Sunday, April 22, 2012

Henry Jolley - Pioneer and Settler

I spent four days this past week in Utah for the graduation of my youngest son, Kevin, from Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah.  It was a great experience.  Little did I realize at the time that this was Henry Jolley territory.  He lived the last few months of his life in Pleasant Grove, Utah, just north of Provo.  On 20 December 1850 he died and was buried near his home.  His burial and future exhumation are interesting in and of themselves.  I will write about that next week.

Here is the conclusion of Henry Jolley's autobiography.  In it, he gives vivid details of crossing the plains, life in Salt Lake City, and his call to settle the modern day town of Pleasant Grove, Utah.  He died two months after settling there.
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We pushed our way across Iowa and finally reached Council Bluffs where we set up our camp at Winter Quarters. . Great streams of immigrants from Europe as well as from the Eastern and Southern states were coming to join, which made Council Bluffs a pulsating community. But this was not our destination. Our Prophet, before his death, prophesied that the Saints would become a mighty people in the Rocky Mountains, and there they would build a new Zion.
Brigham Young and the first company of Saints headed west in the spring of 1847. Many more would follow. The Jolleys were good farmers and were advised to remain where they were to supply food for those coming and going through Winter Quarters. A Dutch immigrant and  convert named Barbara became Henry’s wife at this time. He described her as a good woman but not entirely reconciled to a harsh life on the plains.  In the spring of 1850, the time had come for us to start for the Valley. There was my wife Barbara, young Sammy, and my daughter Diana and her daughter Lina Maniza Jones in the company. Sammy was twelve now so he was quite a help. My youngest daughter Lina Maniza married John Parris and they remained in Iowa. We had many trials and hardships along the way. It was a large company and the roads were often muddy from the spring rains which slowed us up. Some days we were able to make only a few miles. I came close to losing my wagon and oxen when we crossed the Platte River which was then at flood stage, but God was with us and we were able to master the torrent.  There were many fascinating experiences on the plains. The  scenery was different and fascinating—no mountains as far as one could see. Waving expanses of bunch grass stretched out in every direction. The wide open spaces were beautiful and inspiring. After the days travel, evening socials and dances were enjoyed. The young folks had much fun and enjoyment, although at times they had to walk. The road generally was not too bad. Many people had traveled on to Oregon and California ahead of us. We were overjoyed to see trappers and Saints returning from the Valley to Winter Quarters. They would tell us intriguing stories about the beautiful canyons and valleys of the new Zion. These would be our refuge from our enemies. Occasionally, we would see a buffalo herd and some Indians which caused some anxiety, but our company was large and our scouts were always on the lookout for any sign of danger.
What a thrill when we first sighted the snow-capped Rockies! The spiraled peaks looked like far away sentinels, and we encountered some snow over the great South Pass. At Fort Bridger we rested a couple of days, and shoed our oxen because the road from here on would be rockier and rougher. There would be deep canyons and streams of water to cross. But these beautiful canyons would lead us to the place of our dreams.
Oh, what a breath-taking scene at the sight of the beautiful Salt Lake Valley. The wide stretching plain with the lake as a background was thrilling to see indeed. We were welcomed by the Saints who had arrived ahead of us and made us feel at home. We had heard so much about the country before we arrived that we did not feel as strangers among our friends. The city had been plotted into 10 acre squares, with wide spacious streets, so the ox teams could easily turn around. Beyond the plotted area were the fields. I obtained a lot on 2nd South and Main Street. I still had a few means, but the wealth we had when we left Tennessee was pretty much used up.

In July, my daughter, Temperance, and her family arrived in the Valley, and on September 15, my daughter-in-law, Sarah and her children arrived. I met them at the mouth of Immigration Canyon. My cows were dry so I traded the Southwest corner of my lot for a cow that was milking so Sarah’s children could have milk to drink.
There was much pioneering to be done to reclaim the land.  Here we must build our empire, far away from our enemies.  According to Brigham, it was to stretch Northwest and South many miles. Settlements were to be built in every direction from Salt Lake.
We were chosen to move South into Utah County, to a place we called Grove Creek1 at the base of a high mountain called Timpanogas. We were four days on the road, and arrived there on October 13, 1850. The season was late and we had to build our cabins before winter set in. Timber was quite plentiful.

Cottonwood trees lined the banks of the two creeks that flowed from the mountain to the east. Everybody was busy and it looked like an army of ants the way the men, women and children worked to have shelter before snow fell. The work was carried forward in relays, groups of men and boys joined together. In this way they could make better progress than each working alone.

