The History of John Hess
In 1832 my Father, mother and three eldest sisters and myself were baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ; previous to this we lived in peace with our neighbors, but soon after we were baptized our neighbors began to speak evil of, and persecute us in various ways.
About May 1, 1836, my father and his family moved to the State of Missouri and settled in Ray County of that State, near Pomerroy’s or Richmond Landing, until the expulsion of the Saints from Caldwell County, when with them we moved to the State of Illinois and settled In Hancock County. Here my Father settled on a piece of wild land and in our extreme poverty we began to open a farm. After much privation and toll we succeeded in getting a comfortable home. The many years of labor and hardships that my father has passed through caused his health to fail and I was the only boy in the family, therefore, the greater part of the labor devolved upon me.
In the meantime I had bought forty acres of land for myself and had made some improvements during the fall of 1884 and during the spring and summer of 1845 I was putting up a hewed log house, while the mobs were burning the, Saint’s possessions in Morley’s Settlement, near Lima, in Hancock County, but I continued to labor with my might until the violence of the mob was so great that we did not feel safe in remaining on our farm longer; so we moved to the City of Nauvoo and occupied a part of the house belonging to Bishop Foutz, my Mother’s brother. We had left most of our supplies on the farm at Bear Creek, and before we had time to get them away, they were destroyed by the mob, and we were again left almost destitute.
In November, 1845, my Father was stricken down with a shock of paralysis and lost the use of one side, which rendered him entirely helpless.
In the meantime I married Emeline Bigler, who was born in Harrison County, Virginia August 20, 1824. At this time word went forth among the people that we were to leave Nauvoo in the spring. One may well imagine the situation we were in, to start on such a journey, when we had been robbed of nearly all of our substance, and my poor father lying helpless in bed, but it being the only alternative to get away from the fury the mob, I began to gather up what I had and commenced to get together an outfit. The best I could do was to rig up two old wagons and two yoke of oxen, one of which was my personal property. I arranged one of these wagons with a bed of cord for my Father to lie upon, as he could not sit up. It took one entire wagon for his convenience, and then it was poor enough. This left one wagon to be drawn by one yoke of oxen to carry the outfit for the entire family - eight in number - while all the family had to walk every step of the way, rain or shine, But notwithstanding all these difficulties we fixed it up the best we could and on the 3rd, day of April, 1846, we started, crossed the Mississippi River and camped on the Iowa side the first night, in a drenching rain.
April 4th, we started on the wearisome journey, but with our heavy loads and the incessant rain that continued to fall, our progress was very slow,the best we could do was to travel from five to eight miles per day. As my father occupied one of the wagons, the rest of the family had no shelter only what they could get by crawling under the wagons, and much of the time we were obligated to cut brush to lay on the ground to keep our beds out of the water. Women and children walked through the mud and water and wet grass and waded many of the streams so that their clothes were never dry on them for weeks and months until we reached the place called Mount Pisgah, in the western part of Iowa;, here the advance companies of the Pioneers had planted corn and vegetables for the benefit of those who should come afterwards. We concluded to stop at this place for a time as our limited supplies were about exhausted and my father was so much worse that it was impossible to move him any further, so we constructed a temporary shelter of bark which we peeled off from elm trees that grew in the vicinity; this was about the 15th of June, 1846.
Word had gone out that President Young would fit out a company to go to the Rocky Mountains that season to locate a settlement and put in grain for the next season for the benefit of themselves and those that would come the following season.
Seeing that I could do nothing where I was, I concluded to take my own team and what I had, and go to Council Bluffs, 130 miles distance, where the Church Authorities were stopping. So I made my Father’s family as comfortable as I could with my limited facilities, and taking my wife and my own team and little outfit, bade the rest of the family goodbye and started traveling in Henry W. Miller’s Company.
We were overtaken one evening about dark by Captain Allen, who was accompanied by a guard of five dragoons, of the regular United States Army, all of whom camped with us for the night. The object of their visit soon became apparent. They were sent to see if the “Mormon” people could and would respond to a call for five hundred men to help fight the battles of the United States against Mexico. This was indeed unexpected news, while the people of the State of Illinois had driven us out, and while we were scattered on the prairie of western Iowa with nothing, in many instances, but the canopy of heaven for a covering, to be called on under these circumstances for 500 of the strength of the camps of Israel, seemed cruel and unjust, but such was the case, notwithstanding.
We arrived at Council Bluff about the tenth day of July and found that four companies had been enlisted and organized. I was advised by George A. Smith and other to enlist, and after considering the matter, I concluded to do so, and was enlisted in Company “E’” Captain Daniel C. Davis. My wife, Emeline, also enlisted, as the Government had provided for four women to each company of 200 men to go as laundresses.
I left my team and wagon and little outfit with my brother-in-law, D.A.Miller, to be brought on next year, as the Government had provided two six mule-teams to each company. I was solicited to drive one team, and for the comfort and convenience of my wife I consented to do so, and many times I was thankful that I had done so, as these teams had to haul the camp equipment which consisted of tents, tent-poles, camp kettles, etc. which filled the wagons up to the bows, and the women would have to crawl in as best they could manage and lie in that position until we stopped for camp, and as I had the management of the loading, I could make the situation and comfort of my wife much better. For this and other reasons that will not mention, I was glad that I was a teamster.
