We all live downstream of history and upstream of the future.
Summer 2005
| In This Issue - Finding Treasures | Features | News | |
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Finding Buried Treasure The Skeleton in Grandpa's Barn JUMP iN (for kids of all ages) |
So What's a CLG? Book Marks by Curt Bench Where's That At?
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News and Notes
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State History manuscripts curator Melissa Ferguson holds up a 1917 letter found in a Utah attic. Behind her are more boxes of historical treasures. |
Finding Buried Treasure
by Melissa Coy Ferguson
I always hoped I would find hidden treasure in my attic. When I was a child, one of my favorite movies was The Goonies, starring a young Sean Astin. In the film, a group of friends go exploring in the attic of Sean Astin’s house, play with an old painting, dress up in old clothes, and discover a map to pirate treasure. Thus begins their wacky adventure. I was disappointed to learn that my house didn’t have an attic, so I definitely was not going to find a pirate treasure map.
However, as the manuscripts curator for the Utah Division of State History, I get to see different kinds of treasure. One Utahn found a real treasure in his attic: a box filled with letters to and from various members of a prominent Utah family from the 1910s and 1920s. He donated it to us, and I accessioned the letters.
The family experienced some of history’s amazing moments. During the Chinese Revolution, a bullet whizzed by the father’s ear and hit the bedroom wall while he was staying in China on railroad business. The great influenza epidemic of 1918-19 struck his wife and daughter; fortunately, they recovered. The family witnessed peace celebrations at the end of The Great War.
The letters also revealed the family’s everyday life, as they dined with high society and hired outside help to clean their home. The children wrote home about college life at Yale and Vassar College in the mid-1920s, not hesitating to use slang and affectionate nicknames with their parents. The letters reveal an intimate portrait of a close-knit family, one that would have been lost if the homeowner had not found them and donated them to the Division of State History.
The same attic also contained love letters from someone who connected with with a later owner of the home. The letters were from a sergeant in the U.S. Army to a married woman in 1944. The six-month affair documented in the letters reveals a woman who was extremely unhappy in her marriage and a man uncertain of his future yet clinging to the hope of being with the object of his affection.
I am often treated to many surprises as I process collections. The Evelyn Woods collection initially seemed to concern her Reading Dynamics business. As I dug deeper in the box, I discovered dozens of letters stamped with swastikas from Germany. Evelyn had been the wife of the president of the West German LDS Mission. Her letters expose the tensions she faced living in Hitler’s Third Reich: blackouts, the SS soldiers stationed outside their home, and the tears in the eyes of German friends when she said goodbye, no one knowing how long the war would last and if they would ever see each other again.
A scrapbook of a teenage girl in the 1950s included name cards from a school dance, pressed flowers, and photographs of the girl dressed for a special occasion. She saved invitations, Christmas cards, and every school newspaper she edited in a book of memories. A fifty-year-old deflated balloon she saved from a dance crumbled in my hands as I opened to its page. Many of the mementos and photos had fallen when the rubber cement that once held it on the page gave up. As I repaired the pages, I couldn’t help but think of my high school scrapbook, with all of the goofy photographs of my friends and the mementos from outings and special moments. Her memories are now preserved in our Utah History Research Center.
I just moved into a new home, and I checked the attic. Alas, it lacks a pirate treasure map, so I will not be going on wacky adventures anytime soon. Instead, I have treasures in my office waiting for me every day. They remind me that history is not about names and dates but about the people who make it. And I am the person who preserves the memories and objects that other people leave behind.
The Skeleton in Grandpa's Barn
by Herbert Z. Lund Jr.
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Drawing made by the author of how the block northwest of Temple Square looked in the early 1900s (according to his memory). |
The Utah Historical Quarterly has printed fascinating Utah history for 72 years. In this story written by Herbert Z. Lund for the winter 1967 Quarterly, the author tells how a human skeleton ended up in the barn of his grandfather, LDS apostle Anthon H. Lund— and what happened to it.
As the people of Salt Lake City continue to obliterate the charm of Temple Square with a growing ring of skyscrapers, it is probably inevitable that an office building will be erected near the corner of West Temple and North Temple streets and a skeleton bedded down in old issues of the Improvement Era [an LDS magazine] will be excavated. Explanations will be asked for this rather irregular disposal of human remains, and they are hereby given.
