Representative Women of Deseret: A Book of Biographical Sketches

by Augusta Joyce Crocheron

"My mother had kept a daily journal on the ship, Brooklyn, also the first five or six years in San Francisco, calling it 'The Early Annals of California.' This I considered invaluable from the reliability and the fullness of its historic matter and data, and after her demise I searched for it but it was gone. This I thought strange indeed, for she had assured me of its preservation about eighteen months before her last illness. I have heard her relate many incidents of those times. Once when nearly famished, (hostilities not yet being concluded between Mexico and the United States,) two men ventured outside the town to lasso one of the cattle browsing so near them, but were themselves caught by cruel Mexicans in ambush, and killed and quartered, their bodies left lying on the sand in view of the wretched inhabitants. At another time a Mexican was intercepted and searched. In one boot was found an order from General Castro, to attack by night and kill everything above four years old that could speak English. The messenger was buried in the sand. After awhile the native women became curious, and some of them ventured past the guard after dark, and being touched with compassion, returned in the same cautious manner, with bottles of leche (milk) slung around their waists under their flounced dress skirts, and tortillas (flour and water cakes) concealed beneath their revosas (mantles,) for the women and children. Soon after the landing the brethren strayed around, glad to be on land and looking to see what they could find. 'Any fruit?' asked one of a returning comrade. 'Yes,' said he, 'grape, lots of 'em.' There was a rush off in that direction and a fruitless search. Being sharply questioned, he pulled a handful of grape shot out of his pocket, which he had picked up from the scene of a recent engagement. The same day a gentleman passenger, traveling for pleasure, brought a bouquet of wild flowers to me, saying: 'Little lady, I herewith present you the first bouquet ever offered by a white man to a white woman in Yerba Buena.' Yerba Buena was the original name of San Francisco, and means 'good herb'—from a kind of pennyroyal growing wild there at that time. My mother kept the flowers many years and told me the story over their odorless ashes. My father and mother with many of the Saints, (sixteen families) moved from the ship into the 'old adobie,' partitioned off with quilts. Soon after he rented a house, but the largest room was required of him as a hospital for the wounded soldiers; the next largest for a printing office. The press was an old Spanish press, and there being no W in that alphabet, they used to turn the M upside down. My mother used to help decipher the dispatches, many of them being written on the battlefield with a burnt stick or coal.

"Her first Christmas dinner in San Francisco consisted of a quart of beans and a pound of salt pork, which the hospital steward brought to her; he told her he would be flogged if it became known. In after days he became her steward. One day Dr. Poet, surgeon of the navy, brought my mother a slice of ham, a drawing of tea and a lump of butter about the size of a walnut. Dr. Poet had told my father where he could purchase half a barrel of flour. After baking some flour and water cakes between two tin plates in the ashes, my mother brought her dear friend, Mrs. Robbins, (now in this city,) to share the repast. Said Mrs. Robbins: 'Mrs. Joyce, isn't this like Boston?' This was just after living for six months on mouldy shipbread. I have heard her say that often she was so hungry she would willingly have walked ten miles to obtain a slice of bread. Soon after this my mother helped to take care of the 'Donner Party,' who were found partly frozen and so famished that they were eating their dead companions. The girl she tended, told her that they grew to like it, and she had helped eat her brother. The true stories they told are too dreadful to repeat, particularly as some of them are still living. The Mormon Battallion came; peace was declared, the gold mines were discovered, and the circumstances of the Saints were changed from isolation and famine to wealth and grandeur. My father became very wealthy, but prosperity caused his apostacy. My grandfather, and uncle, John Perkins, both sea captains, came to see my mother. I well remember sitting on grandpa's knee and learning my alphabet from the large family Bible spread before him, he being my teacher. I often recall also the long evenings when Uncle John held me on his knee and sang the strange, pathetic, old-fashioned sea songs of which he knew so many and sang them so sweetly; I used to nestle closer to him, half frightened, and at last fall asleep. I remember one was, ''Twas down in the lowlands a poor boy did wander,' and I have never heard it since.

