Benjamin S. Johnson and Susan E. Martineau

Biography of Susan Ellen Johnson

2009-01-25T13:34:00.001-08:00

Taken from the Johnson Bulletin

Susan Ellen Johnson, fifth child and second daughter of Joel Hills Johnson and Annie Pixley Johnson, was born 11 July 1836, in Kirtland, Ohio. When two years old her parents were driven from Kirtland, they started for Missouri, but were held up at Springfield, Illinois, by illness. They later moved to Carthage where Seth, her youngest brother, was born. From here they moved to Deharts Mill on Crooked Creek, where they built a house of logs, consisting of two rooms connected by a shed room open in front and closed at the back. This was where her mother died, 11 September 1840, at the age of 40. She was a kind and patient mother and a faithful Latter-Day Saint. She was buried at Ramus, Illinois.

Susan Briant came to live with them as housekeeper and her father soon married her, as his little children needed a mother's care. Soon after they moved to Ramus, where her father built a house for them to live in. Her Aunt Almera came to live with them and taught school, during that time she was sealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith as a plural wife. After a time they went back to the mill, and one day she and her brother Seth were playing near the woodpile, their parents having gone to Nauvoo. They saw some men marching toward their house. They ran in, fastened the door, and dove under the bed. The men came to the door and knocked on it with a club and said, "Come out of there, or it will be the worse for you." They went out and stood in the door hand in hand and very much frightened. They were asked where their parents were, and when told, the men said, "Tell your father when he comes home, he must leave here immediately or he will lose his life and all his property". Her father tried to sell out, but could not, and on account of illness remained until April when in the night an armed mob on horseback called him out to find out why he had not gone as ordered. He told them of their illness and was told that if they were not gone by the middle of May, they would burn the roof over their heads. Later they traded the property to a man for some property in Knox County, and in company with her Uncle Joseph E. Johnson, they made the trip of several hundred miles to a cold bleak prairie country, where they remained some time.

In February 1848, her Uncle George Johnson went to Nauvoo and Susan went with him, to live with her grandmother, who was quite old and feeble. They came near freezing several times. The last night out they went into a log hut and she was so cold that she shivered over the fire all night. In the morning they went on to the home of Almon W. Babbit where her grandmother lived with her daughter, Julia Babbit.

On May 8,1848, her father, with his family, came to Nauvoo on his way across the plains. Susan went with them one day’s ride and then returned to Nauvoo, heartsick and lonely at being left behind. On July 4 the Nauvoo Temple was hired by some gentiles for a grand ball and supper. She being twelve years old, wished to go, as she had never been to a ball and thought it was a grand thing. When she approached her grandmother on the subject, she wept and said, "The Temple has been desecrated and will be destroyed." Which proved true. In November they were awakened by a bright light. She ran to the window and saw the steeple in flames. The fire must have started in the room below the steeple, for there was no light in the lower story until the steeple fell in.

In June she left Nauvoo in company with her grandmother, Julia Hill Johnson, David Wilson, William O. Johnson and family, David LeBaron and family, Aunt Hannah and Uncle George Hales and Aunt Delcina and family. They arrived at Council Bluff on July 11, 1849, her thirteenth birthday. They then moved to Plum Hollow, where during the winter she attended school.

In June 1850, Susan started her trip across the plains with her mother's sister, Sarah Johnson and her family. They left Kanesville June 25, and camped by the Missouri River. There were 28 wagons with Stephen Markham as Captain. In the morning a woman died of cholera, and was buried in the banks of the river. She was a stranger, just having arrived from England on her way to Utah. From that time until the fifteenth of July, someone was buried almost every day. Here Aunt Sarah's husband, his mother and his sister Mary, died July 11, her birthday. They were buried when they stopped at noon the day of July 12,1850.

Susan also had the cholera, but was healed by administration of the Elders. When she felt the disease coming on, she went into her tent by herself and prayed to the Lord that she might be spared to wait upon the others. She had a testimony that she would be spared. Fourteen persons died in the company. After July passed there was no more cholera in the company. They laid over one day at Ash Holler for repairs. The next day they passed Fort Kearney and the following day a soldier who had deserted came to their camp and asked if he might go with them. The Wriston boys took him in and put him in bed with a night cap on and when the soldiers came after him and searched the wagons they found only a sick woman. They said if they only knew his character they would have nothing to do with him, which proved true for he stole the clothing of those who befriended him. Susan saw him once in Salt Lake City in 1851, he was working on the street with a ball and chain fastened to his leg.