The man whose skeletal remains lie in the shadow of Temple Square was a murderer executed April 30, 1912, at Utah State Prison. He had concealed his true identity and died under the assumed name of J. J. Morris. The Lund family spoke of the remains only as the “Skeleton in Grandpa’s Barn,” for it was stored there many years.
Father was not only liked but admired. Shortly after his death, almost 40 years after he had resigned his job [as a doctor] at the prison, a former convict came to see me at my home in Cleveland, Ohio, “Just to shake the hand of the eldest son and namesake of Dr. Herbert Z. Lund.” My father had trained this man to be his surgical assistant and anesthetist at the prison and helped him obtain a parole from a life sentence.
I believe it must have been a similar feeling of friendship and respect that led Morris to will his body to my father to be used for the purpose of anatomical dissection after he was sentenced to death.
According to my father, Morris cynically chose to be hanged rather than shot because it would incur a greater expense to the State of Utah.
Following the execution, the dissection was carried out...and the body was reduced to a skeleton. However, it was not a respectable skeleton, because my father never got around to cleaning and bleaching the bones. A story is prevalent in the Lund family that the skeleton was taken to the open country near Beck’s Hot Springs by my father and William Willis, the druggist, and it was boiled in sulfur water and lime. To make the story more savvy, it is said that a hobo chanced by and fled in terror at the awful sight. I have doubted this story because the bones as I saw them had not been well cleaned and maintained through the years a peculiar rancid odor....
My father intended eventually to make the skeleton into a fine teaching specimen, but with the burden of a steadily increasing medical practice he never got around to finishing the job. In the meantime he nailed the skeleton up in a wooden box and stored it in the unused hayloft of my grandfather’s barn on north West Temple Street.
A skeleton in a barn cannot be kept secret, and the grandchildren of Apostle Anthon H. Lund found sinister excitement in opening the box and contemplating the remains. The loft was made “off limits” and barricaded. The trap door to the loft was padlocked, but there were other ways to get into it—up the hay chute or through the boarded windows. The routes required considerable skill in climbing and, frequently, cautious carpenter work, but this only added to the adventure. My brother Richard and I, and cousins Alton, John, Robert, and Elmo Lund were mostly involved, but we conducted guided tours for outsiders. We had an immense respect for the remains of a murderer, and although the bones were handled they were always replaced.
Typically, on our way to break and enter, we would go through Grandpa’s house to the kitchen to help ourselves to gooseberry pie or a bowl of red raspberries. Grandma (Sarah Ann Peterson Lund) kept not only an open house but an open kitchen. It was a large room furnished with chairs and a big square table, and it was stocked with pies, fruits, home-grown berries, cheese, milk, and occasionally (but not officially known by the grandchildren or grandfather) homemade beer.
[Then] we would leave by way of the back door, ostensibly to play in the barnyard. After completing our ulterior mission, we never returned by the same route because the characteristic odor we exuded would let the folks know we had been in the hayloft. It was best to go directly home to the bathroom and wash up. Washing at the faucet out in the barnyard was usually inadequate.
After Grandpa Lund died in 1921, the skeleton remained in the barn another five or six years, but the grandchildren were growing up and moving away, and a certain degree of custodial care was lost. Raids by outsiders were made on the barn, and after a raid by children from the nearby Monroe School in which some of the bones were stolen, Grandma decided to have the skeleton buried. I was the natural choice to do this. “Get Zack. He’s going to go to medical school.”
At an arranged time I met Grandma, who was to supervise the proceedings, and I sensed a note of anticipation, possibly mischief, but this was her usual air. I brought the rather depleted remains down from the hayloft, dug a grave in the seclusion of the barnyard, and laid out the bones in approximate anatomical order. Grandma had a large stack of old L.D.S. Church literature on the back porch, mostly issues of the Improvement Era that she wanted to get rid of, and she asked me to carry these out to the grave.
