L I B R.ARY
U N I VLRS ITY
or ILLl NOIS
III. WST. SUR'TV
J^ionee'i to iSoutne^n Utah
Published in 1942
WHEN MY grandfather died on October 15, 1908,
my father had me write a brief sketch of his
life in our family record book. Although I was
only in the fifth grade at the time, I wrote what he and
grandmother and the others told me.
"Some day I want you to really write father's life,"
my own father said. "When you get older you can write
Ever since that time I have had it in my heart to do
this. For the last three years of his life, grandfather lived
with my grandmother about a half block from our home.
Every morning and evening I stopped in to leave them
fresh milk, and I always carried them a pat of butter from
every churning. I loved to linger and listen to grand-
father's Indian stories and to hear his songs. Somehow
tne hymns have never carried as much feeling since, and
the western ballads have never sounded so rollicking, es-
pecially, "On the Road of California", The Indian songs
seemed to have passed with him.
In 1933 I began collecting the diaries and journals of
the pioneers of the southwest. In many of them I found
references to Dudley Leavitt. These, with the material
from the family records, have formed the basis of this
work. There is much that could be included, much that
should be, no doubt, but I have done the best I could in
the space allotted.
I am especially indebted to the diaries of Orson W.
Huntsman, John Pulsipher, Myron Abbott, and Joseph I.
Earl for references; for the early life I have drawn from
the journal of his mother, Sarah Sturdevant Leavitt. I
have also gleaned material from the Journal History of
the Church, from their volumes of letters, from the records
of Washington County, and from the Temple records.
All the family have been helpful and interested, a fact
which I appreciate very much. Aunt Theresa Huntsman
and Aunt Selena H. Leavitt both read the manuscript and
gave me suggestions. Most of the living children talked
freely of their father, giving me many incidents. Uncle
Jeremy wrote some experiences which I have been glad
More than anyone else, I am indebted to my husband,
William Brooks, for his constant encouragement and for
his patience with the home work, which I have had to
neglect in order to do this. Without his support I should
never have finished it.
I hope that the various members of the family will
find in this book reliable information and an added respect
for this remarkable character, Dudley Leavitt.
There has been some question as to the spelling of
two of the names. Dudley's fourth wife, Grandma Janet,
is variously spelled: Jeannette, Jennette, Jenette, and Janet.
In copying from the work of Aunt Hannah Terry, she
spelled it Janet. I adopted that spelling in quoting from
her, and then kept it throughout the book for the sake
The same thing is true of the spelling of Weir. The
older records have it Weare, but the family now spell it
Weir, hence my use of it.
I BACKGROUND AND EARLY LIFE 1
II FROM NAUVOO TO UTAH 11
III THE ARRIVAL AT THE VALLEY 18
IV THE MOVE SOUTH 25
V FIRST INDIAN MISSIONS 31
VI THE FAMILY GROWS 41
VII THE SETTLEMENT OF DIXIE 49
VIII AT CLOVER VALLEY 56
IX AT HEBRON 66
X AT BUNKERVILLE 75
XI DODGING THE OFFICERS 86
XII CLOSING YEARS 97
BACKGROUND AND EARLY LIFE
THE ARRIVAL of a new baby at the Jeremiah
Leavitt home was nothing to be surprised at, for
every two years or less a new one was added to
the little flock, until they were accepted as part of the
natural scheme of things. This boy, bom August 31, 1830,
was the fourth son and the eighth child. His mother, then
thirty- two years of age, was to have four others. At this
time the family consisted of Louisa, 10; Jeremiah, 8; Lydia,
7; Weir, 5; and Lemuel, 3. Two of the children had died.
They called the new baby Dudley, a family name which
could be traced back to Dorothy Dudley, a grandmother
several times removed. Though the family lived in a humble
home, they were proud of their lineage. Both the father
and the mother could trace their names back to the early
Puritan stock, some of the ancestors of both having come
over on the Mayflower.
The Leavitt family came from a line of note in England,
their family coat of arms representing a ramping lion and
the motto meaning, "The Quick" or "The Active", denoting
that they were physically superior. The Dorothy Dudley
from whom this boy derived his name was a daughter of
Samuel Dudley of the Massachusetts Bay colony. Her
father could boast that four of his family had been gov-
ernors there: His father, Thomas Dudley; his father-in-law,
John Winthrop; his brother, Joseph Dudley; and his
brother-in-law, Simon Bradstreet. Thomas Dudley came to
America in 1630 in the Mayflower, along with Mr. John
Winthrop and others.
2 DUDLEY LEAVITT
Through the Dudley line it is possible to trace from
Thomas through the Purefoys, back through the mazes of
English royalty and near-royalty to Alfred the Great of
England, who ruled from 871 to 901. The mother also
boasted a good family tree. She was Sarah Sturdevant, and
her family can be traced back through John Thompson to
William Brewster, also of the Mayflower.
At the time of Dudley's birth, the family were living
in Hatley, Canada, just fifteen miles from the Vermont line,
Jeremiah had brought his young bride here immediately
after their marriage, for the soil was deep and rich and
the timber plentiful. They would establish their home and
rear their family here.
The change was a sore test for the eighteen-year-old
wife. She had been brought up in a strict Puritan home, a
home where Bible reading and family prayers were estab-
lished daily institutions, and where the Sabbath was ob-
served to the letter. Hatley was still little more than a
boisterous camp, and the swearing, the drinking, and the
general disregard for things religious and for all the customs
she had considered essential to civilized life, tried her bit-
terly. She had adjusted and developed until she was now
well matured, resourceful, and still devoutly religious. Al-
ways of a serious nature, she read the Scriptures, meditated
much, and prayed often, for the conditions she saw around
Several years passed. Two other children, Mary Amelia
and Thomas Rowell, were added to the family. In the
meantime, Sarah, the mother, had joined the Baptist church
because she believed in baptism by immersion.
Through the paper which was published by her church,
she read of a strange new sect which claimed that their
prophet received revelations direct from God. The stories
were much distorted and so fantastic that they were comi-
cal. Yet she was strangely interested in the idea of new
revelation. In her prayers and meditations, she had been
impressed that she was to receive new light from some
One afternoon one of her husband's sisters called upon
her and asked her to go for a walk. When they were out
in the fields where they would not be overheard, she told
Sarah that she had been to listen to some Mormon Elders
BACKGROUND AND EARLY LIFE 3
preach. She found Sarah a sympathetic listener, so she
went on to say how she believed that this was really the
true church of Christ restored again; finally she admitted
that she had been baptized. Suddenly it flashed on Sarah's
mind that this was the new light that she herself had been
Returning home, she told her husband of the incident,
and together they went to a Mormon meeting. They accepted
all the literature they could get, and spent long evenings
reading aloud from it, comparing it with the Scriptures, and
discussing it. Sarah's real conversion came when she read
from the Doctrine and Covenants. In her journal, written
after she had grown old, she said: "I knew that no man,
nor set of men, that could make such a book or would dare
try from any wisdom that man possessed. I knew that it
was the word of God and a revelation from Heaven and
received it as such. I sought with my whole heart a knowl-
edge of the truth and obtained a knowledge that never
has nor never will leave me."
Dudley was too young to know what it was all about,
though he listened with round eyes to much of the talk.
The older children all joined in as they could, reflecting in
some measure the fervor of their parents. The popularity
of the new sect had grown, most of Jeremiah's family hav-
ing joined. The next thing was to gather with the body of
the church at Kirtland.
This was a stupendous undertaking for Jeremiah and
Sarah, for it meant taking their large family and moving
to a new place. But they were determined to go with the
rest of the company.
They left Hatley on July 20, 1835, a company of twenty-
three souls, Jeremiah's mother, Sarah Shannon Leavitt and
her children and grandchildren. Her oldest son-in-law,
Frank Chamberlain, was in charge of the group. In Jere-
miah's wagon, besides the parents, were eight children:
Louisa, Jeremiah, Lydia, Weir, Lemuel, Dudley, Mary and
The company traveled in order, resting on the Sabbath
and whenever it was necessary to wash clothes, repair
wagons, or get supplies. It was a new experience for the
five-year-old Dudley, this camping out, cooking over the
campfire and sleeping under the stars. Thus his life as a
4 DUDLEY LEAVITT
frontiersman began early, and many of his accomplishments
in reading the signs of nature, his skill in tracking, and his
keen observation, might be traced to these early years.
Here he learned, also, resourcefulness and the ability to
They arrived in Kirtland early in September, and to
his dying day, Dudley remembered his first impression of
Joseph Smith. To his childish mind, here was a Prophet
who talked with God and angels, so he seemed a little more
than human. Later in his life, Dudley was to have closer
association with Joseph Smith, an association which seemed
only to strengthen his first impression.
Since the family money was gone, they could go no
further. The rest of the company went on to Twelve Mile
Grove in Illinois, but they must find work near Kirtland.
They went ten miles to the village of Mayfield where there
was a mill and some chair factories. Here Jeremiah and
his older sons got work.
Since most of the people of the town were bitter against
the Mormons, life was difficult here. Often Dudley came
home from school with a bloody nose from defending a re-
ligion of which he could then have knovvn but little, but to
which he was to devote his life. His parents attended strictly
to their own business and were so honest and trustworthy,
that in spite of the hatred toward Mormons in general,
they left town with the good feelings of the people. On the
day they left, the merchant of the town canceled a part
of their store bill, and gave them a few luxuries such as a
card of buttons to put on the baby's coat, and a paper of
tea. Through their influence, a number of people of the
town later joined the Mormon church.
This second journey was to take them another five
hundred miles west to Twelve Mile Grove, near Nauvoo,
Illinois. It was a long and tiresome trip. Near Lake Michi-
gan they were forced to stop again while the father earned
enough to go on. Here they found three orphan children
of Jeremiah's brother, Nathaniel. Their mother had died
some years before, and when the father died, his second
wife went back to Canada, leaving the children with people
there. The oldest boy was about twelve years old. Jeremiah
and Sarah took them all along, increasing their group to
BACKGROUND AND EARLY LIFE 5
eleven children. The orphans' names were Nathaniel, Fla-
villa and John.
The roads were bad all the way. In one place there
was a five-mile bridge over a swamp, made with poles and
without a covering of dirt, so that it nearly jolted them
They arrived to find their friends sick and discouraged.
Mother Sarah Shannon Leavitt had died of exposure and
hardship. Many of the company were ill; all were in low
spirits. They had bought good farms, but there was so
much malaria that those that did not actually have the
chills and fever were moving about half sick. Some of them
had begun to doubt the truth of this church which had
cost them so much. Jeremiah and his wife brought new
zeal and new hope to the group.
Dudley's parents must find work to support their many
children. They learned that there was a great canal being
built at Juliette, fourteen miles away. Here Jeremiah could
work with his team for three dollars a day. Sarah took in
washings for the workmen. The girls helped her, and the
boys, Jeremiah, Weir, Lemuel and Dudley worked at odd
jobs. Altogether, the family did well. They stayed there
from November until spring and then went back to join
their relatives at Twelve Mile Grove and took a farm on
shares. They had five good cows, so they could have butter
and cheese, and they raised a good crop.
Jeremiah, seeing at what an advantage he could use
the labor of his family on a farm, decided to take up a piece
of virgin land for himself. He moved out onto the prairie,
put up a house, and moved the family out. There was every
indication that they would soon become well-to-do.
Then misfortunes came, not singly, but in battalions.
First, the mother was taken ill with chills and fever. For
more than a month she was down, seriously, dangerously
ill, alternately shaking with chills and burning with fever.
To add to their troubles, their only cow died. Jeremiah
made rails enough to buy another cow, and as soon as his
wife was better, they decided to move to Nauvoo. Most of
their friends were going and they wanted to be with the
body of the saints.
They started in November, and on arriving, bought a
house three miles from the city. They plowed and sowed
6 DUDLEY LEAVITT
the land to wheat. Before it was ready to harvest, they
found that there had been some irregularities in the survey
and the land belonged to another man. So they swapped
again and got a farm by the Big Mound, seven miles from
This was in 1841. For six years the family had been
on the move, living a few months or a year at a place as
they could get work. Now, at last, they were established
where they felt that they would be permanent. They were
seven miles from Nauvoo, but they could go in to town for
conferences and special meetings, and could keep in touch
with their people. The farm was in a fine location with the
site for the new home they planned to build on top of the
mound. There was every promise that they would soon
be prosperous. Dudley was then eleven years old, Lemuel
fourteen, Weir seventeen and Jeremiah twenty. With such a
group of strappling young fellows to help him, the father
could soon get a fine farm all in shape.
They did well, too, in spite of some reverses. One
season the boys all came down with the black canker. Each
had his turn. For a time it seemed that death hovered over
the household, but by careful nursing and great faith the
parents were finally able to save them all. At another time,
Mary, then nine years old, had a felon on her finger which
caused her great suffering.
With the coming of cold weather the sickness abated.
For three years they lived on this place, increasing their
acreage, stocking the farm with cattle, preparing to build
a fine house. They had the rock and gravel hauled for the
foundation. Everything seemed to be working for their
benefit until the year 1844, when their troubles began again.
Dudley, now in his teens, could do the work of a man.
He had received little formal education because the family
had moved so much. But he could read, and did read. His
texts were chiefly the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and the
Doctrine and Covenants. In the family circle they often
read aloud in the evening. The children committed passages
to memory. Dudley's education was practical. He learned
how to farm, how to care for animals, how to mend tools.
The plant and animal life around him were an open book,
always interesting, from which he read fluently.
BACKGROUND AND EARLY LIFE 7
Then the mobbings began. Before this time, the Leavitt
family had lived often among people who were not in sym-
pathy with their beliefs. Sometimes the children had diffi-
culties because they were Mormons. But never before had
they known such depredations as they were now to witness.
From their mound they could see, night after night, the
distant fires of homes burning; they could hear the sound
of horses' hoofs on the road.
Only once did the mob threaten them. A group rode
up to the fence with a clatter, dismounted, and started to-
ward the gate. Weir, a young giant of twenty-two, walked
calmly out of the house to meet them.
"Come on in, fellows," he said easily. "Come on in
and have a drink,"
Taken by surprise at such a reception, the crowd fol-
lowed him around to the cellar, where he poured a pitcher
of wine and passed it to them. Then picking up the barrel,
he drank out of the bunghole. They watched with amaze-
ment. They noticed how his muscles bulged under his shirt;
they saw the cool fearlessness of his eyes. Perhaps they
noticed too the tense, watchful attitude of the younger
brothers, Lemuel, Dudley and Thomas. They were only
boys, but boys with fight in them. The mobbers got on
their horses and rode away. The family were not molested
This was not much comfort when they could see the
things that were going on around them and hear the stories
of the whippings and the tarring and feathering that
They worked on their farm all the spring of 1844,
conscious only of the troubles when they went into town
on Sunday. They knew that the Prophet was taken pris-
oner, but he had been taken before, and God had always
protected him and helped him to escape. When the word
came that he had been killed, they were all thunderstruck.
They felt that they must do something; they must go some-
where and find out about it. They hurried to the city to
see crowds of grief-stricken people passing on the street
or gathered in groups. Gloom sat on every face, and hope-
lessness. With their Prophet and leader gone, what could
8 DUDLEY LEAVITT
The next day the bodies of Joseph and Hyrum lay in
state at the mansion house. The people thronged there for
one last look upon the man whom they almost worshipped.
Not one but would gladly have given his life to save the
Prophet. Dudley stood in the line that passed single file
before the bodies. Something in the calm majesty of the
dead faces strengthened his testimony of the work which
this man had established; something of the sublime seemed
to reinforce his assurance that here was a man who was
called of God. Whatever it was, the experience was so in-
delibly stamped on his mind that he never forgot it, and
regardless of what hardships he must endure for his faith in
this man, he never wavered in his belief.
As the family started home, downcast and troubled,
word came that the mob were again scouring the country-
side with the threat that they would drive out every Mor-
mon. The great drum, the signal of alarm to the saints,
beat out its warning. They all gathered at the home of
William Snow, where they found several families already
met. William Snow had married Dudley's sister, Lydia, so
there was a feeling of kinship in being at his home.
The women and children sat in the dark room, while
the men and boys stood guard.
"Arm and be ready," a rider called to them. "The mob
is out to destroy every Mormon."
One of the women began to cry, begging her husband
not to go.
"If I had forty husbands and as many sons, I would
urge them all to go," Sarah told her. "If I could, I would
With Joseph Smith and his brother killed, the mob
quieted down. For several months the people lived at peace,
working their farms and tending their businesses. But they
were like sheep without a shepherd. They lacked direction.
Though they met together often, they lacked the spirit
they had before. Their most important question was,
"What can we do now?"
In the meantime, the members of the Council of Twelve
Apostles began to gather in to Nauvoo. Most of them had
been absent at the time of the martydom of the Prophet,
and had hurried home as soon as the word reached
them. Sidney Rigdon was one of those who felt that he
BACKGROUND AND EARLY LIFE 9
should be the next president of the church, since he had
been a counsellor to the Prophet. Joseph's wife, Emma,
felt that the leadership should remain in the family. It
was not until Brigham Young and a number of the Twelve
had returned that a public meeting was held to determine
the successor to Joseph Smith.
All the Leavitt family were present on that occasion,
August 8, 1844, for, to them, this was a matter of great
importance. Fourteen-year-old Dudley was with his friends
near the back of the large audience which had gathered to
hear the talks of the authorities. On the stand the men
were arranged according to their rank in the priesthood,
the different quorums grouped together. After the prelim-
inary opening exercises, Brigham Young arose to speak.
Sidney Rigdon had already pressed his claims at a meeting
the day before, but no vote had been called.
On the edge of the crowd, Dudley whispered to some
of his companions. Suddenly they all stopped and listened.
It was their Prophet Joseph speaking! How well they knew
his accents. They raised up and looked toward the stand.
For a second, they thought it was the Prophet who stood
there. But they knew it was not, and soon the vision passed.
It was so real to Dudley that it made a lasting impression.
For him, the mantle of Joseph had in reality fallen upon
Brigham. As long as he lived he loved to re-tell the incident.
The whole audience seemed to have had the same ex-
perience, for when a vote was called, they were almost
unanimous in saying that they would be led and directed
by the Twelve Apostles, with Brigham Young at the head.
United again under a competent leader, the people went
on with their work, finishing the temple, and carrying
on their church duties. The persecutions, temporarily
stopped, now began again. Again marauding bands scoured
the country-side at night; again burnings and mobbings
became common. At the Mound, the Leavitt family kept
a constant watch, for two roads went directly past their
home, one from Warsaw and one from Carthage, and they
must be alert for enemies from either. Dudley took his
turn at standing guard with the older boys.
It soon became evident that they must either leave
the state or renounce their religion. This last they would
not do. The body of the church had promised to leave, and
asked only time to gather their crops and make prepar-
ations. The Leavitt family could stay on their prosperous
farm and finish their new home, or they could go with
their friends. Dudley's mother, writing in her journal, said:
"We soon found that we had to leave the place if we
meant to save our lives, and we with the rest of the brethren
got what little we could from our beautiful farm. We had
forty thousand bricks that my husband and sons had made
for to build a house, and part of the rock to lay the founda-
tion. For this we got an old bed quilt and for the farm a
yoke of wild steers, and for two high post bed-steads we
got some weaving done. Our nice cherry light stand we
left for the mob, with every other thing we could not take
along with us."
The family was again on the road in search of a new
home where they could live their religion in peace. By
this time two other members had been added, Betsy and
FROM NAUVOO TO UTAH
IT WAS A year and a half after the martyrdom of
Joseph Smith before the Mormons left Nauvoo. Early
in 1846 they had their orders to leave the state.
Brigham Young tried to get permission to stay until spring,
and until they could get their outfits ready, but the mob
was determined that they should go at once.
Sometime in February the Leavitt family left their
farm and gathered with neighbors and friends at an old
school house. The first night out the mother, Sarah, had
a premonition that if they did not get out of there, they
would all be killed. They did not have the cover on their
wagon or their things packed, but her husband listened to
her. It was the first time in all their troubles that she
had shown any fear. During the difficulties in Nauvoo,
she had been cheerful, confident that God would take care
of them. Now, when she suddenly became so afraid, her
family listened to her. Hurriedly piling things into the
wagon, they set out for the Mississippi river, eight miles
They arrived on the bank to find a crowd collected
and getting across as fast as they could. Not until Sarah
reached the opposite bank did she feel safe. The group
arranged their wagons in a circle as close together as they
could crowd them, with the fire in the center. The first
night there was a snow storm and a strong wind which
made it almost impossible to keep covers on the wagons
or on the beds. The thawing weather which followed after
was nearly as disagreeable as the cold. They stayed there
about two weeks, until they could get the rest of their
cattle across the river and prepare to move on.
12 DUDLEY LEAVITT
They had a trying time because they were not fitted
for a long journey, either from the standpoint of supplies
or outfit. They had let the church use one of their teams
to haul out the church property. This meant that they
had only one wagon left and one team of oxen to pull it.
Loaded as it was with household goods, the wagon could
not carry the family too, nor could the oxen pull them.
That meant that the mother and children must walk, wad-
ing the sloughs and climbing the hills. It was April in 1846
before they reached Mt. Pisgah, one hundred and fifty
miles west of Nauvoo.
This was to be one of the camps of the saints, so the
father and boys set about to build a shelter and plant crops.
Since they did not have provisions to last until harvest, the
father went back to Bonaparte to secure some. Their son,
Jeremiah, was married and living at that place, so the
father would live with him while he earned flour, and when
they came back to Mt. Pisgah, they would bring Jeremiah
with them. Weir and Lemuel had gone on with another
group to Council Bluffs; they were strapping young fellows
and well able to make their way. The father decided to
take the sixteen-year-old Dudley with him back to Bona-
parte to help work for provisions, leaving the mother with
only Thomas and the three girls during the summer.
Soon after her husband left, Sarah came down with
the chills and fever. Then the children all got it, until there
was not one to wait upon the others. Though they were
strangers, they were among their own people, and their
neighbors were very kind, coming in to prepare meals, and
do the washings. 'T was the first one to take sick there
and three hundred took sick and died after I was, and I
v/as spared alive," she wrote in her journal.
In the meantime, the husband was also sick back at
his son's home in Bonaparte. Although they nursed him
the best they could, it soon became evident that he could
not get well. He, too, knew that he would go, a premoni-
tion that he had before he left his wife, and that she had
In his last hours as Dudley sat beside him holding his
hand, he began to sing the hymn, "Come, Let Us Anew!"
On the last verse, "Oh, that each in the day of His coming
may say, 'I have fought my way through; I have finished
FROM NAUVOO TO UTAH 13
the work Thou didst give me to do' ", his voice faltered.
He asked Dudley to go on with the song, but the boy's
heart was too full. He could not. Jeremiah's wife bravely
took up the strain, "And that each from his Lord shall
receive the glad word 'Well and faithfully done. Enter into
my joy and sit down on my throne' ". Without a struggle
or groan, he passed quietly away. That song has ever
after been a family favorite.
The mother, who had patiently waited her husband's
return, was almost prostrate at word of his death. Her
children rallied around her, Jeremiah coming with Dudley
to bring the outfit and load of provisions, and Weir and
Lemuel coming back from Council Bluffs with medicine
and food. Now for a short time she had all her sons to-
gether, five of them. It was the last time they were ever
together, for Weir died the next summer. The father had
passed away August 20, 1846, and Weir, the strongest of the
group in August, 1847. The daughter, Lydia, who had been
married to William Snow, died in November of 1846, making
three out of the family to succumb to the life of exposure
As soon as the boys had all gathered, they decided to
move on to Council Bluffs, where Weir and Lemuel had
some crops planted. They arrived in November, and since
they had no house in which to live and had to camp out,
the mother took chills and fever again. The boys fixed
her a shelter of hay in which she lived until they built a
house at Trade Point on the Missouri River, This was
the place where the steamboats landed.
As soon as she was able to work, she took in washings,
she did fine sewing, she baked bread and pies to sell to
the emigrants to California. She took in boarders. The
boys found work, too, and all bent all their energies toward
getting an outfit to cross the plains to Utah. Weir had
died, Jeremiah was married and had brought his family
to Utah, and Lemuel came ahead with an earlier company.
This left Dudley the oldest boy at home, with his three
sisters and his younger brother, Thomas.
During the two years they lived at this place, Dudley
worked for a man named Peter Maun. Peter liked Dudley
and took great pride in his strength, for at this time the
boy was broad and strong almost beyond belief. At one
time Peter Maun began bragging about him to a group of
soldiers who were wrestling among themselves.
"I've got a hired man that can throw any of you," he
said. "Or he can throw all of you, one at a time."
The soldiers took the challenge, and Dudley was called.
He stood in the center and met them one by one. The
game was wrestling, side holds, and the first to trip or
throw his opponent off his feet was the winner. With his
employer to encourage him and prod him on, Dudley took
one after another until he had thrown sixteen, and no
more came forward. So elated was Peter Maun that he
put his hand to his mouth and gave a whoop that raised
It was really through this man that the Leavitt family
got to the valley as soon as they did. With all their work,
it was hard to get ahead; the process of saving was slow.
One day Dudley found a purse with one hundred and fifty
dollars in it. He showed it to Peter Maun.
"What are you going to do with it?" his employer asked.
"Try to find the owner," Dudley told him.
"You are crazy," Maun said. "With all the hundreds
of people who are passing here every day, how can you
find the owner? Some one will be sure to claim it that
doesn't have as much right to it as you do. The real owner
has probably gone ahead. You keep the purse a few days
and wait to see if anyone inquires for lost money before
you say anything about it."
Dudley did as he suggested, arguing that if a man
said he had lost his purse it would be time to give it up,
but if he advertised that he had found one, some one would
be sure to claim it.
"This may be the Lord's way of helping you to get
to the valley," Peter Maun had told him. "Look how hard
your mother has worked all this time. Look how hard
you have had to work, yet it will be a long time before
you can go at this rate. Give me the purse, and I will
buy you an outfit that will take you there safely. This
may be only an answer to your mother's prayers."