"In Boston my mother was called 'The Mormon nightingale.' Strangers indifferent to the Gospel would say, 'Let us go to Boylston Hall and hear the singing.' A gentleman of fortune offered to take her to Italy and educate her in singing, at the same time that Adelaide Philips (his protege) went, but her destiny was upon another stage, to sing the hymns of the newly-restored Gospel; and many have thought that she sang them as one inspired. Her rendering of Wm. Clayton's hymn, 'The Resurrection Day,' will be remembered by all who ever heard it. She purchased the first melodeon brought to San Francisco, (by a Mr. Washington Holbrook,) thereby causing a sensation among the wives of the ministers of five denominations, who each wanted it for their church. She went, during the ravages of the cholera, in San Francisco, and gathered together sixty orphan children, providing for them until a building spot, material and means were collected by subscription; and was one of the Board of managers of the Protestant Orphan Asylum thus originated and founded. I remember going with her and hearing the children sing, 'The Watcher,' a song of poverty and death. At the expiration of one year some of the ladies objected to having a Mormon officer among them, 'not considering Mormonism a religion at all,' although quite willing to accept the continuance of her contributions. She however found a larger and more congenial field of labor; brethren going on their missions, their families left behind in Utah, received her prompt remembrance. Also seeds, trees, &c., she sent to Utah spring and fall, through more than twenty years. My only sister was born in San Francisco, August, 1847, and died in St. George, Mrs. Helen F. Judd, one of the truest Saints I ever knew. In San Francisco Parley P. Pratt was a guest at my mother's house. She had loaned the Book of Mormon to a gentleman belonging to the Custom House; Colonel Alden A. M. Jackson. He had been in the Mexican War, at the battle of Buena Vista, and was with General Scott and Zachary Taylor through that campaign. He had two horses killed under him and received injuries that lasted throughout his life. When he returned the book he said he had read it day and night until finished, and wished to know where he could find a minister of the Mormon Church. She invited him to come that evening and meet the Apostle, author and poet, Parley P. Pratt. The gentlemen became so interested in their theme that my mother left the room without disturbing them, and giving a servant instructions to attend to Mr. Pratt's room, etc., retired. Descending the stairs next morning she heard Brother Pratt conversing, the lamp still burning. 'Good morning, gentlemen,' said she; Brother Pratt looked up—'Is it morning?' Colonel Jackson walked to the window—'Yes,' said he, 'another day has dawned, and another day has dawned for me—a beautiful one.' Brother Pratt looked out upon the garden and said significantly, 'It only needs water to complete the picture.' Colonel Jackson replied, 'I understand you, I am ready.' Turning to my mother Brother Pratt asked, 'Sister Joyce, have you renewed your covenants? A number are going to the North Beach to-morrow, will you go?' and she answered thoughtfully, 'Ten years ago last night I was baptized in the Atlantic at midnight; to-morrow I will be baptized in the Pacific.'

"My own parents had been separated since my father's apostacy. A few months after her baptism she moved to San Bernardino and there began building a beautiful home. Colonel Jackson, on his way to Utah was delayed, waiting for a train to cross the deserts, and my mother being his only acquaintance, he often sought her society, and at last determined to win her if possible, and some three years after their first acquaintance they were married. Never was a kinder father than he. Years added to years drew us all nearer to each other.