She stood at the head of the grave, opened them, and slowly dropped them in, pausing intermittently to read and comment upon a selected pearl of wisdom or an exhortation to righteousness. She called attention to the benefits the deceased might obtain by perusing the contents of the literature being buried with him—already conveniently opened to some of the best passages— and hoped that by so doing he would improve his chances in the Hereafter. After the Improvement Eras were distributed over the remains, I was instructed to shovel the dirt back. The ceremony was brief and simple.
I have been asked exactly where the grave is, but it is hard to say. It is still an open piece of ground. If I could determine where the old barn stood and find the line of the old plank fence along the south side of the barnyard, I could locate it exactly, but these have been gone for many years. A service station encroaches on the grave site from one side and a row of houses looks out upon it from another. It already has lost the peace and dignity of the old barnyard and in time, I suppose, even this spot of ground will give way to steel and cement.
Editor’s note: Multi-family housing, not a skyscraper, now occupies the land once owned by the Lunds. We are not aware whether anyone ever found the bones. (FYI: If you ever find human bones, call the police. If the bones are old, law enforcement officials will inform the State Archaeologist’s office at the Division of State History.)
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Reed Carver works a piece of copper with an antique “cornice brake.” Carver says, “I like that people want to bring their building back to what it was and feel pride that I can help them achieve that.” |
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The Tolton Building at 25 N. Main, Beaver, was built in 1899. It's a study in mimicry. The entire front facade— everything you see in the picture— is metal, pressed to look like bricks and wood! |
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| When SLC’s City and County Building was restored in 1984.Seashores' Sheet Metal in Ogden (now Norris Sheet Metal) restored all the sheet metal cupolas (those pointy roofs). |
Pressed for Time:
Ornamental metal on historic buildings
In the grand scheme of things, ornamental and architectural metalwork hasn’t been around very long. Not until the last half of the1800s did pressed metal building ornaments, decorative ceilings, and even entire facades become all the rage. The new technologies of the time mean that, even if you couldn’t afford to pay stone carvers or decorative plasterers, you could still have a fancy building. “Pressed metal was the Industrial Revolution’s answer to the desire to have highly detailed architecture,” says Don Hartley, historic architect for the Division of State History.
The use of pressed metal as a substitute for carved stone, carved wood, and ornamental plaster irritated purists. Pressed metal was phony, they said, a cheap and easy mimic of the real thing.
Still, many commercial building owners in Utah did not feel the need to be purists. Well into the 1900s they were still flipping through catalogs from the East to order relatively cheap metal cornices, window hoods, skylights, finials, ceilings, and facades. Pressed metal gave their buildings a fashionably decorated look.
Ironically, of course, those “substitute” pressed metal elements now add great value and cachet to historic buildings. Now, however, metal is no longer cheap and easy to put up.
So when a building owner wants to restore metal ornamentation, he or she must find a skilled artisan who cares about historic buildings.
Carver Sheet Metal is one company in Utah that restores and re-creates ornamental sheet metal. Owner Reed Carver says his grandfather started the business in 1908, when people were making pressed metal items the first time around.
n order to restore historic pressed metal, Carver says, “You almost have to be an artisan. You must be able to visualize what needs to be done. If you start with a few rusted pieces, you have got to be creative enough to visualize how the other pieces come into play.”
If Carver can’t find ready-made molds for the replacement pieces, he must have his own molds made, both a positive and a negative die. Then he must choose the proper metal. “You need to be almost a metallurgist to know which metal will tear in which places. It’s a result of a lot of experience.” After he stamps out each piece between the dies, he must figure out how to attach the completed pieces.
When the Kearns St. Anne’s Orphanage on 2100 South, SLC, was restored, Carver Sheet Metal took off all the metal elements from the windows, gables, cupolas, etc., and laid them out in their yard. Workers then went through the metal piece by piece, inventorying everything. They then fashioned new elements to replace what was missing, and put everything back up.
Ornamental metal makes its appearance on buildings more often than you would think. Yes, sometimes it mimics another material so successfully that it’s hard to tell the difference. But if you keep your eyes open you’ll see how metal really does ornament Utah’s cities.