This last argument appealed to the boy. Maybe it
was the Hand of the Lord. Anyway, Maun was right about
the emigrants; hundreds were passing every day. Dudley
gave the purse to the older man who bought two yoke
FROM NAUVOO TO UTAH 15
of oxen, a large prairie schooner, four cows, and a good
supply of flour and groceries. Now they could go to Zion.
The year 1850 was the peak year of the gold rush to
California. Word had gone out of the fabulous riches to be
found there and people from every station set out to get
their share of it. The total emigration westward for the
year was estimated at 55,000 persons, of whom 5,000 were
Mormons enroute to Utah.
The first Mormon train crossed the Missouri on the
first day of June, 1850, with Captain Milo Andrus in charge,
and made its real start west on June 3. It consisted of
51 wagons, 206 persons, 9 horses, 6 mules, 184 oxen, 122
cows, 46 sheep, 6 yearlings, 19 dogs, 1 pig, and 2 ducks.
The church historian estimated that between seven and
eight hundred wagons carrying passengers to the valley
as well as two new carding machines and other machines
crossed the plains this year. They took along about 4,000
sheep and 5,000 head of cattle, horses and mules.
Just before the company left the Missouri River,
Apostle Hyde called them together and spoke to them.
He told them that if they would be faithful and live their
religion they would be blessed with health and their lives
spared. He mentioned especially the reverence for the
name of God. "Keep the name of God sacred," he promised
them, "and your lives will be preserved."
Dudley heard the promise and was much impressed
by it. In his later life he used to tell how about the third
day out, one of the oxen became obstreperous, and he, for-
getting himself, cursed it soundly, using the name of God.
For two years before he had worked among rough, un-
believing men, and while he had always tried to be careful
of his language, it seemed that the words in the back of
his mind came out in his excitement. In the midst of his
anger. Brother Hyde's words flashed across his mind. He
was instantly filled with remorse and shame. He dropped
the yoke where he stood and walked, head down, to a
clump of willows, where he dropped on his knees and
asked forgiveness of his Father in Heaven. He promised
that he would never again use the name of Diety in anger
or passion. "From that day to this, I have never taken
the name of God in vain," he always concluded.
The company got along very well as far as Salt Creek.
Here the stream was so swollen that the bridge had been
carried away. Nothing daunted, they set about making
rafts on which to cross. They fell to with such vigor that
they built four rafts in one day, and the next day ferried
all their wagons across. That was better than camping
on the bank and waiting for the flood to subside.
Early in the journey there were a few who felt that
they could travel faster than the company. This having
to stay in order and wait for the slow ones annoyed some
of them. Captain Andrus, hearing of it, called the camp
together. To those who wished to go ahead, he said to
go on and the rest of the company would wait two or
three days to give them a good start. For them he had
no promise, but for those who stayed together and re-
mained united, he had the promise that they would have
a prosperous journey and would reach the Valley in safety.
After this talk, no one wanted to go on.
That night an incident happened which seemed to
challenge that promise. A child fell out of a wagon and
p. wheel passed over her head and crushed it. She was
picked up for dead, but some of the brethren administered
to her and she was restored almost instantly. She was
able to be around and eat her supper that night. It was
such a miracle that all who witnessed it were impressed,
and as the word of it spread through the camp, the people
felt that God had his watch over them.
The Leavitt family had an uneventful trip. Dudley
and Mary cared for the team and the cattle; the mother
looked after the cooking and camp arrangements; Thomas
gathered wood and carried water and chored around gen-
erally. For the little girls, Betsy and Priscilla, now eleven
and nine years old, it was one unending adventure. They
played with other children, at camp time racing among
the wagons in games of tag or hide-and-seek; they hunted
flowers and pretty rocks, they waded the creeks, they even
improvised dolls out of knotted sticks or bleached bones.
One morning they wakened to find one yoke of their
oxen gone, a young yoke that they had worked on lead.
They had had a chance to sell them but had refused, be-
cause they needed them to draw their heavy load. They
searched all around camp, and circled far out, but could
FROM NAUVOO TO UTAH 17
not find any trace of them. In the meantime, the rest of
the camp had moved on. Dudley and his mother met back
at the wagon. What should they do? Hitch up and go
with the group and trust their one yoke of oxen to handle the
load, or risk being left behind alone by stopping to hunt
further? The decided to ask the help of the Lord and
make one more effort before giving up.
Together they knelt and laid their troubles before
Him. Rising from their knees, the mother went one direc-
tion and Dudley the other, agreeing to return to the wagon
within an hour. The mother walked straight to a clump
of willows where she found the missing animals. They
were soon on their way and overtook the company before
they camped for noon. After they came to the steep
mountains, they knew that they could never have made
it without that extra yoke of oxen; without them, they
must have left a part of their load by the road-side. In
setting up their new home in Zion, they would need every-
thing they had been able to bring.
THE ARRIVAL AT THE VALLEY
THE MORNING dawned clear and bright. Dudley
was stirring as soon as it was light enough to see,
his mother and the girls preparing breakfast. An
air of eager expectancy hung over the entire camp. Today
they would be in Zion! Three long, hot months they had
been on the road. They left on the third of June, and here
it was the last day of August. He just remembered that
it was his birthday. Twenty years old, he was, and though
there was only a light fuzz on his face, he felt he was a
man. Had he not brought the family across the plains
safe and sound?
On the whole, it had been a good trip. They had all
taken the counsel of Elder Hyde seriously, and there had
been a good attitude throughout the camp, no swearing,
and no trouble between the emigrants. Though there was
sickness and death before and behind them in other trains,
they had remarkably good health. They had one birth
and one death in their company, so arrived in Salt Lake
Valley with the same number they had when they started.
This is remarkable, because the cholera raged along
the road that season. Jesse W. Crosby's journal tells how
he passed them sick and dying:
"(June 21) Cholera still bad, nearly every wagon had
lost some; one wagon of three men had lost two; one
woman said she had lost her father, mother and sister;
herself and another sister remained alone." Another cor-
respondent said he counted forty graves in sixty miles. On
June 7 he saw "three wagons with only one man able to
sit up; originally twelve; six dead and buried; four dying
THE ARRIVAL AT THE VALLEY 19
of cholera . . . sixteen out of seventeen of one train
were sick; another buried seven, and had five or six sick,
one dying. In two instances the correspondent passed
trains where all but one had died. He saw five graves
beside one tent standing and another struck. Thinks 250
had died in the last fifteen days." With some 55,000 people
on the trail headed westward, some to Utah, some to
Oregon, but most of them to the goldfields of California,
it is not strange that disease should run rampant. The
remarkable thing is that this company should escape.
Dudley did not think of all these things; his only feeling
was a wish that they would hurry and get there. If only
he might go on ahead. But he knew that would never do.
He must keep his place in the line, the third wagon of
the second ten. Finally, after what seemed an endless
wait to him, they were on the move, the wagons ahead
moving up the canyon, those behind taking their places
in the long line.
The sun was high when they pulled out of the canyon,
round a curve, and into the open. The broad expanse of
the Valley stretched out below them. Captain Andrus
directed the teams to pull out and stop, so they all could
get a view of their new home. Though it was hardly noon,
they would rest here and feed their animals.
At the first glance, the Valley was covered with a
mist, but even as they watched, it dispersed, melted in the
sunlight. There lay the broad lake glistening; there were
squares of brown earth freshly plowed, and green and
yellow fields outlined with young cottonwood trees for
fences; there were city squares etched in black and green.
He saw his mother wipe her eyes and move her lips in a
prayer of thanksgiving. Mary, sober and sweet, stood with
some other girls, while the irresistible tom-boys, Betsy and
Priscilla, climbed on the wagon wheel, waved their sun-
bonnets and shouted, "Hurrah for Zion! Hurrah for Zion!"
As for himself, he could not swallow the lump in his
throat. He could not breathe deeply enough. The sight
filled him with such exhultation that he could hardly
contain it. He walked away, took off his hat, rumpled his
heavy dark hair, and looked as if he could never get
enough of the scene.
Home at last. No more drivings or burnings or mob-
bings. No more trouble. Now they could settle down and
make a home and be happy, free of fear of any enemies.
Already he found himself planning for a farm. They had
good cows along, so they would have milk and butter for
the winter; their supply of flour and bacon would last
until he could earn more.
It was about five o'clock in the afternoon when they
passed through Great Salt Lake City, then a town of some
five thousand people. There were adobe homes of one or
two rooms on the blocks on the outskirts of town. As
they neared the business district, two-story buildings out-
lined their bulk against the sky; the Tithing Office and the
Council House and the Deseret News Building. Captain
Andrus had two large banners painted and fastened to the
cover of his wagon, the first one of the train. One read,
"Holiness to the Lord", the other, "Hail to the Governor
People came out of the houses to wave them greet-
ings. The trees along the wide open ditches were getting
large enough for shade, flowers bloomed in the yards, corn
stood ready to tassel and bean vines were climbing long
poles in the gardens. Truly this seemed like a Zion indeed,
a haven for weary travelers.
They pulled into Union Square just before sunset.
Captain Andrus, horseback, directed the camp. He sat
more erect than usual, his large hat and his black coat
brushed, his neckerchief clean. Even his horse seemed to
sense that this was an important occasion, for it curved
its neck and pranced, as it had not done for days along
the road. When the last wagon was in place, he lifted his
hand for attention.
"Brethren and Sisters," he said, "we are at the end
of our journey. We have been blessed in it. The Hand
of God has been over us. After we separate here it will
be up to each of you to locate according to your own judg-
ment and the counsel of the authorities. Let us unite in
thanksgiving to the God who has brought us here in safety."
Instantly a hundred heads were uncovered, as men,
women and children bowed together in the brief thanks-
giving. As soon as the Amen was said, the bustle began.
People from town were gathering to meet friends or to
THE ARRIVAL AT THE VALLEY 21
inquire of others still on the road. There was supper to
prepare and cattle to feed for those who would camp here
for the night. In the midst of their work, a tall young man
came toward the wagon, a smile on his face. Nobody
noticed him until Priscilla called out, "Here's Lem, mother!
Sure enough, it was Lemuel, who had come ahead a
year before, grown taller and broader, really a fine looking
young man. He had a log house all built out at Dual settle-
ment; he had worked for flour and potatoes, and he had
a young beef ready to kill. This was truly a homecoming,
especially for the tired mother.
All winter they stayed in Dual settlement and in the
spring moved out to Tooele where a new town was started
and there was a better opportunity for farms. The houses
were built close together in the form of a fort, while the
farms were out in the valley.
The family soon fitted into the life of the little village.
Lemuel had already married Melvina Thompson and had
set up an establishment of his own. Later that winter
Mary was married to William Hamblin. That left only
Dudley, Thomas, Betsy and Priscilla at home. They made
themselves quite comfortable in a log cabin with home-
made furniture. Although they worked hard, they had
their good times, too, with dances, candy pulls, husking
bees and quiltings for entertainment.
It looked as if they might become prosperous until
the Indians began to be troublesome, slipping up at night
and stealing their cattle or driving off their horses. Men
were sent out from Salt Lake City to help guard, but the
Indians continued to steal in spite of the extra watch. It
seemed that the savages knew their every move and caught
them at every unguarded moment. For three years it was
the same. Nothing was safe.
Brigham Young had called Jacob Hamblin and had
him select a group of young men to go into the mountains
to see if they could not surprise the Indians in their camp.
Dudley Leavitt was one of those called to go.
On one occasion they saw the smoke of the Indian
fires far up the canyon. The whites surprised the group
and they fled in every direction. Dudley started after one
who seemed to be a leader of the band. He had instruc-
22 DUDLEY LEAVITT
tions not to kill unless it was necessary; he, himself, did
not want to kill. Since the brave would not stop at his
command, he must catch him. All day long he followed
him, up steep mountain sides, down deep gullies, through
the brush, over the rocks. Like a deer, the Indian seemed
tireless. Dudley himself was was in excellent shape, as fit
for the chase as a blood hound. So the Indian could neither
run away from him nor stop to get a chance to aim an
arrow at him.
It was evening before the chase ended. Both men,
completely worn out, stopped at the base of a cliff. Dudley,
his trousers in strings and his boots worn through, shot
into the air three times for help, and then held the Indian
at point of his gun until some of the posse came up. When
Dudley took the knife, the bow and arrows from his cap-
tive, the native pulled open his buckskin shirt, and pointing
to his breast said, "shoot".
Dudley told him no, but motioned for him to follow
the other men, at the same time telling his companions
to take him on. The Indian stood sullenly, refusing to
move. He would not recognize the authority of others.
It was Dudley who had captured him by literally running
him down; it was Dudley to whom he had surrendered his
weapons. He would go with no one else.
When they took him into town, the people were jubi-
lant. They held a council to see what to do with him. The
men, remembering the depredations of the Indians, the
number of horses they had stolen, and the trouble they
had given, thought it might teach the others a lesson if
they killed this one.
"What do you say. Brother Leavitt?" the bishop asked
Dudley, who had been sitting back from the council guard-
ing the prisoner.
"I wouldn't take a sheep-killing dog a prisoner and
then kill it, to say nothing of as fine a looking man as
that," Dudley answered.
They all looked at the Indian. He was a fine looking
man. Tall and well proportioned, he stood erect and with
his arms folded, as though expecting no quarter and asking
none. This put the matter in a different light.
When Jacob Hamblin returned, he also favored kind-
ness. They sent word to Brigham Young, who told them
THE ARRIVAL AT THE VALLEY 23
to feed the Indian and let him go. They kept him a while
before they sent him for his squaw and papoose. All
winter he stayed in the fort with the whites, and did not
return to his people until spring.
Years later, this same native was the means of saving
the life of a Brother Harris. He was cutting timber in
the mountains; he had a large tree felled and was trimming
it, when he was suddenly surrounded by a whole band of
bloodthirsty Indians, all armed with bows and arrows. It
looked as though his doom were certain, when this friendly
brave who had lived with the whites all winter in Tooele
fort, appeared. He jumped onto a log and began to talk
eloquently with his people. So convincing was he, that
his neighbors dropped their bows and went their way.
Though Brother Harris did not understand a word of the
speech, he knew that the Indian was telling of the good
treatment he had received the year before at the fort.
At another time Dudley went out with Jacob Hamblin
and others after a band who had stolen some horses. The
posse separated, some going one way and some another
with the plan of surrounding the Indians. Dudley was sta-
tioned on a mountain side overlooking a well-worn trail.
Just as he had made up his mind that the band had gone,
he saw on the trail below, a brave and his squaw. It was
old Big Foot, the leader of the band. His squaw had just
given birth to a baby, and he had remained with her a
few hours until she was able to travel. Now she carried
the child on her back as she walked along the path behind
her husband. He was one who had resented the whites,
and with whom they had not been able to come to peace-
A little snow had fallen and lay in patches on the
mountain side. Since this brave was one with whom they
had repeatedly had trouble, Dudley decided to shoot him.
He dropped to one knee to steady his nerves and get a
better aim. Just as he was ready to shoot, a flare of snow
came up in his face. He thought there wasn't breeze
enough to blow the snow, but anyway it spoiled his aim.
He got up and went along the side of the hill, keeping in
sight of the Indians. Again he took aim and was ready
to shoot, but this time his gun missed fire. Running along
the mountain, he again dropped on one knee. This time
he took aim and fired, but the bullet hit the rocks above
the Indian's head, scattering fragments of them into the air.
Big Foot turned to him and said in plain English,
"Who are you shooting at?" Later he seemed not to know
a single word of English.
Dudley took him and his squaw to Tooele, where they
were treated with such kindness, that it had a marked
effect in stopping the troubles of that place.
During these years, Dudley lead the normal life of
the young pioneer. He worked hard; he went to meetings
and parties and dances. Naturally, he became interested
in the young women, for though he was young, he was
large and mature for his years. He had carried responsi-
bility and done a man's part since he was fifteen.
One girl had seemed to have a special interest in him,
and at dances and socials he found her excellent company.
After an acquaintance of three years and a brief court-
ship, they were married, Dudley Leavitt and Mary Hunts-
man. She was just seventeen, pretty and sweet, and like
himself, mature for her years. For she, too, was a member
of a large family and had always assumed her share of
the responsibility. They went to the Endowment House
in Salt Lake, in order to have the marriage properly
solemnized. It took place on Dudley's twenty-third birth-
day, August 30, 1853.
He had made a log cabin for her, with a big fire place
and a crane, a table and chairs and bedstead. She bought
some bedding and a few dishes, so that altogether, they
were as snug and happy as any couple could hope to be.
When, March 16, 1855, their little daughter was born, they
thought that life could offer them nothing better. Hannah
Louisa, they called her.
THE MOVE SOUTH
FOR TWO years Dudley and his wife lived happily in
their little home at Tooele. Then in the spring of
1855 the crickets came, passing like a cloud over
their settlement. Behind them the fields were left as bare
as a floor; the vegetable gardens had not one spear of
green above the ground. It looked as if the people must
face a season of famine, or at the best a serious food
In June, Jacob Hamblin came home from Santa Clara,
where he had been sent on a mission to the Indians the
year before. His field of labor was on the very edge of
civilization, the last settlement to the south. It really was
not a settlement yet, for the missionaries who had been
sent there had built a pole house and cleared a small piece
of land. That was all. But Jacob told of a semi-tropical
climate where cotton plants were growing, and where they
could raise sugar cane and sweet potatoes. He had been
counseled by Brigham Young to take his family south
After some consideration, Dudley and Mary decided
to go south to live also. It would mean selling all they
had and starting over. Dudley would take his mother,
and his one unmarried sister, Priscilla. Both Mary and
Betsy had married William Hamblin before this time. Still
another was to go along — Mary's sister, Maria, who would
be Dudley's second wife. They were married August 12,
1855. She was not yet sixteen, but was well matured and
was much in love with the stalwart young man who was
already her sister's husband. Mary agreed to the arrange-
ment; she encouraged it, in fact, for she dreaded to move
so far away from all her family. It was the principle
taught, a principle which all three accepted; it was ap-
proved and encouraged by the authorities and by the people
generally. So it was the logical thing to do.
Jacob Hamblin's journal says: "Sept. 11, 1855, 1 started
for Santa Clara with Oscar Hamblin, my brother, and
Dudley Leavitt and our families. We arrived there the
18th of October. We were kindly received by the La-
manites; they were almost overjoyed to see our women
It must have been a strange caravan that pulled out
of Tooele that September morning. The horses and cattle
were driven ahead by Duane Hamblin on horseback; the
sheep came next followed by some of the younger child-
ren. Then came the covered wagons loaded with house-
hold furniture, food, clothing and seeds. The barrels of
water were tied on the outside, the frying pans stuck up-
right in the bolster, buckets and kettles dangled under-
neath, the shovel and ax were placed easy of access. At
the back of each wagon were protruding poles upon which
were tied crates of chickens or little pigs. Since they
could not carry feed for their cattle, they must travel
slowly enough to let them feed on the way, stopping for
long noon rests and early evening, staying a day or two
when they found good grass and then crowding over the
barren stretches. What wonder that they were six long
weeks on the way!
When they arrived at Santa Clara they found the crops
all ready to harvest. The com and squash and pumpkins
and beans had done quite well, while the few cotton stalks,
the first raised in Utah, were loaded with bolls.
All winter they stayed at Santa Clara with no fear
of Indians. Then early in April they got word that the
northern tribes were on the war path and that all settlers
should move together for their mutual protection. This
meant that the group at Santa Clara should move back
Minerva Dart Judd wrote an interesting account of
how she and her husband moved to Santa Clara, arriving
iate Sunday night from Parowan after a four-days' trip.
The next morning before light, word came for them to go
back. She says: "The company consisted of 4 wagons
and 8 mounted men . . . Brothers Rich, Roberson,
Riddle, Knight, Coleman, Jacob and Oscar Hamblin and
From the records of the time, it would seem that
Sister Judd did not know the men well. They were Robert
Ritchie, Richard Robertson, Samuel Knight, Prime Cole-
man, Isaac Riddle, Jacob and Oscar Hamblin and Dudley
The women remained in Harmony a month while
the men went back to Santa Clara to finish the fort.
There were ten stone masons from Cedar City besides
the missionaries. When it was finished it was a wall one
hundred feet square, eight feet high and two feet thick,
of hammer-faced stone. It was said to be the strongest
fort in the Territory. Late in April, the families moved
back to Santa Clara.
This was a strange community, a settlement of young
people. Jacob Hamblin, 34, was the oldest man; his wife
Rachel Judd Hamblin, 32, the oldest woman. Dudley was
only 26, his wife Mary, 20, and Maria only 16. Zadoc Judd
was 29, his wife Minerva Dart Judd was only 18 and
already the mother of two children. So it was. Full of
youth and vigor and faith, they set out to establish them-
selves in this last outpost on the edge of the desert.
They planted their crops, and for a time it seemed
that they would do well. Then the creek began to dry
up. The Indians came to Jacob Hamblin complaining. The
old chief, Tutsegavit, told him that the missionaries had
promised that if the Indians would work with them they
should have food, and now their corn was drying up.
Jacob was much disturbed, and going off by himself, prayed
earnestly that rain might come and save the crops. In a
day or two a rain did fall which filled the creek and gave
them plenty of water. Jacob said that the yield was "the
greatest production of the earth that I ever saw".
In writing of the same season, Zadoc K. Judd told
how the fruit trees grew, from pits, ten feet high the first
season, so that they could plant the seeds and transplant
the orchard the same year. He said the squash vines
climbed up the cottonwood trees and the squash hung
like gigantic fruit from the branches.
28 DUDLEY LEAVITT
This year the cotton did well, too. They had saved
the seed of all they raised the first year. James G. Bleak's
record says they planted five acres and raised two hundred
pounds of cotton. Their experience the first year trying
to pick out the seeds by hand had been so discouraging
that Zadoc K. Judd invented a crude cotton gin. It was
constructed on the same plan as a clothes wringer, the
rollers about % of an inch in diameter. A crank was at-
tached to each roller, turning them in opposite directions.
Two people were needed to run it, one to turn one crank
and feed the lint in, the other to pull the lint away and
turn the other crank. By diligent labor, these two could
get about two pounds of lint a day and four pounds of seed.
Jam^es G. Bleak's record says that thirty yards of cloth
was made by Caroline Beck Knight, Maria Woodbury Has-
kell, and Sister Lyman Curtis. Minerva Dart Judd's journal
says: "This fall Mother Leavitt came down and being an
experienced weaver, taught us the art of weaving. We
made thirty yards of cloth."
Both accounts probably refer to the same accomplish-
ment, but whichever it was, the sisters were so proud of
it that they sent a sample to President Young. He was
much interested and sent some on to the elders in England
to be evaluated by experts.
The next year the Deseret News for October 20, 1858
gave an interesting comment: "The standard price for
ginned cotton is 75c a pound. The yield of cotton is 1200
pounds per acre, but seed makes up two-thirds of the
weight. The cost of preparing for market is trifling, prob-
ably $10.00 or $15.00 per one hundred pounds."
In the fall of 1856, Dudley went back north for a
load of provisions, leaving both his wives at the fort with
the other families. Mary, especially, hated to see him
leave, for she was soon to give birth to another child. There
seemed nothing else to do, as the roads would be closed
with the coming of winter, and if he made the trip on
schedule, he could get back in plenty of time.
But he did not make the trip on schedule. The other
women tried to console Mary with the idea that he.
wouldn't be much good if he were there. Then there was
the terrible uncertainty that something had happened to
him, that perhaps he would not get back at all.
When finally he did drive up to the fort, he was met
by Maria, her hands on her hips.
"What do you mean, to come stringing; up here now?"
she began, as though to scold him soundly. It was her
way of expressing her relief at his arrival. "A fine husband
you've turned out to be. Come on in here."
Mary was in bed, a bundle by her side. The new
son was the first white child born in Utah's Dixie, Nov.
30, 1856. They called him Dudley, Jr.
In the meantime, they had had some trouble with
the Indians. The local tribe, headed by Tutsegavit, had
been very friendly, but old Agarapoots and his band moved
into the valley and brought with them an attitude of de-
fiance. They definitely did not approve of the white sett-
lers; they made fun of the Piedes who thought the Mor-
mons could "make good medicine" to help the water come
and the crops grow.
Though Agarapoots had not committed any offense
other than killing a beef, he stalked about with glowering,
threatening looks. Whenever the men left the fort to
work in the fields all day, they cautioned the women to
get wood and water inside and keep the doors securely
fastened. But it was so hot in the enclosure, with no shade
but the tule and sod roofs of the hduses, that sometimes
the children lingered along the creek bank under the trees.
One time as they were playing outside, they saw Agar-
apoots and his band coming horseback. The children scur-
ried inside as fast as they could, but before the desperate
women could get the gates closed, Agarapoots and two
of his men crowded inside. With rare presence of mind,
Aunt Rachel Hamblin told them to come to her wick-e-up
and she would give them some bread. Though she was
much frightened, she maintained a calm exterior.
The other women bolted the heavy doors and boosted
a small boy over the wall on the opposite side from the
gates, telling him to catch an old gray mare that was
feeding in the pasture, and ride for the men. The boy
succeeded in slipping through the brush and weeds, catch-
ing the mare, and mounting her, before the Indians dis-
covered him. They yelled at him and shot their arrows,
but he was out of range and only rode the faster.
This put the affair in a different light. Agarapoots
did not relish the thought of having the men come and
find him inside, so he asked to be let out. The more
anxious he was to go, the more reluctant Rachel acted to
open the gates. Finally she unbarred them and opening
them just wide enough for the Indians to squeeze through,
quickly closed and barred them again. Agarapoots and
his men rode away in a cloud of dust.
The first tragedy in the little community happened
when Maria Woodbury Haskell, the seventeen-year-old
wife of Thales, was shot by a young Indian. Thales was
away up the stream taking out beaver dams and the other
men were at work in the fields, when a young Indian,
presumably friendly, came into the fort. He went to the
house where Maria was working. Thinking he was hungry,
she set about getting some food for him. He took the gun
from above the mantel and began examining it, when it
discharged, the bullet entered the girl's thigh and lodged
under the skin near the upper part of the abdomen.
They sent word to Thales, who came as quickly as he
could horseback, arriving about daylight the next morning.
