David turned his head quickly, as did almost everyone else. He couldn’t tell for sure if every hand was up, but if not, there were very few exceptions.
“Thank you. Are there any opposed to this proposition?”
Again everyone turned. The hall was dead quiet, but not a single hand was up.
There was a deep sigh from the crowd as Elder Snow visibly relaxed. “Thank you, my dear brothers and sisters. I commend you for your faith. The voting has been unanimous in the affirmative. We therefore declare that the mission will depart as soon as possible. We shall gather from our various locations to Escalante in preparation for crossing the Colorado River and taking the shortcut to the San Juan.”
Notes
^1. It is a common assumption that the first settlers of Escalante named the town for Father Escalante, one of the Catholic fathers who had explored the country much earlier. But Jerry Roundy, in his history of Escalante, notes that the town got its name when some of Major John Wesley Powell’s surveying party met some of the Mormons who had come to explore the possibility of a settlement there. Under date of August 5, 1875, a journal entry reads: “Saw four Mormons from Panguitch who are talking of making a settlement here. Advised them to call the place Escalante” (Roundy, Escalante, 72–73). The settlers also called the area Potato Valley because they found some wild potatoes growing there (ibid., 18).
^2. The information on Bishop Andrew P. Schow comes from Andrew Jenson (Encyclopedia, 1:543–44).
^3. These details on Reuben Collett come from the Collett family history (as cited by Miller, Hole, 39, 42). We do not have a physical description of Collett, nor could I find a photograph of him, so my physical description of him is conjecture, except for the missing arm.
^4. We know that Silas Smith was asked to speak to the brethren during the time of the stake conference held in Parowan September 27 and 28, 1879 (see ibid., 40). There are not a lot of details of what he said, but several sources report that he enthusiastically supported a central route scouted out by Andrew Schow, Reuben Collett, and Charles Hall (see ibid., 34–42; Reay, Incredible Passage, 24–25). We also know that Schow and Collett came “to Parowan and other Iron County settlements” to give their report, and “met the San Juan missionaries preparing for the trek” (Miller, Hole, 40). Having them do so in a special meeting held in conjunction with stake conference seemed like a logical possibility for that to happen.
^5. There is some debate about who first named the Hole in the Rock. Miller concludes that perhaps all three men—Hall, Schow, and Collett—were responsible for its name (see ibid., 36–37).
^6. I have chosen to take a different interpretation of the explorations of Schow and Collett than have most historians. Since this is a fairly dramatic departure from the traditional interpretation, I should like to present the case for doing so.
This is more than a mere debate over some trivial historical fact. A few miles either way might normally make little difference, but in this case, there is a greater issue at stake. Many historians and members of the Church have been critical of the decision to take the central route when so little was known about it. Much of this comes from the assumption that Schow and Collett’s exploration went only a “short distance” inland.
Members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believe the Church is led by prophets, seers, and revelators. They also believe that when an individual person is called and set apart to a specific office, that person is entitled to personal inspiration and revelation. So what is really being questioned here is: How did the system of revelation and inspiration fail so badly in this particular instance?
That is a troubling question. Men and women who are otherwise praised for their wisdom, integrity, and good judgment are suddenly put on trial and condemned by those who are far removed from the realities of their circumstances, and who have only limited information about the situation. I note again the observation by David McCullough, world-renowned historian, included in the preface, where he reminds us that “the character, habits, and manners of those who took part” in historical events must also be considered.
I am not a trained historian. I am only an enthralled amateur, and I am reluctant to disagree with the conclusions of such professional and highly qualified historians as David E. Miller. His work on the Hole in the Rock expedition is remarkable and has been of inestimable value in preparing this book. But in this specific case, the more I thought about the nature and character of such men as Erastus Snow and Silas Smith, ascribing to them a serious error in judgment and inspiration was not in harmony with what we know. Was their decision truly a momentary slip of inspiration—a rush to judgment, as it were, because of the urgency of the situation? Or could there be another explanation?
The key issue is this: How extensively did Schow and Collett scout out the east side of the river? In an “official” account based on interviews with original Hole in the Rock participants such as Kumen Jones and George Hobbs, the San Juan Stake History states that “They [Schow and Collett] had succeeded in crossing the river in their [wagon] box and from the other side, by climbing a short distance, they could see the San Juan River. The two brethren then recrossed the river, and the report of their exploration and the crossing of the Colorado was to the effect that a good road could be made by way of the Escalante desert to the Colorado river, and thence through the country beyond to the San Juan River” (San Juan Stake History as cited by Miller, Hole, 39).
Another source, the history of Reuben Collett’s family, uses similar language but adds some significant details (cited in ibid., 38, 42).
