A Monument Dedicated to the Honored Dead

A MONUMENT DEDICATED TO THE HONORED DEAD By Frank Beckwith After seventy-three years, — years in which the only requiem sung over the spot where Captain John W. Gunnison and seven of his com- rades were massacred by Indians was the howl of the lonely coyote — there has been erected a permanent monument to them, very suitable to the need. The stone selected was a shaft of native rock, taken from the lava-flow nearby. Here for generations the Indian and his an- cient forebears have buried their dead in the clefts. On this native rock was fastened a bronze tablet, in the form of a huge arrow-head. in which appear the names of the dead and the date when killed. The shaft also bears the wording that the monument was erected by the American Legion, the Daughters! of the Pioneers, and the Boy Scouts of America. To Commander Arthur L. Strange (left foreground in the pic- Photo by Frank Beckwith ture), of the Arthur L. Cahoon Post of the American Legion, much of the credit for this monument is due. His efforts brought to com- pletion a thought long harbored — that the dead of the ill-fated Gunnison party ought to be fittingly honored in due military manner. Standing at the extreme right in the picture foreground is Mrs. Mahonri M. Steele, of Delta, captain of the Delta Band of the Daugh- ters of the Pioneers. Next to her stands Clayton Boyack; on the flap of his shirt pocket is pinned a merit badge of the Boy Scouts of America which had just been presented to him by Scout Executive A. A. Ander- son of Provo a few minutes before the picture was taken. Between Scout Boyack and the monument is seen the stump of a post. For many years a rude cedar post marked this tragic spot; then that post was chopped down, leaving only a butt protruding, and thus in neglect lay the worthy dead, that stump only serving as marker to their grave.

912 IMPROVEMENT ERA In 1888 Church Historian Andrew Jcnson visited the spot, established its location from the then living members of the party who buried the remains within ten days of the tragedy. At the time of his visit a hymn was sung, and prayer offered. Again in 1922, Mr. Jenson, a second time, visited the spot, with a company of sixty-three persons. At this time, more elaborate ceremonies were held. At a lecture on the history of the tragedy, delivered by the author before the members of the Amer- ican Legion, the Com- m a n d e r, Arthur L. Strange, with a few choice words, raised the enthusiasm of the mem- bers to a decision to erect a suitable monu- ment and to hold serv- ices with full military honors. The monu- ment was unveiled Memorial day, May 30, 1927. Historian Andrew Jenson came down from Salt Lake City to re- view the history of the site. Josiah F. Gibbs, former editor of the Millard County Blade, gave an address from the story of the Indians as told to him, the causes leading to the event, and the details. The address was taken from his published essay. In vividness, accuracy, and force, it is the best re- cital of the Gunnison Massacre which has yet been written. The author spoke of the personnel of the party, of the character, habits, and Photo by Frank Beckwith Monument erected to the memory of Captain John W. Gunnison

A MONUMENT TO THE HONORED DEAD 913 accomplishments of the men who met their death, and told the au- dience of the curious incident of the name of R. H. Kern on "El Morro" rock in New Mexico, and how he had walked from that spot, "the autograph album of the ages," to his death near Deseret. Thos. W. Cropper, an Indian War veteran, age 85, also gave a short address. The monument was unveiled by Edwin Stott, age 91, the sole survivor of the burial party, in charge of Bishop Anson Call, of Fillmore, who buried the remains shortly after the tragedy. The colors were unfurled, and a full military salute given in honor of the worthy dead, after which taps were sounded by Bugler George Wilkin, who had played the same mournful notes over graves of his comrades buried in France. Benediction was invoked by Lee R. Cropper, Indian War veteran, age 82. Delta, Utah THE FIRST STEP By a Utah Lad Serving a Sentence in the Folsom State Prison, California I shall introduce myself by stating that I am for a cause serving a sentence in jhis institution. Some months ago I gained a very sincere friend in Cedar City, who subscribed to the Era for me, and my impressions upon receiving my first copy, I ,am sending you en- closed in this letter. Let me say frankly that the Era has accomplished more for me towards setting me back on the road to regeneration than anything else could. I thought that by setting down my feelings as I read the first copy received here, it would, perhaps, help someone else back, too, if published. — W. E. S.: Alone, I sat in the silence of my iron-barred cell. It was Christ- mas Eve, and out through the window I could see the rain streaming down the window pane. Everything — gray walls, gray bars, gray sky — seemed cheerless. My thoughts, forever running on things of the "outside," were constantly reminding me that the morrow was the Day of Days — Christmas. I looked out through the bars later and saw only the dark heavens — the horizon was obliterated in the steady downpour of the rain. Then I heard the heavy footsteps of the mail-guard coming up the corridor. His frequent stops, from cell to cell, betoken some fortunate inmate who had received a letter from home. For nearly two years now, the mail-guard had passed my cell without eve- stopping. Still lost in reflection, with my head bowed, I listened to the steps grow nearer. Suddenly they stopped — and as one in ' a trance

914 IMPROVEMENT ERA I heard my number spoken. Almost in a daze I glanced up, and there, thrust between the bars, was what appeared to be a thick envelope. Hardly crediting my senses, I reached for the envelope. Quickly tearing the brown paper wrapper, I found a copy of the Era. It was the November issue, and as far as I know, the first copy to find itself within the walls of this prison. Much bewildered, I ran my thumb over the pages; then picking up the crumpled wrapper I read the name and address. Yes — it was addressed to me — but who — who had remembered an outcast like me? Just as I had started to read, a card dropped out from between the pages. The card bore a name in print, with "Cedar City, Utah," written in an old-fashioned hand below. I tried to think — I had never been in Cedar City; knew no one there — . I gave it up, but with a mental note to write and thank my donor on the morrow. Then I started to read in earnest, skipping from page to page in my eagerness, for it had been many years since I had read a copy of the Era in "Mutual" at home. Visions and reminiscences came to my mind with each page — visions of my home years ago, of my mother, my father, and of the sorrows my errors had caused them. Each name in the book seemed to recall some happy memory of boy- hood days. As I read on, each line, each poem and story impressed me with the realization of how far I had been cast adrift from my earlier teachings. Familiar names of men and women, now laboring in the mission field, greeted me. I contrasted their lot with mine. Tears of unashamed gladness ran unheeded down my face — I had indeed "come home" — in thought, even though I was still behind the bars. Nine o'clock, and with it "lights out," came all too soon. I had just finished reading "The Living Prophet," by Elder Widtsoe, and the wonderful testimonies it contained. As I prepared for bed it occurred to me that I ought to pray — ought to show my thanks that God in his wisdom had sent me a messenger in this little book to inspire a new start. How long had it been since I had prayed? So long, I'm ashamed to say, that I had nearly forgotten. Nevertheless, I knelt on the cold cement floor and whispered a humbly phrased thanks to God — > imploring his forgiveness for my transgressions, and beseeching his aid towards climbing the hard road back to righteousness. My amen said, I got into bed feeling easier in spirit than I had for many years. As I drifted off to sleep a small voice seemed to say: "Thou hast taken the first step — continue."