In the meantime Jacob Hamblin had taken the bullet out
with a razor and the women had kept hot turpentine packs
on the wound. From the first, the case was hopeless. She
was shot Saturday morning and died Sunday morning, after
It was a blow to the little group. They made a casket
out of the planks from the bottom of a wagon box, and
dressed her in her white underwear and wedding dress,
and held a funeral service in the room that they kept for
meetings. It was hard to do the singing, harder to find
words to comfort the grief -stricken husband, hardest of
all to put one who had been so radiant and beautiful into
the hot, dry soil of the desert.
The Indian who did the shooting had gone at once
to Jacob Hamblin and insisted so earnestly that it was an
accident, that he did not mean to, that he did not know
what the gun would do, and so on, that the white men
decided, in the interest of peace, not to do anything with
FIRST INDIAN MISSIONS
THE YEAR 1857 was an eventful one for the little
colony on the Santa Clara. Other families had
joined the group, until now there was a settlement.
A letter from Thales Haskell dated Oct. 6, 1858, gives some
important information as to who were here at this time.
He says that Jacob Hamblin, Samuel Knight, Ira Hatch,
Richard Robinson, Amos Thornton, Prime Coleman, Benja-
min Knell, Thales H. Haskell, Robert Dickson, Isaac Riddle,
Robert Ritchie and David Tullis have been on this mission
since its commencement, "and are called by us, 'the old
missionaries' ". Dudley Leavitt, Oscar Hamblin and Fred-
rick Hamblin were added to the mission October 15, 1855,
Francis Hamblin in the spring of 1856 and Zadoc K. Judd
at the same time; Thomas Eckels was added May 3, 1857,
Lemuel Leavitt and Jeremiah Leavitt May 22, 1857. This
letter is copied into the Journal History under the above
While Jacob Hamblin's Journal gives the date of the
first Leavitt family to arrive in Santa Clara as October
18 instead of October 15, we can be reasonably sure from
this letter that Lemuel and Jeremiah came on the date
given. This made the family group more complete, for
William Hamblin with his wives Mary and Betsy also
moved down. Dudley had cleared some land further up
the creek and established himself near where the town
of Gunlock now stands. William and his wives moved there,
also, and it was for William Hamblin that the settlement
was named. He was a great man with guns, such a good
shot that the Indians gave him a name which meant "eyes-
in-the-back-of-the-head". His friends often spoke of him
as Gun-shot Hamblin or Gunlock Hamblin, so that his
ranch was Gunlock's Place and later just plain Gunlock.
On August 4, 1857 President Brigham Young wrote a
letter appointing Jacob Hamblin president of the Santa
Clara mission. In August of that year Apostle George A.
Smith, William H. Dame, James H. Martineau, and other
prominent men visited the Santa Clara mission. In the
report published in the Deseret News, Mr. Martineau said:
"The crops were much injured by the drought, the river
having entirely dried up so as not to reach the settle-
ment. Many of the natives were assembled here to see
the Mormon Captain and were very friendly. Brother
Hamblin had great favor with the natives, who look to
him as a father, and truly he deserves that title from the
interest manifest by him in their welfare." (Des. News
7: 227), During this visit, Jacob chose as his counselors
in the presidency, Dudley Leavitt and Samuel Knight.
The real reason for the visit of these brethren was
to warn the saints of the approach of Johnson's army,
and to advise them to save and store their grain. Word
of the approaching army had reached them some time
earlier, but now they were to prepare to fight. They heard
of the fortifications that were being made in Emigration
Canyon, of the attempts to harrass and annoy the army,
and of the determination that they should not enter the
The news created great excitment among the people.
They gathered together and rehearsed the wrongs they
had suffered in Missouri and Illinois; they retold the way
in which they had been driven and the hardships they
had endured. Here were some whose families and friends
had been shot down like dogs at Haun's Mill. Here were
some who had lost almost their whole family by cholera
on the plains. Not one but had his baci^ground of suf-
fering; not one but was determined not to be driven again.
They would fight to protect their homes, poor though they
were. If they were forced to, they would burn everything,
flee to the rocky canyons, and hide their women and
children in the mountains.
In less than a month after the visit of Apostle Smith,
the greatest tragedy in all history of Utah took place, the
Mountain Meadov/s Massacre. At this time a company
from Missouri and Arkansas numbering some one hundred
and twenty persons were massacred by Indians and whites.
FIRST INDIAN MISSIONS 33
This is a story of which the whole truth has not yet been
published. Since the details of it do not belong to this
book, we can only wonder as to Dudley's relation to it.
Jacob Hamblin was away from home at the time; he had
gone to Salt Lake City to marry Priscilla Leavitt, Dudley's
baby sister, as his plural wife. That left Dudley Leavitt
and Samuel Knight in charge at Santa Clara.
John D. Lee's confessions list both Dudley and Samuel
as having been present on that occasion. Old-timers, when
questioned about it, have only said, "Well, if he wasn't
there, he was somewhere close around." His son, Henry,
says, "It was always my understanding that father was
one of the scouts who rode horseback with messages back
As the writer of this book, I should like to tell an
incident which is among the most vivid of my childhood
recollections. It was my business to do the chores, and
twice each day as I went to and from the corral, I stopped
to leave some fresh milk for grandpa and grandma. One
night as he sat before the fire, he let his cane drop back
against his body and stretching out his hands said, "I thank
God that these old hands have never been stained by human
Something about his tone and manner sent little
sticklers up my spine and set my imagination running.
Why should his hands be stained by human blood? I
thought then that he was glad he had never killed an
Indian, for his life was such that there were many times
when he might have justified himself in that. Now I think
he was referring to the affair at the Mountain Meadows
and being thankful that he had no m-ore part in it than he
One of his sons says that he told him the men at the
Meadows were in the same positions as soldiers in any
other war. They were at war. Military law had been de-
clared, and the men could only obey orders, as any other
soldiers would have to do. Whatever Dudley knew about
it, his lips were sealed. He never discussed it. Only in his
later life would he even make a comment about it. He
seemed to have followed the advise that was given out
later that it was a bad business at best, and that talking
about it would not make it any better.
The next company which passed through the state
after the massacre were likewise threatened by the Indians.
The natives had tasted blood; they were anxious to push
this war against the "Mericats". But evidently horror-
stricken at the news of what had happened at the meadows,
President Brigham Young had ordered that this company
be taken safely through to California. Ira Hatch acted as
their guide. When word came to the leaders that the
Indians on the Muddy planned to exterminate this company
cdso, Jacob Hamblin sent Dudley Leavitt and others to
the scene. Jacob's Journal says: "Brother Dudley Leavitt
came in from the Muddy and told me that the Indians
had robbed the company (previously spoken of) of near
300 head of cattle. They made their descent upon the
train 7 miles west of the Muddy by moonlight and by
taking advantage of the deep ravines they completed the
design. The missionaries went with the cattle and Indians
according to the instructions given to Brother Leavitt to
prevent further outbreaks. The brethren saved nearly 100
head of cows from being destroyed and wasted by the
Indians, and brought them to the Mountain Meadows."
From this it would seem that this attack was part
of the Mormon warfare against the United States, wherein
they were determined to weaken the enemy without shed-
ding any blood. Lot Smith and his men were carrying on
similar activities with regard to the army to the east. In
his later life, Dudley used to tell of this incident.
"It was like taking our lives in our hands," he said.
"If any one but the servants of God had asked me to go
on that trip, I would have refused, but when I was told
to go, and promised that I should go in peace and return
in safety, and that not a hair of my head should be in-
jured, I went." Then he told of how he found the Indians
gathered and dressed in their war paint and feathers; how
he talked with them and persuaded them to take the cattle
and let the company go on in peace; and how tying a red
bandana around his head and giving a mighty whoop, he
led the stampede himself. "The next spring I had to ride
the range three weeks to gather the cattle up again and
give them back to the agent who came back from Cali-
fornia for them," he always said to end the story.
Later that same fall he was sent with Ira Hatch on
FIRST INDIAN MISSIONS 35
a mission to the lyat tribe in the south. That meant that
he left at the Santa Clara mission his two wives and two
children, Hannah, now past three years old, and Dudley,
Jr., just one year old. The fall work was done, and since
they were going south into the desert country, the logical
time would be to go in the winter. Jacob Hamblin's hand-
written journal tells the story of what happened to these
men as they told it to him when they met him at Las
Vegas on their return on the last day of December 1857.
"We left the Vegas with three of our old Pah-ute friends,
traveled three days and arrived at the first lyat village.
A portion of this village were Pah-ute descent and were
our warm friends. They told us that if we went to the
main village, where the War Chief resided, they were
afraid we would be killed. The next day, not withstanding,
we pursued our journey — quite a company of Pah-utes
followed us and directed us to the head War Chief.
"Shortly after our arrival we were informed by our
Pah-ute friends that the lyats intended to kill us. The
lyats took both of our animals and gave us to understand
that we could not leave.
"We met with an lyat that could speak a little English
— we told him that we were friends and had come a great
distance to see and talk with them. He said, 'White men
mean and dishonest and are not our friends'. A large
number of lyats soon gathered around us. The Pah-utes
told us that the lyats were going to kill us, and began
pleading with tears in their eyes for our lives to be spared.
One of the Vegas Indians came to Brother Hatch and said,
'We told you last night they would kill you if you came
here'. And then burst into tears.
"The Chief then called a vote to see who would sanc-
tion our death. All of the lyats formed themselves in single
file with their chief at their head, showing by this that they
sanctioned our death. The Pah-utes gathered around us —
some of them wept aloud.
"Brother Hatch then asked the privilege of talking to
the Great Spirit before dying.
"He then knelt down and offered a simple prayer in
the Pah-ute tongue, asking his Heavenly Father to soften
the hearts of the Indians that they might spare their lives,
and that they might know we came here to do them
36 DUDLEY LEAVITT
good and not harm. This the Pah-utes interpreted to the
lyats. Chah-ne-wants, the chief, was much effected, and
his daughter, an amiable looking girl, seemed to take up
warmly in our favor. The old chief then hurried us back
into the end of a long lodge, and built a fire in front and
stood guard over us. They then brought one of our animals
and tied it to the door post. One of our Pah-ute friends
came in and told us that the lyats had killed the other
animal and that many of them were determined to kill us
before we left. We spent all the fore part of the night
talking to the chief through the Pah-ute interpreter, giving
him much good instruction — telling him things that must
shortly come to pass with the Indians. The next day we
were permitted to leave with our worn out mules and
scanty supply of provisions. We made the best of our
way to this place."
Since this conversation took place either on the last
day of December, 1857, or the first of January, 1858, we
may assume that Dudley arrived back at Santa Clara
within two weeks. In his later life he often told of the
hardships of that trip from the lyat village to Las Vegas.
The desert country over which they passed offered little
for food except the long pod of the mesquite tree, which
at this time of year would be gone. They were forced to
kill desert animals for food, lizards and snakes and chip-
munks. They debated as to whether or not they should
boil up their moccasins to eat. But they tightened their
belts and pushed on to Las Vegas, where they found friendly
Indians and food.
At Santa Clara they found an increase in the popu-
lation from the saints that had left San Bernardino, Las
Vegas and other points south. They helped to build the
first meeting house outside the fort, an adobe structure
16 by 24 feet. Among the families who stayed at Santa
Clara that winter and who applied to President Young
for permission to stay there permanently were Hiram Judd,
Lucius Fuller, John W. Young, Lorenzo Allen, David Pettit,
Robert Crowe, Brown Crowe, William Hamblin, Edwin
Hamblin, Thomas Leavitt, William Crosby, Tailor Crosby,
Sidney Burton, Andrew Gibbons, Decater Thompson. Some
ten other families were living temporarily at Santa Clara,
FIRST INDIAN MISSIONS 37
Early in March of 1858 Jacob Hamblin was sent south
again, this time to investigate the presence of a steamer
on the Colorado River. He took with him five men, one
of whom was Dudley Leavitt. The excitement regarding
the army had not abated. In the north the people were
preparing to leave their homes and flee south. Rumors
had come that an army was going to be sent against the
Mormons from California, so this ship was viewed with
The party went to Call's Landing, some one hundred
and seventy miles from Santa Clara, and some thirty miles
from Las Vegas. The steamer was under command of
Lieutenant Ives, and was a government exploring party.
When the Mormons reached the shore near where the
vessel lay, they sent Thales Haskell out to the ship to see
what he could find out of the party and its purpose. There
was mutual distrust, the Mormon man wanting to learn
what he could without telling his identity, and the explorers
suspicious of him and his motives. He learned little beyond
what he was able to observe, and returned to his com-
panions the next morning. He knew it was not a war ship,
that it did not carry soldiers, and that its mission probably
had little to do with the difficulties in Utah.
When the group reached Las Vegas, they left Oscar
Hamblin there to help the Indians plant crops and to
maintain friendly relations with them. Two of the brethren
returned to Santa Clara, while Jacob and Dudley went
thirty-five miles south to where there was a deposit of lead.
With the condition of war existing, it was important for
them to get lead for bullets.
Jacob Hamblin's biography says only: "Having some
little knowledge of smelting the ore, our efforts were a
success." They built a crude smelter, the furnace walls
of adobe and the container on top of tin, something like
a molasses boiler. The hard mesquite wood made a fire
hot enough to melt the lead, which they ran through a pipe
in the bottom into places hollowed out in the sand. For
years the remains of this lead smelter stood there, near
where was later the Portisee mine.
Dudley had been put in charge of the horses, and
cautioned not to let them get out of his sight. He thought
he was watching them. As he went about preparing the
supper over the camp fire, he looked up to see his mares
just rounding the point of a hill. Calling out to them, he
ran to head them off, and since he did not have his gun,
he picked up two rocks in his hands as he ran.
But he was not quick enough. He followed as fast as
he could go, but when he came to the mouth of the wash,
he could only see a cloud of dust far out on the desert,
as the fleeing Indians left him with no means of pursuit.
This was a real tragedy. To be left on the desert with
an outfit was bad enough, but to be left on foot was serious,
They agreed that Dudley should go back to Las Vegas
for help and that Jacob should remain with the wagons.
Jacob's biography tells of his experiences, but says nothing
of Dudley except that he started back thirty-five miles
on foot to Las Vegas. Dudley told how, after he had
sent Oscar Hamblin out with a team to get Jacob, he
started home on foot. He was now twenty-eight years of
age, and in excellent condition; he might as well be going
toward home as waiting around for a week or two for
teams. So he set out. He went some fifty miles across
the desert to the Indian village on the Muddy River. Here
he rested a day or two and looked around in the hope
that he might find his horses. When he was ready go on,
his native friends filled his pockets with parched corn, and
gave him a little jerked horse meat. He did not know
whether this came from the hind quarter of one of his
own mares or not, but he accepted it gladly.
Leaving the Muddy, he followed the course of the
Virgin River up to near where the town of Littlefield now
stands, and then cut across the mountains towards Santa
Clara. This last thirty miles proved almost too much for
him. His scanty supply of food was gone, and he was
weakened by his long journey. The desert offered little
at any time; now it seemed more barren than usual. He
trudged along, a lone figure in the expanse of sage and
rabbit brush, tightening his belt and looking out for any
sign of food. He often told in his later years how he came
to a place where a California emigrant had camped, and
picked up the kernels of barley that had dropped from
the horses' nose bags. He even kicked apart piles of dry
manure in search of whole kernels that the desert rats
FIRST INDIAN MISSIONS 39
had not yet carried off.
At last he felt that he could go no farther. He used
the last bit of strength he had to climb a large rock to lie
down, thinking that here, perhaps, the animals could not
get at his body or a passing wagon would be sure to find
him. He had not been there long when a friendly old Indian
came along. He had no food, but he had a pipe with a
little tobacco. He gave Dudley a few puffs, wrapped his
oose rope tightly around the hungry man's body, and of-
fered to help him to the Indian camp. Stimulated by the
tobacco, sustained by the rope corset, and bouyed up by
the thought that help was near, Dudley made his way
to the tepees. The squaws would give him only a little
bit at first, a few kernels of wheat to chew slowly. After
a little while they gave him more, until at last he was
able to take a gourd full of a stew which they were
cooking. He was forced to remain here resting a day or
two before he could make the few remaining miles to his
It was now April and time for the crops to be in,
though the wheat was already well up. Dudley entered
into his work with his usual vigor, planting not only cotton
but sugar cane and vegetables. By this time, peace was
established; word came that the saints in the north were
moving back to their homes, and the terror and tension
were over. There was every promise of a good harvest.
The people of the south decided to really celebrate
the Twenty-fourth of July. It was the first time they
had felt like having a hilarious time since they had come
south. The first years were so hard and they were so few.
Then the year and a half just past had been one of worry
and concern. Now they decided to all go to Washington,
the newly established town some ten miles away and cele-
Such a bustle of preparation! There were clothes to
be made ready, made over, or retrimmed or freshened up.
There was cooking to be done, for everyone must take
his own food along, and some to spare.
In the Leavitt wagon were the two wives, the two
children and Dudley's mother. Everyone else was going,
too, so they planned to travel together. They left Santa
Clara after an early lunch and arrived in Washington after
40 DUDLEY LEAVITT
sunset. They camped on the public square, where were,
also, some wagons from Harmony and Toquerville. Around
the camp fires they visited, told stories and sang songs.
The next morning they were awakened by shots of cannon
— improvised by placing anvils on top of each other with
a shot of powder underneath.
The meeting at nine o'clock consisted of spirited toasts
and speeches, songs and music by the band, a flute and
drum. In the afternoon sports of all kinds were held, foot
races, wrestling, boxing bouts for the men, visiting in the
shade for the women. A grand ball finished the day. The
ground had been cleared, packed and dampened; a bonfire
gave light. How they cut and swirled and "swung their
Dudley loved to dance. No one was lighter on his feet
than he. He could go through the intricate changes of
the quadrille; he could make the Hostler's Four look like
a piece of art. He was one of the few who could do justice
to the double shuffle. John D. Lee was another who could
dance and enjoy it, the fringed ends of his long red sash
swinging wide on the turns. Maria and Mary were not
less keen in their enjoyment, nor Minerva Judd, nor Caro-
line Knight, nor any of the other young women. After
all, they were only girls in years and girls at heart, though
they were married and some of them had babies.
The next day they stayed until after noon, resting
and visiting, the men swapping yams and the women ex-
changing patterns and recipes. After dinner they hitched
up their teams and started for home. The occasion would
be a bright memory for them all and would give them
talking material for months. It seemed so good to have
moved out from the cloud of fear and hate and suspicion
which had surrounded them, to know that the war was
over and that peace was established.
THE FAMILY GROWS
AFTER THE fall work was done, Jacob Hamblin de-
cided that they should visit the Moquis Indians
across the Colorado River. After all, they had
been sent here as missionaries to the Indians, and it was
their duty to do all that they could to gain the friendship
of the natives and to try to teach them the ways of civiliz-
ation. The work among the Piutes and Piedes had been
discouraging, because these tribes were very backward.
Jacob thought he would like to spend some effort with
what he called "the nobler branches of the race".
On the twenty-sixth of September, 1858, they held a
special conference at Santa Clara to decide upon policies
to pursue among the Indians. Since the natives at the
Muddy Valley and Las Vegas had been so thieving, they
decided to withdraw the missionaries from those two places,
and work instead among the Navajos and the Moquis.
It was the last of September when they set out. Jacob
Hamblin's Biography gives the list of those who went as
Ammon M. Tenney, Durais Davis, Frederick and William
Hamblin, Dudley and Thomas Leavitt, Samuel Knight, Ira
Hatch, Andrew S. Gibbons, Benjamin Knell and a Piute
guide, Naraguts. The minutes of the meeting held, give
also, the names of Thales Haskell anl Lucius Fuller as
among the party.
The country over which they must travel was largely
unexplored, a barren, rocky land, destitute of food or
game. After ten days' journey, much of it over dangerous
rocks and cliffs, they came at last to "The Crossing of the
Fathers" on the Colorado River. The next day the mule
which carried the provisions was either lost or stolen, so
they were three days without food, except what they
could shoot. Then they came to a garden growing. Risking
the displeasure of the owners if they were caught, they
took a large squash. They cooked it and decided that it
must be a different variety than they had at home because
it was so much sweeter. Later they decided that it was
just their hunger that made it taste sweeter.
In his Biography, Jacob Hamblin describes the Indian
"Four miles further on we came to an Oriba village
of about three hundred dwellings. The buildings were of
rock, laid up in clay mortar. The village stands on a cliff
with perpendicular sides, and which juts out into the plain
like a promontory into the sea. The promontory is narrow
where it joins the table land back of it.
"Across this the houses were joined together. The en-
trance to the town on the east side was narrow and difficult.
The town was evidently located and constructed for defense
from the marauding bands around.
"The houses are usually three stories high. The second
and third stories are set back from the front the width of
the one below, so that the roofs of the lower stories have
the appearance of terraces.
"For security the first story can only be entered by
ascending to the roof, and then down a ladder into the
"After our arrival in the village, the leading men
counseled together a few minutes, then we were sep-
arated and invited to dine with different families."
Jacob's account goes on to describe the homes and
food of these Indians, and of the way they contrived to
live here in the midst of the desert. Luke Johnson gave
an account of the trip to George A. Sm.ith on December
28, so they must have been back by thai date. He also
told of their cliff dwellings, accessible only by foot or mule
back, and of the cisterns in which they stored their water.
Of the hardships on the way home, he said nothing.
Jacob's Biography outlines them briefly, but in the minds
of the men who endured them, they were never to be
The missionaries had heard a legend that some Welsh
men had disappeared into this section several hundred
THE FAMILY GROWS 43
years before, had intermarried with the Indians, and lost
their identity. There were supposed to be some descendants
with light hair and fair skins and some Welsh words in-
corporated into the Indian language. The group of Mormon
visitors found none of these evidences. They stayed long
enough to establish friendly relations, then leaving four
of their number — William Hamblin, Andrew Gibbons,
Thomas Leavitt and Benjamin Knell — to rem.ain with
the natives, the rest of the group started back to Utah.
The trip home was long and hard. Winter had set in.
All day they faced a piercing wind, and at night did not
dare light a fire for fear of roving bands of Indians. They
had expected to get food at an Orubi village, but were
disappointed. To add to their troubles, one of their horses
carrying what little provisions they had got away. That
left them entirely without. To add more to their troubles,
it began to snow, until in a whole day they went only
When they camped at Pipe Springs, the snow was
knee deep. They pitched their tent and prepared to face
another cold night without food. For two days Jacob had
ridden almost in silence. Some of the men thought he was
angry, but as a matter of fact, he was worried and almost
ill from exposure. After huddling a while in the rude
shelter, Dudley and Lucius Fuller went out and began
saddling their horses. Jacob came out and asked them
what they were going to do.
"We are going home, or we are going to die in the
attempt," they told him.
"The chances are you can't make it," Jacob told them.
"Your horses are already jaded, and in this storm it would
be hard to find the road. If you did get through, you could
not get help back to us for a week, and we cannot go hungry
that long. I see no way but to kill one of the horses for
Without a word, Dudley pulled the saddle from his,
mare and motioned for his companion to shoot it. Jacob
turned and walked into the tent, tears running down his
cheeks. He felt that he had got the group into this diffi-
culty, and was afraid the men would complain or argue
among themselves as to whose horse should be shot.
"Some of the men had steaks cut out of the hind
44 DUDLEY LEAVITT
quarter of that horse almost before it stopped kicking,"
Dudley said years later. "No meat since has ever tasted
For two days they lived on this diet, horse meat with-
out salt. After the first hunger was satisfied, it did not
seem so good, but it was better than nothing. On the third
day the storm was over and they made their way toward
The whole Santa Clara settlement was relieved to see
their horses file down the street. Pehaps none were more
relieved than Dudley's two wives, both of whom were
expecting babies. Mary's third child, Orin David, was
bom Jan. 8, 1859, and Maria's first baby, Orilla, arrived
on April 28, 1859.
The two sisters, left alone so much, had grown to
depend upon each other, and cooperated in every way.
They shared each other's worries and worked for their
mutual good. Maria waited on Mary during her confine-
ment, and then when her baby arrived, Mary was able
to take care of her. More than that, the one layette could
do for both babies, for in three months, little Orin could
Their work went on as usual, planting and harvesting,
until early fall, when another event of moment happened.
Dudley married a third wife, Thirza Riding, a sixteen-
year-old girl from England. She had left her native land
with her parents nearly twelve years before. They had re-
verses, and were forced to stop back at St. Louis and
work to get an outfit. For her the trip across the plains was
one round of good times. In Salt Lake City her father,
who was a tinsmith, found plenty of work. They lived
there for five years. Then at the time of the move south,
they came to Provo. At this time, Thirza had a white
swelling on her leg. For six months she was under the
doctor's care. At last it seemed that she must have the
leg taken off, but her mother would not listen to it.
"If I must bury her, I will bury her with both her
legs," she said.
The girl was on crutches for over a year. In the
meantime, the family was called to Santa Clara. She was
still on crutches when they arrived.
What it was that attracted her to Dudley, or him to
THE FAMILY GROWS 45
her, we can only guess. He was twenty-nine years old,
a perfect physical specimen, with a shock of brown hair,
clear blue eyes, and a sense of fun. She was a slip of a
girl with long hair, which she let hang loose at the dances,
with only a ribbon around her head. She, too, was full of
fun, she loved to dance and sing and laugh. It did not
matter to her that he already had two wives and four
children. He still was what she wanted. They were married
on August 11, 1859, at Manti, Utah, by I. Morley.
Though there must have been some heartaches on
the part of the other two wives, they accepted the third
with good grace. Dudley established them all at Gunlock.
There was plenty of fertile soil there and it was nearer
the head of the stream where the water did not dry up
in the summer.
The year 1859 had been a dry year and the crops did
not do well, at least the wheat crop did not. Flour was so
scarce that people were forced to try substitutes. They
ground cane seed, but found that it would not make bread.
Com was their chief diet, com meal mush, com bread,
hominy. They tried as many ways as possible to get
variety but it was still com, though there were beans,
squash, and greens to go with it. If they had a small
biscuit of wheat bread for dinner on Sunday, they thought
they did well.
In January, 1859, the county seat was moved from
New Harmony to Washington. The early records of the
court proceedings, now on file at the Washington County
Court House give some interesting sidelights on conditions.