Those two phrases—“a short distance” and “a good road”—have greatly influenced the conclusions of the historians. Miller’s outstanding and definitive work on the Hole in the Rock influenced many other historians when he concluded: “These meager descriptions leave one wondering just how far eastward the two men explored. In order to have reached a point from which the actual waters of the San Juan could have been seen they would have had to hike much farther than ‘a short distance.’ . . . They did probably reach Cottonwood Creek and no doubt ascended that stream two or three miles. However, they evidently did not go beyond the bald sandstone cliffs at the head of that canyon—else their report must surely have been a negative one” (ibid., 40).
Here are my reasons for disagreeing with that conclusion:
(a) As we have seen, Andrew Schow and Reuben Collett were experienced, seasoned frontiersmen, “veteran scouts” (see ibid., 38). They knew the area well, and fully understood the importance of what they had been asked to do. The Collett family history reports that they “explored for a great length of time, from early spring and on through the summer” (cited in ibid., 38). Are we to believe that when they finally crossed the river to the east side to determine the most critical question of all, they settled for a hasty and cursory exploration, going inland only “two or three miles”? Miller, always the careful historian, adds this, after drawing his conclusions about their limited search: “Of course, this is all speculation; it is not even known how long these men spent in the region” (ibid., 42).
If they went only a short distance, that implies they spent no more than a day exploring there. If they “explored for a great length of time,” then it would be strange indeed if they went only two to three miles inland.
(b) We who live in modern times must take care that we do not interpret historical facts through our own “cultural eyeglasses.” In our society, people drive two or three blocks to a grocery store, or take their cars to church when it is just around the corner. For most of us, walking “two or three miles” would probably be the upper limit of a definition of a “short distance.” But that was not the case in earlier days. First-person accounts from those times frequently speak of walking fifteen or twenty miles in a day as though it were a commonplace thing. Journeys of hundreds of miles on foot are mentioned often. So to assume these two explorers went only two to three miles because the record says they hi
ked a “short distance” could be the result of cultural myopia.
(c) Miller states that “they evidently did not go beyond the bald sandstone cliffs at the head of that canyon—else their report must surely have been a negative one.” That raises another question. What kind of scouts would, when they reached the first real obstacle to wagon travel, decide they had gone far enough, turn around, and then report that a “good road” could be built through the area? Wouldn’t those sandstone cliffs have had just the opposite effect on them? Wouldn’t they have pushed beyond that difficult stretch to see if this was going to prove an impassable barrier? Were they that tired? That rushed? That negligent? Or have we simply misinterpreted the little data that we have?
(d) The San Juan Stake history states that “by climbing a short distance, they could see in the distance the San Juan River” (ibid., 39). The Collett family history records: “After climbing the mountains a short distance on the east side of the Colorado, the San Juan River could be seen (ibid., 42). Both original sources specifically state that they saw the river. Yet that would have been impossible if they had gone only two or three miles up Cottonwood Canyon. Miller resolves this by concluding that they may have seen the San Juan River gorge but not the river itself. However, if they went all the way to Grey Mesa (a distance of only about seven or eight miles from the top of Cottonwood Canyon), there is a place where one can look almost straight down to the river.
(e) Here’s another problem with the “two to three mile theory.” In the Collett family record it says this of their exploration of the east side: “The country, being rugged on the San Juan side, made it necessary to blaze a trail by marking anything that would retain a mark. By using this precaution, they easily found their way back to the Colorado and safely to camp” (cited in ibid., 42). “Anything that would retain a mark” sounds like something quite different from making a notch in a tree along a stream bed. Surely, they would not have been concerned about getting lost if all they did was traverse a narrow and well-defined canyon. Yet up on top, away from the river, there are places where, even today, experts on the trail have to paint white arrows on the bare sandstone or mark the trail with small rock cairns because it is so easy to lose one’s way.
(f) Grey Mesa is about eight or nine miles long. It is a relatively flat, sagebrush-covered plateau that looks like it continues on for many miles. If these two men did go that far, it would be a natural thing for them to conclude that a “good road” could be made across that country.
(g) But, some might say, there are two very difficult stretches between the river and Grey Mesa. They are Cottonwood Hill, at the top of Cottonwood Canyon, and what is now called The Chute. If the two scouts went all the way to Grey Mesa, they would have to have seen those two stretches. How then could they then return and report that a “good road” could be made through that country?
There is no disputing the difficulty of both of those stretches of the trail. When the main company eventually reached Cottonwood Hill, they stopped for over a week to build a dugway up the steep hillside, and it proved to be almost as challenging as building the road down through the Hole. But they did it. As for The Chute, having personally traversed it both in a Jeep and on an ATV, I fully concur that it is a daunting stretch of trail. One can scarcely believe that wagons and teams could make their way up it. Yet in the company journal, the entry for the day when they went through the area where The Chute is located states only this: “We have been building road over and through solid rock, which we have now completed” (in ibid., 166). No mention of great challenge or hardship is made.
We must remember that Schow and Collett did not say that a road could easily be built through that area, only that it could be done. If they did not see the Hole in the Rock as an impossible task, why should we assume they would automatically reject Cottonwood Hill or The Chute as being impassable?
