--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Susa Young Gates collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 8 number: 8 published: 1905-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Susa Young Gates, "President Brigham Young—Anecdotes," *Improvement Era* 8, no. 8 (June 1905): 561–565.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0808unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera0808unse start_page: 561 end_page: 565 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1905-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0808unse publication_year: 1905 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1905, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # President Brigham Young—Anecdotes Vol. VIII. JUNE, 1905. No. 8. PRESIDENT BRIGHAM YOUNG. ANECDOTES OF THE GREAT PIONEER AND LEADER. BY SUSA YOUNG GATES. The true character of any man is revealed as quickly through an anecdote as through pages of description. If Boswell had not written the thousand-and-one incidents and repartee of the famous old, lumbering Dr. Johnson, we should still be measurably ignorant of that grand old, pock-marked, witty, stupendous genius. Dr. Johnson called, (so Boswell tells us, in one of these de" lightful anecdotes)according to appointment, at the house of a nobleman to dine with his lordship. The powdered and bewigged footman who answered the bell looked at the great,awkward figure before him, with its seedy coat, unclean linen, and the coarse, bloated face above it all, then said contemptuously, "The place of admittance for your kind is at the back door.'' "Ah, but," answered the visitor, "I came as the guest of his lordship." Another scornful look, and the flunky replied, "My master expects Dr. Johnson." "Yes," answered the imperturbable old genius,"rm Johnson.'* — "What" cried the servant. "You? The famous Dr. Johnson? Why you don't look as if you could say Boo, to a goose." "Boo!" sung out Johnson, in his deep, bass voice. "Come right in, Doctor," answered the non-plussed servitor, "his lordship is in the drawing-room." While the deepest currents of human life may not thus be discovered, certainly these bubbles on the stream show with sufficient accuracy the sweep and swirl of the currents and whirlpools below. Perhaps no trait of Brigham Young's character was more marked than his love and tender care for the helpless. Poverty — and health did not appeal to him very much. But childhood, helpless old age, sickness or weakness, all these brought out the best that was in him. "Provide work," was his cry. "The giving of alms raises a generation of paupers." This was his thought. "Let the aged, even, do something for what they receive, that they may not lose their independence." On one cold, rainy day, a child came to his office with a message for the President's private secretary. The child's feet were soaking wet. The President saw her, and noticed at once her condition. With a gentle word, to reassure the little one, he set her on a chair, near the blazing grate, and drew off, with tender care, the wet shoes and stockings. The stockings were shaken and hung carefully to dry, and the shoes placed at the exact nearness to the fire to dry without burning or undue stiffening. Then the little feet were rubbed warm and dry with his own pocket-handkerchief* while he talked cheerfully and simply to the amazed child. After a while, he rubbed and softened the shoes, drew on both stockings and shoes, and sent the happy child home with a peppermint drop to add to her afternoon's enjoyment. He had a most peculiar way of amusing babies; he would take them on one knee, and then commence a sort of "Too-roo-loo-rooL lool-or-loo," which was a sure antidote for weeping babies. The unusual noise, not loud, nor harsh, but withal musical, yet very peculiar, would dry up any incipient torrent on a baby's cheek, and PRESIDENT BRIGHAM YOUNG. 563 leave the infant in a vague wonder as to where itself and the world "were at." Only once did I see my father whip a child: and that was at prayer time. A lovely, rosy, blue-eyed, romping baby of two years, father's youngest child born in the Lion House, was as full of frolic and noise, naturally, at prayer- time as at any other time of the day. Father had requested the child's mother to keep the baby quiet during the prayer itself. This rule was fairly well observed. But the tiny tyrant knew her own power, and her mother's weakness. So, occasionally, she would wiggle out of the restraining arms, as the mother kneeled at her chair, and go laughing and dancing across the long prayer-room. One awful night, baby May again broke from her mother's care, in the midst of the solemn, heartfelt prayer, and ran mockingly straight for her father's bowed form. Suddenly the prayer was stilled, no one moved, nor scarcely breathed; but those who were hardy enough to look around, saw father quietly arise, pick up the child, spank it heartily, place it