The tax assessment this year was one fourth of one per-
centum; payment was in produce. Wheat was $1.50 a
bushel, cotton 50c a pound, clean washed wool, 75c per
pound. (J. G. Bleak Bk. A — 67) .
Early in 1860 Dudley made a trip north with molasses
and dried fruit with which to buy the things his families
needed. On the way up he stopped as usual at the home
of Sarah Smith McGregor at Parowan. She was a daughter
of Aunt Hannah Fish. On his return, he again stopped
at her home. Years before, Sarah had adopted an Indian
girl, Janet, who went by the name of Janet Smith, as that
was the name of Sarah's first husband. She had lived in
the home since infancy, had grown up with the other
children, and had the same training. She attended school
and took part in church activities as they did; she helped
with the home work, but v/as in no sense a slave.
On his way home, Dudley got out early. He pulled
out of the yard before sunrise, ^\dthout waiting to eat
breakfast with the family, for he hoped that he could get
home in two more days. He had got out of town, past the
fields, and to the open road, when he was overtaken by
a boy on horseback.
"Brother George A. Smith wanted to see you before
you left town," the boy said, and then wheeled his horse
and galloped back without explaining what was wanted.
Dudley supposed that Apostle Smith had some message to
send to Jacob Hamblin, or some instructions with regard
to the Indians. So he turned his team around and went
back to town.
Apostle Smith was waiting for him alone in the parlor.
He hestitated a little and then asked Dudley if he had
ever considered marrying an Indian girl. This question
came as a complete surprise to the young man. No, he
couldn't say that he had. The Apostle went on to say
that it would be his counsel for Dudley to marry the girl,
Janet Smith. This, too, was a surprise. He had known
her for years, but had never thought of her as a wife.
Brother Smith went on to explain that the girl had
received an offer of marriage from a white man, as a
plural wife, but had refused it. The family could not under-
stand why she had turned down so good an offer; they
felt that the opportunity to marry a white man was one
she could not afford to pass up. For a long time she would
tell them nothing, but this morning after Dudley had left
in such haste and without even a leave taking, she bad
"There is only one man that I have ever seen that
I would like to marry," she said, "and that man is Dudley
He went on to enumerate the girl's good qualities and
to show that with her training she should make an ex-
cellent wife. Then, too, there was the promise that the
Lamanites should yet become a white and delightsome
people; they were of the blood of Ephraim and would
eventually come into their own.
THE FAMILY GROWS 47
Dudley hestitated. He thought of the three wives at
home, Thirza, a bride of less than six months, both the
others with young babies. The season had been so hard
that it was almost more than he could do to provide for
the family he had. He dreaded the complications that were
sure to arise by bringing another wife into the group, es-
pecially an Indian wife.
"If you will take that girl, marry her, give a home
and a family, and do your duty by her, I promise you in
the name of the Lord that you will be blessed," George A.
Smith said solemnly.
"I'll do it," Dudley said, without further hesitation.
The girl and the family were called in, the marriage
ceremony performed then and there, Janet's things loaded
into the wagon, and the couple started on their strange
The story of the arrival home comes to us by word
of mouth through the years. His three wives, who had
been anxiously watching for him, hurried out to the wagon.
To say that they were surprised would be putting it mildly;
to say that they were pleased would be far from true. One
cannot help being a little sorry for the girl on the wagon
who received so cold a reception. Mary said little. As the
first wife, she knew her first duty was to try to maintain
order and dignity in her husband's house. She could wait
for the explanation which she knew would be forthcoming.
Maria sputtered a little; Thirza bundled up her things and
went home to her parents. She felt that her parents would
understand. She could have accepted another wife, she
told herself — but an Indian! It was more than she
At home she received no sympathy. Both her mother
and her father told her she was wrong to be so jealous
"You take your things and go right back," her father
told her. "You should be ashamed to make such a fuss.
When you married him, he had two other wives. They
were kind to you and accepted you into their home. Now
you do the same. He has acted entirely within his right.
If he wants another wife, he can take her. How do you
know but what this was counsel of the authorities? Any-
way, you go back, act like a lady, and hold your tongiie."
In a about a week Thirza went back. Dudley had
48 DUDLEY LEAVITT
made no effort to come to her, to coax her back, or to
offer any explanation. She had gone out of his house of
her own free will; she could return when she got ready.
But he was happy and relieved when she did come. Now
he could divide the things he had brought from the city.
He had made a rule never to give to one what he could
not give to the others; the cloth was always measured
into equal lengths, they all had shoes when one got them;
if there was only one paper of tea, it was divided equally.
Naturally there were many adjustments to make. That
there were some differences and occasionally a few bitter
words, there can be no doubt. But they learned to bear
and forebear, to control their tempers and their tongues.
Mary was patient, and the girls learned in time to adjust
and to work together. Most of the credit for what success
they made of this strange way of life must be given to
Dudley. He believed that a man should be the head of his
own house, under God. He treated his wives with impar-
tiality; he was gentle and cheerful; he loved his children.
Whenever he came into the house, they all ran to him.
He never sat down that they were not all on his lap. He
observed family prayer, the group kneeling together every
morning and evening to ask God's blessing and guidance,
and to pray for the strength and grace they needed. In
the evening, he often read aloud while the women sewed
or knitted or mended.
Soon he built each wife a house of her own, one large
log room with a shed at the back. Janet's was a part dug-
out against the hill, but it was cool in summer and warm
in winter, and the other wives felt that it was as good an
establishment as theirs. Each had a fireplace to cook over,
a bed built into the corner laced with rawhide strips and
with a good shuck tick. Each had a home-made table and
several stools of split logs with awkward, out-standing
legs. Each had her own dishes and bedding. He gave each
a cow, a pig, and some chickens, and what they made of
what they had, depended on their own thrift.
The ideal to which he worked all his life was to keep
his families together, to have his wives where he could
see them all every day, and to be close to his children, an
ideal that became increasingly difficult as the families
grew. He sensed the responsibility which he had assumed,
and resolved to carry out his part of it, with the help of God.
THE SETTLEMENT OF DIXIE
THE LEADERS of the church had watched with
great interest the progress of the little colonies on
their southern frontier. With the Civil War on
back in the states, it was almost impossible to get cotton
goods; it had always been a problem to secure sugar. If
it could be demonstrated that these articles could be raised
in southern Utah, it would be of great benefit. The first
samples of cotton raised on the Santa Clara and sent to
Salt Lake City caused a great deal of conjecture, as did
the cloth samples which they sent the second year.
In 1857 a company of converts, most of them from
the South, had been sent to establish Washington, Wash-
ington County, under the leadership of Robert D. Coving-
ton, to raise cotton. There were some one hundred and
sixty people in the company. The next year, 1858, a group
was sent to establish a cotton farm at the mouth of the
Tonaquint, or at the junction of the Santa Clara and
Virgin Rivers. This was under Joseph Home, and is said
to have been the first agricultural experiment station in
the United States. That the people were actually experi-
menting is shown by this extract from a letter from James
H. Martineau to B. R. Carrington, dated August 22, 1857,
"While at Harmony, Mrs. E. N. Groves showed us a piece
of cloth, the warp being cotton grown at the Santa Clara
and the filling being the bark of a species of milk weed,
the fibre being long, and almost as strong as silk".
In May, 1861, President Brigham Young, George A.
Smith, Daniel H. Wells, John Taylor, Bishop Edward
Hunter and others visited the southern settlements. They
reported twenty families in Santa Clara and seventy-nine
50 DUDLEY LEAVITT
in Washington County. Of the visit, the Deseret News
said: "At Santa Clara there are several fine young peach
orchards. It is estimated that 1000 bushels of peaches will
be produced there this season. Jacob Hamblin has a
hundred bearing trees. Mr. E. Dodge has a fine young
orchard and vineyard, consisting of apples, peaches, apri-
cots, nectarines, plums, pears, quinces, almonds, figs, English
walnuts, gooseberries, currants and Catawaba, Isabella and
California grapes, all in a thrifty and promising condition.
The cotton crop looks very well, but not as forward as
usual, and crops in general were backward." (Des. News,
At this time, Dudley and his families were living on
the present site of Gunlock, where they, too, had thrifty
orchards and vineyards. Others had told of the great
fertility of the land, and of its adaptability to the growing
of fruit and grapes, as well as cotton. Perhaps the report
of the first Washington County Fair, held in September,
helped to establish this idea of the southern part of the
state. The report said: "September 7, 1860, the Wash-
ington County Agricultural and Manufacturing society held
its first exhibition at Washington, the county seat. A
splendid collection of fruits and other products were brought
in. Among other things a cotton stalk containing 307 bolls
and form? and a sunflower which measured three feet
in circumference. The ladies' department also represented
a very creditable appearance."
The combined result of all these reports was that
Brigham Young decided to colonize southern Utah. He
would establish the city of St. George, with some three
hundred families. He also decided to send a colony of
Swiss emigrants to Santa Clara to raise grapes and fruit.
Among all the enterprises necessary in colonizing the
state, perhaps none was more heroic than this. These con-
verts had come across the ocean and to the Missouri River
through the help of the Perpetual Emigration Fund, There
they made hand-carts, which they loaded with all their be-
longings and pulled all the weary fourteen hundred miles
to the valley. When it was decided to send them another
three hundred miles south to this last frontier, volunteer
teams were called to transport them. One man hauled a
family from Salt Lake City to Provo, another from Provo
THE SETTLEMENT OF DIXIE 51
to Nehpi, another from Nephi to Fillmore, and so on, the
last being from Parowan to Santa Clara.
An old brother Jones of Cedar City, in speaking of
this, said, "I was just a boy, sent to drive my father's
team from. Cedar City to Santa Clara to take a father,
mother, and four children. I unloaded them in the sand
underneath an old willow tree. I shall never forget my
feelings as I turned my team around and drove away. I
thought I was leaving that family there to starve. They
had a roll of bedding, a small box of clothes, a chest with
some carpenter's tools in it — all that they had been able
to haul across the plains in their handcart. There was
not a shovel or hoe or ax, or any of the other tools they
would need. There was little food, and no evidence of
where they might get more when that was gone. All
through my life the memory of those people left there
in that desert has haunted me."
The group evidently came in good spirits, however,
for George A. Smith, writing in the Millenial Star said,
"We met a company of fourteen wagons led by Daniel
Bonelli, at Kanarra Creek. They excited much curiosity
through the country by their singing and good cheer. They
expected to settle at Santa Clara village where there is a
reservation of land selected for them that is considered
highly adaptable to grape culture. Six of their wagons
were furnished by the church." (Mil. Star. 24: 41-42).
The company arrived November 28, 1861 and camped
around the adobe meeting house. As soon as their first
rude shelters were made, they began on their ditch and
dam. It was completed on December 24, Christmas Eve,
and was. the occasion for a celebration. It had cost $1030.00
in labor, with work valued at $2.00 a day.
The next day the rain began. Old-timers claim that
it rained for forty days. At least the rainy season did
last more than a month. Clothes and bedding were wet
and could not be dried. The dugouts and other shelters
gave poor protection, even with all the utensils to catch
the drippings. Food molded. Fires were hard to keep
going and harder to start if they went out. It was a month
of misery and suffering for all.
Then came the flood. For days the creek had been
rising, until it was swollen to many times its normal size.
IJ. OP II i i ID
52 DUDLEY LEAVITT
One night the people were awakened by its roaring — like
a wild beast unleashed. Every few minutes there would
be a loud splash as a large piece of bank fell into the
water. The fort had been built well back on higher ground,
but now it was plain that it was in danger. Those nearest
the stream began to move to higher ground. They picked
their way through the darkness, carrying their quilts to
the top of the hill and tucking shivering children into
their damp folds. A few pine torches flitted about; one
or two had made lanterns of candles stuck into the side
of tin cans. But the light was a feeble flicker, making the
darkness outside its tiny circle seem even more dense.
Those in charge ordered everybody out of the fort.
But it was not enough just to get out, they must move
their food and clothing and bedding. A woman who had
given birth to a baby the day before must be carried
to safety. Long before they were through, the water was
nearly waist deep through the fort. They tied a rope from
the gate to a tree on the higher ground, which was a
veritable life line for the people so frantically trying to
carry out their stores of wheat and molasses. By keeping
a firm hold on the rope, they could be sure where they
were going and more sure of their footing. The horror of
it all, the darkness, and the savage stream, made some of
them wonder if this might be the end of the world.
When the first faint streak of light along the eastern
horizon told them morning had come, it brought only
more clearly their predicament. The mad river was slash-
ing into the bank, carving out pieces as big as a house.
Already one corner of the fort was gone.
Jacob Hamblin ventured too near the edge and the
piece of ground on which he was standing slipped into the
water. Such a panic! While the women and children
screamed and cried, someone untied the rope which had
been their guide all through the night, made a lasso of it,
and threw it to him just as the last of the soil on which
he stood dissolved into the water. With the help of all
hands on the bank, he was hauled back to safety.
All day long they watched the fruits of their six years'
labor go. Tree by tree, their largest orchard went, each
one bending down slowly as if bowing to the will of the
river. The men had been frantically trying to move the
THE SETTLEMENT OF DIXIE 53
wheat from the store room in the fort. They went until one
comer and part of the wall had caved in. But with all their
efforts, much of their bread supply was lost. By nightfall,
the whole little colony was washed away and the people
stood shivering and shelterless on top of the hill, their
few household effects piled in confusion about them. The
flood was receding, but somewhere away down stream,
buried in mud, were the grist mill, the molasses mill, and
the homemade cotton gin.
Left now to start all over, they decided to locate the
town up round the point of the hill from where the fort
had been. They lost no time in marking off lots, the men
drawing cuts for their locations. Shelters were erected,
most of them dugouts against the hill with the fronts held
up by poles and thatched with willows and earth to protect
them against the cold weather.
Work on the new ditch and dam commenced at once,
February 17, 1862. It was finished March 16 at a cost of
$4000.00. The irrigation reports of 1865 reported that
Santa Clara had a main canal 3 miles long, five feet wide
and three feet deep, costing $8000.00. (Des. News 5:30).
Before the flood the creek could be stepped across in many
places. After 1862 it was 150 yards wide and 25 feet deep.
(Mil. Star. 24: 276).
At the time of this flood Dudley had his families all
at Gunlock, each in a log house built close together in the
shape of a fort. When the rain continued and the creek
began raising, the women cooked up what they could and
moved a part of their things up the hill. When the heaviest
flood came in the night they all had to get out. Hannah,
then only six years old, remembered the incident well,
and told of this in her later years. Her Uncle Joseph Hunts-
man carried Dudley, Jr., in his arms and her on his back
up into the rocks for safety. The mothers and Dudley
had all they could do to handle the others, for Mary had
two, Orin and Orson, both very small; Maria had two,
Orilla and Elsie, Thirza had one and Janet one — eight
babies under six years of age to move in the night to beds
in the open. The houses were all washed away, though
through their foresight, nearly everything else was saved.
This spring and summer was a hard one for all the
Santa Clara settlement. St. George did not fare so badly,
for they had brought provisions to last until another
harvest. But the Swiss colony were in dire circumstances.
It was now that Dudley and his brother, Lemuel, had a
chance to show their true character. Dudley made a trip
north for a load of flour, which he divided among the
people according to the need and the size of the family,
a pan full here, a part of a sack there. Every dust of it
must be saved. During the summer, he killed several beeves
and divided them in the same way, giving each family a
piece of flesh and some boiling meat. He had cattle of his
own, and he also killed wild cattle from the Bull Valley
herd. Every part of the animal was used. One old lady
said that the sweetest meal she had ever eaten was of
tripe, or part of the stomach lining of one of these.
Dudley's daughter, Mary Ellen, tells this incident: "I
was visiting Santa Clara years later as a young woman.
My cousin and I were going down the sidewalk when we
met one of these old Swiss ladies. My cousin introduced
me as the daughter of Dudley Leavitt. The old woman
threw her arms around me and began to hug and kiss me
between laughing and crying at the same time. I didn't
knov/ what to make of it. I wondered if she had lost her
mind. 'I love anyone who is anything to do with Dudley
Leavitt', she said. *I love the sound of his name. He saved
our lives. He brought us flour and meat when we would
have died without food. He didn't sell them to us. He gave
them to us; he divided what he had. May the Lord bless
When Mary Ellen got home she said, "Father, why
didn't you ever tell us about the early days at Santa Clara
when you took the settlers food?"
"It was nothing," Dudley answered. "I couldn't see
them starve, could I?"
Dudley not only had his own families to care for, but
he had other obligations. His mother lived with him much
of the time. He had children not his own to provide for.
One was Jerry Steiner, a boy whose mother had died on
the plains and whose father went on to California. Dudley
kept the boy in his home until he was old enough to go
out for himself, when he gave him a team and wagon, and
let him make his own way. During the years that he lived
in the Leavitt home, Jerry took a team and a load of pro-
THE SETTLEMENT OF DIXIE 55
visions back to meet emigrants on the way. Two different
times Dudley sent outfits back to Missouri to help bring
to Utah those with no way to come.
At one time a woman in St. George had lost her
husband and was left with a little son, Reuben Wright.
She had to work and could not care for him, so she went
to Erastus Snow for advise as to what to do.
'Take the child to Dudley Leavitt at Gunlock," he
said after a few minutes study.
She protested, saying that Dudley Leavitt already had
a large family, more than he could take care of.
"My advise is to take the child to Dudley Leavitt,"
Brother Snow insisted.
She followed his advice. Little Reuben lived in Dudley's
home for several years, as one of his children, until the
mother was in a position to take him again herself.
Years later, Weir and Dudley, Jr., were going to Salt
Lake with a load of fruit. They camped in a little town
overnight, and a small girl came out to sell them some
"Why, we are from Dixie," they told her. "We have
a load of fruit of our own to sell."
The little girl went back to the house, and soon the
mother came out.
"Did you say you were from Dixie?" she asked.
When they told her they were, she asked, "Do you
happen to know Dudley Leavitt?"
"We ought to," Weir told her, "He is our father."
Then she said that she was the mother of Reuben
Wright. The boy was by this time grown and married.
She, herself, had remarried and had a young family. She
wanted them to tell their father how she still appreciated
all that he had done for her in taking care of her boy
while she could not.
So it was always with Dudley. He went about doing
that which was nearest him, without show and without
hope of reward. "Cast your bread upon the waters," was
not only a quotation he often used; it was a guide for
AT CLOVER VALLEY
WITH THE coming of more white settlers to the
south, the difficulties with the Indians increased.
The tribes, as a whole, were a miserable, degraded
lot, without any skills and with little knowledge of the
storing of food, so that the late winter months were times
of starvation for them. The more white people that came
into the country the less game there was, until they must
resort to petty thieving. They began to resent the white
settlers and to lose the feeling of reverence they had for
them in the earliest years.
One dark stormy night as Dudley was traveling up
the creek, he was given the order to halt. By a flash of
lightning he could see that he was surrounded by Indians
with drawn bows.
"Wamptun!" he cried. "Wamptun Tunghi!" This was
his name among the natives, and he wanted them to be
sure to know who he was.
He began telling them that he was their friend; he
reminded them of the times he had given them food and
had helped them in many ways. It took an eloquent plea
to turn them from their design, for one of their braves had
been killed by a white man, and according to their code,
they must kill a white man to atone for it. At last an old
chief took Dudley's part, and they finally consented to let
him go in peace.
There were now more people at Santa Clara than the
land would support. Jacob Hamblin had moved to Kanab
to try to keep peace among the tribes there, and a number
of the earlier settlers were counseled to move to Clover
Valley. Edward Bunker was in charge of the group. In
her later years, Dudley's oldest daughter, Hannah Leavitt
AT CLOVER VALLEY 57
Terry, wrote an account of conditions which gives some
very interesting side-lights:
"In the spring of 1864, father started to move his
families to Clover Valley. Aunt Maria and Aunt Janet went
first. Later, he took Aunt Thirza and mother's three oldest
children, myself, Dudley and Orin. Mother had a web of
cloth in the loom at Santa Clara and stayed behind to
finish it. I think a number of families were called to be
on guard there for treacherous Indians. Brothers Luke
and Matthew Syphus, Brothers Amos and Bradford Hunt,
Brothers Brown and Hamilton Crowe and Brother Young
all had their families there. Also Brother Blair had both
his families there.
"Minty Young was a girl about my age, Lavina Syphus
was a little older, Leath Crowe, Eliza Ellen and Linda Hunt,
Louisa and Eliza Leavitt, Uncle Jerry's daughters, were
all girls together and we used to have real good times
dancing and skating.
"The houses were built close together in the shape of
a fort, the school house being partly across one end, and
the town ditch ran through the center of the fort. The
first corral was built at the northwest end of the fort, the
fence at one end of the fields forming one side of the corral.
Later, a big public corral was built on the south side of the
fort. We used to take our knitting and go out in the shade of
the big haystacks. Lavinia Syphus always took more yam
than the rest of us; she was a faster knitter. We all knit
our own stockings.
"The Indians were quite peaceable when we first moved
there. They would bring dried berries and pinenuts to trade
for flour and potatoes. I remember the large sacks of
pinenuts that used to stand behind the door.
"Once, when the Indians got hungry, they sold Susie
to father. The Indian put down a blanket and father poured
wheat on it as long as any would stay on without rolling
off. I can still see father holding the bucket and pouring
it on. He also let them have some sheep that were killed
before they went away. Susie was a little Indian girl about
five years old. Aunt Janet took care of her. I can still
see her crying when the Indians went away. Father kept
her five years and let Brother William Pulsipher have her
for a span of oxen."
This extract from the oldest child in the family tells
many things about their home economy. Though she was
only twelve years old at the time, she had always assumed
responsibility and was matured for her years. Besides
knitting her own stockings, she must help with those of
the rest of the family, while she seemed never through with
dish-washing. By this time there were eleven children in
the family younger than she. Her own mother, Mary, had
four others, Maria had three, Thirza two and Janet two,
a total of twelve children under twelve years of age.
The custom of buying Indian children was quite com-
mon. Earlier, the Utes had carried on a business of buying
or stealing them and selling them to the Mexicans for
slaves. The Mormons opposed this, and through their in-
fluence had it stopped. But they themselves sometimes
bought children, always if the parents were forced to sell
one to get food for the others. The thing that prompted
this was their belief that the Indians would be redeemed,
that they would become a white and delightsome people.
This was one way in which the Mormons could help the
process of civilizing the natives. The Indian children were
taken into the family, trained to do home work and farming,
and taught religion. They were not, in the common sense,
When the colony first moved to Clover Valley, they
thought it was in Utah, but later surveys showed it to be
in Nevada. It was a delightful spot, a small valley running
east and west, carpeted with grass and watered by several
fine springs. Surrounding it on all sides were low, rolling
hills covered with sage brush and cedar trees, an excellent
range for cattle. By this time, Dudley had a good herd.
The first year was very happy and successful, the
winter, mild and open, and the crops good. During the
next summer, a sickness cam.e among the babies. One
writer said that it terminated in the death of every baby
in town under six months of age, twelve in all. Hannah
Terry's account said that all but three babies died; Thirza's
baby, Mary Ellen; Aunt Selinda Huntsman's baby, Luna;
and the Syphus baby, Levi, were spared.
During the second summer a camp of prospectors had
begun some mining activities at the lower end of the Meadow
Valley. Soon they began to have trouble with the natives.
AT CLOVER VALLEY 59
Instead of using the Mormon methods, they decided to fight
it out. When some Indians stole their horses, they took
three of them prisoners. One of them got away. In her
story of it, Minerva Judd says:
"I never saw such running before. They shot at him,
but he darted this way and that and evaded them. He
went like a kite in the wind. He beat both horse and foot."
The others tried also to escape, and fought like blood-
hounds. In the struggle, they were killed.
That was the way the trouble began, and the spirit of
unrest and enmity grew. Throughout the southern part of
the state the Indians seemed to be watching every oppor-
tunity to harass the settlers. Chief among the trouble-
makers in the Clover Valley section was Old Bush-head.
Though the whites gathered their cattle in at night and
kept a strong watch around the corral, some were missing.
One night it was Bradford Hunt's turn to stand guard.
Several times they had found evidence that the natives
were trying to break into the corral. So Bradford Hunt
was cautioned to keep a careful lookout for any attempt
to break through. The night was dark and stormy. As
Brother Hunt made his rounds, a flash of lightning re-
vealed the crouched figure of an Indian with his bow
drawn, sitting in the corner of the fence. The same in-
stant Bradford fired. They found the Indian next morning
slumped down where he sat, his bow dropped, and a bullet
through his heart. Knowing the Indian temperament and
fearing for his own safety, Bradford Hunt soon moved
Bushhead continued his thieving. Again and again he
took cattle; always he was inciting the others to malicious
attitudes. At one time Dudley led a group of men to the
head of the Beaver Dam Wash in search of the band. They
saw the campfire after night, the Indians gathered around
roasting a beef that they had killed. At the approach of the
white men the Indians scattered like quail. Dudley called out
to tell them that it was Wamptun and that he would not hurt
them. They came back hesitatingly, knowing that he had
plenty of cause to be angry. They sat around the fire and
talked things over, and Bushhead promised to do better.
In the meantime the wives and children at home were
filled with fear because the pony which Dudley rode, "But-
60 DUDLEY LEAVITT
termilk Dave", had come back with his reins dangling, and
they were afraid the rider had been shot by an Indian.
Again and again Bushhead broke his word until he
became a menace to the whole section. Finally, Dudley
came to St. George to ask Apostle Erastus Snow what
should be done. He was advised to have Bushhead killed,
but to have the Indians do it. Bushhead had killed some
miners who were going through the country, which made
him an outlaw, even among his own people.
When Dudley came back he called the Indians to-
gether and told them the decision of the Mormon chief.
He showed them how to build a scaffold on which to hang
Bushhead for murder. Then Dudley left the Indians to carry
out the orders. When the old chief was caught, he called all
day for Wamptun. If Wamptun were only there, they
would not kill him, he said. Wamptun would do something
to save him. But Dudley was gone and did not come back,
and Bushhead had to pay the penalty.
