We Are All the Pioneers of Our Own Lives

Pioneer Day is a day to remember our ancestors and the struggles they overcame coming to America and settling the Salt Lake Valley. As I recall my pioneers, the ones who crossed the plains, I tried to look at them with a different eye—as though I were their contemporary.

Hans & Caroline were from Bornholm, Denmark

I think of my one set of ancestors, Caroline Larsen, 21 years old, from Ostermarie, Bornholm, and Hans Miller, 28 years old, from Nexo, Bornholm, Danish sweethearts. Bornholm is an Island seven miles by seventeen miles which is south east of Sweden. Caroline was a very popular girl with lots of friends, while Hans was older, well-educated leader in the church, trained as a shoemaker. 

Hans’ father was well-to-do as partner in a windmill, who had taken on the permanent name of “Miller” as his last name so all of his three children had Miller as their last name, instead of the normal tradition of the father’s first name added to son as their last name. After his baptism at the age of 20, he was valiant as a missionary, and in many leadership positions. His history says that because of his proficiency in English, “He was called to Copenhagen especially to teach English - - a language in which he was quite proficient - - to the converts who expected to emigrate. In Copenhagen he was counselor to the president of the conference.[i]”

One history states that they met on the journey and fell in love, but another written by her daughter indicates that they were sweethearts before they left Denmark. From hints in Caroline’s story, we can tell she was a friendly, sociable lady who left friends behind. A quote from later in her story crossing the plain tells of a tornado striking, which “carried away along with small keepsakes from her girlhood and her home among which were some poems and eulogies written to her on her nineteenth birthday that her friends had celebrated in her honor, and tin-type photographs of her relatives and friends.   To mother’s last days she was saddened when she recalled her loss.” 

A story tells that when Caroline was getting ready to

Caroline (here a representation) ran 18 Danish miles to catch the ship

leave for the ship going to America “she took so long saying goodbye to everyone, especially an uncle, that she missed the boat taking the people to the ship. However she knew that it would be at anchor farther up the line, and although on March 19 she had to walk 19 Danish miles in an all-day rain to catch the ship, she made it. If she had not gone, she would have been left behind.[ii]” I think of this popular young lady, who may have had the “late” streak that often runs in our family, she did what she had to do to "do it."

They came on the "Franklin" clipper ship arriving in New York on 29 May 1862

Arriving in America, Hans, because of his ability to speak English, was able to go to New York and arrange for train transportation to Nebraska for the group, and he and Caroline were able to see the sights in New York. Hans’ history stated they disembarked at “Ellis Island” and went through customs there, but study has shown that they actually went through Castle Garden, the first official immigration center.[iii]

Although Hans and Caroline had

planned to wait until arriving in Salt Lake City and to be married in the Endowment House for all eternity, it didn’t work out that way. “Father contracted a fever and became so ill that he could not leave with the friends with whom he had crossed the ocean with and whose leader he had been.[iv]” Caroline needed to take care of him, so they married on 22 June 1862 in Florence, Douglas  County, Nebraska.

While waiting in Omaha to go west, they found work in the fields. Hans must have recovered from his illness, because his history explains what happened on 16 July 1862: “One day while father was working in the fields, a black cloud appeared in the south-west sky.   The American workmen began to run, and soon threw themselves upon the ground.   Father and other immigrants followed their lead, wondering what the excitement was about.  They soon found out.    A tornado had struck followed by the inevitable rain ending in a flood.[v]”

A Compilation of General Voyage Notes[vi] gives us further information about this tornado:

They experienced their first tornado near present-day Omaha

“The rest of the emigrants remained in camp for several weeks before beginning the journey across the plains. A few days before the company left camp, Florence and vicinity was visited by a terrible tornado, accompanied by rain, thunder and lightning, by which two of the brethren were killed and Elder Joseph W. Young received severe wounds from a wagon box which blew down upon him; after the accident, he was carried to a place of safety in an unconscious condition, but recovered after a while. The tents and wagon covers of the company were badly torn and shattered on that occasion. . . .”