Undoing a disastrous remodel:
The Union Block Building in Brigham City
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| In the 1980s, somebody put a blank facade on this building at 57 So. Main in Brigham City. According to historical photos, a decorative metal cornice had once topped this 1892 building. | When the owner decided to restore the original appearance, he took off the facade. The rough brickwork showed where the cornice had been. |
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| Using the old photos as a guide, Carver Sheet Metal rebuilt the cornice and other decorative elements, restoring the building to its former glory. |
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| The Old Bell School is the oldest remaining school building in Pleasant Grove and is one of the oldest remaining pioneer buildings in Utah. It was constructed of adobe. Several CLG grants have been used to repair the adobe, upgrade the mechanical and electrical systems, and install storm windows. |
You may not have heard of Certified Local Governments, but it's a good bet that, by fostering historic preservation, one has affected your life for the better.
This year, the Certified Local Government (CLG) Program is celebrating its 20th anniversary. The CLG program creates a partnership among local cities and towns, the National Park Service (NPS), and the State Historic Preservation Office (SHPO). With all those acronyms, the program may look like alphabet soup, but what you need to know is that this partnership helps cities and towns preserve and re-use their historic buildings. By establishing a historic preservation commission and becoming a CLG, a city becomes eligible to receive grant money for a wide range of historic preservation activities. The grants come from NPS and are administered by the SHPO.
More than 90 cities in Utah have become Certified Local Governments, making this one of the largest CLG programs in the nation. In a number of ways, Utah's CLG program has been a trendsetter since the beginning. Many states ask their CLGs to compete for grant money each year by proposing projects. In Utah, however, we fund historic preservation programs rather than one-time projects. This means that although the grants tend to be smaller a CLG can count on receiving a grant every other year, and it can plan accordingly.
In addition, Utah’s SHPO does not require CLGs to do design review. This allows communities to participate in historic preservation at the regulatory level where they feel comfortable. In many cases, it makes more sense for a brand-new preservation commission only to offer advice to historic building owners, rather than to regulate them.
Because local government planning offices often play a key role with CLGs, the program has helped integrate historic preservation into the fabric of local land-use policy. This integration strengthens decision-making processes involving historic structures.
CLGs meet once a year for a daylong workshop to share ideas and learn from experts in historic preservation. This year’s CLG workshop will be held on Thursday, September 15th, at the Denver & Rio Grande Depot in Salt Lake City. The public is welcome to attend.
CLG Projects Funded this Year by SHPO:
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| CLG grants also fund public education projects, like these informational kiosks on Ogden's 25th Street. |
Box Elder County $3,661 Rehabilitation of the Holgren Barn and Granary
Brigham City $4,225 Façade drawing for buildings on Main Street
Castle Dale City $3,000 Install new windows in historic City Hall
Centerfield City $3,000 Rehabilitation of Centerfield Meetinghouse
Enterprise City $2,000 Roof repair of Enterprise Meetinghouse
Ephraim City $4,000 Rehabilitation of the Hans A. Hansen House
Farmington City $3,900 ILS for 10 buildings & RLS for 300 buildings
Kanab City $6,000 Rehab of Kanab Library & 4 National Register markers
Manti City $5,000 Re-roof historic City Hall
Mt. Pleasant City $6,000 Replace windows at Wasatch Academy dorm
Murray City $3,500 ILS for 10 buildings & National Register District
Ogden City $7,000 ILS for 4 buildings & interpretive panels for kiosks on 25th Street
Panguitch City $3,000 National Register Historic District
Richfield City $6,000 Structural upgrade to Carnegie Library
Rockville City $2,013 Interpretive signage at Grafton
Sandy City $2,832 National Register nomination, 3 National Register markers
Sanpete County $3,000 Foundation repairs to Ephraim Co-op
South Jordan $2,600 Interpretive markers for the historic flour mill site
Spring City $6,000 Rehab on 3 historic bldgs & reprint Spring City Guide to Homes
Uintah County $5,000 Digitize historic photos, paint bldg, National Register listing
Wellsville $5,500 Mechanical upgrades at the Wellsville Tabernacle
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| The Murray Downtown Residential Historic District, listed on the National Register of Historic Places, was a CLG project. The district is located in the cent of Murray City. This district includes 185 contributing buildings which fall into two major periods of construction: the “Industrialization Era, 1870-1929” and the “Depression, World War II and Its Aftermath, 1930-1954.” Each period has distinctive architectural styles. |
As I write this, I am in Mill Creek Canyon listening to one of my favorite sounds— rushing water. I am reflecting on the delightful and exciting book I read recently, Down the Great Unknown: John Wesley Powell’s 1869 Journey of Discovery and Tragedy through the Grand Canyon, by Edward Dolnick. I have long wanted to read about the Powell expedition. For years, one of my closest friends, Randy Wilson, a lifelong river runner, invited me to accompany him and his family on a trip down the Green River through Desolation and Gray Canyons. Randy recounted to me stories of the Powell expedition, many of which he had gleaned from his superb collection of books on western and Utah history. In 1999, I cleared my schedule and went with the Wilson clan down the Green on what turned out to be one of the most memorable experiences of my life.