One noon while camped at the foot of some steep hills which were covered with ripe chokecherries, she with some of the others went to gather some, intending to overtake the wagons, but on reaching the road they were entirely out of sight. They followed all afternoon and at dark came to a fork in the road and feeling along the tracks with their hands, found they had taken the wrong road. They soon found a young man waiting for them on horseback. He knew they were gone and feared they might get lost. His name was Andy Kelly (the deserter). It was ten o'clock when they reached camp and that was the last time she ever wandered from camp. They traveled up the Platt River and came upon a band of Cheyenne Indians who were hunting buffalo for their winter meat.

Her Uncle George G. Johnson having died, Susan traveled with Captain Forsaythe, working for them to pay her way. They were very kind to her. She walked many weary miles every day. At night when the ground was smooth enough, they would join in the dance to rest their weary feet or have songs, recitations, or plays, until called to prayers by Captain Markham. Then all went to rest but the guards who went on duty for the night. They passed hundreds of graves, many every day. They also saw great herds of buffalo, thousands of them in a herd. They passed independence rock, it was probably 200 yards long and ten or fifteen feet high, rising out of the level plain. On the smooth face of the rock were carved or written hundreds of names of those who passed.

One night they camped by a band of Cheyennes, the following day being rainy, they remained in camp. The Indians, old and young, came into camp trading moccasins and robes. Among the rest was a fine looking Indian who wanted to buy a squaw, offering six ponies. Andy Kelly asked him who he wanted and Susan was pointed out as his choice on account of her dark eyes and rosy cheeks. Kelly finally made a trade for five ponies, a buffalo robe and the silver ornaments in his hair. In the evening he came with the ponies and Kelly told him it was a joke, that the girl belonged to another family. This made the Indian mad, he said a trade was a trade. Captain Markham came to explain that Kelly was no good and had no right to do as he had done. The Indians finally went away very indignant. That night there was a high wind which blew down her Aunt Sarah's tent. The tent was placed facing the wagon, with the back toward a deep ravine full of willows. Her Aunt Sarah was holding the front pole and Susan the back one, while two men were driving the stakes at the sides. The night was pitch black, lightened at intervals by flashes of lightning. Suddenly she felt strong arms lift her to the back of a pony. She gave a terrified scream. At that instant a flash of uncommonly long duration revealed the horse, which the Indian mounted and rode away. He had been hiding in the ravine awaiting his chance for revenge and but for the flash of light, would have carried her off. Extra guards were placed for the night, but when morning came everything that was loose such as frying pans, skillets and cooking utensils, which had been put under the wagons, had disappeared, leaving the company short of those things. The band of Indians disappeared also and were seen no more by the company.

Sometimes the river was quite deep so the teams swam across while the wagons were ferried over. At other times the teams were driven across and the women and children were carried over by the men, which made it very hard for the men. Susan preferred to wade rather than be carried. Being a pretty good weight she might have been dropped in the water, and the bottom of the river was quite muddy in places. On October 3, 1850, they arrived in Salt Lake City, tired, weary and footsore, she having walked a great portion of the way barefooted, but she never faltered. Many others were in the same condition. They went to her Uncle B. F. Johnson's home and had dinner. Her Aunt Sarah having married a young man, William Mills on the way, went with Susan to her father's home on Big Cottonwood. She found that her sister, Sariah, had married John Eagar. Her father, Joel H. Johnson, was called to go with George A. Smith and company of about fifty others to settle Iron County. In March 1851, her father took his wife Janet and family to Iron County, leaving his wife Susan to come later. Susan attended school in Salt Lake City, taught by Mrs. Ann Goodrich Blair. Her father sent word to sell their home and get ready to move, which they did. After a trip of two weeks they reached Parowan, Iron County, September 1, 1851.

Four months after her arrival in Parowan, and after a whirlwind courtship, at age 15 1/2, Susan married James Henry Martineau, who was eight years her senior and the village school teacher. This happened on the 8th of January, 1852. Her wedding dress was made from material which she herself had woven, as were her other dresses. They started life together with little of this world's goods. Cupboard, table, chairs, and bedstead were homemade. The bed had strands of rope woven cries-cross on the bottom to hold the straw tick on which they slept, and she did her cooking on the fireplace.

Marriage is a challenge to any 151/2 year-old girl, but to Susan life had been one challenge after another and she was older and wiser than her years, and able to do her part, be it milking a Cow or doing any of the many tasks involved in pioneer life. Her husband, eight years her senior, born and raised in upper New York State, was well educated and had worked at various professions, but had little rural experience. Besides teaching, he was an excellent accountant or clerk and a trained surveyor.

