stood to hide him from my sight. On my asking for him, they said he would come as soon as he could. He came to the wagon, covered with dust. But his little boy could not speak to him. He opened his eyes, and looked so lovingly, then gently closed them, and passed peacefully away, and left us weeping around his dear little bruised body.”
“Then, loving hands tenderly dressed him in a suit of his own clothes, white linen clothes, and he looked so lovely. I emptied two dry goods box and Brother Wood made him a nice coffin. And even was a mournful satisfaction, for we had seen our brothers and sisters, bury their dead ones without a coffin to lay them in. We buried him on a little hill, on the north side of the road. The grave was consecrated ,and then they laid him to rest. Someone made him a nice headboard, with his name printed on it, and his age and date of his death. This was all we could do. And many prayers were offered to our Heavenly Father that he might rest in peace and not be disturbed by wolves as we had seen so many on our way. And we turned away in sorrow and grief.”
“A few days after, we heard that his grave had not been touched but another one beside it had been torn apart. This was a great satisfaction to know that he remained as we left him. Our dear one’s name was Peter Weston Maughan.”
She continued on, concluding, “It is nearly 38 years since that sorrowful time but it was so painful to me that I could not add much more to this account.”
Second Story: John Stookey
Now, that was an idea of what the trail was like, from one woman’s perspective. Here’s another from a young lad by the name of John Stookey. Some of you may be related to him. Now, by way of preface, some things were common crossing the Pioneer Trail, and those were discussed in the book. But one of the things, there was never enough sleep for the men, and never enough food, especially across Wyoming as their food stores became depleted the further west they came. All who were able were expected to walk between 10 and 25 miles per day, everyday. For some of those pioneers, especially those pulling the handcarts in later years, it is estimated that they burned upwards of 4000 calories a day and that on a diet that didn’t sustain that. There were supply wagons to travel with each company, but it was simply not possible to transport enough food to supply several hundred people on a journey of 1100 miles. This is the reminiscent account by John Stookey, who was aged 9 when he crossed the trail. He gives you some idea of just how hungry they were.
John says there were only four wagons with oxen to pull them to haul provisions for about 50 families, if I remember right. Soon after we started, John said,
“We were told we can only have half rations, that is just half as much as is considered, an average person needs to live on. So we had to do our traveling on just half enough to eat.
My dear mother, Magdalena Stettler Stookey had a little baby, Christian, to nurse and only having half enough to eat and to pull on the handcart all day long, day after day, she soon got so weak and worn out that she could not help father anymore, nor was she able to keep up with the company. Sometimes when we camped, she was so far behind the company. We could not see anything of her for quite a while, so I was afraid that she might not be able to get to the camp. Father, let mother have a little bigger part of the half ration. The shortage of food together with having the three children with everything else we had in the handcart made it too heavy for him to pull alone. In this hungry and also nearly worn out condition.
I have never forgotten how one, I, a nine year old boy would be so tired that I wish I could sit down for just a few minutes how much good it would do to me. But instead of that, my dear nearly worn out father would ask me if I could not push a little more on the handcart. I will never forget how hungry I was all the time. When one of the Teamsters, seeing two buffaloes near the oxen, shot one of them and the meat was divided among the whole handcart company. My parents also got a small piece, which my father put in the back end of the handcart. That was in the fourth part of the week. He said that we would save it for our dinner next Sunday. I was so hungry all the time. And the meat smelled so good to me while pushing at the handcart and having a little pocket knife, I could not resist but had to cut off a piece or two each half day. Although I was afraid of getting a severe whipping after cutting a little the first few times. I couldn’t resist taking a little more each half day. I would chew it so long, it got perfectly tasteless.
When father went to get the meat on Sunday noon, he asked me if I had been cutting off some of the meat. I said, yes, that I was so hungry, I could not let it along. And then John said, then instead of giving me the severe scolding and whipping, he did not say a word, but started to wipe the tears from his eyes.”
Third Story: William Chase Harrison and the Encounter with Indians
There are so many stories of how hungry they would get and how desperate they were eating bark, chewing grass, anything to sustain life. Now, they had the pioneers, a terrible fear of wolves, snakes, Indians and disease. Most of the companies that crossed the plains between 47 and 1868 mentioned encounters with Indians or the Native American tribes of the plains. The descriptions were as varied as the different tribes they met. Sometimes, and a lot of times the Indians were friendly, even helpful to the pioneers. Other times they were threatening, and sometimes they were just demanding. Well enough companies and individuals were killed or carried off by the Native Americans, that the pioneers maintained a healthy respect and treated them well and tried to keep their distance.