The next winter was severe. The Navajoes from across
the Colorado raided parts of the country. Whitmore and
Mclntyre were killed at Pipe Springs in January. The
Berry brothers were murdered near Short Creek, and two
of Powell's men were ambushed and killed near Mt. Trum-
bull. The uprising seemed to be so general that President
Young sent word for those living in scattered communities
to move together for safety. Apostle Erastus Snow visited
Clover VaUey on July 12, 1866, and advised the people to
abandon the place because they were so few and so far
from help that the Indians might slaughter them all.
Obedient to counsel, the people hurried their harvests
and prepared to move before another winter should set in.
Part of them moved to Panaca (the Indian word for money) ,
and part of them went to Shoal Creek, above where the
town of Enterprise now stands. Since Shoal Creek had
so few homes, Dudley decided to send two of his wives,
Maria and Thirza, to Santa Clara for the winter. Jerry
Steiner, then quite a large boy, would go along to do the
chores and outside work, and would go to school. Maria
and Mary would go to Shoal Creek. It was hard, this di-
viding the family up, but all understood that it was only
At this time there were five families living along Shoal
AT CLOVER VALLEY 61
Creek and two on ranches eight miles apart. They all
moved together and located at the big willow patch at the
junction of the stream. Those living there were Zera, John
and William Pulsipher, Thomas S. Terry and Levi H. Cal-
loway. Those coming in from Clover Valley were old
Brother James William Huntsman, his sons, Joseph S.,
and Hyrum R., Dudley Leavitt and his brother, Jeremiah,
Amos Hunt and his sons, James W., and Jonathan, Zodac
Parker and Brown B. Crowe. As before, they built their
houses in a hollow square or fort, leaving room in the en-
closure for other homes, and several of the young men
married during the winter. Some of the houses were made
of logs, some of adobe, and some of rock. They all faced
in, with no doors or windows opening to the outside. All
were thatched with grass and willows covered with dirt, a
good enough shelter unless it rained hard and long, when
they leaked mud for days.
The settlers sank a well in the center of the fort, which
gave plenty of clear, cold water. The first colonists re-
served the small plot of two or three acres, which they
had previously used for a garden, but they divided their
farm land equally, and the men drew lots for it, the oldest
having the first chance.
On January 2, 1867, an express from Pine Valley
brought word that the Indians had taken a band of horses
from Cyrus Hancock and left him wounded. A scouting
party, of which Dudley Leavitt was a member, was sent
out to watch the various passes and to warn the people
at the Meadows. In a few days William Pulsipher came
back with the word that he was a member of the posse
from St. George which pursued the thieves eighty miles,
surprised and killed all but two of the gang, and brought
back the stolen stock.
In the faU of 1867, they built their new school house.
Orson Huntsman's account gives a good picture of com-
munity activities. He says:
"Later in the fall the brethren got pine logs out of
Little Pine Valley and hewed them and built a meeting
house 18 by 25 feet, with a big stone fireplace in one end.
It was built at one end of the fort, covered with lumber
and dirt, and was ready for use on the first of January,
1868. This house was used for meetings, schools, and a
dance hall. And to get wood to warm the building and to
make work light they chose up sides; there was five men
to each side to do the chopping and four teams with team-
sters. They were to work two hours and the side that got
beat was to furnish supper and a dance for the town. One
side got nine cords of good cedar wood, the other twelve,
making 21 cords in all in two hours work. This wood lasted
two or three years, besides making a good lively time and
a good dance and supper."
That winter the rains began in December, and great
floods came down, washing out deep gullies and making
the roads impassable. Later, it began to snow, so that the
people were completely shut in for months. So long as
they had plenty of fuel and food enough, they got along
very well. They made their own amusements. One town
activity was the organization of a "Mutual Benefit Society",
for the improvement of the speech of old and young, and
particularly for practice and experience in public speaking.
The winter storms meant good crops in the spring and
summer. On July 15, 1868, Erastus Snow, Jos. W. Young,
Jacob Gates, and others paid them a visit. The whole
southern section was going to celebrate the 24th of July
among the tall pines in Pine Valley, so the people of Shoal
Creek decided to join them. The Staheli band was up from
Santa Clara, many people from all the towns were there,
and there was a general celebration which lasted several
days, enough to make up for the forty long miles they had
covered to get there.
About a month later Erastus Snow and James Burgon
came to survey the little town. Heretofore they had all
lived in the fort; now they were to form a regular settle-
ment. Erastus Snow went over the ground and said the
land was all right, but the water was in the wrong place.
He advised laying out the town by the water, but the people
were partial to the level open space, and he acceded to
their wishes. John Pulsipher suggested that they name the
place Hebron, the scriptural name of the place where
Abraham took his flocks. It was accepted without a dis-
On Monday, August 31, the survey began. After chop-
ping their way for three days through the sage, some of it
above their heads, they finished laying out the town. There
AT CLOVER VALLEY 63
were three streets running east and west, the center one
for Main Street, and five running north and south, with
nine blocks, each containing four lots, and some half blocks.
They figured a total of forty-seven lots, each with a frontage
of thirteen rods. The streets were all five rods wide, except
the main street, which had an extra rod.
When the survey was completed, the people met again,
selected a central lot for the church and meeting house,
and drew for the others. This time, instead of putting
numbers into a hat and each drawing one, they gave the
men their choice of lots, the oldest first, and so on, ac-
cording to age. The record says that "the best of feelings
People immediately began to move out onto their lots,
so that before winter set in most of them were on their
own places, and the old fort site was abandoned. In all the
town there was but one house with a shingle roof (John
Pulsipher's), though many secured them later. Dudley
now had all his family together again, each wife with her
own small home and large family. During the summer one
might go to Gunlock to take care of the fruit there, and one
or two to the Mountain Meadows to look after the dairy there,
while one remained at Hebron. In this way all the families
would have dried fruit and butter, (packed into large five-
gallon crocks), and cheese for winter. The older children
were sent wherever their work would be most helpful, re-
gardless of which mother presided at the place. Dudley
moved among them as he could, directing and helping, but
the united efforts of all were needed to succeed. From ac-
counts of the living children, they did seem to manage with
a minimum of friction. During the winter, they were all
back at Hebron, living on the same block.
Toward the end of September of 1868, Dudley and his
first wife, Mary, went in to Salt Lake with a load of produce,
and to attend conference. It was her first trip back since
she had come down as a young wife, fourteen years before.
They traveled in company with Hyrum Huntsman, Levi
Calloway and others, and took only their younger children
This was really an event for them. The city had grown
and changed so much that they could not get enough of
looking around at the stores and public buildings. As they
listened to the instructions of their leaders, they felt the
importance of the work they were doing in the southern
settlements to help establish Zion. They started home
strengthened and renewed.
They had shopped in Salt Lake City, exchanging their
fruit and molasses for cloth, shoes, spices, coal oil and
notions. But they could not begin to supply their needs.
So on their way aown, they stopped at George Hancock's
general store and purchased cloth by the bolt, shoes and
clothing for all the children of all the families on credit.
The next month they rounded up the cattle necessary to
pay the debt and had some of the older boys help drive
Upon their arrival home, all the wives were called in
and the goods divided. This rule, begun early, was never
deviated from. Dudley always divided what he brought;
no wife ever touched anything until it was given to her.
If she could not be present at the division, her share was
carefully put away for her.
Hannah Terry tells an incident which shows their
family economy, though it happened some years later. She
says: "I will never forget one time in Gunlock, Brother
Ensign and his wife, Ann, came up from Santa Clara to
hold a meeting one Saturday and Sunday. I didn't think
I had a dress good enough, so I hid myself all day in the
cellar. Father had been away and brought some cloth
which had been put in the cellar until it could be properly
distributed. There was one piece of purple calico that took
my eye. I hadn't been told that I could have it. However,
while in the cellar I made up my mind that I would cut
myself out a dress, as I needed one worse than anybody
else. It was the first dress I had ever tried to make for
myself, but I got the skirt and waist cut out and basted
up before mother came home from meeting. She surely
scolded me. Told me that it should have been Aunt Janet's
dress and father would be awfully angry with me.
"Father didn't say anything about it until Sunday
afternoon after Brother Ensign had gone. Then he called
me. "Hannah," he said, and I came. "What have you been
doing?" I told him I had cut me out a dress. He asked
me what business I had cutting into the cloth. It was for
Aunt Janet. I told him she couldn't have it now; it was
AT CLOVER VALLEY 65
too small. I thought I needed it worse than anybody else.
He talked to me a little while and turned his head so I
couldn't see him smile, and told me to wait next time until
I was told I could have it."
In November, 1868, the town of Hebron was organized
into a ward. The authorities evidently felt that there was
no one there who could unite the people, for they called a
young man, George Crosby, to be the Bishop. He was
also to teach school. The beardless young man arrived
late in November and opened the school. In December he
went back to get his wife, arriving back in Hebron on
Christmas Eve. That very night their first child, a son,
was bom. Orson Huntsman comments that "they might
have named him Santa Claus, but they didn't, they called
New Year's Day was celebrated by a town dinner and
dance, a climax to a scalp hunt in which the losing side
furnished the meal. The next day, January 2, 1869, was
Sunday. The whole town gathered in the little log school
house for the first real meeting under the new Bishop.
A pitch-pine fire burned in the large fireplace. The women
came with their shawls over their heads and their waist
aprons on. The children were all in home-knit stockings
and mittens and made-over coats. The Bishop completed
the organization by selecting Dudley Leavitt as his first
and Richard Bird his second counselors. John Pulsipher
was the superintendent of the Sunday School.
The people were happy, with high hopes of building
a fine community here. There were enough to make ac-
tivities interesting and to have a good school; there was
plenty of good land (if they could only keep water on it).
At least there would be plenty of labor, if they could only
have the satisfaction of conquering this desert land. Confi-
dent and full of hope, they set out to do it.
THE NEW settlement was soon to have its first ex-
perience with the Indians. The very week after the
ward was organized, an express came telling them
that the Navajos had crossed the Colorado and were making
raids on the different settlements, driving off cattle and
John Pulsipher wrote quite a detailed account of their
experience in his journal. He said:
"We gathered our horses, kept armed herdsmen with
them days & an armed guard at the corral with them
at night. This was a heavy expense on us, few as we are,
but we kept on hunting and gathering stock as well as
picket guarding, which we were careful to attend to, so
that we may not be surprised by any large force.
"Time proved that we did not gather our stock any
too soon, for the Indians were spying around every night
as sly & cunning as foxes. Every morning we could find
tracks where they had walked or crawled around the corral
in the darkness of night, but they could not break the fence
or open the gate, so they must try some stratagem.
"A. pair of horses were taken from Father Pulsipher
as they were eating at his stable just at dark before being
put into the big corral. We then fixed stalls in the big
corral to feed them and the saddle horses where they
would be safe.
"The rascals were very anxious to have our little band
of horses — 170 head — but they were so well-guarded it
bothered them. So one day while the horses were out to
feed, the sly rogues crawled from the hills north among the
AT HEBRON 67
sage brush and chopped several of the pickets nearly off
at the back side of the corral so they could be easily broken,
to let the horses out. But this was discovered before dark
and we prepared for an attack tonight. Moved families
together and every man armed and made ready. Put a
stronger guard with the horses and the rest to guard the
women and children. We did not want to kill any of these
warriors if we could avoid it, & we did not want them to
kill us. Being some acquainted with Indian customs, I
advised the guards at the corral not to leave their places
& run into the light, even if any building should be fired.
"Just as I had said that much, a light flashed up. It
was Orson Huntsman's haystack a little west of us. It made
a great flame, as it was very dry. It burned down very
quietly, not a man rushed into the light to be shot, neither
did we leave our charges for them to take.
"The Indians, brave as they are, fear to die, & getting
no advantage of us, abandoned their design that night.
The next day, Feb. 1, we took our band of horses down the
valley to Pinto station and herded with them about 10 days.
We then built a corral and herd house about five miles
below our town at the edge of the valley, kept our stock
on our own range & when the wild Indians had left the
country & spring come, we could let our stock have their
The Navajos always made their raids during the winter
months, crossing the Colorado while the water was low.
This was the reason they were forced to go back early in
February before the spring thaws began and the river be-
In the spring of 1869, Dudley traded for Orson Hunts-
man's house, so that he now owned an entire block in
Hebron with one family on each corner. Here they were
comfortable during the winter months, though they con-
tinued to scatter for a time during the summer, one or two
at the Meadows to make butter and cheese, and the others
to Gunlock to take care of the fruit.
This fall (1869) Dudley made another trip to Salt Lake
City, this time taking two of his wives, Maria and Thirza.
The records of the Salt Lake Temple show that he had
them both sealed to him in the Endowment House on
October 5, 1869. Maria was now the mother of six children,
68 DUDLEY LEAVITT
the youngest, Sarah Maria, being hardly three months old;
Thirza had four, her youngest, Lister, being eighteen
In the meantime the people of Hebron had begun to
experiment with ways and means to bring water to more
land. When Erastus Snow first looked their project over,
he told them they had the town in the wrong place and
that they should try to take up land nearer the water.
They preferred to do otherwise, and he did not oppose it
First, they built a ditch along the hill which cost $665
in labor. The next year they made it higher and longer
at an additional cost of $1,520 and still later enlarged it
at a cost of $400. This made the price of water for their
little town nearly two thousand dollars that year, (1870).
This year Pioche had opened up as a flourishing mining
town, so that those who had hay or produce to sell had
a ready market. They hauled loose hay over the fifty miles
of dirt road for $27 a ton.
Early in 1871 the measles broke out, and every family
in town had them. Though there were no deaths, there
were many sick children and some eye and ear injuries
as a result. Then in June, just as their crops were looking
their best, a horde of grasshoppers came. In swarms that
darkened the sun, with a sound like a humming engine, they
settled on the fields. They were traveling from east to west,
lighting, eating, jumping over each other as they moved
forward, and leaving the fields behind utterly desolate.
They spared nothing. To try to fight them would be like
trying to fight rain or hail.
They stayed only a few days, long enough to leave the
crops in ruin, and then moved on. The last of them had
hardly taken flight before the people were out ploughing
their fields again. Though the season was late, they hoped
to get a crop of com matured.
Early in 1871 the people of Hebron decided to build a
new adobe meeting house. The old one was too small, and
was away off over in the old fort. They taxed each man
according to his holdings, with the total of the first levy
being $962.32. Of this, Dudley Leavitt's share was $33.60.
This was about the average, being much less than that of
some and more than that of others. It would indicate that
he owned little property other than the block upon which
his families lived, or that they made some concessions be-
cause of the number of his children.
They worked at the house all summer as their farm
work permitted. In the late fall, everyone joined in the
labor in order to have it completed for a social on Christmas
Eve. It was not plastered, but it had a solid floor in and
a roof overhead, while a large stove in the center, whose
lengths of pipe twisted about in search of an outlet, gave
off plenty of heat. Coal-oil lamps set in front of circles
of tin for reflectors, furnished the light. The people felt
that they had something fine and up-to-date, and celebrated
accordingly with a dance and picnic.
Because of the visit of the grasshoppers the summer
before, flour was scarce. By May, even their corn-meal was
getting low, and it was more than a month before harvest.
A serious shortage was prevented by a call from the
Authorities at St. George for teams to collect donations for
the building of the Temple there. The ground had been
dedicated in November, and all the church was to con-
tribute to it. Patriarch John C. L. Smith and Charles Pul-
sipher were to travel through the towns holding meetings
and taking up donations. The people of Hebron sent three
four-horse teams and three two-horse teams. The people
of the north gave what they could, wheat, potatoes, butter,
cheese, pork, dried beans, cloth — whatever they had.
When the teamsters returned to St. George with their
loads, they were paid for their services in Tithing Scrip,
which they immediately converted into food stuffs. On their
arrival back at Hebron, they found the whole town out
By this time the telegraph line was finished through
Hebron to Pioche and Bullionville. In 1866 it had been
completed from Logan to St. George, connecting all the
settlements enroute. Now (1871) with Pioche running full
blast, and with eleven stamp mills in operation in Bullion-
ville, it was decided to connect those towns with St. George,
The people of Hebron were given their quota of poles to
get out and set, and were given Tithing Scrip for pay.
Dudley Leavitt and his older boys helped with the project.
In May, Major Peck, a cattle buyer from Pioche, came
to town. Every man in town sold him some cattle. Orson
Huntsman gives an interesting account of the trip across
the desert with them: "May 27, 1872. Arrived at Mountain
Springs at 9 a. m. (Note: It was necessary to make night
drives because of the heat and the desert country). We
watered 186 head of stock and seven horses with the bucket;
that is, we dipped water from the spring and carried it two
rods and filled a trough and paid 18c a head for the water."
At the end of the trip they received $2247.00, which was
divided according to the number of cattle each man had
The year 1872 brought another event of moment to
the Dudley Leavitt family. Dudley married another wife,
this time Martha Hughes Pulsipher, the widow of Zera Pul-
sipher. In some ways, this was a greater trial to Mary than
his earlier marriages had been. The other four had all been
girls together; they had sacrificed for each other; they had
worked together; they had stood by each other in sickness;
they had grown old before their time, together. Now to
have their husband pay attention to this lively, twenty-
seven-year-old widow while they cared for their families,
was really a trial. The courtship was short. The young
woman, left with four children, had few resources, and
had been working out in the various homes to support
herself. The marriage took place Nov. 30, 1872, in Salt
Lake City, with Daniel H. Wells officiating. Once it was
over, she took her place with the other wives, receiving no
favors, and fitting in the family very well.
In 1872 there was a heavy flood at Hebron which
washed out their flume and. the ditch along the hillside.
People, generally, were very much discouraged, for it would
mean such a lot of hard work to rebuild it. Dudley still had
holdings at Gunlock and Mountain Meadows, as well as a
small place at Santa Clara. Except for the block on which
they lived, he had little at Hebron, so this year they de-
cided to sell out and care for their other places. They had
plenty of fruit and farm land at Gunlock to keep them busy.
The family record says that nine children were born
while they lived at Hebron: Frank and George to Mary;
Sarah, Albert and Hubert to Maria; Lister and Henry to
Thirza; and Jane and Helaman to Janet. Perhaps Aaron
should be included in this group, for he was born during
the summer before they finally moved away. His mother
was at Gunlock at the time. Hannah, the oldest girl, tells
the incident thus:
"I was there a day, and the next day Aaron was bom,
17 Aug. 1871. Father and I were all the help mother had
... he hadn't had time to build a house, and Aaron was
bom in a wagon box. Father handed him to me wrapped
in mother's skirt, and aunt Emma Huntsman and I washed
and dressed him out under the cottonwood tree. But I had
most of it to do as she was just newly married and had no
experience with babies."
For an unmarried girl of sixteen, this was quite un-
usual. It does not take a very vivid imagination to re-
produce the whole scene, the covered wagon box, the crude
arrangements under the tree. In spite of it, the baby did
well, and the mother was soon up and around again.
The establishment and care of the family was now
at its heaviest, for there were twenty-five children living,
(Mary had lost one baby, Maria one, and Janet two), and
they were all quite young. The oldest girl, Hannah, was
seventeen, and the boys just younger were large and husky
and accustomed to work. Even so, much of the responsi-
bility was left to the mothers, for try as he would to divide
his time equally among them and to keep in touch with
them all, it was almost more than one could do.
The thing that is most remarkable is that he had as
much influence with them as he did. I have talked to every
one of the living children, and without exception, it is to
their father that they seemed to turn for affection and
"I used to think that if father were only home, nothing
in the world could harm us," one of them said. "In my
childish heart, my greatest wish was that we could have
him with us all the time."
They all tell of how their father loved them, of how
kind and considerate he always was, and how full of faith.
His daughter, Lena, tells this incident:
'T remember once when I was a little child about eight
or nine years old, and Weir was eleven or twelve. One of
mother's babies was real sick. Alma, I think it was. In
the night father came to my bed and woke me up. He went
and got Weir up, too.
" 'Get up children,' he said, 'we have a very sick baby,
72 DUDLEY LEAVITT
and we need your help. Mother and I must have your sup-
port and faith and prayers, for we have done all that we
"We got up and all kneeled around the bed. Father
prayed and mother prayed; then he asked Weir to pray,
and I prayed. Then father prayed again. After a little
while, as he sat watching the baby, he said, 'Now you can
go to bed. He will be all right'. We did go to bed, and the
baby slept until morning and got well."
Hannah tells how he used play with the children, danc-
ing them on his knee and singing to them, or romping with
them. On moonlight nights he would get out and play "Run,
Sheep. Run", and "Steal Sticks" with the older boys. It
always made the game twice as interesting if father played
with them. He went to the dances and joined in the fun
From several of his children come incidents which show
his treatment of them. His daughter, Lena, tells this one:
"'When I was a little girl we were traveling up the
creek when it had a flood in. At one crossing the water
ran up into the wagon box. I was back under the cover
and was frightened nearly to death. I screamed and cried
at the top of my voice. When we got across, he stopped
the team and got out and took me in his arms. Instead of
scolding, he was so tender and kind with me. 'Father
wouldn't let anything hurt his little girl,' he said. 'Why, if
you fell in, I'd jump right in after you'. And he held me
close and petted me until I was quiet and happy before
he started the team again."
Mary Jane tells a similar experience: "One time when
I was a little girl, I had a big boil on my arm and father
was bringing me to St. George to see what to do about it.
I was sitting on the hay in the wagon and went to sleep.
When we were crossing the creek in one place, I fell out.
I was crying at the top of my voice, but he couldn't hear
me above the jolt of the wagon over the rocky bottom and
the sound of the water. It wasn't deep; I could have waded
out easy enough, but he stopped and came back for me,
wading right into the water. He picked me up and carried
me out. I would have expected him to stand on the bank
and call me to come on; I wasn't hurt."
Betsy teUs this one, which though it happened years
DUDLEY LEAVITT AND FIRST TWO WIVES
Taken about 1892
Left to right: Mary Huntsman Leavitt and her youngest
son, Dan; Dudley, Maria Huntsman Leavitt and her
youngest son, Ira.
Lower left hand corner: Martha Hughes Pulsipher Leavitt.
Lower right hand corner: Thirza Riding Leavitt.
later, still shows his way with his family: "I remember when
we were quite small, but old enough to know better, and
father and the boys had been m.aking adobes. They had
them out in long rows in the sun to dry. There were five
of us little girls within a year or two of each other. We
began playing around the yard and ended up by walking up
and down the rows of adobies, stepping into the middle of
"When the older boys saw it, they certainly were angry.
They scolded and swore and said for us just to wait until
father came and saw what we had done. We were so fright-
ened that we all ran and hid. When father came, the boys
took him out to show him how we had ruined their .work.
" 'Well, now,' he said laughing, 'I think that is right
cute. I don't know what I would rather have in the walls
of my house than all those pretty little foot prints'.
"When we heard that, we weren't afraid to come out
The next few years, while they lived at Gunlock, were
prosperous ones. The Indians were peaceable, and Dudley
cultivated their friendship. The first harvest, he invited
them all in to a feast, barbecued a young beef, roasted a load
of corn in the husks, and had plenty of melons. The natives
danced and feasted and celebrated in general for three days.
They raised all the wheat, corn, beans, squash and
other vegetables they needed; they had a surplus of mo-
lasses and dried fruit to sell and their own flock of sheep
furnished them wool for clothing. Orson Huntsman tells
an incident which shows something of their set-up. In the
early winter he came to St. George to buy chickens and
pigs to peddle in Pioche for Thomas S. Terry. He bought
twelve little pigs for one dollar each and three hundred
chickens. It had begun to storm on his way down; before
he left St. George the snow was eight inches deep. He re-
ceived the following telegram:
"Hebron, Dec. 8, 1873
Snow three feet deep and still snowing. Take load to
Dudley's and stay storm over. Don't try to come until
road is open. T. S. Terry."
Orson Huntsman's diary tells how he went to Gunlock
and turned the pigs and chickens all loose onto Dudley
Leavitt. On January 10, more than a month later, he went
back to get them. That seems evidence that they knew
Dudley would have a surplus and be able to feed them.
In 1874 Maria's oldest daughter, Orilla, was in Hebron
working for Bishop Crosby. She was a beautiful girl of
fifteen. Early in March she was taken ill, and though they
did all they could for her, she got no better. They sent
word to her family. Dudley went on horseback, leaving
Maria and Mary to come in a wagon with one of the older
boys. He arrived in time to hold his daughter's hand at her
passing, but, though they met the wagon with fresh horses
at the Meadows, the women were too late.
This death was a blow to all the family, for it was the
first time an older child had died. During the plague year
at Clover Valley they had lost three babies, and Janet had
another die soon after birth.
Their philosophy that "whatever is, is best", that the
matter of life and death is in the Hands of God, and our
finite minds cannot always understand his infinite wisdom,
made them able to accept it. To them immortality was real
and unquestioned. If God wanted this lovely girl, why
should they protest? It was part of their duty to be sub-
missive to His will.
IN FEBRUARY of 1874 Dudley brought a part of his
family to St. George to attend conference, for Brother
Brigham was to be present. The townspeople had made
great preparations. They had cleared the sidewalks of
weeds, swept yards, and cleaned their homes. Every where
were newly whitewashed walls and fresh straw under rag
carpets. For weeks ahead, women had been preparing
their clothes, making new bonnets and knitting stockings.
Groups of boys went out to clear the road from town to
the Black Ridge. Old-timers tell that some of the men
took some twenty or thirty dimes and put them under rocks
along the way, so that the laboring boys would get some
little reward. The discovery of a dime would set the whole
crew working with renewed vigor and accelerate the road
On the day of Brigham Young's arrival, crowds thronged
the streets, eager for a glimpse of their beloved Prophet.
James Andrus, on a fine horse, rode up and down the wait-
ing lines. A large banner stretched across the street pro-
claimed a welcome in foot-high letters. A group of little
girls in white dresses held arms full of fruit blossoms to
strew in the way of the carriage. No king ever received a
more ardent homage.
When at last the carriage arrived, Brigham Young arose,
lifted his hat, and bowed to the right and left at the as-
sembled people. One young woman who had been standing
in line all forenoon said, "Is that all he is going to do? It
looks like he might at least have stopped the carriage and
spoke to us." An elderly lady near-by overheard the re-
mark. "My child," she said in a reproving tone, "don't you
76 DUDLEY LEAVITT
know that you have seen the Prophet of the Living God?"