In the next seven years she had four children. Henry Agustus, Moroni Helaman, Susan Elvira and John William. Two years before this last son was born, her greatest trial came to her, and that was when her husband married her cousin Susan Julia Sherman on the 18th of January, 1857, as a plural wife. Though she had been reared in a polygamous family, yet sharing her husband and home with another wife was not easy, though she did it with a good grace. When their husband said "Susan" each of the wives could tell which one of them he was speaking to. In 1860 he was called to Cash Valley, because his service as a surveyor was needed. They made the trip by covered wagon, of course through Indian infested country, but arrived safely. They settled in Logan, where seven more children were born to Susan. Nephi, George Albert, Joel Hills, Gertrude, Theodore, Anna Sariah and James. Here death made its first visit to her home, as John W., her four-year-old son, died 4 May 1863. Grandfather acquired a large comfortable brick home, which was needed for so large a family. Death's second visit to the home took Susan Julia, the plural wife, leaving six children for grandmother to raise. Her youngest son, James E., died 17 October 1880, and two years later they adopted a baby girl, Dora, that had been abandoned on a neighbors doorstep. There seemed to be room in grandmothers heart and home for as many as needed her.

There were merry times also in their homes, as the family liked to gather around the organ and sing songs, and have parties. And of course there were weddings, Henry A., Moroni H., Susan Elvira, and Nephi all married while they lived in Logan, also the two older sons of Susan Julia. In 1884 grandfather's skill as a surveyor was needed in the settlements of Arizona, so grandmother left her comfortable home in Logan and moved with the younger members of her family to a new frontier. They spent four years in Pima and Graham Counties, then moved on into Old Mexico, joining the colonists at Colonia Juarez, where they lived for 20 years. George A. and Joel H. married Arizona girls, and Gertrude, Theodore, and Anna married in Juarez. Dora died in 1900 at age 18, at Juarez, Mexico.

Grandmother endeared herself to all that knew her. Her mild disposition, usually calm and serene, always bearing her trials with dignity. Grandfather said, "I married her a month after I met her, I believe that we were mated in the preexistance, and chose each other there. We lived together 67 years and not once did she complain. Her purity of heart was great and so was her faith and gift of healing. She had many visions and dreams and they all came to pass. She was a true loving wife and mother, she has gone to rest with a crown of glory. God bless and preserve her memory."

Susan was a large woman, tall and large of frame, and weighing over 200 pounds. She suffered for a great many years with rheumatism, which coupled with her weight made it necessary for her to walk with the aid of a cane, and got around with great difficulty. I lived with them during 1913, and was with her at the time of her death. She told me many interesting things. She told of her patriarchal blessing, where in she was promised that polygamy would never bother her again. Her husband married other wives after this. That she should see her Savior while she yet lived, and that she would live until her 83rd birthday and as much longer as she desired. But she said life was a burden and she did not desire to live longer. This only a few weeks before her death. One little story to show she was human. She told me that she had never cared for mutton. "Why not?" I asked, "Did you ever taste it?" "Oh no, but I just knew I wouldn't like it." she answered. A short while later my husband brought home a leg of lamb. Cautioning him to say nothing, I roasted it, then sliced the meat to another plate for the table. Grandmother ate heartily of it saying, "This is the most delicious veal that I have ever tasted." The next day she caught me cutting the rest of the roast from the leg, and said very disappointedly, "Oh, it is lamb and you told me it was veal." "No, grandmother it was you that called it veal," I answered. But she ate no more of it.

Her last illness lasted two weeks, and I was glad that I was there to help care for her. Other members of her family were also there. Just a few days before she died, I was keeping watch beside her bed; as she lay very quietly, then suddenly she raised up on her elbow, and gazing with bright eyes toward the corner of the room, she exclaimed in fervent and reverent voice, "My Savior." I saw nothing, but could not doubt that I had witnessed the fulfillment of her promise. She passed quietly away the 5th of December, 1918, less than a month later than President Joseph F. Smith did. Neither of them had a public funeral, because of the flu epidemic; she was buried in City Cemetery.

[The earlier part of her story was written by Susan herself, and her married life by her granddaughter, Elzada Martineau Hurst.]

[I, Joseph Elbert Johnson, stayed in their home in Salt Lake City for a night or two when I was getting ready to leave on my mission, the 1st of October, 1916. Grandpa Martineau gave me a blessing and Uncle Henry Martineau copied it.]

Written by James H. Martineau

Susan's grandmother [Julia Hills Johnson] parted from her husband [Ezekiel Johnson] and lived with her son Joel. Joseph Smith sealed her to his uncle, John Smith (Patriarch). Joseph often visited Julia in Macedonia. Revelation 131 in the Doctrine and Covenants was given in Joel's home. When commanded to take other wives, he told Julia that if she would accept the new law and give him her daughter Almera to wife, not one of her posterity should be lost.