One day we had a cabin nearly to the square. The logs for the rafters were in a pile close to the building. Sammy, (the little negro boy we had brought because his parents died) and the other little boys were playing on them when the logs started to roll. One big log struck Sammy and he was killed instantly. He was a fine, obedient little fellow and we mourned his loss. Although his skin was black, truly his spirit was white just like ours. We buried him on a spot just north and east of our main settlement.  The fall was open and beautiful with some rain, but otherwise pleasant so we finished our cabins before winter set in.  We felt our food supplies were adequate and, now, we were ready to turn our attention to our church duties and planning our new settlement for a permanent home.


Sunday, April 15, 2012

Henry Jolley

The last few weeks I have written about Sarah Pippin Jolley and the example she set for her descendents.  However, there was another individual who, I believe, made it possible for her to persevere.  That was her father-in-law, Henry Jolley, the first of the Jolley line to convert to the gospel of Jesus Christ.  His life had similarities to that of Sarah.  Both lost their spouses before crossing the plains.  Both experienced the hardships of Nauvoo.  And both were strengthened by the blessings that came from the temple ordinances.  In fact, when you think about it, it was for people like Henry Jolley and Sarah Pippin Jolley that Brigham Young and the other brethren worked so hard to finish the temple and institute the temple ordinances.  They would need the strength that came from those ordinances to make it across the plains and build Zion in the Rocky Mountains.  When Sarah and her family made it to the Salt Lake Valley, it was Henry Jolley who took her in.  He even sold property he owned to purchase a cow for milk for her children.

Henry Jolley was born in 1789 in Bedford, North Carolina.  That was the same year the North Carolina legislature initially rejected the new Constitution of the United States, but later accepted.  Henry's parents were plantation owners. In 1806 Henry married his childhood sweetheart, Frances Manning.  Both were age 16.  They would become the parents of 9 children.  During the War of 1812 against the British, Henry served in the North Carolina Militia. Like many of his generation, Henry was ambitious, wanting to make a better life for his family.  He felt that he could not do that in North Carolina.  So, in 1825 he set out for the open spaces and cheap land of Tennessee.   

In 1850, a few months before his death, Henry Jolley wrote a personal history.  Here are a few exerpts:

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Thinking we could better our condition, we decided in 1825 to move with many of our friends to Tennessee. We settled a few miles north of Dresden in the Northwestern part of the state. Here land was plentiful, and the climate and soil conditions were ideal for raising most any crop we desired. Our main crops were cotton and tobacco. We had obtained a large acreage and owned quite a number of slaves.

One rather warm February afternoon my sons and I were working in the field when our attention was drawn to two distinguished looking gentlemen who were approaching us. They wore black Prince Albert suits and tall smoke stack hats. We rested on our shovels and waited for them to reach us. They introduced themselves as Elder McIntosh and Elder Wilson, Mormon missionaries. After the usual exchange of greetings, they stated their mission, and told us how the boy prophet, Joseph Smith, had beheld a vision of God the Father, and His Son Jesus Christ. They told us about the Mormons at Nauvoo and the persecutions that were being heaped upon the Prophet and his people. We were especially interested in the new Book of Mormon which gave a history of the ancient inhabitants of America. We were so impressed with their message that we invited them to return and see us again. They left us a Book of Mormon and promised to see us again in about two weeks. I said to my sons, “No more work today. We must tell your mother and your wives of the glad tidings.” I could think of scarcely anything else for days except the strange story about the Nephites and the Lamanites as told in that wonderful book.

As promised, in about two weeks our Mormon friends returned and we sat in awe until the wee hours of the next morning listening to an explanation of the Principles of the Gospel. On the morrow I was ready for baptism, but our Mormon friends suggested that we wait a short time until we were sure. When they came again, my eldest son, Reuben Manning and his wife, Sarah Pippin Jolley and I were baptized February 18, 1842.  Nothing seemed to occupy our minds now, but to join the other Saints at Nauvoo. We finally decided to move and trust our future near the prophet of the Lord. It was quite a decision to make We had a comfortable home and were quite successful financially.  It required a lot of faith and courage to chance our lives and fortunes by moving to another place and live among strangers, but the urge was too great and preparations went speedily forward to move. We sold our plantation and slaves, all except little Sammy, whose parents had died. We took him with us. There was much sadness and weeping at our departure; many of the slaves wanted to come with us, but they had a new master now, who, we hoped, would be good to them. The crops were well along and the whole landscape was beautiful, but our hopes of a new life with the Saints overshadowed our sorrows as we headed our oxen north toward Nauvoo.

When we reached Nauvoo everybody was busy and the City was growing rapidly. Converts were streaming in from every direction. Europe was furnishing many artisans; men with skills who were needed to carry on the technical phase of building and construction of homes and business institutions. The Prophet and his brother Hyrum, were wonderful, spiritually endowed men. We felt lifted up to a heavenly solemnity when in their presence. A great calm would come over us. Truly we had found a prophet of God.