Caroline Margaret Larsen Miller

Hans and Caroline came to Utah in J. R. Murdock’s, company leaving Omaha, 24 July 1862. His history states they walked most of the way to Salt Lake City, and arrived in Salt Lake City 27 September 1862, where they “stopped at the old Tithing House where the Hotel Utah now stands.  Here they were met by P. M. Peel, the same man who, in Nexo, had brought the missionaries to my grandfather’s home.[vii]”

Their first home in Utah was in Mt. Pleasant, which had been settled two years earlier, and where Mr. Peel lived. Hans was certified as a school teacher, but he also worked as a shoemaker during their time in Mt. Pleasant. It was here their first child was born exactly one month later. It was a small cabin with a “lean-to” as a second room.”

In the fall of 1864, Orson Hyde called a group to settle Sanpete County and the Sevier River, especially that area that had had such a bountiful harvest of barley that its name had been changed from Omni to Richfield. Hans’ family was among those called.

A comment from Hans’ history tells of Caroline’s introduction to this area that Elijah

Ward an old mountaineer had called “the finest country in Utah.”

“He [Hans] with others left that autumn - - 1864 - - to prepare places for their families to live.   These men did what a few men - - who had settled earlier had done - - they dug cellars, placed a willow-dirt roof over the excavation, formed steps out of the soil leading to the entrance, and brought their wives and children.[viii]”

“Arriving in Richfield, Mother surveyed a barren valley surrounded by mountains and a ditch flowing crookedly along, almost lost in willows and greasewood; and mounds rising or two feet among the greasewood [brush).[ix]”

“When Father stopped at a ‘mound’ and gravely said, ‘Well, here we are, Mother,’ [Caroline] with tears in her eyes asked, ‘Is this home?’ Caroline had a child a little more than a year old to take care of, a second child to be born in mid-spring!   She sat down and wept.[x]”

“A cellar, a dirt floor, a roof of willows covered with soil, steps that had been cut with

Photo of dugout near Salina Utah

a shovel deep into the soil leading to the entrance. The entrance was not a door; lumber could not be used carelessly in a cellar. A canvas of some sort was hung to keep out the cold, no windows. Father was working hard to make enough adobes (molded from the clay and placed in the sun to dry) to build a little one-room house with a window and a door. Before the roof was put on, rail fell. Father hurriedly made a roof of willows, covered it with damp soil, gathered dry grass and scattered it over the damp dirt.[xi]”

 One more comment from Hans’ history tells about Caroline’s struggles. “A little incident about the ‘cellar’ recalls the extreme poverty these early pioneers went through.   Father was working early and late to make enough adobes to build a little house.   Mother had prepared dinner as best she could and went to call father to come in.   Standing chatting for a moment while he put the mud mixture into the adobe mold, one corner of the cellar roof caved in.   Mother made an exclamation of dismay.   Father answered, ‘Our roof is gone, but so is our dinner for today!’   And so it was.[xii]”

        

Later photo of Caroline

Hans and Caroline became stalwart founders of the Richfield area; Hans was a school teacher for many years, later served as tithing clerk, Superintendent of Schools, postmaster, president of the Quorum of the Seventy for many years and a leader in many other ways. Caroline had eleven children, was chosen as Mrs. Utah one year, and rode in the Fourth of July parade. She looked beautiful, dressed in white with a crown on her white hair and a banner, reading, "Utah We Love Thee."  Later she was one of the nine original pioneers chosen to be honored at the 50^th Anniversary of the founding of Richfield in September 1914.

I think of the little I know of their early years—

Photo of Hans Peter Miller, Sr.

Caroline, friendly, sociable, but determined to get along in this hard new world. Hans, educated, obedient, a leader, but willing to build and live in a dugout if that was necessary. They hadn’t been raised to live in such a raw, new world, but they did it.

Many young couples today go out into the world with high hopes and optimistic dreams, but when life hands them lemons, or blows their life apart with illness or disaster, they soldier on, making do with whatever is necessary just as Hans and Caroline did. They know that eventually things will get better and someday they will be the pioneers of their lives and others will look back at that and say, “How did you do that, Grandma?” “Grandpa, I can’t believe that you didn’t give up when that happened.” They will remember that they are the pioneer of their own life and say, “I did it because I had to, and so will you! That is what this life is about.”

Caroline Margaret Larsen Miller as Mrs. Utah

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[i] Miller, Eudora: “The Life of Hans Peter Miller, Sr.,” written 1846, p. 6

[ii] Miller, Eudora: “A History of Caroline Margaret Larsen Miller”

[iii] Castle Garden, today known as Castle Clinton National Monument, is the major landmark within The Battery, the 23 acre waterfront park at the tip of Manhattan. From 1855 to 1890, the Castle was America's first official immigration center, a pioneering collaboration of New York State and New York City.