Of course, there were big differences between our experience and Powell’s. By the time we went down the river, it had been run countless times and was accurately mapped. When Powell and his hardy band of nine men set out from Green River Station in Wyoming, little was known about the area of the American Southwest through which they traveled. “Here mapmakers abandoned their careful notations that applied elsewhere and wrote simply ‘unexplored.’” It truly was the “Great Unknown.”
We were able to use the latest and safest boats and equipment, developed after decades of experience. Powell’s group used wooden rowboats designed for speed on flat water but ill-suited for whitewater river running. We had plenty of excellent food and supplies; they lost much of theirs, and the rest was barely tolerable. Most of our party were veteran river runners; most in Powell’s party had never seen whitewater, and none had run a rapid.
As I read, I found myself caught up in the story in a “you are there” sort of way because of Edward Dolnick’s polished skills in writing compelling narrative history, and also because I had been down the same river as Powell and had seen the same canyon walls, rapids, and breathtaking scenery.
In the same month of June, but 130 years earlier, in an exuberant mood, Powell recorded in his journal: “Into the middle of the stream we row, and down the rapid river we glide, only making strokes enough with the oars to guide the boat. What a headlong ride it is! Shooting past rocks and islands! I am soon filled with exhilaration only experienced before in riding a fleet horse over the outstretched prairie, one, two, three, four miles we go, rearing and plunging with the waves.” I could have written the same thing myself, it so closely mirrored our experience (except for the part about riding a horse on the prairie).
Tony Hillerman writes of the book: “Dolnick spins an epic tale of ambition, curiosity, ingenuity, and hard-earned survival as magnificent as the Grand Canyon itself.” Stephen Pyne calls it “a gifted retelling of one of America’s grandest sagas of exploration.”
Anyone who has ever run a river or plans to should read this book. So should anyone who just loves a great adventure story or a thrilling piece of our history.
Curt Bench, Benchmark Books, SLC
This column is dedicated to the memory of one of my best friends, Randy Wilson, who died unexpectedly only three months after our trip down the Green. Without him I would never have experienced this most memorable journey nor one of the deepest of friendships.
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Identify the historic building in this photo and win a copy of Utah's Historic Architecture 1847-1940: A Guide, by Thomas Carter and Peter Goss. Send your response (one guess per contestant) to Where's That At, 300 S. Rio Grande, Salt Lake City, UT 84101. Responses must be postmarked by August 1, 2005. A drawing will be held of the winners to determine who receives the book.
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The historic structure shown in the Spring 2005 preservation puzzler is the Fairview City Hall. Sanpete native Hugh Anderson designed this building, which was built as a New Deal project at a cost of about $10,000. Finished in 1936, the building is a good example of the stark, abstract classicism associated with the PWA Moderne architectural style in Utah. It has continued to the present to serve as the city hall for the town of Fairview. Unfortunately, nobody identified this building! |
Happy Birthday, Blanding
This year, Blanding is celebrating its 100th birthday. A Centennial Fourth of July celebration will feature quilt and art exhibits, movies, a centennial slideshow, a quilting slideshow, parade, and melodrama.
You can also commemorate the centennial through the special current issue of Blue Mountain Shadows. This award-winning magazine has done an excellent job of exploring San Juan County history for nearly 20 years. Back issues are also available for $8 plus $1.50 postage. For a summary of topics, see bluemountainshadows.org. Mail requests to LaVerne Tate, 362 W. 400 South (54-3), Blanding, UT 84511.
