Missouri Travails, or (revised translation), A not-so-brief account of our journey among the historic sites Over the holiday weekend my wife and I went to visit some of the historic sites here in Missouri. I just knew you all would be waiting with bated breath to hear all about it, so here goes . . . On a little country road about 45 miles northeast of Kansas City, out in the middle of nowhere (some people say that ALL of Missouri is the middle of nowhere, but that's another story) is Far West. Far West was once a thriving little town with 3000, 4000, or 5000 inhabitants (depending on which sign you read), most Mormon. When the Mormons were driven out, the town died away, and now it's no more than a wide spot in the road: a few houses, the "Far West Store", and a lot of farmland. No sign remains of the old town except the temple site itself. The temple site is surprisingly interesting and worth seeing. I mean, a couple of rocks and a bunch of dirt usually don't strike one as being worth seeing. But *this* dirt and *these* rocks, believe it or not, are. The Church bought and restored the site sometime in the 50s or 60s. The actual temple site is fenced in and planted in grass and flowers. There is a monument on one end with the expected inscriptions. The original cornerstones are still there, showing the extent of the planned temple. And when I say cornerstones, I don't mean some dinky little things, either. These are pretty substantial boulders--maybe 2 feet by 4 feet on top and presumably as deep (they were set in cement so that only the top of each was visible). They must weigh a ton or more each. (This brings to mind a question about the marker stones found by the Church of Christ-Temple Lot at the temple site in Independence. The Church of Christ claims that the stones were laid by Joseph Smith and Brigham Young to mark the temple site. These stones, though, are mere chips--about discus size--compared with the Far West stones. On the other hand, the Independence stones have pretty clear surveying inscriptions on them, while the Far West stones don't seem to have any inscriptions (although I couldn't see the sides or bottom). Perhaps the Independence stones were only marker stones, and the actual cornerstones are different. [But in that case, where are the cornerstones in Independence? You wouldn't be able to miss stones the size of the ones in Far West, and you wouldn't be able to cart them off very easily, either.] Or maybe no large stones were used in Independence. [This seems odd, too, considering the importance of the Independence temple. The cornerstones in both cases were laid by Joseph Smith and the Quorum of the Twelve. It seems like they could handle large stones as well in Independence as they could in Far West.]) Each of the four cornerstones represented a group within the priesthood (as a small inscription near each one explained): The First Presidency, the High Council (the Twelve Apostles), the Greater Priesthood, and the Lesser Priesthood. (I assumed from the inscription that the High Council and the Twelve Apostles were the same thing in those days--maybe some of you historians can explain further.) The area was nicely landscaped and even had a couple of picnic tables. There were some rather large pine trees, which obviously had been planted at the time the monument was dedicated (hardly any evergreens are native to northwest Missouri; if you see a group of them you immediately know that someone has been "beautifying" the area). There was a brand new building there which looks like it's going to be a visitors' center--and thanks to which, I'm soon going to have a more celestial tomato patch (but that's a different story). While there, we bumped into a vanload of Utah Mormons. As they left, the recorded voices of the Tabernacle Choir blared from the windows. It brought back memories of our family making the same Mormon Circuit in our motor home, forced to listen to the corresponding dramatized church history tape across the entire country. Thank you, Orson Scott Card, for a memorable, if not pleasant, experience. Then, on down the road a few miles to Kingston. Far West was the original county seat of Caldwell County, and after it disintegrated, Kingston was established to be the new county seat. The attraction for Mormons is the grave of John Whitmer in the Kingston Cemetery (also those of his wife and at least one child). Being the good little Mormons that we are, in all cemeteries my wife and I diligently look for relatives (apostate relatives in this case-- those who may have broken off and lived out their days in Missouri). Here, on almost the first gravestone I looked at, we struck gold: Hugh Pugh, native of North Wales! Now, on all of God's green earth there couldn't possibly be a person more