When Susan was a child, she was bitten on the foot by a rattlesnake and fainted on arriving home. She was cured by the prayers of her father. Joel was present with three others when the Word of Wisdom was given. Oliver wrote and read it to them. Joel threw his pipe into the fire and kept the Word of Wisdom thereafter.

He cut the shingles for the Kirtland Temple. Susan and her brother saw the McDonough troops when they went to Carthage, 200 in number, and they followed them with clubs. While the family was hiding in the woods, the mob came to the house to lynch them. They asked a young man where they were. He would not tell them so they stripped him to the waist and whipped him until he fainted and his boots were full of blood. He wasn't a Mormon, just a friend. The children had a wing in the second story of the unfinished Kirtland Temple.

1851 Johnson Springs, Utah.

She was 15 and two months, but appeared 18. Matured and a beautiful girl, highly esteemed. I heard of her and determined to marry her if possible, but did not know her by sight. I met her father one day and asked if I might keep company with her. He said yes. "Will you please give me an introduction to her." He said, "Don't you know her?" I said, "No, sir." He took me to the house and he asked for Susan. She was down in the cellar. She came up barefoot and we were introduced. We were both scared. We were married in six weeks in their home in Johnson Springs by John L. Smith, January 8, 1852, at 9:00 a.m. We slept on a straw mattress in a wagon bed until I took her home to Parowan. We lived in a log house with dirt roof and floor. Our bed of straw, with a thin feather mattress, one old chair, some tin plates, two knives and forks, and two tin cups at first, but we soon got a skillet and an oven.

In all the 67 years of union she never complained of hard times. She never gave me bad or evil council against any law or principle of the gospel. Even plural marriage, a woman's most trying subject. Her faith was great and she had the gifts of healing and vision. She did much temple work for the dead and received her second anointing also for others. She was blessed to have visions and dreams.

One vision, more than 40 years ago, was part of one that Joseph smith had, so fearful that he asked the Lord to shut it up. She saw the Capitol building in Washington, D.C. silent, no living thing in sight. Tables, desks, and chairs as after flight. No railroads in operation, the rails rusty from disuse. She saw crowds of people on foot, trying to get to Utah, carrying small bundles on their backs. She saw lettered in the sky—Fire—Sword—Pestilence—Famine. These things will be in the U.S. and Zion will be the only place of safety. She frequently had significant dreams and the interpretations such a comfort and help to me. Just a week before Thanksgiving day November 21, we had a chicken dinner and she said, "We have our Thanksgiving with this fine chicken." It was the last meal she enjoyed, her appetite failed.

Now no more pain, distress, trouble or sorrow for her, all passed forever. I would not call her back. I will soon go to her.

First Sunday School Organized in Logan Utah

2009-01-25T09:20:00.000-08:00

First Sunday School Organized in Logan Utah

told by Susan E. Johnson

Our first Sunday School was organized by Elder William H. Sherman from Salt Lake City, Utah. Word was given out that a meeting would be held at ten O' Clock and for everyone to be there. I went and was handed a song book, all who had books were ask to come to the stage to sing their first song which was "Little Drops of Water". He sang the first line then asked everybody to join in and sing. I do not remember who offered the opening prayer, the second song was "Let us all both old and young every day grow better."

I was 14 years of age then and was chosen as a Sunday School Teacher, which I taught for two years, by this time the School was in good running order. Their first class book was "Your Light has Gone out on the Water", by Nellie Lincoln. Their next was "Pilgrims Progress" which they finished during the year. Soon after this time the Juvenile was published then we got along better.

Patriarchal Blessings Given to Susan Elvira Martineau Johnson

2009-01-25T09:17:00.000-08:00

Patriarchal Blessings Given to Susan Elvira Martineau Johnson by her Grandfathers;
Benjamin F. Johnson and James Henry Martineau

Patriarchal Blessing
Given by
Benjamin Franklin Johnson

Upon the head of Susan Elvira (Martineau) Johnson Daughter of James Henry Martineau and Susan Ellen Johnson, Born 14 Aug. 1856, Parowan, Iron County, Utah. Given in Tempe, Arizona Territory, 30 Jan. 1890.