About the 2oth day of July, we took on the line of march for Fort Leavenworth. About this time I heard of my Father’s death, which took place on the 22nd day of June, 1846, at the place I had left him and inasmuch as he could not recover, I was thankful to God that He had relieved him of his sufferings, although it was a dark hour for my poor mother to be in - left in such a desolate and sickly place without her natural protector; and with four small children and nothing to live on.
In due time we arrived in Fort Leavenworth, where we received our outfit of clothing, provisions, arms and ammunition. We remained here about two weeks, after which we started on our march to Santa Fe, a distance of one thousand miles; a very tedious march, to be performed on foot, much of the distance with very little water or grass, with dry buffalo chips for fuel. We passed over one desert eighty miles across; the only means of carrying water was in canteens holding two quarts each, one of which was carried by each man. A great many men gave out and had to be helped by the others. The stronger men carrying water back to their comrades.
Finally we reached Santa Fe, but during this time General Kearney was fighting the Mexicans in Upper California and was about to be overpowered by them, so he sent an express to Santa Fe to have the men of the Battalion inspected by the doctor, and all the able—bodied men fitted out and put on a forced march to go to his relief, and all the sick and disabled and all the women to be sent back.
Then came one of the greatest tests of my life; it happened in this wise:
I had been a teamster all the way and had proved that I could take good care of a team and was a careful driver, and as Captain Davis had his family with him, and also his own private team, he wanted me to drive it for him, but the intention was to send my wife back with the detachment of sick men; this I could not consent to and retain my manhood. I remonstrated with Captain Davis, but to no purpose. I could not make any impression on him. I told him I would gladly go and drive the team if he would let my wife go along, but he said there was no room in the wagon. Then I told him that I would not go and leave my wife— I would die first. This was a bold assertion for a Private to make to his Captain, but the emergency seem to demand it. There were many others in the command who were in the same situation that I was, who had their wives with them and wanted to go back with them but had not the courage to make a fuss about it.
By this time I had done all that I could with the officers of the Battalion but they either could not or would not do anything for me, so I resolved to go and see General Doniphan, the Commander of the Post. I asked John Steel to go with me being in the same situations as myself. We went to the Colonel’s Quarters, found the Orderly at the door, asked permission to see the colonel; and with our hats under our arms we entered the Colonel’s Quartets and called his attention to our business, he informed us in a very stern manner that it was reported to him that the men who had women there wanted to go on and let their women go back, and in accordance therewith, provisions had been drawn for the Battalion and for the Detachment, and there could be no change made. I told him that we had not been consulted in the matter; he told us to leave the Quarters, gruffly remarking that he had left his wife. I thought I would venture one more remark, which was, “Colonel! I suppose you left your wife with her friends; while we are required to leave ours in an enemy’s country in care of a lot of sick, demoralized men.” This seemed to touch a sympathetic cord; he called very sharply, “Orderly! Orderly! Go up to the command and bring Adjutant George P. Dikes.” I whispered to Steel, “The spell is broken; let’s go.”
In a short time Adjutant Dikes returned to the Command and climbed upon the top of the hind wheel of the wagon, shouting at the top of his voice: “Oh! Oh All you men who have wives here can go back with them I have seen men going about crying enough to melt the heart of a crocodile, so I went to the Colonel and had it arranged.” I said, “You hypocritical liar; you will take the credit that belongs to others.” This remark he did not hear, but, however, the object was’ accomplished, and in a short time the Battalion was on the move west, and the Detachment on the move east by north—east.
The Detachment was composed of all the men who had become disabled though the long march which they had performed on foot. Their outfit of teams was composed of given—out broken—down oxen that had been used in freighting supplies of, the Government across the plains and were not fit for any kind of efficient service, so they compared very well with the majority of the men. Our rations or provisions were very good in quality, but very short as to the quantity, the Post at Santa Fe being very short of provisions at this time. Also after we had gotten the move, we found we had only three—fourths rations of flour, and everything else in proportion, such as beans, sugar coffee pork and rice, with the difficulties mentioned above, together with the fact that we were only allotted the time to reach Fort Bent that a lot of able—bodied men would be allowed to make the same journey in. Our slow traveling soon put us on half—rations as eight miles per day was the best we could do. We had a lot of beef cattle, but they compared favorably with the rest of the outfit, so poor that many of them gave out by the way. Great economy had to be used by killing the poorest first; the reader can imagine that the quantity of the beef was limited.