It was a standing order from Brigham Young to all the companies that it was better to feed the Indians than fight with them. And so the companies did, in their appearance and behavior, the customs of the tribes. Well, it was a radically different culture than the white men who crossed their land. As this 1861 account, by William Chase Harrison demonstrates. He said:
“There came to the camp, many Indians to trade buffalo robes, buckskins and moccasins. They wanted powder, shot, sugar, flour. We had no powder for them. One man traded ponies with them. Father gave them a pint of sugar and a pint of the flour for a fine well- tanned robe. They did a lot of trading with us. But some did not know that Indians never joke. He means just what he says and will hold you to your word. Now, there was with us 2 orphans – a young man and his sister, a beautiful girl, 17. An Indian said 20:31″He win us squaw.” The brother, realizing what he wanted said, “How much?” The Indian looked at the girl and said, ” Five ponies.” The brother said, “Nah”. And the Indian he just kept bargaining him up. The Indian kept going all the way up to 20 ponies for the girl. And finally the brother said, All right, you can have her for 20 ponies. The Indian gave a 21:02 krant and rode off. The brother didn’t realize what he had done. But when the captain heard of it, he said, Oh, we’re in a bad fix. Let’s go. So the company started out. (You can guess it.) Two hours later, here came two Indians, driving 20 ponies. He demanded his squaw. The girl was hiding in another wagon.
“Mr. Indian was “wrathy” meaning angry and said he would have his squaw or bring back Indians and kill all pale-faced men. Take all squaws and Papoose. We had to buy him off at a heavy cost to all of us”, William said. He adds, the girl dared not show up for many days. We were afraid that the Indians would steal her.” You take that story for whatever you want.
Fourth Story: – Taking a bath in a trail by Mary Ann Stearn Winters
Now, can you imagine in our day and time there’s been a lot said in the media about celebrities who don’t take a bath or don’t bathe their children, I could care less. But consider the trail. The pioneers generally walked all day on a hot and dusty trail. Oftentimes, as you know, they walked behind other teams and wagons. It can only be imagined the dust that the last wagons endured. And they didn’t have any of the modern conveniences for bathing and hygiene. So how did they stay clean? Or did they? Mary Anne Stern Winters gives us some ideas. She said:
“There was one thing we enjoyed very much, and that was a bath in the river.”
No, let me stop right there. They’re traveling along the Platte. Have you ever seen the waters of the Platte? I’m not sure I would call that a bath as much as changing dust for mud. Well, she continues, “The men of the camp found a convenient place down by the river and had their swim in the daytime. We could always tell when they came into camp looking so fresh and clean. For most of the time, she said they were a dusty looking lot. And the sisters, each procured a bathing suit of some kind, and we took our baths by starlight. We were afraid to go far from the shore on account of the quicksands. We’d make a line from the nearest to the shore. And the farthest ones out could get a good ducking without much danger. We were very still about at all, for we never could tell when Indians might be lurking around, and we slipped into our beds as quiet as kittens, greatly refreshed and thankful for the opportunity.”
So again, life on the trail, how do you take a bath and how often and when, and we won’t even talk about using toilet facilities and things like that. But women on the right, men on the left. Alright, moving on. Another experience that you might find interesting. Not every pioneer kept a journal. Indeed most of the ones that came across the plains did not, but thankfully there were a few that did. We know what life was like on the trail because of what the pioneers recorded in their journals. And insects were mentioned frequently, wolves preying on them or a terror, but mosquitoes were a torture. They were an agonizing component of trail life. The summers in Wyoming and along the Platte as the pioneers were required to travel and always camped by water, mosquitoes were often a problem. There are descriptions of them descending on the camps of the pioneers in the evening in a cloud.
Fifth Story: – Ossian Taylor’s account on the insects and mosquitoes on the trail
Ossian Taylor is one of my favorite journal keepers. This boy had a sense of humor. He was only 18 years old. He came across with the Harry Walton Wagon Company in 1851. And he kept a most interesting and colorful journal. I think Ossian aspired someday to be a writer. On the 24th of June 1851 Ossian, wrote the following,
“Franco Owens, Joseph Marrow Buchanan and myself, guarded the cattle last night, but by the great horned spoon, how the mosquitoes bit and the cattle acted like so many devils had a heavy thunder shower and wet is like a drowned rat, but nothing could prevent the mosquitoes from their inhumane insults and depredations. I had often heard, he said, that the ant is the smartest little insect. But I would like to know what insect could make a fellow smart, worse than those little insignificant, pusillanimous gluttonous animals of the smaller tribes.”
That’s the mosquitoes on the prairie, crossing the trail. Now, it goes without saying that when they crossed the plains, so many people died on the trail.