Elvira, My daughter, in the name of Jesus, and by virtue of the Patriarchal Priesthood, I place my hand upon thy head blessing, praying that the Lord may give me through the inspiration of his spirit words of counsel, admonition and blessing, to be keys of knowledge and principles of faith to govern thee all thy life. Thou art one of those born in Zion in the new covenant, entitled to all the blessings, Dominion, Increase and Exaltation pertaining to the daughters of Abraham. Because of thy love for truth and the integrity of thy heart thou art one of the most loved of thy father. He sent thee to earth with a crown of joy upon thy head that thou mightest become a medium of Salvation and Restoration upon the earth. To this end I give His Angles charge concerning thee to hedge thee around about from evil, and to open the pathway of thy feet, to protect thy life to the fulfillment of the mission for which thou hast come to earth, for which purpose he hath given thee a companion and shall multiply unto thee children until they shall be around thee as thick clusters of grapes upon a fruitful vine, whom thou shalt lead in the ways of the Lord to honor Him, and they shall know and bless thee all thy days, and carry thy name in honor throughout all generation of time. Thou cost delight in the way of the Lord, and because of thy love for the truth, the Lord shall make thee great. For thou shalt stand as a counselor among the honored of thy sex. And by thy example thou shalt teach them to honor the law of Sarah. Thy husband shall love and honor thee, and thy house shall be a house of peace, and joy, and all who dwell there in shall rise up and bless thee, The blessings of the earth shall be multiplied unto thee, even in the fruits and the flocks and herds, orchards and gardens, and thou shalt dwell in costl[y] habitations, and when the meek shall flee to Zion, through the abundance that will be around you, thou shalt feed, cloth, comfort the poor and needy, and shall give habitations to the homeless, and the blessings of the poor shalt ever rest up on thee and with thy husband thou shalt do a full part in all the works of Righteousness pertaining to the building up of Zion, gathering her children, rearing her Holy Temples and labor there in both for the living and dead, for thou shalt see the Holy Temple reared in Zion. Shall strike hands with the son of man when he shall descend to the earth, and shall minister there in when His glory shall fill its courts. Thy days shall be many up on the earth, and thy power for usefulness shall be great for the spirit of blessing and consolation shall rest up on thee, and faith shall spring up in the heart to rebuke affliction, to command the destroyer that no power shall invade thy habitation to destroy thy peace or to take away thy loved ones. The Angels shall camp around thee, if thou wilt be admonished to call upon the name of the Lord thy God and forget not to call upon his name for thou art among the most favored of the Daughters of Abraham and entitled to every privilege that belongs to the Wives, the Mothers and the Matrons of Zion, to stand in thy place as a counselor to admonish to teach and to cultivate the younger of thy sex. And all who shall hear thy voice shall cleave unto thee and love thee, and all thy kindred shall rejoice in thee because of thy wisdom and spirit of consolation and blessing which shall drop as pearls from thy lips. Associated with thy husband thou shalt stand in place and officiate for thy sex; in the great day of Israel’s crowning under the hands of the children of Ephraim. And thy inheritance shall be forever in Zion, which, with thy companion thou shalt receive when the ancient of days does sit. All these blessings I seal up on thy head together with all thy former blessings, and I seal thee upon to eternal lives to come forth in the morning of the first resurrection to inherit thrones and dominions in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ Amen.

Copied Jan. 1st 1942 by James H Johnson Prescott Az. Again 11/13/78 by S. Glenn Johnson.

Patriarchal Blessing
Given By
James Henry Martineau

l9 June 1902, Colonia Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico. D.F. Upon the head of Susan Elvira Johnson, born August 14, 1856, Parowan, Iron County, Utah.

Susan Elvira In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by the authority of the Holy Priesthood I seal upon you a Patriarchal Blessing. You are one of those noble spirits, held in reserve from before the foundation of the earth. Because you were true and faithful to our Father in Heaven, when Lucifer drew away many after him. You have been true and faithful these many years, sometimes in sorrow and poverty privation and danger, In helping to establish Zion. The Lord has accepted labors in the past and will reward you in time to come beyond the power of any mortal mind to conceive, therefore let your mind be filled with joy, and peace. The blessings of the Lord will continue upon you in a much greater degree than in times that are past. You may ask the Father for any blessing you may desire if it is for your good and you will recieve it. You will never be tempted more than you [can] bare, and no power shall turn you aside from the truth. I re-confirm up on you the blessings that have hither to been sealed up on you, and increase of faith, an increase of Wisdom and Intelligence, with power to heal the sick and afflicted, to comfort the sad and broken hearted, and to be a blessing to all with whom you are associated. You shall do a great work in the Temple of the Lord, and redeem from prison a multitude of the dead, that they attain to the blessings pertaining to the Holy Priesthood. In this work you shall have great joy, and shall get a great testimony that your work for the dead is accepted by them and by your Father in Heaven. You shall have power to know and to understand the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, that you may ask the Father for instruction if it is needful and recieve it. And so you shall walk in the light and not the darkness. And now I say unto you now as you are about to return to your home you shall be blessed and prospered on your journey. And the blessings of God be with you and your children. You and your husband shall be prospered from this time hencefourth with all that is needful for your comfort and happiness your table will be filled with an abundance, health and peace shall reign in your habitation and you shall have plenty to help the poor and needy, accept every law of the Gospel and strive to live a Holy life and no power shall prevent you from receiving these blessings sealed upon you. I seal you up unto eternal lives to reign as a Priestess and a Queen in exalted Glory in the name of Jesus Christ. AMEN

Copied Dec. 21 1941 by James H. Johnson.