This was Dudley's attitude. In his eyes, Brigham Young
could not err. Whatever Brother Brigham advised, Dudley
was glad to try to do. That is why, at the meeting in the
Tabernacle the next day, he did not doubt the wisdom of
the counsel given. He knew that, for him, it would be more
satisfying to follow it.
President Young left no question in the minds of his
listeners as to what he wanted done. They should stay
and build up the waste places of Zion and strengthen the
Kingdom of God instead of racing off to mining camps be-
cause there were higher wages there. They should stay
on their farms and sell their produce to those who wished
to work in the mines; they should not desert their land,
nor should they waste their time prospecting.
"Turn your attention to the building of the Kingdom
of God," he told them, "that is your mission." Then he
called for a showing of the hands of those who were willing
to abide by his counsel.
Dudley raised his hand in the pledge. And he kept it.
Many years later he thought he found what he called, "The
Lost Lead," a rich vein of ore, which has since become leg-
endary. He said the eyes of his vision were opened and he
saw this vein of ore running perpendicular through the
mountain containing wealth untold. It was somewhere in
the Bull Valley district. Though he thought he had marked
the place, and though the samples of ore which he took
from it assayed a high percentage of gold, he never again
could find it.
In his later years he used to say: "God is saving the
wealth of those mountains until the day His people will need
it. Then it will be discovered and its riches used to build
For the time being, he returned to his place on the
creek, satisfied that he was fulfilling his part in the Great
At Gunlock, the families continued to live well so far
as food was concerned, though they did not have a great
deal of money. They raised all they needed and they
learned how to preserve it. They made peach preserves by
the barrel, washing the fuzz from the clingstones and drop-
ping them into the molasses when it was about half done.
The fruit and syrup were cooked together to make an ex-
cellent preserve. They dried corn, peas and beans, and even
large circles of pumpkins.
The families got along. One of his daughters, Mary
Jane, said, "Father never quarreled with his wives. I have
heard them at different times get angry and scold him,
but he usually ignored it. He would take one of the babies
on his knee and bounce it and sing an Indian song, or he
would joke with her. If he could not win her over, he
would walk out. My sympathies were always with father,
as I believe all the other children's were. When my own
mother got to scolding him, I used to think that if I were
in his place, I'd . . . well, I'd kick her a mile!"
"Nobody ran father's business, and nobody ran father,"
another said. "He had five wives, and they would all have
liked to manage him, but they couldn't. He treated them
all the same. None of them had any right to be jealous.
I never did hear the wives have any fuss. And I never
heard father quarrel with his wives, any of them."
And so their comments go. Jeremy, speaking of the
home relations, always said, "The only difference that I
could see was that I had three mothers instead of one. I
was never at Martha's or Janet's much, but at Aunt Mary's
and Aunt Thirza's I was as much at home as in my own
mother's house. One time I was sick at Aunt Mary's and
no child ever got more tender care than I did."
The thing that they all speak of most often was his
great faith and his power over sickness. Medora tells how,
as she was going to the creek one day for water she heard
her father's voice as though he were talking to some other
man. Looking through the willows, she saw him on his
knees talking to God in a simple, straightforward manner,
asking His protection and blessing on a son that he felt was
in danger. It was his implicit trust in God that impressed
itself most upon them all.
While at Gunlock the saddest accident in the history
of the family happened. Little George, eight-year-old son
of Mary, was walking across a log over the stream just
above the water wheel which ran the mill. He missed his
footing, fell into the water and was carried into the wheel.
There was no way to get him out, and no way to stop
the wheel but to turn the water out of the ditch above. In
the meantime, he was crushed and mangled and many of
his bones broken. His father got him out, carried him to
the house, and laid him on the bed. Then kneeling beside
him, Dudley placed his hands on the child's head and dedi-
cated him to the Lord, asking God to take him peacefully
and not to permit him to suffer more. In less than hour the
child was dead.
During the years at Gunlock from their return there
in 1872, the family had little trouble with the Indians. One
winter as the band passed, they left an old squaw to die.
It was their custom to just go on and leave the old and
blind to follow as they could. This old woman was nearly
two days behind the band, and without any chance of catch-
ing up with them. Dudley fixed her a good solid wigwam
of willows, covered it with bark, and banked it up around
the bottom. Mary Ellen says: "The boys chopped her wood
and we carried food to her. We never thought of eating
a meal until we had taken the old squaw hers. We kept
her all winter and when spring came, and it got warm,
the tribe came back and took her with them."
There was one Indian in the neighborhood of whom
they were afraid. This was Old Watermann. He delighted
to frighten the children, and would sometimes take the
lunches from the little boys when they were out herding
the cows. If the children saw him when they were away
from home, they would run up into the rocks or willows
Watermann had a dog of which he was very fond.
The coyotes had become such a menace to Dudley's chickens
that he decided to put out some poisoned meat. He went
to Watermann and told him what he was doing.
"You keep your dog tied up at night, and I will take
the meat away in the morning. Then the dog will not get
it," Dudley said.
Watermann did not heed the warning, and his dog
died. In a rage he came to Dudley. He found him working
at his forge shaping some iron. The Indian stepped to the
door, his bow drawn, the arrow aimed at Dudley's heart.
"See, Wamptun, how quick I could send you to the
Happy Hunting Ground," he said, threateningly.
Like a flash, Dudley leaped at him, grasped him by
the throat, and thrust the red hot iron near his face.
"You see, Watermann, how quick I could send you to
the Happy Hunting Ground," he answered.
When the Indian found that Dudley was not to be
frightened, he listened to reason. Dudley reminded him of
the flour and meat he had given him, and insisted that he
wanted to be friendly. That was why he had warned him
about tieing up the dog. Waterman left, but was still sulky.
Not long after this, Dudley had gone to Santa Clara.
Three of the boys, Dudley, Jr., Weir and their cousin, Ed,
were camping at the lower field under a big cottonwood
tree. They were in bed, when they saw Watermann ap-
proaching with a hatchet upraised in his hand. With yells
of fear, they clamored out of bed and started to run wildly
down the creek. They were boys twelve and fourteen years
old, and their first thought was to get to their father. It
was nearly daylight before they arrived at where he was
staying with his brother, Lemuel. They had come twelve
miles. When Dudley heard their story, he got on a horse
and went back to Gunlock. He got Watermann by the nap
of the neck and kicked him soundly.
"If you ever touch one of my children, I'll beat your
brains out," he threatened.
In telling of it, Watermann said, rubbing his rear dubi-
ously, "Wamptun Tunghi, he kick-a-my a . . ", an ex-
pression which became a by-word among the people.
Soon after this incident, Dudley called all the Indians
together at his home. Standing on a log, he preached to
them in their native tongue.
"I have always been your friend," he said. "I have
given you much flour and meat. You steal from me; you
frighten my children. If you keep on this way, I will send
a letter to the Big Father and tell him, and he will kill
you all. He will send sickness like the big plague you had
a long time ago, and wipe you all out."
Thoroughly frightened, the Indians promised to do
better and to be "To-wich-a-weino Tickaboo". Then Dudley,
to show his good faith, fed them on barbecued beef and
gave them some corn and squash to take home with them.
Early in 1877 a group decided to move further down
onto the Virgin River, and set up a community where they
could live the United Order. Edward Bunker was in charge
of the enterprise, and Dudley's brother, Lemuel, was going
with him. Dudley decided to go too, but he could not take
all his family at once. His older boys were now grown
young men, ready to make homes of their own, and he was
anxious to help them get established where there was more
land. In Februai-y 1877 he sold one Gunlock field to Orson
Huntsman for $400.00 to be paid in cattle.
At this time the Silver Reef near Leeds was opened
up and beginning to do a thriving business. Its' population
was fifteen hundred people, and a daily stage ran over a
newly constructed road from Silver Reef to Pioche. It
was a regular stage coach drawn by four horses, and was
typical of the western boom country. Dudley and his
many boys might have made good money at the mines,
but he was mindful of the pledge he had made to stay on
the land. He wanted to establish his sons on the land also.
Accordingly, when the first group went to settle Bunk-
erviUe in January 1877, some of his older boys went with
it. Dudley, himself, did not go for nearly a year. Orson
Huntsman's dairy has the following entries which give some
light on his activities:
"April 28, 1877 I went to St. George in company with
Dudley Leavitt. Arrived about noon, went to the public
square where the men were drilling, trying to make soldiers
out of themselves."
"Sunday, June 3, 1877 Pres. J. T. D. McAllister of St.
George, Bishop Ensign and Samuel Knight of Santa Clara
Ward held meeting with us and organized Gunlock as a
branch of the Santa Clara Ward, with Dudley Leavitt as
presiding High Priest" .
July 4, 1877 We celebrated Independence Day by a public
dinner at the house of my sister Mary (Dudley Leavitt's
first wife), or a bowery in front of her house where we
had been holding our Sunday services."
In January of the next year, 1878, Dudley sold the
rest of his Gunlock field to Orson Huntsman, though he
retained ownership of his houses and lots, and some of his
wives stayed there a short time.
Because Bunkerville was the place where so many
of his older children made their home, it may be interesting
to have some detail of the activities of the first settlers.
Most of Dudley's sons and daughters began their married
life there; some have remained through all the years.
Of the establishment of this community, James G.
Bleak's record, Book D, page 136 says:
"A few persons including Edward Bunker and family,
Lemuel S. Leavitt and family, and Edward Bunker, Jr., and
family, and others being desirous to enter once more into
the united order, held a meeting at Santa Clara on the
first of January 1877 and organized themselves into a
company for that purpose, with Edward Bunker, Sr., as
president and Lemuel S. and Dudley Leavitt as counselors,
Mahonri Steele as secretary, and Edward Bunker, Jr., as
treasurer. Their company numbered in all 23 persons. On
the 2nd of January they started for the Mesquite Flat on
the Rio Virgin River and were joined by Lemuel Leavitt
and daughter, also by Samuel O. Crosby. The company
had 6 wagons and 70 head of cattle. They arrived at Mes-
quite on January 5. On further examination, they decided
to locate on the south side of the river instead of the
Mesquite side. On the 6th day they crossed the river and
pitched camp at a point about 2i/i> miles northeast of where
the town of Bunkerville now stands. They started work
at once, and on the very day of their arrival put up a small
lumber building on top of the hill and called their location
Bunkerville, after Edward Bunker, Sr., the leader of the
"On the 7th which was Sunday, the first meeting was
held at Bunkerville, then consisting of one house and six
wagons . . .
"On Monday, Jan. 8, the brethren commenced work
on a canal to convey the water from the Rio Virgin to the
flat which they had selected as farm land on the south
side of the river. They vigorously prosecuted this work dur-
ing the week.
"On Sunday 14 of Jan. the second meeting was held,
on which occasion the Sunday School was organized, with
Elder Samuel O. Crosby as superintendent. . . . There
were present eighteen members in all."
Mrs. Ella Abbott Leavitt, who came as a girl to Bunk-
erville in its first year and later married Thomas Leavitt,
son of Lemuel, makes some interesting comments. She says:
"The place was called Mesquite until in June 1879 when
we got a mail line and a Post Office, and then it was named
Bunkerville. Calista Bunker and Deborah Leavitt, both
girls, came with the very first company, and the hill where
they built the first shack was called 'Calista's Lookout'."
That they really accomplished a great deal the first
season is shown by this report of a sermon delivered in
conference in St. George by Bishop Edward Bunker, Sr.
"On January 22 they finished their irrigation ditch,
a mile and a half long and four feet wide, costing 108 day's
labor. This ditch was afterwards increased to 2yo miles
in length. They set to work and cleared 75 acres of land.
Had harvested 22 acres of wheat, 14 acres of cotton, 7
acres of sugar cane was in a healthy condition, and the
balance of the land was in corn."
Before fall, Dudley had moved some of his family
down to Bunkerville. He put everything he had into the
United Order — the cattle he received for his land at Gun-
lock as well as those he had before, horses, wagons, and
all. He had his son. Weir, haul the big water wheel down
from Gunlock and install it about IY2 miles above the
present townsite on the fall that is still known as the "gin
ditch". He had purchased a burr flour mill from Dee
Thompson at Cedar City. (Dee Thompson was Lemuel's
brother-in-law). He also installed a cotton gin here, run
by the water wheel.
At first the people lived the United Order very liter-
ally, eating at the same table and sharing all things in
common. They had one big dining room and kitchen, with
individual bedrooms. It was customary for all to gather for
morning and evening prayer, and for frequent council
The men and boys old enough to work in the field
or on the ditch were always served first, the women and
younger children eating later. The women divided their
work, taking week about, some cooking, others washing
the dishes, others caring for the milk and butter, while
still another group was responsible for the clothing, in-
cluding washing, ironing, and mending. Their tasks rotated
in regular order.
The first harvest was a great relief to the settlers, as
they were forced to haul all their provisions so far. They
cut the first grain with a cradle, threshed it by driving
cattle over it on a hard clay floor, and winnowed it in the
v/ind. Since James G. Bleak reports "New Year's Day 1879
the burr mill at Bunkerville did its first grinding. Turned
out a fairly good grade of flour", we may be sure Dudley
was there and established before that time.
In speaking of this burr mill, one of his older daughters,
Sarah, said: "I remember the old burr mill. My daughter,
Mina, still has the stone at Las Vegas. How often mother
and I have had to clean it after it was used to grind rock
salt before we could use it to grind flour. We always had
to clean and wash the wheat and pick out the smutty
kernels so the flour wouldn't be so black."
The summer had been a sore trial to the settlers. In
January, their location on the top of a barren hill would
be pleasant, but by June it would be like an oven. The
scrub vegetation around it would hardly shelter the lizards
that darted from one little bush to another to avoid the
burning rocks. Added to the heat, was the bad water —
alkaline, muddy and hard. They called it "Virgin Bloat",
and told jokes about how it was so thick they had to bite
it off in chunks. Worst of all was the malaria which the
swarms of mosquitoes from the river bottoms carried. The
dairy of Myron Abbott tells of nine down at one time with
chills and fever, of others suffering with boils, and of fre-
quent calls to go administer to the sick.
James G. Bleak gives two slightly varying reports of
that first harvest. On page 136 of Book D, he says:
"The season of 1877 the Bunkerville company of the United
Order produced 400 bushels of wheat, 700 gallons of mo-
lasses, 9,040 pounds of cotton lint, as well as corn, squash
and other vegetables."
Book C page 206 says: "Bishop Edward Bunker addressed
the saints in the tabernacle. He reports the results of work-
ing the United Order in Bunkerville, Nevada, being satis-
factory. In 1877 the first year, they produced 450 bushels
of wheat, 12,000 pounds of cotton on the seed, and 600
gallons of molasses."
Since the first company arrived in Bunkerville in Jan-
uary and consisted almost entirely of grown-ups, no school
was held that year. By the next fall, so many families had
arrived that a school was held for four months in the shanty
on the hill. Charlie Hoath was the teacher. Dudley had
his families at the gin and mill site, a mile below, so that
his children had quite a distance to walk. The only equip-
ment was rough, backless benches of split cottonwood logs,
a bit of a blackboard, and a long table. The teacher had a
spelling book, arithmetic book, and two or three readers,
most of them beginners' books. That same year, Myron
Abbott taught a night school for the men and boys who
were old enough to work.
The community was organized into a ward just a year
after their arrival, January 12, 1879, with Edward Bunker,
bishop, Edward Bunker, Jr., as first and Myron Abbott as
second counselors. George Lee was ward clerk.
Since the population had grown and the work had
been scattered, it was not practical for them to live longer
with a common dining hall. Each family lived by itself,
and each man was made a steward over a certain part of
the property. All crops were placed in a common store-
house, and all families received what they needed. For ex-
ample. Brother Freeman was in charge of the vegetable
garden. He raised all the vegetables that were needed by
the entire community and gave them out to the people as
they came for them.
The second summer James G. Bleak reports: "In 1879
they produced 1600 bushels of wheat, 30,000 pounds of
cotton on the seed and from 1500 to 1600 gallons of mo-
lasses. This year a thresher was brought in, being hauled by
team all the way from California, a three-weeks' trip. Joseph
Hammond of St. George arrived Nov. 24, 1878, with
thresher, after threshing wheat and barley at Bunkerville.
This month the first house was erected on the Bunkerville
The life in the United Order, begun with such high
hopes and noble ideals, soon began to be unsatisfactory. The
way of having only what his neighbor had, of sharing
everything, and holding all property in common would not
satisfy many of the members. James G. Bleak, Book C,
page 296 says:
"This month, Oct. 1880, it became manifested in the
Bunkerville Ward, where the workers in the united order
have been working as stewards, that some stewardships,
through their economy and industry were gathering and
laying in an abundance while others through carelessness
and bad management were wasting the means of the com-
pany, each year increasing in debt. This was very unsatis-
factory to those whose ambition was to accumulate at least
the necessities of life. The result was that a general meeting
was held at which it was decided that each stewardship
should have the right to draw 80% of the proceeds of their
labor, the 20% to be retained in the treasury as a fund
to keep the capital stock good. This proved acceptable to
some, and they gave notice of withdrawal. This caused a
settlement to be made of the whole business. Dissatis-
faction increased and it was decided to disorganize the
Bunkorville United Order. The company paid off the capital
stock and 17% of the labor performed."
Page 231, Book C under the date of August 5, 1880
"The settlers at Bunkerville on the Rio Virgin, having
worked in the United Order upwards of 21/2 years, have
this date commenced to divide its property for distribution.
In settling up, the company paid all the capital stock in-
vested and 18% interest on all labor performed from the
first of January to date."
This business of settlement was very complicated, and
required a long time. We get suggestions of it from the
dairy of Myron Abbott, but the records seem to have been
destroyed. Through the years comes the suggestion that
Dudley was not pleased with what he got out of it, for his
cattle were divided among others, and he came out of the
experiment poorer than he went in. Whether it was dis-
satisfaction with the order of things in Bunkerville, or
whether he wanted more land, perhaps we shall never know,
but upon the settlement and the breaking up of the order,
he moved across the river to the site of the present town
of Mesquite, and set up his families there.
DODGING THE OFFICERS
At MESQUITE, Dudley again established all his wives.
r\ Mary had a rock house (which is still standing),
Maria was a block east, with Janet just beyond,
Martha lived south of Mary, and Thirza west, down near
the Big Wash. There was plenty of good land, part of it
cleared by the group that had deserted this site two years
before, because of the heat and bad water. There must
have been a family or two on the site at the time, although
we have not found who. There is a report that Brother
Peck, the school teacher, said that he had twenty- two stu-
dents enrolled in his school, of whom twenty belonged to
This seemed incredible, but the children say that it
was true, though the boys could not be counted as being in
all the time, for they had to take turns herding the cows
in the sandhills or on the river bottoms. From the ones
still living come stories of tricks they played on Brother
Peck. At one time he had a large watermelon growing in
his yard. It was his pride and joy. He watched it and
tended it carefully. One day in school he made the mistake
of telling the boys that he was going to make sure none
of them got it, so he measured their shoes. That was a
challenge they could not let pass unheeded. Slipping out
of bed that night, three of them set out for the watermelon.
Taking their sister's shoes in their hands, they went down
the dry irrigation ditch to the fence, then putting on the
shoes, one went in, got the melon and returned to the
ditch. They followed it up some distance, then turned the
DODGING THE OFFICERS 87
water down to cover their tracks. After all these years
they still chuckle at the discomforture of the old man as
he came for their father. Together they visited every one
of the five homes to see who was guilty. It was the girl's
shoes, all right, that had made the tracks, but the mothers
insisted that the girls did not leave the house, and were
in bed early. We cannot help wondering if Dudley did not
have a fair idea of who the criminals were, even with the
lack of evidence.
For four years the family lived here, and were an inde-
pendent, self-supporting unit. They raised everything they
ate; they had molasses and honey, they hauled rock salt
from St. Thomas, they had their grains, fruits and veg-
etables. They always had milk, though there were times
when there was no butter. They kept pigs and sheep, so
they could have meat on occasion. By hard work and ju-
dicious use of all his "boy-power" Dudley was again able
to expand his holdings and improve them. Every morning
the boys would gather at Mary's, as it was most central;
often they would eat breakfast there, and then they would
go with their father to whatever task he had set out.
Then came one of the disastrous floods for which the
Virgin river has always been notorious. Their ditch was
completely ruined. As he walked up along it and saw
what a lot of labor would be required to rebuild it, Dudley
debated as to what to do. He had good fields. There was
plenty of land cleared and fenced, but valueless without
water. But how to get the water? He could see no way
but to move again.
It was a major decision to make, but he decided that
he would have to scatter his families. All these years he
had struggled against odds to hold them together, to keep
them where he could be in daily contact with them all.
Now he must change the procedure.
Four years earlier, while they were still in Bunkerville,
in 1878, he had taken a contract to run the mail. Wooley,
Lund & Judd had contracted with the government for car-
rying the mail in all the southern district. At first Edward
Bunker, Jr., and Dudley Leavitt were in together, Dudley
carrying it from St. George, Utah, to St. Thomas, Nevada,
and Brother Bunker talking it from St. Thomas to Kingman,
Arizona. Now Dudley made a separate contract with
Wooley, Lund & Judd. For more than twenty years this
was an occupation which he followed, and which meant a
sure source of revenue, though a small one.
The following contract, one of the latest, will show
something of the prices and conditions under which it was
run. It is handwritten in ink on paper bearing the Wooley,
Lund & Judd, General Merchandise, stamp.
General Branch House
Merchandise Silver Reef, Utah
WOOLEY, LUND & JUDD
St. George, Utah, May 11, 1898
Robert C. Lund
I hereby offer and agree to carry the U. S. Mail on
Route 75177, St. George, Utah, to St. Thomas, Nevada, ac-
cording to the advertised schedule three (3) times per
week for the sum of thirteen hundred & seventy five
(1375.00) per annum — subject to any change of schedule
or increase or decrease of number of trips as may be
ordered by the P. O. Dept., with corresponding increase or
decrease of pay — from July 1st, 1898, to June 30, 1902,
said $1375.00 to be paid as follows 66 2/3% to be drawn
from time to time in mdse from the store in St. George
at same prices as other cash accounts and charged for
mdse by said store.
33 1/3% to be paid in cash quarterly when payments
are made by the P. O. Dept. for the service.
Provided that if more than the 66 2/3% is drawn in
mdse during any quarter, during the life of this contract,
that said excess above the 66 2/3% shall be deducted and
paid from said cash payment of 33 1/3%.
The foregoing is hereby accepted and made a contract
Robert C. Lund.
It does not take much figuring to see that these trips
would net something less than nine dollars each. When
one considers the distance, some one hundred and eighty
miles for the round trip, the number of horses needed and
the expense of maintaining them, it seems strange that
Dudley could have made anything at all.
DODGING THE OFFICERS 89
During all the first years the mail was run by pony.
A boy would leave St. George about midnight, change
horses at Littlefield, or Leavittville, just below, and meet
another boy who had started from St. Thomas, at Bunker-
ville. All the younger boys had their turn at this work;
some of them stayed with it for months and years at a
This made it necessary for Dudley to place his families
at different points. Thirza was established at St. George,
where she lived during most of the twenty years while they
ran the maU.
Martha was stationed at Bunkerville, while Mary lived
at Tunnel Point and later with Maria and Janet at Leavitt-
All the boys who had experience running the mail, tell
of the long rides, leaving in the night, with mail sack
strapped behind the saddle and a sandwich tied on the side,
of falling asleep to the monotonous jogging of the horse,
sometimes getting off and nmning a mile or two down the
slope to get warm and to keep awake. Later Dudley, as
he grew older and heavier, had a two-wheeled cart made
for him to carry mail on. It was drawn by only one horse,
and was so light that the animal could trot most of the way.
His son, Jeremy, tells these incidents of the mail carry-
ing days: "All the time father had the mail, neither the
government nor the state nor the counties ever put one
cent on the roads, if roads they could be called. I never
went with him, and I went many times, when he did not
stop and work road, taking out rock, cutting the higher
sides and building up the lower. He never camped all night.
He always planned to stop in the roughest places, bate
the horses, as he called it, while we made road, maybe
sleep an hour, and then up and digging again. I am sure
he saved many a heavy loaded salt wagon from breaking
down or getting stuck".
"When we lived at the Hancock ranch just west of
Littlefield, it was along the last of father's mail contracting.
He was getting badly crippled up and seldom went with
the mail, unless some one went with him. It was all night
riding. One cold winter night he decided to go with the
mail alone. He just wouldn't be talked out of it.
"This night he had Doll, a fine sorrel animal, high-
90 DUDLEY LEAVITT
lifed and very skittish, and a two- wheeled cart made es-
pecially for the business. He was bundled up with clothing
and a large overcoat, a napkin on his head — he looked
like Santa Claus.
"About two o'clock in the morning he was going down
the Clara Creek. The road followed the bottom of the
canyon down to the Three Mile Place, crossing the stream
every little ways. While crossing the stream, Doll tried to
get her head down to drink and pulled the bridle off one
ear. He didn't notice it for a while. When he did, he stopped
and got out to fix it. As he came around in front, it scared
"Like a shot out of a gun she whirled, lifting the cart
right into the air, and was out of sight in a few seconds.
Tlie way the cart bounced when it hit the boulders, he was
sure it would go to pieces. She was soon out of hearing.
"He said the only prayer he ever offered without faith
was then. In a few words, he asked the Lord to stop the
horse. As best he could he went back to the road and
started walking down it. He hadn't gone far when he met
Doll coming back, cart right side up. She came right v^
to him and stopped. He never knew how or why or by
whom she was turned around, but he always thought it
was some super-natural power. And he did not forget to
express his thanks to God for it."
During these years, the fight on the polygamists began.
The government, determined to stamp out the practice,
began a campaign of prosecution that amounted to persecu-
tion. During the years from 1875 to 1888, 589 men were
imprisoned for this practice, and fines amounting to $48,208
were collected. During the whole period of prosecution 1300
men served sentences in the state penitentiary.