obviously related to me than someone named Hugh Pugh (I've had two surnames in my life, and Hugh Pugh has got them both!). And that'll teach me to look at gravestones. Now I'm going to have to do a little genealogy to figure out how old Hugh Pugh is related. I suspect he wasn't part of the Mormon group--I believe my Pugh relatives were converted later on, in England, and then immigrated directly from England to Utah. Far West is on Shoal Creek, or at least on a rise right near it (think temple site!), as is Kingston. If you follow the creek on down about 10 or 15 miles, you come to Haun's Mill. Now, I don't now what you think about when you think about a "creek", but, desert rat that I am, Shoal Creek is definitely *not* what I think of. If you could somehow rope all the rivers in Utah together and gather them into one channel (maybe just connect a pipe onto the end of the Central Utah Project?), that channel could quite comfortably be that of Shoal "Creek". On this day, the creek had quite a substantial, brownish flow (my wife said it reminded her of the Jordan River; I thought of that old saying about the Platte River: too thin to plow--but not by much, in this case--, and too thick to drink). There's nothing particular left at the site of Haun's Mill. The dirt (or should I say mud?) road leads you into a large hay field; in the corner nearest the creek is a wooden marker erected by the RLDS church. Our little map (from an LDS visitors' center) says, "Haun's Mill. Dirt Road. Do not visit in wet weather." And boy, were they ever right. There hasn't been much rain lately in the KC area, but there have been those "localized thundershowers." Well, evidently one of them localized right around Shoal Creek last Friday, and believe me, you could still tell it on Monday. The road was well graveled most of the way, but the last bit is pretty much *au naturel*. I wasn't too sure we were going to make it through that bit in our little Tracer. Luckily, it's light enough to just float along on top. Somebody in a bigger machine had dug up ruts at least two feet deep (if we'd fallen into one, you wouldn't be hearing from me today . . . ). The field with the Haun's Mill marker, or at least the lower lying parts of it, was nothing but a big bog. Right around the marker, I could see the high water mark from the flood Friday. It was at least knee deep. I should point out that although the marker is near the creek, it is much higher in elevation. The creek runs in a ravine that is quite deep--15-20 feet from the top of the ravine to water level. The Haun's Mill marker is maybe 50 feet from the edge of the ravine. The thought of this entire ravine (perhaps 75 feet across) filled and overflowing its banks to the point that it was knee deep at the marker was rather frightening. Which brings us back to Haun's Mill. I hate to publicly admit my lack of an adventurous, pioneering spirit, but this place just didn't seem to me to be a very pleasant spot for a mill. They must have had some ways of dealing with these things back then, but it seems that in this spot, the mill and/or mill pond and/or miller would have been washed away with some regularity. BTW, if you're interested in visiting here, I think you can safely get within a half mile of the spot in all but the wettest weather, particularly if you come in from the south (unfortunately, not the route that is on the map handed out by the LDS visitors' centers). All but the last little bit is on pretty well maintained gravel roads (this is true on the northerly route, too, but the roads from that direction seemed a little worse). There are several houses along the way, and the locals must get in and out all year around. Then, if you're adventurous and bring your chest waders, you can just hike that last half mile. Speaking of floods brings up the Grand River, which runs through the valley of Adam-ondi-Ahman, about 25 miles east of Haun's Mill. The Grand River is rather larger than Shoal Creek (the two eventually join at a point about 15 miles east of Haun's Mill and 25 miles southeast of Adam-ondi-Ahman). I'd say the river is maybe 80 feet wide at "normal" level. The valley of Adam-ondi-Ahman is the flood plain for the river. The valley is many times wider than the river, maybe a thousand feet across. The Church owns the valley, and now, as I imagine it was in the days of the original Mormon settlement, it is all in farmland. Well, last year, when the Midwest was having its big floods, all this farmland was under 15 feet of water. Now that must have been an awesome (or should we say grand!) sight. My wife recently read that when Joseph and Hyrum were at Adam-ondi- Ahman, they and some of the men and boys there would take a dip in the Grand River several times a day. After our trip Monday, in