USHS marks WWII's end
In commemoration of the 60th anniversary of the end of World War II, the Utah Division of State History will be displaying WWII items from our collection. Along with artifacts such as ration books, uniforms, and "Gold Stars," we will have a display of WWII posters. So come take a stroll down Memory Lane or connect with World War II for the first time. The Utah Division of State History/Utah State Historical Society is located in the Rio Grande Depot, 300 S. Rio Grande, Salt Lake City. We are open Monday through Friday 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. and Saturdays from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Admission is free.
Thanks, National Guard!
On March 20, 2005, State Historic Preservation Officer Wilson Martin thanked the Utah National Guard, 115th Engineer Battalion, for their help in transporting the Russian Inspection Station Complex and artifacts from the Rio Grande Depot to Wendover Air Force Base last year. Master Sergeant Shane Rothwell and Specialist Russel Kirkham accepted a special plaque.
The Inspection Station was used by teams of Russian inspectors who, in accordance with the SALT II arms reduction treaty, monitored activities at Alliant Techsystems in Magna. It will become an integral part of the Historic Wendover Airfield museum, especially as an artifact from the Cold War.
Utah is preserving the past
In FY2004, Utah ranked 15th in the nation in the number of historic renovation projects that received federal tax credits. With 13 projects in all, Utah ranked above any states west of Utah. In fact, Texas is the only western state that ranked higher. Utah’s achievement is all the more significant when you consider the ratio of renovation projects to population, since Utah has a relatively small population.
The federal tax incentive program encourages the adaptation and re-use of historic buildings. It has pumped new life into deteriorating communities and neighborhoods nationwide. Last year, the program created 50,400 new jobs and 5,357 low- or moderate-income housing units.
The Historic Preservation Office at the Division of State History plays a key role in helping these projects receive tax credits. The office educates owners and communities, helps properties get listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and offers invaluable technical assistance.
Historic preservation has greatly benefited many Utah communities. It is such a powerful force for revitalization that support for preservation in the state is growing exponentially.
Archivists meet with teachers
In February the Division of State History and the Utah State Archives displayed items from their collections at the Jordan Academy of History Teachers’ semi-annual American history seminar. The two agencies jointly operate the new Utah History Research Center at the Rio Grande Depot in Salt Lake City.
State Archives showed collections relating to the Great Depression (Governor Henry H. Blood’s correspondence and the Utah Emergency Relief Administration drought relief project files), labor history (Utah National Guard records dealing with the Carbon County Coal Strike, 1903-1904, the Castle Gate Relief Fund Committee, 1924-1936, and Governor William Spry’s correspondence relating to the murder conviction of labor leader Joe Hill, 1914-1916), race relations (7th District Court criminal case files dating back to 1896, and the Davis County Sheriff’s alien enemy registrations during the 1940s), and military history (WWI service questionnaires and territorial militia records).
The Division of State History promoted the Historical Society’s photo collection (dating from the late 1860s to the late 1960s) and lesson plans using articles from the Utah Historical Quarterly.
Grant money for heritage tourism
The federal government is offering $12.5 million in grants for managing historic resources and promoting heritage tourism. The grants are meant to help communities realize the potential of their heritage resources as vital educational and economic assets.
These new Preserve America grants will support planning, development, implementation, or enhancement of innovative activities and programs in heritage tourism, adaptive re-use, and “living history” educational programs.
According to the National Park Service, “As Americans travel, they seek authentic experiences allowing them to personally connect with our nation’s rich history and diverse culture. The Preserve America initiative will help communities meet this growing demand for heritage tourism.”
For updates as they become available, check www.achp.gov.
Planning grants for preservation projects available
The National Trust for Historic Preservation is again offering planning grants for historic preservation projects in Utah. Through a grant from the George S. an Dolores Dore Eccles Foundation and gifts from private donors, the National Trust's Utah Preservation initiatives Fund provides small matching grants for planning, education, and consulting services to assist historic preservation projects across the state.
Grant amounts may range from $500 to $10,000 and require a one-to-one cash match. Nonprofit organizations with current 501(c)3 status, as well as local governments, may apply. Eligible projects include rehabilitation feasibility studies, structural investigations, education programs and workshops. The next application deadline is June 1, 2005. To receive a grant application or more information, contact the National Trust's Mountains/Plains Office in Denver at (303) 623-1504, or by e-mail at mpro@nthp.org.