Southern Utah was the center of many polygamist
families. Many of them moved their wives to different
towns; some, rather than divide up their families, took them
and went to Mexico to escape imprisonment.
Dudley was proud of his wives. He loved his children.
Not for anything would he have renounced one of them.
But he did not want to be locked up, either, and sometimes
he was hard-pressed.
The people had various ways of avoiding the officers.
Every stranger was regarded with suspicion; children were
DODGING THE OFFICERS 91
taught that they must not talk to strangers nor answer
questions. At Silver Reef, two young Mormon boys ran the
telegraph office. People from the north always stopped
there to rest and feed their teams. As soon as the U. S.
marshals, McGeary and Armstrong, came to the Reef, one
of these boys would send the message, "Send up two chairs",
to the one at the store in St. George. This was the code
which meant that the officers were on their way. Instantly,
word went out to every polygamist in town, enabling him
to arrange his affairs and go into hiding while the officers
drove the twenty-two miles from the Reef.
Even so, some were caught. Invariably they were given
a town party when they left to serve their six-months'
sentence, and the band met them at the Black Ridge when
At one time, Dudley came in to St. George with a
load of wood for Thirza, arriving after dark. The marshals
were in town that night, so his family was very concerned
for his safety. Thirza was so nervous she couldn't sleep,
for she knew the habit the officers had of raiding homes
in the middle of the night. She knew they were especially
anxious to get Dudley, because he not only broke the law,
but was proud of it and had made statements to the effect
that no power on earth would make him desert his family.
Before daybreak the family were up, had the wood un-
loaded, and were prepared for Dudley to leave town. They
rolled him up in the bedding, and some of the children
sat on him as one of the boys drove through town. Once
past the Black Hill, the children walked back, and Dudley
"One day I went with father to the cotton factory at
Washington," said Mary Jane. "An Iverson girl was the
clerk. We had just got our cotton unloaded, when the black-
topped buggy that carried McGeary and Armstrong drove
up. The girl was in a panic.
" 'Run,' she said. 'Run, Brother Leavitt. Here come
the officers. They will get you sure. Quick! Hide!'
"Father knew it was useless to run, so he snatched up
and old coat, pulled a slouch hat down over his eyes, picked
up an oil can, and started to oil the machinery. He was
the busiest man you ever saw climbing up the ladder to
get at some parts, and going about it as if he were an expert.
"The officers came in, went through the whole place,
kicking at trap doors, going through cotton bins, turning
over boxes, and trying to find concealed hide-outs. Father
went about his work, apparently paying no attention. At
last they got into their buggy and rode away."
Clarence tells how once when the officers were in town,
he went to Wooley, Lund & Judd's store for some supplies.
His father was lying flat in the bottom of the wagon box
with some quilts over him. As they drove up to the store,
there stood the marshals just outside, watching the streets
and keeping their eyes open for members of polygamist
families. Clarence went in, got his order of groceries, threw
them into the wagon box, and drove away. His father
often said that he wondered why they didn't search wagons
as well as they did houses.
At still another time, Dudley was at the shop where
Hardy's had their water wheel and turning lathe. He was
seated on the curb with some other men, his back to the
road, when one said, "You'd better get going, Dud, here
they come". Out of the corner of his eye, Dudley saw the
carriage coming down the street. He knew that to run
would be disastrous; it would be sure to attract attention.
So he sat perfectly still, and did not turn around to give
the passing outfit even a look.
His companions kept telling him in undertones that
the officers were watching him, that they were trying to look
through from back to front, and that they had his number.
But they were not certain enough of themselves to stop. As
soon as they rounded a curve, Dudley obeyed his impulse to
leave. He went into hiding in a tamarack thicket behind
the house. Sure enough, the carriage turned around and
the officers came back. This time they stopped, but the
only man they wanted was gone, and none of the others
had any idea where he was.
Once at Mesquite the church authorities came to call,
and since Dudley was in charge there, they wished to find
him. Some of his children were pulling weeds in the garden,
and when the men stopped and asked about Dudley Leavitt,
they couldn't tell them a thing. They didn't know who he
was or where he had gone or when he would be back or
anything else about him.
When the visitors finally did find him, one of them
DODGING THE OFFICERS 93
told him how the children had acted.
"You can't blame the children," he said. "We have
trained them not to know anything if a stranger is around."
Many an interesting legend has grown up about the
visits of the marshals. The story is told that Thomas S.
Terry had his home on the Utah- Arizona line, one room in
Utah and one in Arizona, the two connected by a cotton-
wood shed. If the officers came for him, he had only to go
into the other room to be in the other state and out of
their jurisdiction. People made up songs about McGeary
and Armstrong, so vigorously were they hated. "McGeary
searched McAthur's House", was often sung by children
in derision as they went down the street.
During these years, Dudley's children were growing up
and the older ones marrying. As with any family, there were
problems; there were times when their parents were troubled
over some of their actions and attitudes. Clarence tells how,
as a boy, he became disgruntled and ran away from home,
going down to Bunkerville to live with Weir, who was
married and established there. After a few days he became
so homesick he couldn't stand it and came back home. His
father was so glad to see him that, like the father in the
parable of the Prodigal Son, he made him more than wel-
"He didn't need to let me see how glad he was to have
me back," Clarence said, "I was a lot gladder to be back
than he was to have me."
William Abbott likes to tell how, when he was courting
Mary Jane he met her father going up the river with such
a heavy load that he got stuck on a hill. The young man
came up just in time to double teams and get the load up
without further trouble.
"I appreciate that," Dudley told him with genuine grati-
tude. "If I can do something for you sometime, you let
William hesitated a minute. "I believe I'll collect right
now," he said, "I would like to marry your daughter, Mary
Jane, and I'd like your consent and blessing."
"Well," said Dudley with a grin, "she's just a kid and
don't know nothing, but maybe you can teach her. Take
her and welcome."
On his sixty-fifth birthday, the family decided to honor
Dudley with a surprise party at his home at Leavittville,
just below what is now Littlefield. For weeks ahead they
talked and planned, sending word to the scattered members
of the family in different towns. The wives began pre-
paring, and Dudley, guessing what was coming, had a calf
and a pig ready to kill.
The crowd began to arrive late in the evening the
day before, for many of them must come long distances;
most of them at least seventeen miles, or almost a day's
travel in a wagon. Children, grand-children, in-laws, and
friends all came. The first evening was spent in visiting and
in arranging sleeping places, though, since it was August
and the visitors brought their bedding, this was not a
The next morning there was a bustle of preparation.
The calf had been in the barbecue pit all night, but there
were pies and cakes to bake, and vegetables to prepare.
Young people hitched up a wagon and went to the field
for a load of melons, children swang under the cottonwood
trees, men arranged a long table of saw-horses and planks.
It stretched out under the row of cottonwoods, a long table,
but filled at noon with slices of the steaming beef, roast
pork, pots of string beans, corn-on-the-cob, baked squash,
with red slices of watermelon for dessert. People helped
themselves, or were served by the row of women, and then
sat down in the shade to eat.
After dinner the sports began, wrestling, boxing bouts,
jumping, running, horse races and horse and foot races
(turn the stake and back). Children waded and splashed
in the warm ditch, adolescent girls squealed and ran as the
boys engaged them in a "water fight". Older women held
their babies and visited.
The real party was not until at night, after a supper,
which was largely a repetition of the dinner, after the
youngest were put to bed in the wagon boxes or on the
hay, after a bonfire had been built. They did not need its
heat, but they wanted its light and cheer, and it gave them a
center around which to gather. They began with songs,
group songs, hymns they knew and loved: "O Ye Moun-
tains High", "Come, Come Ye Saints", "Hard Times Come
Again No More", and others. Young Mary Hafen, on her
way to St. George to be married, played the guitar and
DODGING THE OFFICERS 95
led out, Striking a few chords to give them all the pitch.
Then Dudley arose to speak. These were his children,
and no matter if they did have families of their own, it
was still his right to counsel them. He was not one to
mince words, and he told them what he expected of them.
They should live their religion, pay their debts, attend to
their prayers, especially their family prayers, get out of
debt, and own their own homes. In no other way could
they be free, and he did not want them to be in bondage to
any man. Most important of all, they should keep alive
their testimony of the Gospel which was so dear to him,
and for which he would give his life. He closed, as he
always did, by telling them that he knew that Joseph Smith
was a Prophet of the Living God, that he had seen him
and heard him speak, and knew that he spoke with power.
He told them again the incident when "the mantle of Joseph
fell upon Brigham", and told incidents when he had been
guided and protected by the power of God.
The party was closed by prayer. The next day some
of the crowd started home early, and others waited until
afternoon, but by evening they were all gone. Dudley looked
over his gifts, and treasured the list to be reviewed often,
for even the five-cent pieces and box of rivets which his
younger grandchildren left were precious to him. This is
the list. I copy it, because it shows who were there, and
the types of presents they brought.
AUGUST 30, 1895
A birthday party for Dudley Leavitt at the Leavitt Ranch.
Mary H. Leavitt, a pair of garments.
Maria H. Leavitt, a book, "The Life of Heber C. Kimball".
Thirza Leavitt, a lamp.
Orin, Aaron and Dan Leavitt, 2 shirts.
Hannah Terry, a book, "Forty Years Among the Indians".
Weir and Delia Leavitt, cloth for a white shirt.
Johnnie and Sadie Hansen, a hat.
Heber and Betsy Hardy, cloth for two shirts.
Charley and Lorena Hardy, collar and pin and pair of cuff buttons.
Mary Jane Abbott, a pair of overalls.
Annie Sprague, a light shirt.
Lydia Leavitt and Edgar Leavitt, a pair of winter pants.
Lon, Henry and Ben Leavitt, a pair of pants.
96 DUDLEY LEAVITT
Mary Ellen, a pitchfork.
Albert Leavitt, a silk handkerchief.
Theresa Leavitt, a necktie and suspenders.
Mabel Waite, a pair of woolen socks.
Herbert Waite, 25c in money.
Nora Leavitt, a pair of woolen socks and a silk handkerchief.
Susan Hunt and son, George, a pair of socks and handkerchief.
Dora Waite, a cravat and handkerchief.
Jessie Waite, a pocket book and pencil.
Mary Lizzie Leavitt (Bowman), a pair of cotton socks.
Sarah Waite, a pair of cotton socks.
Jeremy Leavitt, necktie and handkerchief.
Ira Leavitt, a handkerchief and a box of shaving soap.
Ellen Leavitt, a pair of spectacles.
Ithamer and Orson Sprague, two handkerchiefs.
Zera Leavitt, a cake of soap.
Ernest Leavitt, 5c.
Christina Abbott, 5c.
Oliver Sprague, 10c.
Rozena and Deborah Leavitt, 50c.
Parley Leavitt, 10c.
Thirza Leavitt, 5c.
Merlin Hardy. 5c.
Mina and Christina Hansen, a box of rivets.
Mary Hafen, a silk tie.
DUDLEY LEAVITT AND WIVES
Taken at Old Folks Party about 1905. Left to right:
Mary, Dudley, Thirza, Janet and Martha.
BY THIS TIME Dudley was getting to be an old man.
His hair had turned gray years before; some of his
younger children say that they cannot remember
when their father's hair was not snowy white. To the end
of his days, it was unusually thick. He had powerful arms
and shoulders, but his legs became bowed, as though they
had bent under the weight of his great trunk. He had the
habit of sitting to work. He would take a home-made chair
wherever he went, carrying it in one hand and a cane in
the other. He sat to clean ditch, working right along with
young men, reaching far out to the end of his shovel handle
before he moved his chair. He sat to chop wood, cutting
piles of green cottonwood poles into stove lengths and
His one outstanding physical characteristic was his
teeth, for they were perfect until his death. There is a
story that he could and did bite a ten-penny nail in half.
He did take pride in cracking hard-shelled almonds with his
teeth. There have been many conjectures as to why they
were so well preserved. Some of his children say it was
the pine gum he chewed that gave them exercise and kept
his mouth free of acids. Others claim that it was his diet,
the whole grains and molasses and vegetables, and the fact
that he loved to eat the bones of animals as well as the
flesh. Whenever they cooked a chicken he always crunched
the softer bones and the joints of the larger ones, sucking
out the juices. He never used a tooth brush, but he always
picked his teeth after every meal and polished them off
with a stick.
His home was always open to the traveler, whether
stranger or friend. Of his hospitality his daughter, Nora
98 DUDLEY LEAVITT
says: "We always fed everyone who came along. A
great many tramps were moving through the country, and
it used to make us out of patience sometimes because the
people at Littlefield would send them on to us to feed.
'The Leavitt family always takes in everybody', they would
"I remember that one morning we had four, one right
after another and when the fifth came, mother told him
she hadn't anything to give him. He turned and started
away, but her conscience got the best of her and she called
him back. We fixed a meal, and he certainly was hungry.
Of all the men we fed, he seemed to appreciate it most.
He couldn't get through thanking us.
"But it was not only tramps, it was the visiting au-
thorities; it was cowboys on the drive; it was freighters.
We could never keep light bread enough on hand. I remem-
ber one night after we had been in bed and asleep we
had to get up and get a meal for hungry cowboys, baking
big pans of hot biscuits.
"Aunt Mary always kept the missionaries. She was
an excellent cook and a good manager. At one time when
they came, she had no white pillow slips clean. She had
colored ones that she used on her beds, but she thought
thej^ were not good enough. So she took two white shirts and
put them on the pillows, folding them neatly and buttoning
them on the under side. Then she worried all night for
fear her guests would turn their pillows over or shift them
around. But it was the best she could do."
There are many stories of how the family took in
visitors. At one time when a full load came from St. George
and Salt Lake, including Eliza R. Snow and Zina D. Young,
the women gave their own bed to their guests while they
fixed one for themselves in the cotton bin on top of the
unginned cotton. The next morning, the oldest son at home,
Dudley Junior, presided and led in the family prayer in
the absence of his father. The visitors were much impressed
with the home set-up.
Ed Syphus told how he and his brother were taking
a load of rock salt to St. George. They had to cross the
Virgin river some twenty-two times and had some trouble
with their outfits. When they arrived at the Leavitt ranch,
they were out of provisions, both for themselves and their
CLOSING YEARS 99
teams. Dudley walked out to meet them when they stopped.
"Unhitch and put up your teams," he said, and they
knew that meant that their horses would be well cared for.
Then looking at the boys closely, he said, "You're hungry,
too, aren't you? Come right in and I'll have the women
fix you something."
'That was the best thing I had heard for a long time,"
Brother Syphus said as he told it. "We were hungry, but
we were just big, bashful boys, and wouldn't have dared
to ask for anything. One of his wives baked a pan of
biscuits and we had hot bread and butter and molasses
and milk. I think I never tasted a better meal. And when
we left, we had another pan of biscuits to take along with
us. Soon after we were on the road, we killed a rabbit
with a rock, so we fared very well until we delivered our
When the family left Mesquite, Mary had protested
against having to start all over again.
"I have done nothing but pioneer new places all my life,"
she said. "We just get a comfortable place established and
have to move. I'm through pioneering. This is the last
move I will make."
She lived at Tunnel Point and later with Maria in the
big rock house at Leavittville. Then in 1893 Frank's wife,
Malinda, died, leaving him with two small boys, so she
went to live with him and take care of the children. She
spent the last years of her life in Frank's home.
Maria was a mid-wife who served throughout all the
southern country. Sometimes she went out as far as Clover
Valley, traveling in a wagon and staying until the mother
could be up and around again. In her early married life
she had been "called" to this work by Sisters Eliza R.
Snow and Zina D. Young, who blessed her and set her
apart to do it. They suggested that her fee for the delivery
of a child be three dollars, a price which she kept all her
life. Even after she became quite an elderly lady, people
sent for her because the women had such confidence in her.
She said once that she always prayed silently as she worked,
and she always felt that God heard and helped her. When-
ever the people saw a team tearing through the streets
with Aunt Maria holding on to the spring seat, they knew
that some woman was in labor.
100 DUDLEY LEAVITT
Dudley had taken all his wives but Janet to the En-
dowment House or to the Temple at Salt Lake City and
had them sealed to him. After the Temple at St, George
was completed, he had this ordinance performed, taking
Janet and nine children there on June 2, 1882.
During their later years, both Janet and Martha lived
with their children, Janet with her daughter, Jane Barnum,
and Martha with hers, Lydia Hughes.
For many years, Thirza and Maria lived together in
the rock house at Leavittville. Each had a large rock living
room with a kitchen behind and an upstair bedroom. Of
their arrangements at this time, Nora says:
"Theresa and I were little girls about the same age.
We went to school at Littlefield, three miles away, and as
we had to walk, we always got up early and ate breakfast
by lamplight. When father was not there, we each slept
with our own mother, but when father was home we both
slept with my mother one night and hers the next. Father
changed regularly and we slept with the wife he didn't
"We were very friendly. I don't have a sister who is
as dear to me as Theresa, because we were together so
This same thing seems to be true throughout the
family. The children who were the same age and who grew
up together were more attached to each other than were
those of the same mother who were widely apart in age.
Every one with whom I have talked says the same thing;
their best friends were their brothers and sisters by the
other wives. Their father never let them be referred to
as "half-brothers". Since they were all his children, they
were all brothers and sisters.
Late in his life, Dudley received one thousand dollars
from the Government for his services among the Indians.
It came unsought and unexpected. His first thought was
to put it where it would do the most good. His wants were
few and simple; his children were all married and estab-
lished. All his life he had spent in helping to build up
"The Church and Kingdom of God", and this seemed an
opportunity to do more for it. He went with the money
to his bishop and asked where he thought it would do the
most good. First he paid an honest tithing from it, one
CLOSING YEARS 101
hundred dollars. Then he donated seventy-five dollars to
the Temple and sent some to help the missionaries who
were out before he would use any for himself or his wives.
This is typical of the way in which he always put the
mterest of the Church before his own private interest.
By 1905 it was thought by many of the children that
their father and his two wives were getting too old to stay
on the ranch at Leavittville, since it was so far from any
neighbors and their children were nearly all married. Ac-
cordingly they divided the cattle and sold the ranch. Maria
went to live with her son Ira at Mesquite, and Dudley and
Thirza moved back to a rock house in Bunkerville, near
their children. This was his home until his death.
As the family grew older and married, they still turned
to their father for counsel. Especially did they depend on
him in times of sickness. Every one tells incidents when
their father came to them when they were in trouble, of
how, through his administration and blessing, one or an-
other of their babies had been healed. They seemed to feel
that he had a sort of "sixth sense" by which he discerned
things. Clarence tells how, when he was younger, the boys
tried to deceive him by killing a calf while they were on
the drive and then telling him that it got its leg broken
and they had to kill it. He listened to their story and then
said, "The next time you want to kill a calf, you drive it
home and kill it. It will be easier to take care of the meat.
And you needn't bother to break its leg, either."
"Father could almost read what was in people's minds,"
Lena said. "One time I planned to leave my husband. We
were living in polygamy and I got discouraged, and maybe
a little jealous. With two families, it seemed like we could
never get ahead. So I decided to leave the three older
children with their father and Mary Ellen and take the
baby, Edward Washington, to St. George and leave him with
my mother, while I went on to Salt Lake to take a nursing
course. I thought that if I got that nursing course I could
make my own way better alone.
"I did not say a word about what was in my mind to
a soul, but I had thought about it and planned on it for
quite a while. So when father came down, I asked if I
could go to St. George with him to visit my mother. I got
ready and left, never letting on that I was not planning to
102 DUDLEY LEAVITT
come right back.
"Father didn't say anything until the second day out.
Then as we were riding along he put his arm around my
shoulders and said, 'Lena, you are feeling bad and dis-
couraged, but I promise you that if you will stand by
Orange and stay with him, the Lord will bless you and you
will be better off than if you do what you have on your
"At first I denied it. 'I don't know what you mean. I
don't have anything in my mind', I said. 'What makes you
think I have?'
" 'You plan to leave your husband and take up nursing
to support yourself, he said. 'But don't do it. You will
be happier if you stay with your husband.'
"He talked to me just like I was a little girl instead
of a married woman with four children. He advised me
to do my duty and said that was the path that would
have the fewest regrets for me. I went on to St. George
and stayed a few days with my mother. Then I came back
home and even my husband didn't know a thing about it.
Father never mentioned it again."
Dan tells an incident which shows how literally and
fully his father trusted the men who were over him. He
"You know father had a perfect set of teeth, the finest
I ever saw in my life. I was always joking him about his
teeth, until as he grew older, he used to ask me nearly
every time I came in if I didn't want his teeth. One day
I went to see him and found him sitting and looking into
the fire. Instead of joking as he usually did, he looked up
and said, 'Dan, you don't believe it, do you?'
" 'Believe what?' I asked.
" 'What the prophets have said.'
" 'Well, it all depends', I parried.
" 'No,' he said. 'You don't believe what the ancient
prophets said, and you don't believe what the modern
prophets have said.'
" 'What do you mean?'
"Well, you don't believe what President McAllister
prophesied that there will be a paved highway running for
miles down through this country.'
" 'Oh, father', I laughed. 'Don't be silly. How could
CLOSING YEARS 103
anyone believe that? What is there here to ever bring a
" 'Now let me tell you, son, the Lord never spoke any-
thing through the mouths of his prophets, either ancient
or modern, that he will not bring to pass. I may not live
to see it, but you will. There will be a paved highway as
straight as an arrow running for miles down this flat. And
don't you forget it.'
"He was so earnest and so impressive that I didn't for-
get it, and I often think of it today when I drive over High-
way 91, which runs right down the street he pointed. Then
it was only a stretch of sand filled with mesquites and chap-
arral and cactus, with a wagon road winding in and out
among them. We made a joke out of the idea that there
would ever be a paved road there."
Dudley's repeated moves had kept him always ahead
of the modern improvements. When he saw the first binder,
he was astonished. After all the grain he had cradled, to
see it cut and bound so easily was like a miracle to him,
especially the tying of the bundles.
"Then Millenium is not far off," he said. "When man
can invent a machine that has fingers, there isn't much left
With the telephone it was the same. Totally unbe-
lieving when his sons tried to tell him about it, he refused
for a long time to try to use it. At last they persuaded
him to come to "Central's" office, the one telephone in
town, and had him talk to his wife in Mesquite, five miles
away. When he recognized her voice, his wonder knew no
He never rode in an automobile; he knew nothing of
the conveniences which have developed from the use of
electricity. His reading was limited to the Scriptures. He
clung to the homely, elemental things of life. He repre-
As he grew older he talked to his children more and
more of the value of owning their own homes, keeping out
of debt, and having a store of food on hand sufficient for
two seasons, against the time when "you can't buy a barrel
of flour with a barrel of gold". He spoke often of the time
when "war will be poured out upon all nations", and told
them that they would live to know the truth of his words.
104 DUDLEY LEAVITT
"My mind is still active, but my feet drag," he told
one of his sons. "If my feet would follow the dictates of my
head, I could get over the ground like a mountain sheep."
"These old, useless, crippled legs," he said one day.
"How glad I will be to be rid of them. There are so many
things I want to do, if I were not chained to this old worn
out body. I'll be glad to lay it down. Maybe then I can
accomplish something again."
During the summer he lagged a little. He spent more
time indoors, musing over the past, or just sitting in that
semi-blank state which he called "studying".
One evening he began to sing. That was not unusual,
for he often sang, Indian songs, hymns, and rollicking folk
ballads. But this was different. It was "Come, Let Us
Anew", but sung with a new feeling. When he came to
the last verse:
"I have fought my way through
I have finished the work Thou dids't give me to do",
it was like the death chant of a warrior, an announcement
of the end. With the next lines his voice rose in the as-
surance that his Father would approve of his life's work:
"And that each from his Lord
Should receive the glad word
'Well and faithfully done
Enter into my joy and sit down on my throne.' "
He knew that he was near the threshold, but he had
no fear. All his life he had walked by faith; by faith he
would take his last step. He had faced death many times,
from exposure, heat, starvation, Indians. Now it came as
a release, or, as he said, a promotion.
The next morning he did not get up. During the day
the word went out that father was not well, so most of his
family called on him. For several days he still had visitors,
and seemed to enjoy them, though he was failing fast. He
knew everything until he fell asleep on the evening of
August 15, 1908, when it soon became evident that he
would not wake up.
There was something dignified about his passing. No
hysterical weeping, no shaking him and calling him back,
no nurses punching needles into him or poking oxygen
tubes up his nose. His family accepted the inevitable calmly,
as he would have wished. He had lived a good life; he was
CLOSING YEARS 105
ready to go. Why should they hold him? They gathered
in the yard or wept quietly in an adjoining room, but where
he lay, all was peace. A son sat by his bed, felt his pulse,
touched his lips with water, or shifted him slightly. Death
crept up so slowly that it was hard to tell when the end
A tired old man had passed, and his going marked
the end of an era. It was as if the curtain had fallen on
another act in the great drama of the west. Without edu-
cation, without culture in the common meaning of that
word, without wealth, he still had left his imprint upon the
whole of the section in which he lived. He had blazed the
way for the conquering of the desert; he had helped to
establish friendly relations with the Indians. Most of all he
had left in the hearts of his many children a standard of
conduct which would include honesty, integrity, christian
fellowship toward their neighbors, and an unwavering
trust in God.
At the funeral the next day, his family gathered, his
four surviving wives (Janet had died in June 1907), his
children, his friends, to pay tribute to him. The crowd
that gathered and the spirit of the occasion were evidence
of the esteem in which he was held. He was buried in the
cemetery at Bunkerville, Nevada.
Of his surviving wives, women who had stood shoulder
to shoulder with him through the years of pioneer hard-
ships, one, Martha, died the next year, in June, 1909. The
other three, Mary, Maria, and Thirza lived on for quite a
number of years. Mary went first on January 31, 1922;
Maria, her sister, followed in six months, July 30, 1922,
while Thirza lived until August 27, 1927.
A full biography could be written on the lives of each
of these women, but from their early girlhood their fortunes
were so closely bound to his that it would seem enough to
tell his story in full.
CHILDREN OF DUDLEY LEAVITT
Present at Family Reunion held at Bunkerville, New, 1935.
Back row: Lister, Frank, Henry.
Middle row: Theresa Huntsman, Lorena Hardy, Mabel
Waite, Mary Jane Abbott, Medora Waite.