quietly on the mother's chair, then, going back to his own place, he resumed his prayer, just where he had left off. That child never again disturbed a prayer. Seeing one of his daughters trying to make an obstinate child mind, he said, "Never ask a child to do a thing you are sure it won't do." At one time, a feast was provided for President Young and those with him who were attending a conference in a distant stake. The sharp eyes of the President noted the ones who were seated at his own table, and at the other tables, as well as those who had no place at all. The conference and the feast were both held in an old-fashioned bowery. At the close of the afternoon service, he asked the people if they would come to a meeting on the morrow, and if they would provide another feast, if he would stay over. A glad consent was given. The next day, at noon, the feast was again spread. After everything was ready, the president drew near his former table, to which he was led by the mistress of the feast. "I wish you to entertain my friends today," he said. So saying, he stepped away to the outer edges of the bowery, where were gathered the poor, the aged, the halt and blind. Inviting all of these, he led the way to his own table where he seated these astonished guests with gracious courtesy. No reference was made to what he had done, but he entertained them all with delightful grace, and left his lesson to sink deep into the hearts of those who had prepared the feast. He knew everybody; it was a mystery to me for years how he could retain a mass of seemingly unrelated facts, as pertained to individuals everywhere. But his secret was simple; the moment he saw a new face, he either called the stranger to him, or enquired about him. The name of the stranger was the least part of the desired information; where did he come from, where was he born, who were his parents and grandparents? Any relation in the valley? What was the stranger's occupation, habits and ambitions? All this formed many connecting links with which to fasten on memory's chain the individual and his history. Surely everyone remembers his first encounter with that wittiest of Utah's sons, Scipio A. Kenner. After the usual fire of questions, he put the last, a stumper,to the poor young fellow who remembered his early baptism, but subsequent wanderings from the church. "Are you a 'Mormon?'" asked the President of the nervous, nonplused youth before him, who had come a-courting one the President's pretty daughters. "Are you a 'Mormon?'" "Slightly," answered the curly- headed boy. And the big grain of truth in the small answer tickled the President mightily. It amused him for years. He always called the lad "Scipio Sinner" after that. Brigham Young was a small eater, and would fain have lived much simpler than his loving family and friends would permit him to do. He often said he was raised on johnny cake, baked potatoes and buttermilk. And no feast could so please him as these three simple articles. PRESIDENT BRIGHAM YOUNG. 565 But like many other Yankees, he had an appetite for cream. "I am very fond of skimmed milk," he would say, "but please give me the skimmings." Often when an elaborate menu was spread for him, he would say quietly, "Sister, can you give me a bowl of bread and milk — with a little skimmings?" In 1868, he began his reform movement to induce the people to observe the Word of Wisdom more closely. At this time, too, he taught the people to cease eating pork. He announced this as a revelation, and he strictly lived up to it himself. In traveling around, he would sometimes espy a plate of doughnuts on the table, a dainty of which he was very fond. Then would surely follow the question, "Sister, what were your doughnuts fried in?" If the answer was, "lard," he said nothing more. But if the lady replied, "Well, sir, I fried them in suet or drippings," he would say jubilantly, "Pass the doughnuts." I woman who had the last or have yet to hear from man or best word with Brigham Young. Some tried it, and even now recall, with more or less gusto, their own brightness or impertinence, as the case may be. But if such would tell the whole story, the truth of what has just been stated would be apparent. A three days' conference was held, at one time, in a northern stake. A certain good brother, who formed one of the President's party from Salt Lake City, was a long-winded and very prosy speaker. But like some others, he was very fond of preaching. And during the long meetings he had not once been asked to speak. The afternoon of the last session had arrived, and this brother was smarting with indignation at his supposed neglect. After the opening hymn, President Young turned to this brother, and said, "Brother So-and-so, will you open the meeting with prayer?" The President composed himself, and the brother began; but the brother did not stop. Quarter of an hour, half an hour, and still another quarter of an hour, dragged along, and the brother