Patriarchal Blessing
Given By
James Henry Martineau
November 1, 1920

Susan Elvira (Martineau) Johnson Daughter of James Henry Martineau and Susan Ellen Johnson. Born 14 August 1856, Parowan, Iron County, Utah.

Blessed Daughter by the authority of the Patriarchal Priesthood and in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ I seal upon you a blessing which will be fulfilled through faith and obedience to all the laws of Heaven made unto you and endurance to the end. In as much as you are afflicted with grievous sores upon your leg, threatening amputation I say to you, Our Heavenly Father who created your body and leg is fully able to resecitate and heal any part thereof, and if you exercise faith your leg shall be properly healed, and I believe you have that faith. and say you shall be healed by the blessing of our Father in heaven, so be of good cheer, and trust in the goodness and mercy of God. I therefore rebuke the soreness and seal upon you renewed health and strength and vigor, that you may live years to come and see your posterity greatly increased, you have done much good, and shall live to do much more. I seal upon you the power to heal the sick of your family by and in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, if you so desire and have faith yourself, and not only your own family, but others also, asking God to lead by His Holy Spirit. You shall have visions and dreams to instruct you, and be a mother in Israel in very deed. Have faith in these promises and they shall be fulfilled. I seal this upon you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, AMEN.

Benjamin Samuel Johnson-short history

2009-01-25T09:13:00.001-08:00

Benjamin Samuel Johnson

A short history as told by his son James (Uncle Jim).

On Thursday, May 4, 1939 at 2:40 a.m., at Mesa Hospital, Benjamin Samuel Johnson passed away. He was born April 20, 1853 in Santaquin, Utah. He married Susan Elvira Martineau on November 2, 1874 in the Salt Lake Endowment House. She was born August 14, 1856 at Parowan, Iron County, Utah.

They were called on a mission by President Brigham Young on January 20,1876, and left Logan Utah on February 6, 1876, in the company of nine other families under James Turman as captain. They were told to stay until released.

They stopped in Moencopi during the summer and returned to Johnson, Utah (near Kanab), for some of their furniture, etc. During their stay in Johnson, Bertha Elvira, their first child, was born on March 2, 1877. The child died March 4, 1877 and was buried in Johnson on March 5, 1877.

They remained in Johnson that year working on a dairy belonging to Sixtus E. Johnson. From there they went down the Pah Reah River and raised a good crop in the company of Nathan Robinson and his wife, Annice. They went back to Johnson again in the fall. In February,1878, they moved to Skutempah, where their second child was born on March 17, 1878.

They then returned again to Johnson and worked again in the dairy to obtain means and groceries to return to Arizona. Upon arriving in Moencopi, they gathered up the things they left there and went to Lone Pine, Arizona, where they resided on a small farm.

Their third child was a daughter, Susan Willmirth, born September 22, 1880. In the fall of 1882, the Apache Indians broke out on the War Path and threatened their lives. Some of the men from Taylor came to their rescue and moved them to Taylor where their fourth child, a son, James Henry, was born on September 4, 1882. They built several homes from which they were driven by the Apache Indians.

They moved to Eager, Arizona, where four families built homes there. Their fifth child, a daughter, Sarah Elizabeth, was born June 3, 1884.They moved to St. Johns, Arizona, and worked at different places. While there, their fifth child, Sarah Elizabeth, died July 19, 1885 and was buried in St. Johns Cemetery on July 20,1885.

From St. Johns they moved to Howe's Ranch, where Benjamin Samuel had a contract to fence some land for the Howe Cattle Company. In September of 1886, they left the Howe Ranch in the company of William C. Park, Ike Cobb and Benjamin Farland Johnson, and moved to Tempe, Maricopa, Arizona.

In Tempe, their sixth child, a son, Benjamin Franklin, was born on November 7, 1886. He worked then for Mr. Charles Trumbull Hayden, who owned a mercantile business and a flour mill, and also a truck garden, known as Hayden’s Garden.

From Tempe they moved to Nephi, Arizona (between Tempe and Mesa). In Nephi he took up a homestead of 160 acres, which he sold to his relatives, except 40 acres, which he farmed for 11 years.

Four children were born while in Nephi. On May 10, 1889, a seventh child, a daughter, Annie Gertrude; on March 5, 1892, their eighth child, a daughter, Emma Vilate; on September 24, 1894, their ninth child, a daughter, Margueritta (Rita); and on July 24, 1896, their tenth child, a son, Seth Guernsey.