[iv] Miller, Ibid., “The Life of Hans Peter Miller, Sr.,p. 6

[v] Miller, Ibid., “The Life of Hans Peter Miller, Sr.,p. 6

[vi] the Voyage from Denmark to New York City, 1862, from the MORMON IMMIGRATION INDEX (CD-ROM) Voyage of the Ship Franklin: https://familysearch.org/photos/stories/1367886

[vii] Miller, Ibid., “The Life of Hans Peter Miller, Sr.,p. 7

[viii] Miller, Ibid., “The Life of Hans Peter Miller, Sr., p. 8

[ix] Miller, Adeare, “Unpublished History of Caroline Larsen Miller.”  In Ten Penny Nails, Op Cit., p. 21. (Sevier County General Plan: 1998: Sevier County History and Communities Land of the Sleeping Rainbow : Chapter 10); http://www.sevierutah.net/general%20plan/Chapter%2010.pdf     

[x] Miller, Ibid., “The Life of Hans Peter Miller, Sr., p. 8

[xi]Miller, Adeare, Ibid: p. 21.

[xii] Miller, Ibid., “The Life of Hans Peter Miller, Sr.,p. 8

Pioneer Trek—A Symbol of Faith

Recently I watched a movie about the rescue of the Martin-Willey Handcart pioneers of 1856. These pioneers suffered great hardships because they were late starting their trek across the American plains and got caught in early snow before they finished their journey.

This familiar story is a Mormon[i] legend of faith triumphing over hardships and is commemorated [ii] by leaders and youth making their own four-day wilderness trek. This modern-day trek of approximately 30 miles across the wilderness pulling a handcart is prepared for weeks in advance both spiritually and physically. This is a difficult journey and is symbolic of the trek those handcart pioneers of years before traveled.

The youth of our congregation returned from their pioneer trek last summer and talked to our ward about their experiences; I was very touched as I listened to them. I have had several of my children as youth and as adults go on these treks, but I had never before realized what these treks accomplish.

The youth are divided up into separate groups or families, with a “Ma” and a “Pa” as leaders of their family. The Ma and Pa are a married couple, and all the youth in their family are considered their children and are to act as a family for the four days of the trek. Everyone wears pioneer clothes, including long skirts, aprons and bonnets for the girls.

Our stake was able to go to Wyoming to the site of the original handcart company journey and travel across the actual pioneer trail, including the crossing of the Sweetwater River, which was one of the most difficult crossings of the Martin-Willey company. For the original pioneers, the last crossing of the icy Sweetwater River in snow seemed insurmountable, but some of the young men who had come from Salt Lake to render aid carried many of the weakened pioneers across.  The 16 to 18-year-old young men among our local trekkers committed to carry the rest across the Sweetwater River in memory of those original rescuers and to remind them to bear each other’s burdens and rescue others.

One of the comments I was impressed with as the modern trekkers told their story was the resemblance some of their stories were to that of some of the pioneers. One young man about the same age as my grandson has an auto-immune disease similar to my adult daughter, Diana, who as a healthy 18-year-old suddenly became very ill.

Now, 18-years after the onset of her illness, which caused damage to her eyes, extreme joint pain, intestinal damage and wreaked havoc on her life, I can see the maturity and growth she has received through this trial. She became so ill she had to drop out of college as she suffered for months before they identified her disease as a form of ankylosing spondylitis/ rheumatoid arthritis. During the time of her active disease as I saw her fight to make a life with crippling pain and disability, I cried and prayed for faith to know how to help her.

As this young man told how his whole family prayed for him for weeks that he would be able to go to trek and not have any problems, I thought of Diana and her struggles. This young man testified that his health was better on trek than it had been in a long time and he was able to do all that was required, including carrying the stake president over the Sweetwater River.  

Many may be skeptical of such “miracles” but I have seen what I call “minor miracles” make Diana’s life better. After months of debilitating illness, when Diana was finally beginning to respond to medication and improve enough from her illness, she had the opportunity to fly to London. I realized that the emotional boost that she would receive from this would help her get her life together and decide if she could go back to school. But she was terrified of sitting on the plane that long—her joints would freeze up and cause tremendous pain in cramped conditions. But she prayed and felt the Lord would bless her to be able to do it. As it turned out, the airlines had booked too many tickets; they were “bumped” into first class and it was far more comfortable for her joints and she didn’t have any trouble.