And it happened so often, that they saw it every day. As they came across the trail, there were hundreds, thousands of graves across that trail. Just among the Latter-Day Saints on that trail between the Missouri River and Salt Lake, more than 2000 people passed away, and of them, between 6 and 700 were children. Death may have been common to the trail, but its devastating effects on the heart and soul of the bereaved weighed just as heavily then, as today.
Sixth Story: George Davis and Family
Robert Aveson traveled with the George Davis family across the plains in 1864. In a later reminiscence that he published in the Deseret News, he said the following gives the following account:
Poor George Davis, serious illness overtook his partner in life. An attack, which only lasted a few days. The trial was hard when parting from their little child but it was a sore trial indeed, to see his beloved wife in the throes of death. He did all that was possible to aid and assist her in her dying condition. Some of the sisters from nearby camp wagons volunteered their service, but she was too weak, too far gone for human aid. He breathed a prayer [George]to his Heavenly Father to spare her life, if only for the sake of her children. At the close of his prayer, he turned toward his beloved wife. She was breathing her last breath. It was an awfully sad scene. George was brokenhearted. His other two children were present to tears rolling down their cheeks. That night George was so bewildered and confused through the death of his wife. They almost forgot his darling sick boy. But just as daylight appeared the next morning, he lit a fire and made some soup and taking it to him. He said, “Here, Veni is your soup.” It was too late. Too late. The child was in the throes of death. Oh, Veni, Veni, said the brokenhearted father. Speak to me once more. Call me daddy. There was no answer. The little spirit had fled. This was a double bereavement, almost overcome with grief. George bowed his head down and exclaimed, What have I done? That such awful trials should befall me.
Preparations were made for the burial of wife and child. They were laid side by side in one grave. The funeral service was very brief. no music, no flowers, no coffin. The bodies were wrapped in a sheet and covered with a blanket. It was an affecting scene. Many eyes were wet. Yes, even the eyes of stout hearts were dimmed with tears. Some days elapsed before Brother Davis began to feel in his normal condition. His two remaining children clung to him, and they could have been observed marching along ahead of the train, the boy on one side of the father, the girl, on the other, hand in hand.
I don’t want you to get the idea. And I don’t want this to be a depressing devotional, but I want you to understand that traveling across the trail was hard. I’ve read enough of the journals to know it was not a fun adventure. Unless of course, your attitude made it that way. It was hard. And it was a great sacrifice, both in where they came from and what they left behind, but in the toll that it took on them to come across the plains.
Now, my dear friends, I tell you these things because never forget, never forget what your fathers and mothers who are pioneers did, even if they didn’t cross that trail. If they came here from the old country, they still made great sacrifices, regardless of when they came. All of this is to say, remember them with fondness. And as they did, and we’re willing to do, so do we.
Now again, just as a reminder, this new book, Remembering – The Children of the Pioneer Trail, tells the story of what life was like on the trail. I’ve shared just a few things out of that book. There’s a lot more if you want to read more about what life was really like, on the Pioneer Trail. It’s available at historyofthesaints.org.
Okay, let’s take a break for just a second. Annie is off tonight. Her mother is taking her place. And mother doesn’t have all the technology to do what Annie is normally doing that mom is watching to make sure that you guys all behave yourself. And then I’m well lit. So we’re in good hands. So I don’t have a link to the virtual tours to put up here tonight. I can’t say strongly enough for all those of you that want to go on a tour, all the way from the Mormon Battalion Visitor Center to the Joseph Smith birthplace in Vermont, if you want to go on a tour, get up on the church website and go to the link. And the missionaries will take you on a tour right there. Just you and her or you and them. And you’ll get to tour the facilities. I really want you to take one of these virtual tours, you would so much enjoy it.
Okay. Now, once again, we have had an overwhelming response to the new VIP book that we just released from Glenn Rawson stories. Thank you, to all of you, who have signed up to be VIPs. Thank you, to the more than 20 some thousand of you that are subscribing to the weekly emails. I want you to know I’m working on that nearly every day to bring you a new story. I’m doing the best I can. Thank you for your support and your effort.
Now, I am so excited that it’ll be all I can do to keep from dribbling and drooling. We’re working on a brand new book. I’ve mentioned it in the past, we just finished the research and the writing of the stories this week. We don’t even have a title for the book yet. But it’s a book all about music. It’s a book about our sacred music. This is the first volume that’s coming and (I Oh my word) the research and the stories and well, you can’t order the book. It’s not even close to being printed yet, but I just I’m so excited about it. I just want to share with you four stories that will be in this new book.
Thank you for listening. Many of the stories you heard today have been published and are archived at GlennRawsonStories.com. If you would like more information, you can communicate with us there. We will be back again with another podcast next week.
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