While residing in Nephi, he was engaged in farming, dairying and selling his milk and cream to the Tempe dairy owned by F. A. Hough.

He helped build canals and ditches to bring the water from the SaltRiver to irrigate their land. In August 1899, they started on a visit to Old Mexico to visit his brother and sisters and her parents, also some of her brothers and sisters. They lived in Colonia Juarez, Mexico. They got as far as St. David, Cochise County, Arizona, where they were stopped by Mexican authorities. There had been a fight between the American rangers and Mexican cowboys. They resided there until about 1901. While in St. David, their eleventh child, a son, Don Charles, was born. In 1904 they moved to Nephi where he was engaged in dairying. In 1907, he moved his family to Buckeye, Arizona, where he resided until _____. While here, he did farming and dairying and owned an interest in a Thresher and Baler. In about 1914 they purchased a piece of land in Pomerene, Arizona, in Cochise County, where they resided. Later they moved to Mesa again where he worked in farming and dairying on his brother's, Ben Farland, farm.

In 1927, when the Arizona Temple was dedicated, he was at the dedication and went through with the first company for endowments for the dead. He labored continually for 12 years.

When coming down the stairs after going through the morning session on April 27, 1939, he fell at the first landing, breaking his hip bone, just below the hip socket. He was taken to the hospital. He had a brace and cast put on his leg from his toes to his hip. This was Tuesday. On Wednesday, the bishop came by the home and arranged for someone to stay through the night. Ben LaBaron went over and later someone called at James Johnson's and he went over to the hospital. At 2:40 a.m., Thursday, he passed on his reward.

Thus he was released from his mission which had lasted 63 years.

[This narrative was written by James H. Johnson, assisted by his mother, Susan Elvira, May 27, 1939, in Prescott, Arizona.]

Benjamin Samuel Johnson

Thursday, May 4, 1939, a memorial was held in the Temple for Uncle Sam, as he was affectionately called by those who knew him. On May 5, 1939, at 2:00 p.m. funeral services were held at Mesa Second Ward with Bishop Egbert D. Brown presiding.

OPENING SONG: "Oh My Father" By Singing Mothers
INVOCATION: President Frank V. Anderson of Arizona Temple
SONG: "Abide With Me" By Singing Mothers
1ST SPEAKER: President James W. Lesueur of Arizona Temple
2ND SPEAKER: John F. Nash, Patriarch
3RD SPEAKER: President Charles R. Jones
VOCAL SOLO: "Who Are These Arrayed in White" By Sister Flora M.
Hicks
BENEDICTION: Elder Andres Mortensen

The casket then was taken to the depot and put on the train Saturday, 3:15 p.m and Uncle Jim (his son, James) accompanied the body to Prescott, arriving at 8:00 p.m.

HUNTER MORTUARY
Prescott
Sunday, May 7,
1939
2:00 p.m.

PRESIDING: President Merle M. Allen
SONG: "Oh My Father" By Choir
INVOCATION: Elder James H. Hill
SONG: "I Need Thee Every Hour" By Choir

1ST SPEAKER: Verd A. Hanks
2ND SPEAKER: President Merle M. Allen
3RD SPEAKER: Isaac H. Rogers
BENEDICTION: James M. Shumway

Grampa Johnson, as he was affectionately known here in Prescott, was survived by his wife, Susan Elvira; four sons, Samuel Joseph, who was on a mission in Rio Del, California, with his wife, Cora May, James Henry, Benjamin Franklin, who resides in Prescott, Don Charles, who resided in Long Beach, California; and two daughters, Gertrude Roberts, resides in Phoenix, and Marguerite (Rite) Cooper, who lived at the time in Tipton, Oregon. Also 38 great grand children and three daughters-in-law, namely, Cora Johnson, Cecilia Johnson and Rose Johnson. Also three sons-in-law, namely, Tilman Roberts, Robert Cooper and Charles Martin Lewis.

Susan Martineau Johnson-Trek South into Arizona

2009-01-25T09:08:00.000-08:00

TREK SOUTH INTO ARIZONA

Described by Susan Martineau Johnson

(Editor's note: This account was written April 14, 1937. Real trail-blazers are Mr. and Mrs. Ben S. Johnson of Prescott, who arrived in Arizona 61 years ago Monday. This interesting story by Mrs. Johnson relates, in her own words, some of the dangers they faced, the hardships they experienced and the joys they found as they settled on an untamed frontier and helped build the great commonwealth that is the Arizona of today.)