As usual, on the march I had charge of a team, but instead of a six—mull team it was a team of four yoke of poor oxen quite a contrast ; our progress being so slow that we were put on quarter—rations in order to make them hold out until we should reach Fort Bent. It seemed as if we had gone about as far as we could go when one morning, after the guard had driven the oxen into camp, it was found that there were thirty head of stray oxen in the herd, all of them in good condition. Captain Brown gave orders to distribute them in the teams of the Detachment, and with such an addition of strength to our teams, we got along fine. About noon, however, there came to our camp two men on horseback inquiring for the stray oxen. Captain Brown told them that if they had any cattle in his company, they could take them out. They replied that each teamster only knew his own team. After examining our teams they claimed and took but four of the thirty stray oxen. This still left us with thirteen yoke of fresh cattle, which we considered a divine interposition of the kind hand of God in our behalf, as it seemed about the only chance for deliverance from starvation.
In due time we reached Fort Bent and exchanged our dilapidated outfit for a new one, with a full supply of rations for the winter, which seemed to put an end to all our troubles. We moved up the Arkansas River seventy-five miles to a place then called Pueblo, where we put up houses for the winter. These houses were constructed of cottonwood logs split in halves and the pieces all joined together in the form of stockade. Here we passed the winter in drilling and hunting and having a good time generally.
It was then about seven months since we had received any pay, so Captain Brown concluded to go to Santa Fe with the pay roll of the Detachment and draw our wages. He took a guard of ten men, of which I was one, with him. We started about the last day of February, and had a high range of mountains to cross, called the Ratton Range. We encountered a great deal of snow, at times we had to tramp the snow for miles so our pack animals could walk over it, but in due time we arrived at Santa Fe. The money was drawn, and we started on our return trip, got back to our quarters at Pueblo about, the first of April, and found spring weather. We began at once to prepare for our march.
About the 15th of April, 1847, we started due north for Fort Laramine, three hundred miles distant, on the California road, at which place we expected to find or hear of the Pioneer Company that was expected to fit out and go to find a location for the Saints but on our way we were met by Amasa Lyman and others who had come from the Pioneers’ Camp. This was a happy meeting, and to get news of our loved ones greatly relieved our anxieties, as we then learned that the Camp was ahead of us, led by President Brigham. Young, and he led by revelation. So we pushed on with fresh courage and finally struck their trail about two weeks ahead of us. We followed their trail, but did not overtake them as we expected to. The pioneers reached Salt Lake Valley July 24th and the Detachment on the 28th of July, 1847, and on the same day we were discharged from the service of the United States, and I became a free man once more.
(The next part of this history has been condensed)
I went in partners with Jim Bevin and put up a whip-pit, and began to turn out lumber, and as there was none except what we sawed by hand, I found ready sale for as many as we could put out. In this way we were able to recruit our circumstances and we got along all right during the winter but then we planted what seed-grain we had which cut our food supply. Then began our want of food. Through the winter we had dug what we called “Thistle Roots” but by this time they had began to leaf out, which spoiled the roots. The leaves we gathered and cooked in salt water and this and some buttermilk which I had to carry one and one-half miles was all we had to eat for two months. During this time the crickets made their appearance and attacked our grain crops and we were grateful for the seagulls which saved our crops.
On the 9th of September I started back to bring my mother and her family to the West. It was a journey of one hundred and thirty miles and I found them all well. We arrived back in the Salt Lake Valley the 27th of July. I found my wife well and our first child in her arms. This child was born while I was away.
I located my family in Farmington and bought land as opportunity would afford. I was made a Bishop ordained by President Brigham Young and set apart to preside
over the Farmington Ward and I was a Bishop here for twenty-seven years.
In 1876, I was re-elected to the Utah Legislature. I was called on a mission
to the Lamanites located at Washakie, in the northern part of Box Elder. I was set apart on March 4, 1894 to preside as the President of the Davis Stake of Zion, with Joseph Hyrum Grant as my first Counselor.
(John W. Hess was married to seven wives and had a total of 63 children.)
About September 15, 1900, during my late illness, on Sunday morning about nine o’clock, while lying upon my bed, and my brethren of the Priesthood were out among the people performing their various duties, I was thinking over my helpless condition not being able to be with them in the performance of my duties; I began to pour out my whole soul in prayer. My prayer finally resolved itself into a lamentation, asking the Lord what I had done or what I had not done that I should be so seriously afflicted, that I should be deprived of the privilege of going forth with the rest of my brethren and performing my duties.
I was told that it was not for any great sin of commission or omission that I was thus afflicted, but it was because of my long and faithful labor and the many hardships that I had passed through during my long life that had weakened my faculties and brought me to my present condition. I was told that the Lord accepted of my labors and that my career on earth, in the near future, would be brought to a close.
About this time I saw, sitting on a box at the foot of my bed, a personage that looked familiar to me, in the full bloom and vigor of life; I gazed upon it with great earnestness and finally came to the conclusion that it was my own visage in every form and feature except the age.
About this time I heard a voice saying, and pointing directly at this visage, “This is the body of your spirit, you see that it is in the exact image and form of your temporal body.” He repeated again with great earnestness, “This is the body of your spirit,” and then remarked, “Now, let this suffice for the present.”
Now, I do declare in all soberness, and in the fear of God while writing that the above statement is true, and shall be a testimony to all who read it.
John W. Hess
Farmington, Davis County, Utah
January 13, 1902
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