Later in London, Diana became very ill and was rushed to the hospital, but her older brother gave her a priesthood blessing on the way that healed her and she was able to continue her trip.

Diana at the hospital in London

life better; I know prayer brings for the blessings of heaven. These are only two of the many "minor miracles" that have blessed Diana's life.

Each person on the trek chose one of their pioneer ancestors who had crossed the plains to “take on the trek with them.” They were to think about that pioneer and what their life was like and what his trials had been and compare them with their own trials.

I recently visited Denmark where my one pioneer ancestor left behind family and friends to come to America. This family was not wealthy in Denmark, but I doubt they realized the depredations they would face coming to what they called “Zion.” My ancestor, Ingeborg, had a husband, a 16-year-old daughter, a seven-year-old son, and nine-year-old stepdaughter when they left Denmark. She was 51-years-old, but determined to join the saints in the Salt Lake Valley.

One young woman in our ward trek told how on the handcart company one out of every six people died on the trip. To illustrate this, they called out the names of two members of each family to cross the river barefoot and then walk back to the camp alone—they would represent those who died. This young woman had been the first to “die” in the company. She said she felt discouraged to think that they would think she would be weak enough to die.  

I thought of my ancestor, Ingeborg and her family of five. They had many hardships along their journey, even though they hadn’t come by handcart. Ingeborg’s husband died near the Platte River half way to the valley. A short comment in a pioneer journal marked his passing,

“Sunday, July 24. A quarter of a mile’s travel brought us to plenty of water. This morning Hans Andersen Pill passed away, and at noon M. Christian Jensen’s wife bore a son.”

Was Ingeborg’s 16-year-old daughter resentful to leave Denmark, or was she thrilled at the adventure? By the time they arrived in the Salt Lake Valley, was the Danish-speaking Ingeborg struggling to get along in this new, rough, English-speaking country?

I am older now than Ingeborg was when she arrived in the valley, but I am about the age she was when she died out in the Nevada Desert—trying to grow cotton in what was called the “Muddy” Mission, not far from Las Vegas.

Remains of the settlement on the "Muddy"

In the March 1997 Ensign, an article called, “Courage—the Unfailing Beacon,” describes the area, “Few settlements faced harsher circumstances than those established to raise cotton in the Muddy Mission in southeastern Nevada in the late 1860s. Those who know the story say that it stands as “an ordeal beyond compare.” ¹¹ The forbidding landscape of near-barren mountains and mesas provided scant supplies of grass for livestock and wood for fuel or building. Summer temperatures often reached 120 degrees Fahrenheit, and there was little rainfall. “Oh, what a place it was!” wrote one settler. “Nothing but deep sand and a burning sun.” ¹²

 In my mind I can see Ingeborg standing in the sun in in the dry, hot desert remembering the green hills of Denmark, but I think her faith kept her helped her meet each of her challenges, just as I look at my trials and know that the Lord understands my heart and I will accept his will. (But I would definitely have a hard time dealing with living in Southern Nevada).

The youth trek took so much planning and preparation; and all those who prepared were rewarded. Sometimes, we don’t even know why we are doing what we do, and we are still rewarded. This was mentioned by one of the other lady leaders, whose son’s asthma had been good for so long she didn’t even think to bring his asthma inhaler with her. She wasn’t even thinking when she saw it on the table, and grabbed it and threw it in her bag as she was running out the door. But as they were pushing their handcarts up Rocky Ridge and the dry dust was swirling and she began to cough, she suddenly thought of her son. She grabbed the inhaler in her handcart, and located her son, and learned that he was in a full-blown asthma attack. She gave him the inhaler, it took care of his asthma and they continued on their way.

Many times in my lives I didn’t know why I prepared in advance for something that I later realized I needed to meet the challenges of that day. My children are spread very far apart in ages, which can be difficult. I don’t know how many times when some of my children were little, I’ve gotten them all ready to go somewhere only to get a phone call from another older child saying he needed to be picked up or needed something—IMMEDIATELY.   I was all ready to go, and could leave immediately rather than waste time getting ready to go. It was a small thing; I hadn’t known where I was preparing to go, (maybe I was just thinking of going shopping) but then I was needed by my children instead and I was prepared.