a non-air- conditioned car, it is easy to see why. We were both about to die of heat prostration, and that was just from sitting there and riding. You can imagine what it was like doing heavy manual labor all day long. Temperatures of over 90 degrees with 90% humidity are not unusual here. So, slithering our way back to the car and scraping two inches of goo off the bottom of our shoes (maybe a glue factory would have been more suitable for this location, or at least a clay pit) we leave Haun's Mill and its floody musings behind, aiming for the more civilized pleasures of Richmond. On the way, we cross the Crooked River (famous for the battle fought on its shores, although this is several miles upstream). In fact, we cross it twice, in short succession. I can testify that it is, indeed, very crooked. The old Pioneer Cemetery in Richmond was abandoned for many years. The site was overgrown and neglected. The spot is important to Mormons because Oliver Cowdery is buried there, and so the Church has made arrangements to maintain the cemetery (I recognized it a mile off with its characteristic gray metal 'Church of Jesus Christ of Latter- day Saints' sign and black parking lot. Only the green punch was missing, and I'm sure it's supplied on important occasions). The Church has cleared the area, located the headstones, cleaned them and mounted them in cement (hopefully in the right spot), and planted grass and the trademark evergreens. There is a monument to the three witnesses (over Oliver Cowdery's grave?); on it is engraved their witness and other pertinent information. Nearby is the Whitmer family plot. The cemetery is important to more than Mormons: several prominent early Missourians are buried here (although, I confess with my grand Missouri background--nearly a year now--I didn't recognize any of them but the Mormon ones). Near the courthouse in Richmond is a monument to Alexander Doniphan. The inscription on the monument itself doesn't mention anything about the Mormons. It does mention how great, valiant, brave, upright, etc. Doniphan was. Apparently he was an important leader of the Missouri militia in the Mexican War. It's interesting what a difference perspective makes: We don't mention anything about Doniphan but his dealings with the Mormons; his greatest accomplishment would be saving the lives of Joseph Smith and the other Mormon leaders. But here, in an "official" list of Doniphan's achievements, Joseph Smith and the Mormons are not even mentioned. Speaking of rivers, one of the signs at the courthouse explained how Richmond had become the seat of Ray County. Previously the county seat had been Camden, which was a prominent port on the Missouri River. Then one day, the Missouri changed course and Camden was left landlocked--4 or 5 miles from the water (the river had broken through the narrow part of a gooseneck). Camden, portless, withered away, and Richmond became the county seat. Richmond's Pioneer Cemetery was started because so-and-so's mother-in- law was washed away from her low-lying grave during floods one year. So-and-so (who's name I can't remember--and you can see how well I take notes) then donated ground for the Pioneer Cemetery. Richmond's "New" Cemetery takes this logic one step further. Not only is it not on low ground, it's on the highest ground in the area. The entrances to the cemetery are incredibly steep and narrow; I can imagine the fun they have getting in and out of there for funerals in the winter. On a high spot in the Midwest (if you can find one!) you can see the evening glow all the way around the horizon. It's as if the sun were setting in all directions at once.* This is our view as we reach the New Cemetery. About the time we find David Whitmer's grave, which is almost at the very top of the hill, the municipal fireworks are starting. In the distance, we see an occasional plume from Lexington, and in the foreground, a fairly steady barrage of small artillery. Pauses in the action are filled by the winking of fireflies among the monuments. As we lean against a large tombstone, enjoying the display and the only moderately hot, moist evening, I reflect that I am glad to be a Mormon in Missouri today--when air conditioning has advanced leagues past a dip in the Grand River, mobs are found mostly in shopping malls, and the only artillery rounds we have to dodge are a few stray bottle rockets. It sounds great in books, but I suspect history is more fun now than it was then. And, after all, things aren't quite wrapped up here yet. There might be just a little Mormon history still to be made in Missouri! Brent Hugh University of Missouri-Kansas City Conservatory of Music bhugh@cstp.umkc.edu ------------------------ *And if you stand on a tuna can, you can see the back of your head.