Cold War collection now available
The documents donated to the state along with the Russian Inspection Station are now available to the public at the Utah History Research Center. This fascinating collection includes 28 boxes of photographs—mostly of the inspectors’ daily activities—and five boxes of manuscripts.
Comment on trails plan
The BLM is looking for comments on its National Scenic and Historic Trails Strategy and Work Plan. Comments are due by July1. For a hard or electronic copy of the plan, call (202) 208-3516.
Jimi Hendrix may have had his Foxy Lady, but she couldn’t have held a candle to these ladies. Here you can get to know a tiny sample of the Utah women who, marching to the beat of a different drummer, have made a difference in their world.
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Anna Mennorrow Hamilton 1866–1958 Anna was born near Cedar City to Paiute parents. When she was a toddler, her parents gave her to John and Mary Hamilton in exchange for a horse. Her mother must have felt sad about that, because she visited often, bringing gifts of pine nuts. |
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Incarnacion Florez 1899–1968 As a curandera—or healer—Incarnacion Florez was known throughout the West. She came to Utah in 1920, and when her husband found work with the D&RG Railroad, she set up housekeeping in an empty railroad car. |
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Caterina Pessetto Bottino The famed labor organizer Mother Jones came to Carbon County in 1903 to support a strike in the coal mines. Caterina Bottino is said to have hid Mother Jones from the authorities, even though others were afraid to harbor the controversial Jones. |
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Fanny R. Burke 1844-1927 As a relatively young woman, Fanny Burke was sent to the tiny Mormon town of Toquerville as a Presbyterian missionary and teacher. She spent the rest of her life there and is buried in the Toquerville Cemetery. |
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Hilda Anderson 1859–1966 Born in 1859 in Sweden, Hilda came to Utah at age seven. She never stood still after that. While a teenager she worked as a professional tailor. She owned a mine, delivered more than 200 babies, worked as a dentist and officer of a bank, cooked for miners, owned stores, and served as LDS Primary president for Tooele County. |
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Martha Hughes Cannon 1857–1932 As a girl, Mattie wanted badly to become a doctor, so she saved her wages as a teacher and typesetter, then went to the University of Michigan and got her M.D. degree at age 23. She then got a degree in oratory so she could give effective lectures on health. |
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Ann Bassett 1878–1956 In a classic story of the West, Ann Bassett was raised wild and free at Browns Hole in northeastern Utah (except for when she spent a disastrous year at a Catholic school). As a rancher, she fought for her rights against large cattle companies. After all, these companies had threatened the small ranchers of Browns Hole and actually killed her sweetheart Matt Rash and partner Isom Dart. Although others capitulated, Ann waged war by stealing or killing her enemies’ animals. She became known as the “Queen of the Rustlers.” |
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Lavina Christensen Fugal 1897–1969 Mother of eight children and avid community worker (she volunteered for the Red Cross, Farm Bureau, state beautification committee, LDS church, and the county planning board), Lavina Fugal was named the national Mother of the Year in 1955. When she traveled to New York to receive her award, she said, “This is the only place where a hungry, barefoot girl could grow up to have plenty, then fly through the clouds and land in the Waldorf-Astoria.” |
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Virginia Snow Stephen b. 1856 A child of LDS church president Lorenzo Snow and a University of Utah art teacher, Virginia Snow Stephen spoke out for revolutionary ideas: she opposed capital punishment and championed justice for the working classes. |
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Ivy Baker Priest 1905–1975 Ivy Baker Priest was born to a miner who kept getting injured and a mother who ran a boarding house in Bingham Canyon. She jumped into politics early when, as a girl, she ran errands for a mayoral campaign. She became a leader in the state’s Republican party, running for Congress against Utah’s first woman in Congress, Reva Beck Bosone (Ivy lost). As assistant chair of Eisenhower’s national election committee, she got the women out to vote for Ike. In return, he appointed her U.S. Treasurer, and for eight years the signature of this girl from a Utah mining town was on every U.S. bill printed.
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