Front row: Betsy Hardy, Mary Ellen Leavitt, Hannah
Terry, Sadie Pulsipher, Lena Leavitt.
THE STUDY of genealogy is so fascinating that a
person could well devote a lifetime to it. At the
present time, Mrs. Mary Terry Bunker is doing
more in genealogical research along the Leavitt lines than
any one else in Utah. In 1924 Mrs. Cecilia G. Steed pre-
pared a book, "The Leavitts of America", under the direc-
tion of Mrs. Jane Jennings Eldridge of Woods Cross, Utah,
which is very good. In 1941, Mrs. Emily Leavitt Noyes of
Tilton, New Hampshire, published a book on the Leavitt
and Dudley genealogy, a more up-to-date and complete
For our purposes here it is enough to list that Dudley
traced his lineage back to John, the first Leavitt to come
to America. John married Sarah Oilman, and Dudley's
line is through his son Moses who married Dorothy Dudley,
their son Joseph who married Mary Wadleigh, their son
Nathaniel who married Lydia Sanborn, their son Jeremiah
who married Sarah Shannon, and their son Jeremiah who
married Sarah Sturdevant. Dudley was the fourth son in
this family. Mrs. Noyes book gives interesting sketches
of all these ancestors, along with copies of their wills and
other interesting data. We would suggest that all who
are interested in genealogy should purchase this book.
From this point on, we trace here only the children
and grandchildren of Dudley in order that his descendants
may know their relationship to each other.
DESCENDANTS of DUDLEY LEAVITT
CHILDREN OF DUDLEY AND MARY HUNTSMAN LEAVITT
Louisa Hannah b. 16 March 1855; m Thomas Terry
Dudley b. 31 Nov. 1856; m Mary Elizabeth Pulsipher; d. 21 Feb. 1931
Orin David b. 8 Jan. 1859; d. unm.
Orson Welcome b. 13 Feb. 1861; d. unm.
Alonzo Thomas b. 13 No. 1862; m. Udora Hunt
Joseph Henry b. 23 June 1865; d. July 1866
Franklin Samuel b. 11 March 1867; m. Malinda Hunt; m. Selina Hafen
George Edw^ard b. 16 Nov. 1869; d. 11 Oct. 1878
Aaron Huntsman b. 17 Aug. 1871; m. Clarissa Ellen Hughes; d. 15
Mary Jane b. 16 July 1873; m. William E. Abbott
Mabel LiUiam b. 28 Dec. 1874; m. Herbert Wm. Waite
Daniel Lemuel b. 23 June 1879; m. Penelope Burgess
CHILDREN OF DUDLEY AND MARIA HUNTSMAN LEAVITT
Orilla b. 28 April 1859; d. 17 Mar. 1874
Elsie b. 18 Dec. 1860; m. Samuel Hooper
Hyrum Ralston 4 Nov. 1862; d. 27 Nov. 1886
James William b. 20 Feb. 1865; d. 10 Sept. 1866
John Willard b. 1 Feb. 1867; d. 1 Jan. 1877
Sarah Maria b. 23 July 1869; m. John P. Hansen; m. Andrew M.
Charles Albert b. 14 June 1871; m. Lillie May Barnum; died May 1929
Hubert Arthur b. 19 July 1873; m. Sarah E. Canfield
Medora b. 8 Feb. 1875; m. Jesse Waite
Nora b. 13 Dec. 1877; m. J. Nephi Hunt
Jeremy b. 19 April 1880; m. Martha Hughes; m. Lorena White
Ira b. 30 Dec. 1882; m. Joseph Abbott
CHILDREN OF DUDLEY AND THIRZA RIDING LEAVITT
Alfred Weir b. 27 Dec. 1860; m. Idella Hunt; d. 23 Dec. 1939
Thirza Helen b. 29 Sept. 1863; m. Orange D. Leavitt
Mary Elenor b. 7 Feb. 1866; m. Orange D. Leavitt
Christopher Lister b. 1868; m. Annie Barnum
Dudley Henry b. 19 April 1870; m. Mary Hafen
Betsy b. 4 June 1872; m. Heber H. Hardy
Emma Lorena b. 17 Dec. 1874; m. Charles M. Hardy
Theresa b. 18 April 1877; m. Solon Huntsman
Alma Clinton b. 29 Jan. 1880; d. 29 Feb. 1880
Knewell Taylor b. 11 Aug. 1882; d. 29 July 1883
CHILDREN OF DUDLEY AND JANET SMITH LEAVITT
Annie Marie b. March 1861; m. Luther Sprague
Calvin Smith b. 18 Feb. 1864; m. Mary E. Waite; d. 21 Dec. 1894
Adelbert b. 15 Dec. 1865; d. 9 Sept. 1866
Marinda b. 30 June 1874; m. George Hooper
Sarah Jane b. 9 March 1868; m. A. James Barnum
Helaman b. 28 March 1870; d. 1871
Clarence Dudley b. 25 Jan. 1872; m. Nellie L. McKnight
Benjamin Heber b. 30 Jan. 1876; unm.
Oliver b. 2 July 1880; d. young
Deborah b. 18 April 1886; unm.
Rozena b. 18 July 1888; m. Wright McKnight; d. 19 Sept. 1932
110 DUDLEY LEAVITT
CHILDREN OF DUDLEY AND MARTHA PULSIPHER LEAVITT
Lydia b. 25 Dec. 1873; m. Walter Hughes; d. 17 Nov. 1917
Minerva died infant
Dudley Charles died infant
Grandchildren of Dudley and Mary Huntsman Leavitt
CHILDREN OF LOUISA HANNAH LEAVITT AND
THOMAS S. TERRY
Maud Etna b. 25 Mar. 1880; m. John S. Patten
Mary Elsie b. 15 Aug. 1881; m. Ezra Bunker
David Dudley b. 29 Jan. 1883; m. Stella Iverson
Jedediah Merkins b. 3 April 1885; m. Clara Woods
Edward S. b. 21 Dec. 1886; m. Florence Woodbury
Exie b. 4 Dec. 1888; m. Rowland Blake
CHILDREN OF DUDLEY LEAVITT AND MARY
Dudley Edgar b. 18 Nov. 1879; m. Bertha Hafen
Zerah Royal b. 28 Aug. 1881; unm.
Alonzo Milton b. 16 April 1883; d. 1883
Orson Welcome b. 8 Sept. 1887; d. 22 Oct. 1915 unm.
Mary Ann b. 3 Dec. 1889; d. 6 Feb. 1890
Mable Lydia b. 15 Feb. 1891; m. Fred Rushton
Martha Minerva b. 15 Feb. 1891; m. William Clark McKnight
George Albert b. 17 May 1893; m. Christie Prescott
Laman Pulsipher b. 21 July 1895; m. Donna Rushton
Retta Vivian b. 3 July 1897; m. Lawrence Prescott
Camilla AdeUne b. 10 July 1900; m. Hollis Hunter
CHILDREN OF ALONZO THOMAS AND UDORA HUNT LEAVITT
Alonza Ralph b. 9 Dec. 1889; m. Elise C. Lewis
Roxie Charlotte b. 22 Dec. 1891; m. Calvin Memmott
Agnes Melinda b. 18 May 1894; m. Lemuel Leavitt
Hannah Inez b. 4 Nov. 1898; died infant
Elva Udora b. 15 Oct. 1902; m. Samuel J. Hollinger
Alton Clement b. 6 April 1906; unm.
Mary LaRue b. 24 Sept. 1909; m. Lewis Earl Christian
CHILDREN OF FRANKLIN SAMUEL AND MALINDA
Franklin Ernest b. 16 Oct. 1890; m. 1st Martha Bamum; m. 2nd
Mary Marie Leavitt
Samuel Edward b. 20 March 1893; m. Clara Hughes
CHILDREN OF FRANKLIN S. AND SELENA HAFEN LEAVITT
Franklin OdeD b. 25 Nov. 1908; m. Alta Hardy
Malinda Selena b. 3 Nov. 1910; m. James J. Brown
Martin Samuel b. 14 Jan. 1913; unm.
Wendell b. 27 April 1915; unm.; d. 1942
Orsen b. 3 Jan. 1918; m. Berniece Pulsipher.
CHILDREN OF AARON HUNTSMAN AND CLARISSA
ELLEN HUGHES LEAVITT
Aaron b. 16 Sept. 1899; m. Grace Lowe
Leora b. 26 Oct. 1901; m. Arthur S. Reber
Mary Marie b. 8 Oct. 1905; m. Ernest Leavitt
Leonard Fay b. 20 Mar. 1908; m. Lenora Sylvester
CHILDREN OF MARY JANE LEAVITT AND WILLXA.M
Abigal Christina b. 22 Jan. 1891; m. John Jensen
Dorothy Ellen b. 19 Oct. 1892; m. Alfred Frehner
Mary Emily b. 19 Dec. 1899; m. James Elmer Hughes
Josepha b. Oct. 1894; m. 1st Ira Leavitt, m. 2nd William M. Jones
William Orval b. 28 Oct. 1896; m. Lodisa E. Thurston
Stephen Oscar b. 29 Dec. 1901; m. Mary Hughes
Gussie b. 4 June 1904; d. May 1905
Anthon Moroni b. 25 Mar. 1906; m. Nellie Johnson
Harmon Deloy b. 4 May 1908; m. 1st May Burgess, 2nd Zelma Cooper
Owen M. b. 4 Aug. 1910; died Dec. 1910
Rulon Sidney b 1911; m. Thelma McKnight
Claudius b. 1 Jan. 1914; m. Marjorie Bowler
Ethan Allen b. 6 Jan. 1916; m. Lucille Leavitt
CHILDREN OF MABEL LILLIAN LEAVITT AND
HERBERT W. WAITE
Hannah Ketura b. 28 June 1893; d. infant
Mabel Vinda b. 25 Feb. 1895; m. Robert E. Reber
Velma Leila b. 19 July 1897; m. Louie Rumell Reber
Herbert Marvin b. 10 May 1900; m. Glenna Sylvia Leavitt
Leland William b. 18 Dec. 1902; m. Mary Rose Giardina Bunker
Dinnah b. 18 Jan. 1905; m. Edward Kane
Delbert b. 21 June 1907; m. Ethelyn Robinson
Evan b. 15 Sept. 1909; m. Dorothy Hunt
Moroni b. 5 April 1912; m. June Leavitt
Denzil b. 12 June 1914; m. lona Peterson
Dan Leavitt b. 21 Oct. 1916; m. Fern Adams
Rodney b. 7 Jan. 1919; m. Marie Iverson
CHILDREN OF DANIEL LEMUEL AND PENELOPE
Rex Daniel b. 10 Dec. 1902; m. Erma Potter
Pearl b. 20 Mar. 1905; m. Elden D. Emett
Raymond A. b. 26 May 1907; m. Vema Caudel
Ether M. b. 7 June 1910; m. Lillard French
Radna b. 3 May 1918; m. Dennis H. Juchness
Grandchildren of Dudley and Maria Huntsman Leavitt
CHILDREN OF ELSIE LEAVITT AND SAMUEL HOOPER
Orilla b. 10 July 1884; m. Sidney E. Roberts; d. 17 Aug. 1938
Bertha Maria b. 29 June 1885; m. William E. Howard
Lydia Ellen b. 23 Feb. 1887; m. Paris Leon Fillmore
Medora b. 16 Nov. 1888; m. Samuel A. Kay; d. 8 Jan. 1941
Thomas Dudley b. 7 Mar. 1890; m. Ina Gee (also given an Frances S.)
Samuel Melvin b. 27 Oct. 1892; m. Olive S. Newby; d. 18 Sept. 1939
John Albert b. 15 Sept. 1894; m. Ruby E. Murdoch
James Edward b. 4 Feb. 1896; d. 26 April 1896
Duane b. 24 Sept. 1897; d. 10 Mar. 1929 unm.
William R. b. 13 Feb. 1901; m. Vida M. Brown
Walter Jay b. Feb. 1905; m. Mary Annetta Fowles
CHILDREN OF SARAH MARIA LEAVITT AND JOHN HANSEN
Elmina b. 3 June 1887; m. William J. Stewart
Mariah Christina b. 24 July 1889; m. George H. Hunt; d. 12 Mar. 1915
Rhoda b. 20 May 1891; d infant
Annie Charlotta b. 29 Mar. 1893; m. 1st Wm. Colman, 2nd Joseph
112 DUDLEY LEAVITT
CHILDBEN OF SARAH MARIA LEAVITT AND ANDREW
Cleone b. 28 June 1902; m. John H. Pulsipher
John Andrew b. 11 Nov. 1903; d. Mar. 16 1925
Sarah Saphrona b. 31 July 1905; m. Walter Pulsipher
Willard Dean b. 4 June 1912; m. Laura Elva Frampton
Dora Martha b. 4 June 1912; m. Ray Robinson; m. Kenneth Miller
CHILDREN OF CHARLES ALBERT AND LILLIE MAY
James Albert b. 21 Aug. 1895; m. Esther Chloe Heaton
Leila May b. 13 July 1898; m. Warren D. Hardy; d. 25 Sept. 1919
Vertie Ann b .16 May 1900; m. Kenneth Owen Earl
Jetta Mariah b. 10 June 1902; m. Solon Ralph Huntsman
Hyrum b. 26 April 1904; d. June 1904
Erma b. 17 June 1905; m. Vincent E. Leavitt
Randy b. 5 June 1907; m. Emma Ilene Chamberlain
Rulon Doyle b. 8 May 1909; d. 14 April 1928
Aschel J. b. 31 Mar. 1911; m. Rhea Thomas
Elsie b. 25 Sept. 1913; m. Joe Bonafus
Ethel b. 1 Sept. 1915; m. Lorin A. Leavitt
Eleanor b. 24 Sept. 1918; m. Perry Floyd Waite
Amy b. 17 June 1921; m. Jack Leavitt
CHILDREN OF MEDORA LEAVITT AND JESSE WAITE
Jesse Leroy b. 21 Mar. 1895; m. Lucina Bowman
Laprele b. 17 Feb. 1897; m. Leroy M. Naegle; 2nd m. Harry E. Fields
William Noble b. 25 Sept. 1898; m. June Harriman
Hazel b. 6 June 1900; m. Loron Phillips; d. 8 Sept. 1930
Iris b. 20 Nov. 1902; m. Johnson E. White
Guy b. July 1904; d. 29 April 1905
Glen b. 27 Jan. 1906; m. Verda Hunt
Nelda b. 29 Jan. 1908; m. David E. Houston
Flossie lola b. 19 Dec. 1909; m. Alva L. Hunt; d. 2 July 1939
Donna b. 14 Nov. 1911; m. Howard Burgess
Rowena b. 7 April 1914; m. Durrell K. Adams
Jessie b. 12 Jan. 1917; m. Ivan Holt Hunt
Margaret b. 12 Mar. 1920; m. Pierce Ian Jarvis
CHILDREN OF NORA LEAVITT AND JONATHAN NEPHI HUNT
Nephi Ralston b. 18 Jan. 1900; m. Edith W. Wagstaff
Vera Benita b. 3 Jan. 1902; m. Victor Casper Lee
Fay b. 8 Sept. 1906; m. Nellie Louise Roberts
Paul b. 10 July 1908; m. Irma Sutter
Ava b. 22 Jan. 1910; m. Ernest Brown
Claud Archial b. 22 Jan. 1912; d. 20 Nov. 1912
Elnora b. 27 Sept. 1913;
Golda b. 15 Feb. 1915; m. William Edward Roberts
Verda b. 10 Feb. 1918; m. Christian Lester Skeam
CHILDREN OF JEREMY AND MARTHA M. HUGHES LEAVITT
Nora b. 23 Dec. 1902; d. 25 Feb. 1903
Vilda b. 12 April 1904; m. Reed E. Lowe
Erving Jeremy b. 27 Oct. 1905; m. Lillian E. Abbott
Hubert Lee b. 27 Mar. 1907; m. Letty Mann Anderson
Genevieve b. 27 Dec. 1908; m. Joseph E. Bethers
Maida b. 12 May 1910; d. 20 Sept. 1930
Lula b. 3 Aug. 1912; d. 15 May 1920
Ruth b. 8 Sept. 1914; m. Nelton Burgess
Porter R. b. 6 May 1916; m. Nydia M. Perkins
Clarissa b. 27 June 1918; m. Walter Lamoreaux
Lyman b. 12 April 1920;
Norman b. 25 June 1923;
John b. 6 May 1925; died infant
CHILDREN OF IRA DUDLEY AND JOSEPHA ABBOTT LEAVITT
Daphney b. 11 Oct. 1914; died infant
Ira Curtis b. 29 Nov. 1915
lUa b. 24 Dec. 1918
Clausen b. 11 Mar. 1920
Grandchildren of Dudley and Thirza Riding Leavitt
CHILDREN OF ALFRED WEIR AND IDELLA HUNT LEAVITT
Ellen b. 7 May 1883; m. Albert Hafen
Alice b. 22 Aug. 1885; m. Ithamar D. Sprague
Parley b. 13 May 1889; m. Martha Lovena Hafen
Thirza b. 16 June 1892; m. William M. Dykeman
Idella b. 4 June 1894; m. Charles Bowler
Susan Rachel b. 21 Sept. 1896; m. Joseph Banner; d. 6 Nov. 1917
CHILDREN OF THIRZA HELENA AND ORANGE D. LEAVITT
Elmira b. 24 April 1883; m. Asheal J. Bamum
Orange W. b. 30 Jan. 1885; d. 23 Feb. 1885
Alma Decator b. 23 Feb. 1886; m. Ivie J. Cox
Newell Knight b. 17 June 1889; m. Nettie M. Earl; d. 12 Sept. 1921
Dudley b. 11 Sept. 1891; d. 12 April 1892
Washington Edward b. 12 Feb. 1893; m. Amelia Bunker; m. Elizabeth
Theodosia b. 9 May 1895; m. Leon Bowman
Charles Clinton b. 9 Aug. 1899; m. Rhoda Hafen
May Eleanor b. 22 Jan. 1904; d. 16 April 1905
Melvina b. 16 Nov. 1905; m. George N. Parras; d. 13 Dec. 1932
CHILDREN OF MARY ELENOR AND ORANGE D. LEAVITT
Thirza Olive b. 11 Oct. 1887; m. Joseph H. Hardy
Betsy b. 18 Oct. 1889; m. Oliver Sprague
Alfred Hale b. 2 Aug. 1892; d. 5 Aug. 1892
Elmer b. 11 July 1893; m. Emma Sophia Burgess
Leah b. 8 May 1896; m. Harmon C. Tobler
Theresa Gladys b. 23 Dec. 1898; m. Jergen Leroy Felt
Veda Bell b. 27 May 1902; m. David Marineer Cox
Elfonda b. 12 Mar. 1905; m. Myron S. Horsley
Sarah b. 4 Aug. 1907; m. John D. Bamum
Lemuel Smith b. 18 July 1910; m. Laura H. Bowler
CHILDREN OF CHRISTOPHER LISTER AND ANNIE
Annie Donetta b. 28 June 1899; m. William W. Potter
Lucinda b. 9 Feb. 1900; m. Lawrence R. Nelson
Lister Hale b. 21 Dec. 1902; m. Cordelia Dearborn
Glen Henry b. 10 Dec. 1904; m. Rachel Bowler
Jacob Hamblin b. 26 Jan. 1907; m. Anna M. Potter
Ross b. 8 Dec. 1908
Evan b. 24 Nov. 1910; m. Edna McBride
NeU b. 13 Oct. 1912; m. Walter Granger
Bamum b. 13 Aug. 1914; m. Berniece Reber
Jack b. 4 June 1916; m. Dorine Beatty
114 DUDLEY LEAVITT
Theron b. 29 Mar. 1918; m. Faun Gardner
Ila May b. 15 Jan. 1920; m. Arthur Justin
Stella b. 31 Jan. 1922; m. Gerald Pingle
Gene b. 18 Oct. 1923
Gilbert b. 26 July 1925
CHILDREN OF DUDLEY HENRY AND MARY HAFEN LEAVITT
Orpha Ora b. 23 Nov. 1896; d. 28 Aug. 1898
Juanita Leone b. 15 Jan. 1898; m. 1st Leonard Ernest Pulsipher; m.
2nd William Brooks
Charity b. 8 Dec. 1899; m. Vernon C. Rowley
Aura Ola b. 27 Nov. 1901; m. Joseph Carl Allen
Melvin Henry b. 28 Mar. 1903; m. Myrtle Wittwer
Laurel Evan b. 17 Dec. 1905; m. Melva Durrant
Daisy Ina b. 28 Sept. 1907; m. Leonard Reber
Eva b. 20 Feb. 1909; m. Walter J. Miles
Francis Hale b. 20 June 1911; m. Marian Holmes
Dudley Maurice b. 17 July 1913; m. EvyRean Cox
Mary b. 17 Sept. 1915; m. Fenton Frehner
CHILDREN OF BETSY LEAVITT AND HEBER H. HARDY
Heber Merlin b. 19 April 1892; m. Vida Earl
Warren Decater b. 23 July 1894; m. Leila Leavitt; m. Naomi Palmer
Dudley Leavitt b. 14 Jan. 1897; m. Vera Wittwer
Ethel Ramona b. 2 Feb. 1899; m. Ruben J. Bradshaw
Tamsen b. 10 May 1901; m. Thomas Harley Adams
Emmarene b. 8 Feb. 1904; m. Elmer A. Graff
Gile Wilford b. 5 Feb. 1906; d. 25 Oct. 1908
Rozella b. 19 May 1908; m. Douglas D. Hall
Grant b. 21 Feb. 1910; m. Leila Miller
CHILDREN OF EMMA LORENA LEAVITT AND CHARLES
Leo Milton b. 16 Mar. 1896; m. Cornelia Barnum
Charles Alfred b. 25 Sept. 1897; m. Faun Lowe
Nevada b. 5 Nov. 1899; m. Charles William Pulsipher
Mark b. 12 Dec. 1901; m. Delila Tobler
Heber Vernon b. 3 Mar. 1904; m. Margaret Sylvester
Orpha b. 22 Oct. 1906; m. Joseph F. Woods
Lister Dean b. 28 Aug. 1909; m. Mabel Leavitt
Vonda Lorena b. 31 Aug. 1914; m. Joseph W. Wilson
CHILDREN OF THERESA LEAVITT AND SOLON HUNTSMAN
Ira Hale b. 26 Aug. 1909; m. Leah Fugal
Theresa May b. 24 Feb. 1911; m. James Willard Cook
Erwin Parker b. 16 Aug. 1913; died infant
Millie b. 24 Aug. 1916
Grandchildren of Dudley and Janet Smith Leavitt
CHILDREN OF ANNIE MARIA LEAVITT AND ITHAMAR
Ithamar Dudley b. 8 April 1881; m. Alice Leavitt
Oliver b. 17 Nov. 1882; m. Betsy Leavitt
Orson M. b. 19 Mar. 1886; m. Bertha E. Sampson
Milo b. 20 Jan. 1888; died
Harvey b. 18 July 1890; m. Nellie Carter
Marley b. 9 Sept. 1902
Vilate b. 2 Oct. 1905; m. Reuben Leavitt
CHILDREN OF CALVIN SMITH AND MARY E. WAITE
Elizabeth Rebecca b. 3 July 1892; m. Elmer S. Bowman
Calvin Willard b. 14 May 1894; m. Elva Hughes
CHILDREN OF MARINDA LEAVITT AND GEORGE HOOPER
Emily Ellen b. 20 June 1896; m. Harry BaU
Irene b. 14 Mar. 1898; m. Henry Shaller
Annie Victoria b. 30 Jan. 1900; m. Rodney O. Colton
Calvin b. Feb. 1902
Rhea b. 15 July 1904; m. Frank Steward
Fern b. 26 Mar. 1907; m. Emerson Mann
William b. 5 April 1909; m. Mrs. Clarise
Thomas b. July 1910
CHILDREN OF SARAH JANE LEAVITT AND A.
Calvin Dudley b. 18 Mar. 1888; m. Lucy Jepson; d. 3 July 1928
Sarah Ann b. 7 Aug. 1890; m. P. A. Leatham
Jeannetta Minerva b. 20 Sept. 1892; m. C. Stanley Pulsipher; d.
27 Feb. 1929
Naomi b. 7 Jan. 1895; m. Lyman Abbott; m. Amos Hunt
James Murray b. 12 April 1897; m. Loretta Liston; m. Annis Laub
Vemeth b. 4 Dec. 1899; m. Lapreal Pace; d. 23 May 1939
Virginia b. 2 June 1901; m. Reinhold Miller
James LeGrand b. 30 Aug. 1909; d. July 1910
children of clarence dudley and lillie
Lela b. 8 May 1903; m. Burdett C. Williamson
Blanche b. 24 Sept. 1904; m. William L. Bennett
Alta Jenett b. 10 Feb. 1906; m. John W. Anderson
Sarah Helen b. 31 Jan. 1908; m. Shelby J. Carr
Claudia b. 2 Sept. 1909; m. William C. Ponton
Evan Clarence b. 18 July 1911
Marion Ezra b. 10 Nov. 1913
James Donald b. 29 April 1915; m. Ruth Bowler
Woodrow Dudley b. 20 Mar. 1917; m. Carol Hewett
Ruby b. 28 Nov. 1918; m. George R. Earlywine
Madge b. 30 Aug. 1922
Stanley b. 20 April 1926
children of ROZENA LEAVITT AND WRIGHT McKNIGHT
Ida m. Frank Hardy
Sheldon died young
Sarah m. Howard Wilkins
Grandchildren of Dudley and Martha Pulsipher Leavitt
CHILDREN OF LYDIA LEAVITT AND WALTER W. HUGHES
Lydia Afton b. 11 July 1898; m. Stephen R. Linge
Warren Milton b. 20 April 1900; m. Aldine Rackliff
Martha Vilate b. 27 Jan. 1903; m. Jesse Victor Knight
Albre Z. b. 28 May 1905; m. Hazel Bell Julion
Francetta b. 11 Aug. 1908; m. Floyd Bishop
Maybelle b. 24 April 1912; m. Ebbie H. Davis