We were farmers and soon obtained some land and began raising crops. With our oxen we were able to provide for ourselves and to share with others who were less fortunate. But the persecution continued. We were continually harassed by outsiders who never missed a chance to upset our plans and work. We were always in fear for the safety of our prophet. We marveled at his courage and faith in the face of the many false charges made against him, often ending with arrest and imprisonment. No matter how depressed we were, whenever we could be in his presence and listen to his voice, our fears and anguish would disappear.  On the 12th day of January, 1844, my sons and myself were ordained Elders by Patriarch Hyrum Smith. My dear wife Frances was also baptized a member of the church. She was a wonderful wife and mother, but it took her a little longer to gain a testimony, I think hers was the stronger because she worked hard for it.  The spring and summer of 1844 brought us good crops but more trouble from our enemies. Great mobs gathered and threatened us. We could never be at ease. Finally, the terrible tragedy happened. Joseph, Hyrum, and Apostle John Taylor and Willard Richards were held in Carthage jail on some trumped-up charges. We all lived in constant anxiety, knowing of their imprisonment and realizing that the mob spirit was growing worse each day. Then the drunken mob did get out of hand and stormed the jail. Joseph and Hyrum were murdered, and Brother Taylor was shot. He later recovered. When the tragic news came, we were all stunned. Fear and hysteria spread like wildfire. Our hearts were bleeding, and our souls cried out to our Heavenly Father for solace and deliverance. He did come to our rescue, and he did soothe our aching hearts.

As the cortege carrying the bodies passed, we gazed with chilled emotions. It was a bloody scene. Why had God permitted such a thing to happen? Could we survive this great calamity? Why were we such a despised people? Was Satan now going to triumph? Surely not! God would come to our rescue. We must not turn and flee. Truth must succeed over evil. We must gird up our loins and fight harder.

After the bodies had been delivered to the mansion and cleaned up and prepared for burial, we returned on the morrow to see them. As we passed the biers, we beheld divinity here on earth.  They lay there in purity and such majesty before our eyes. But those are only earthly remains, my soul cried out in anguish. Their spirits are with Jesus, our Redeemer and God the Father. Yes! We shall see them again in the resurrection when evil has been subdued, where love and justice will abide forever.  After the funeral, we returned to our homes refreshed, with a renewed determination to carry on. We must finish the Temple and do our work so we will be able to meet our loved ones in that Celestial calm, where sorrow and pain have passed away.

Summer passed and Autumn came. Rainy weather adding to the swampy condition near the river around Nauvoo caused fever to spread among the Saints. Many fell prey to the malady and death stalked through the city. My beloved wife, Frances, whose body had become weakened through our troubles, contracted the disease and despite all our efforts and prayers, she passed away on September 29, 1844. It seemed again the tragedy and sorrow should be our continuous lot. She had been a loving, courageous mother and helpmate, always more concerned about the welfare of others than for herself. We tenderly prepared her for burial and after a lovely service we laid her earthly remains to rest in the Nauvoo cemetery. There were many others who suffered similar losses and we tried to bear each others crosses.

Work was now rushed to complete the Temple. My sons, grandsons and I worked continuously on the structure, often having only bread, sorghum and water for nourishment. When the Temple was completed we all had our endowments on January 5, 1846. My daughter-in-law, Brittiana Mayo Jolley, wife of H.B.M. stood proxy for my dear wife Frances and Frances’ parents were also endowed on January 5, 1846. We were so happy and repaid for all our troubles and past sorrows.  But the bitter cloud of hatred against us continued to rise. The mobsters of Illinois were determined to exterminate us.

Brigham and the Twelve finally gave the word to ‘flee’. Nauvoo was in a high pitch of excitement and turmoil. We hastily packed our wagons and ferried across the river in the face of bitter cold into the terrible wilderness. Our leader, Brigham Young, had a difficult decision to make and a terrible responsibility, but God was at the helm directing us, and we had faith that he would not desert us. The suffering was great and many died of exposure; others fell by the wayside, not being able to face the privations and bear the pain.

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More to come next week.


Painting depicting Henry Jolley



Sunday, April 8, 2012

Henry Jolley and Frances Manning Jolley - Saints Par Excellence

Below are sketches of two very faithful Latter-day Saints, Henry Jolley and his wife Frances Manning Jolley.  They are the in-laws to Sarah Pippin Jolley who I have written about before.  Theirs is a remarkable tale of conversion, devotion, hardship and sacrifice.  I will tell their story next week.  So for now, look at their images and contemplate the great gospel family that sprang from these two faithful parents.




Henry Jolley (1789 -1850)


Frnaces Manning Jolley (1789 - 1844)