Years ago when I was a child, our family lived 12 miles outside of Moab in a house without a phone  

Aunt Ingeborg

or electricity. My mother’s sister who lived in Brigham City was dying of cancer and my mother prayed and prayed that she would be able to know of Aunt Ingeborg’s death in time to get up to Brigham City in time to help with the funeral arrangements. It was a long 10 to 12-hour journey and my parents had four children so there was a lot of last minute preparation involved. Mother told me that she woke up in the middle of the night and her sister Ingeborg was standing in the room. Ingeborg simply told her that she had died and disappeared. My mother immediately got up, started packing and getting everything ready for the trip. When someone drove out from Moab the next morning to let the family know about Ingeborg’s death, they were all packed and ready to leave.

Another comment was made was about the sacrifices everyone made to attend trek. Whenever we sacrifice, whether it is time, material means, or service, we are rewarded far more than the sacrifice we made! I think of the times I have given what I felt was a sacrifice, and was blessed far beyond my expectations. One of my most difficult callings was years ago in the mid-1970s when we lived in central Texas. I was called to be in the Stake Primary Presidency in the Austin Texas Stake. I had three small children, ages 7, 6, and 4 years of age and our stake stretched from above San Angelo to Waco to College Station to Brownwood—all of central Texas. There were 11 wards and branches in that area and we were committed to visit each primary (when primary met in the afternoon) and the ward conference of each ward/branch. We three members of the stake presidency drove together the long distances to these meetings. The stake primary president did not have a driver’s license so she couldn’t drive; the other counselor and I took turns driving.

I hated and was terrified of driving, but through hours of prayer and faith that if I was supposed to do it, I would be able to do it, we drove to each primary and ward conference. I felt so inadequate in my calling because I had never been a ward Primary president; how could I tell Primary presidents what to do when I had never been in their places? My husband was a battery commander who was often out in the field on field exercises or in El Paso to fire missiles—he had to be gone a lot; how could I fulfill my calling when he was gone and could not take care of our children? I prayed more in that calling than any other calling I have ever had.

When I was released three years later, I became pregnant with my middle daughter, Diana, even though the doctors had told me that I couldn’t become pregnant again. I have always felt Diana was my “reward” for sticking with that calling and trying to magnify it when I felt it was impossible to do it.

I think one of the most important things all those on the trek learned was “With the Lord, I can do hard things.” What a wonderful blessing to realize this! I know that many times in my life the Lord has asked me to do hard things, and with his help, I have accomplished them. I could write pages and pages of the hard things he’s helped me through, but I’ll only share one.

When Ed left for Vietnam the second time, I had a one-year-old, a two-year-old and was pregnant

Me with my three small children

with our third child. I lived in an upstairs apartment in Bountiful. My mother had died right after Ed and I married, and my two younger sisters lived back east. My father lived in Bountiful, but he worked swing shift at Hill Field and I felt like I couldn’t call on him to help me. My mother-in-law lived in Idaho and wasn’t available to help at all, either. I felt all on my own.

I had a very difficult delivery with Marc, that baby; I hemorrhaged and was very anemic; they kept me in the hospital a week. I remember coming from the hospital feeling totally overwhelmed. When my aunt and uncle stopped by to visit and then left, I remember putting the three children to bed. Then I knelt down and prayed with all my heart that I’d be able to take care of these three children and make it through the eight months left of Ed’s tour in Vietnam. I prayed until I felt peace. I knew that with the Lord’s help, I could do it! I learned that year that “With the Lord, I can do hard things.” Or as a plaque I made to put on my wall says, “With God All Things Are Possible.”

 I have never gone on trek and now in my old age, with my bad knees, bad back and sore feet, I never will; but I admire those who do go on trek. I admire those who plan trek. I feel like this program is an inspired program that strengthens both the youth and the leaders who attend and bring them together. It is symbolic of the sacrifices, struggles, and efforts made by those pioneers of old, and the sacrifices, trials and determination so many make today to serve the Lord.

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[i] Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

[ii] A “stake” is equivalent of a Catholic, Anglican or Episcopal diocese. What Mormons call a “ward” is the equivalent of a parish or neighborhood congregation; five or six wards (or parishes if that word is more familiar) combine to make a stake. The leader of the stake is not a bishop, but a stake president.