"In 1856, at the time of the Utah War, an armed mob of twenty-two men visited the four remaining Mormon families in San Bernardino, and calling father out from breakfast, ordered him to leave town with his family by nine o'clock. He replied he would not do it, prefacing and concluding the reply in language more forcible than elegant. They planted an old cannon on the public square, fired it off, rode around and threatened a great deal. Father's law office fronted the square; he went as usual to it, and in the afternoon they made a bonfire outside and coming in to him told him they intended to burn him alive. He continued writing, only telling them if they disturbed his papers he would send daylight through them. They left. When we were all ready to start for Utah, enemies obtained a writ from the court prohibiting my sister and I from leaving the State before we were of age. We were among enemies and powerless. My mother said, 'If we can't go, our property shall,' and with father's consent divided goods, provisions, arms and ammunition with the poor who could go. In 1864, my mother, sister and I came to Utah on a visit, returned here in 1867. In 1868 I was appointed Secretary of the Relief Society in St. George. In 1869 our parents brought us 'to the city' to receive our endowments, for which our joy and gratitude was beyond expression. I remained here, they returned to St. George where my sister married. In 1870 I became the second wife of George W. Crocheron. I believed I should better please my Heavenly Father by so doing than by marrying otherwise. Any woman, no matter how selfish, can be a first and only wife, but it takes a great deal more Christian philosophy and fortitude and self-discipline to be a wife in this order of marriage; and I believe those who choose the latter when both are equally possible, and do right therein, casting out all selfishness, judging self and not another, have attained a height, a mental power, a spiritual plane above those who have not. To do this is to overcome that which has its roots in selfishness, and it can be done if each will do what is right. In November, 1870, I was appointed Secretary of the Young Ladies Mutual Improvement Association of the Ninth Ward, which position I filled till home duties compelled my resignation. At times during thirteen years I have reported, in the sisters' meetings, chiefly those of the Fourteenth Ward. In 1876 our father died, and in five weeks after our mother followed him. Their graves are side by side in the valley of St. George, as beautiful as we could make them.

"In 1878 I was appointed, and later, set apart and blessed to labor as Secretary of the Young Ladies Mutual Improvement Association for the Salt Lake Stake of Zion, which position I strive to honorably fill. In 1880, by the advice and aid of my friends I published a volume of poems, 'Wild Flowers of Deseret,' which was kindly received, the entire edition being sold within two years. The design of the picture Representative Women of Deseret, appeared to me one night as I rose from family prayers. I had not thought of it before. This book of biographical sketches to accompany it was an after thought. Many suppose that Mormon women are not encouraged in their abilities, are perhaps repressed. This has not been so in my case, or in my observations of others. Both encouragement and help have been given me by friends, by those in authority, and my husband has also encouraged and assisted me in every way in his power.

"I am the mother of three boys and two girls, born in the New and Everlasting Covenant, and consecrated to my Creator before I ever held them in my arms or pressed a mother's kiss upon their little faces. Myself and all that are mine to give are dedicated to the service of God, praying that He will help us to be worthy of His acceptance."

HELEN MAR WHITNEY.

Helen Mar Whitney was the third child of Heber Chase Kimball and his wife, Vilate Murray, and was born in Mendon, Munro County, New York, August 22, 1828. Their ancestors were among the Pilgrims and her kindred prided themselves that they were descended from a noble stock. Though they cared little for nobility and rank, they were proud to know that their grandsires who would not submit to tyranny and oppression, helped to gain them independence, and that their descendants were noble, hard working, self-sacrificing and conscientious people, who believed in rising by their own merits. Many of her ancestors died fighting for the liberty which is denied to some of their children, by men who have usurped authority and become oppressors. She was five years old when her parents removed to Kirtland, Ohio. In the winter of 1837, she was baptized by Brigham Young, her father cutting the ice for that purpose.

She inherited a reverence for the Supreme Being and always received the best teachings from her parents. Her father's time was mostly spent in the ministry. On his return from a European mission, he heard Joseph teach the principle of celestial marriage, and was commanded by Joseph to take a certain lady for his second wife. He felt as though he could not obey this and live in it, and must be released from the command, and he expressed the same to Joseph, who went and inquired of the Lord, and receiving an answer, commanded him the third time before he obeyed. Her mother bore testimony that she also went to the Lord and plead with Him to show her the cause of her husband's trouble, which his haggard face and wretched days and nights betrayed and he dared not tell her. He told her to go to the Lord and she did so, and He answered their prayers. She saw a vision and the principle was revealed to her in all its glory. She saw the woman that he had taken, and she went to him and told him what the Lord had shown her. She said she never saw him so happy, and he cried for joy. She took the second wife to her bosom, and from that time an unkind word never passed between them. Helen knew nothing of the order till June, 1843, when her father revealed it to her. She says of this: "Had I not known he loved me too tenderly to introduce anything that was not strictly pure and exalting in its tendencies, I could not have believed such a doctrine. I could have sooner believed that he would slay me, than teach me an impure principle. I heard the Prophet teach it more fully, and in the presence of my father and mother.