For all of these reasons, I have chosen to assume that Schow and Collett went beyond Cottonwood Canyon, probably as far as the San Juan overlook on Grey Mesa. If that assumption is true, then we can also assume their report to Elder Snow and Silas Smith would have been more detailed—and encouraging!—than most historians have thought. Therefore the decision to take that route was neither irresponsible nor uninspired.
Later experience showed the route to be tremendously challenging, taking them much longer than first predicted, but, when all is said and done, they did do it. Therefore it was not an “impossible journey,” as some have suggested.
Chapter 47
Sunday, September 28, 1879
At Patrick’s request, after having supper in the hotel dining room, the McKenna family, along with David and Carl, gathered in a back corner of the lobby. As they came together, Patrick began pulling the chairs into a semicircle so they would face each other.
It was a sober and mostly subdued group that sat down together. Billy Joe was his usual enthusiastic self, but even he seemed to sense the mood and sat quietly beside his mother. Molly was especially gloomy. She had maintained a forced cheerfulness through the meal, holding an animated debate with Carl on the importance of her knowing how to shoot a rifle. But since the meeting, a pall had settled upon her that hadn’t lifted as of yet. Abby had been likewise quiet, but that seemed to be more because she was preoccupied with her own thoughts.
Patrick cleared his throat. “Since we will be leaving early in the morning, and since, once we return home, our lives are going to get very hectic, I thought it might be well to take some time this evening to discuss what has happened and what it means for us.” He looked around the group. “We have waited for this day for almost a year now, but at last we know where we are going, how we are going to get there, and when we are leaving. In a way, that is a tremendous relief. But in another way, the realities of it all are now more evident. In approximately two more weeks our lives are going to be changed forever.”
He paused, but no one spoke, so he went on. “Therefore, I would like to see how you are feeling about things, and if there are concerns we need to address as we now prepare to leave.”
He sat back and folded his hands together in his lap.
David leaned forward quickly. “I hate to start with something so mundane,” he said, “but there’s something you need to think about as we return home, Patrick.”
“What’s that?”
“As you know, after the meeting yesterday afternoon, Silas called several of us together who went with him on the first trip. He’s asked us, including me, to serve as scouts for the company, especially once we leave Escalante. That means we’re going to have to find another driver for the wagons.” He turned to Abby. “Assuming we can still count on you to drive one of them.”
“And me,” Molly snapped. “In spite of what you all may think, I’m not a pansy.”
Carl gave her a questioning look. “You told me you didn’t want to drive,” he said.
Her look was a withering stare. “David didn’t ask who wanted to drive. Just who could.”
“We’ve assumed,” her father came in smoothly, “that you girls will be driving your own sleeping wagon. It will carry the lightest load, and I think we can pull it with just the two mules. But that still leaves us a driver short when David isn’t with us.” He looked thoughtful. “I totally agree with Silas in this recommendation, so let me think on that some.” Then he faced the others. “All right, let’s hear what’s on your minds and in your hearts.”
For almost a full minute, no one spoke. Finally, Billy Joe began to squirm a little in his chair. “Yes, young Patrick,” his father said. “Would you like to begin?”
He nodded, swallowed, then began. “My tummy feels like a puppy is crawling around inside of me. I wanna go, but . . . I guess I’m a little scared, too.”
His mother put an arm around him and pulled him close. “I think we’ve all got something inside our tummies, Son. I know I certainly do.” She turned to her husband. “I’ve never doubted that we were going, but now? Suddenly, it’s all
very real and I have to say that I’m frightened.”
“It’s a lot more than that for me,” Molly said quietly. “Can I speak honestly, Daddy?”
“Of course. That’s why we’re here.”
“Maybe it is just because it’s suddenly real and we are frightened, but I don’t feel good about it inside. It’s like a cloud of darkness has come over me since we voted to go yesterday.” Her eyes dropped, and David saw that her hands were clenched tightly together. “I don’t know anymore whether we are doing the right thing or not.”
Her father nodded slowly. “Is it the decision to take this new route?”
“I . . . I’m not sure what it is. I just feel like something dreadful is going to happen, and it really concerns me.”
“Oh, Molly,” Sarah said. “I think it is just the reality of it hitting us all right now.”
David raised his hand, and Patrick motioned for him to speak. When he did, he spoke directly to Molly. “I don’t know if this will help, but my family had talked about going to America so long, I was like Billy Joe. I was excited, filled with anticipation. Even when my father and I actually booked passage on the steamship, I was so thrilled I barely slept that night. But then came the time for departure. Suddenly it hit me that I was leaving England forever. I would never see my friends again. I was going to a completely strange land to be with this weird group of people called the Mormons.” He smiled briefly. “I never even told my father this, but I spent the night before we embarked bent over the toilet throwing up.”
“Really?” Billy Joe exclaimed. “Did it make the puppies in your stomach go away?”