With nine other families we answered the call of Brigham Young, President of the Mormon Church, for persons to move from Utah into Arizona and establish homes. Members of the ten families in our group all were young, but there was only one baby in camp. With a small pair of horses pulling a good wagon loaded to the bows with belongings and supplies, we left Logan City, Utah on March 7, 1876.

It was a jolly crowd and we enjoyed our trip. For some, it was their first trip away from home, and because baking bread in a campfire coals was a new experience, there was some burned bread and fingers the first few days of the trip.

When we stopped in Salt Lake City and visited three days with relatives and friends, some attempted to discourage us from going into a country where there was "nothing but Indians, snakes and wild beasts," but we were undaunted by the threat of such dangers, and decided to continue on and see for ourselves what lay ahead.

Southern Utah residents were kind to us, and when we arrived in their towns and villages, they provided hay and grain for our teams, saving us that additional expense.

By the time we reached Panguich we were traveling in snow and it was difficult to keep the wagons on the frozen road. Snow had drifted in washes and gullies until its depth, in some places, was 10 to 15 feet. Upon reaching the Asa Ranch, we found many families waiting until their men could get the wagons across a three-mile stretch of frozen road.

It took several men to handle each wagon and keep it from slipping off the road, and the three miles was almost a one-day journey. It came our turn to go in our wagon, and after we made the trip safely we found ourselves in the pines where the snow was not so deep. There we found a Mr. Games, an old hunter and trapper. He had cut pine boughs and made a thick shelter on three sides, then spread pine needles on the snow. Spring seats had been taken out of the wagons and arranged around a warm fire so that new arrivals and those already in camp could be seated and keep comfortable. Beans, bacon, potatoes and flour was collected from the different wagons, and we in camp spent the day cooking so there was hot food awaiting new arrivals.

After we left that camp our travels were much the same everyday, with much hard going until we reach Kanab, where we rested, unloaded the wagons and had a general cleanup. From there it was 12 miles to Johnson, where some of our relatives resided. We spent a week with them, and while there I became quite ill and could not accompany our group so the other families decided to go ahead and let us join the next company of settlers to arrive. Our company went to Ballard's Camp on the Little Colorado River, and I never saw them again.

We had been at Johnson about two weeks when Octavious Fullmer, his wife, Rachel, and Thomas Lowe arrived. We joined them, traveled from Utah into Arizona and over the Buckskin mountains. We arrived April 12 at Lee's Ferry and all crossed safely. Rachel Fullmer was the daughter of James S Brown, president of the Arizona mission, who came out to meet us at Moab and accompanied us to Moencopi. There we found a rock house with three rooms-one large and the others smaller, being used as store rooms for provisions, guns and saddles. In the big room was a long table constructed of wagon box boards. There were ten men at the place-Mormon missionaries working among the Indians. Among them were Thales Haskell, Ira Hatch, Luther Burnham, John Rawson and John Thompson. Two of us would cook for the crowd one week, and two more would replace them the next week. We set up our stoves, three in number, and fared well.

Andrew Gibbons arrived in June. The men working in the fields plowing and planting, and we raised a fine crop of all kinds of vegetables.

We were resting in the shade one Sunday in July when we saw a big cloud of dust about one mile away on the mesa. We knew it must be a sign that Indians were approaching, but Indians in our vicinity theretofore had given no trouble and enjoyed visiting with us. This group of Indians, however, stopped behind some big bushes, then came on a run to our front yard. Thales Haskell went to meet them and asked the Chief to step down.

The chief, a Navajo, was accompanied by his 15 year old son and about twenty Piutes, naked to the waist, their long hair flying in the wind. Their bows and arrows were drawn as though to frighten us more. They spread blankets on the ground, sat down and began to talk, with Ira Hatch serving as interpreter.

The Chief said his son had been down near Ballard's camp and had killed two of the Mormon's cattle. He wanted Mr. Brown to say what should be done with the boy. Brown told them that he would go with them to the camp and matters could be settled peaceable. The Chief interrupted to say, "No, You kill him or do what you want to with him." Mrs Brown said, "No, I don't want to hurt your boy, you give the Mormons' a pony or something and it will be all right."

Then the Chief added, "Your men killed two of my cattle and this boy saw them." He had wanted this boy sentenced so he could apply the same punishment to one of our youths. But Mr Brown said, "We will go down to the camp and they will pay you."

The Chief sat down to dinner with us and later presented us with some fine blankets. He sent his men back to camp the next morning. Brown, Ira Hatch and Thales Haskell accompanied them and learned the men at Ballard's camp had killed two head of wild cattle because they were short on provisions. They gave two ponies to the Chief, who appeared quite satisfied and went back home happily.

We stayed there until nearly all the crops were harvested, then my husband and I went back to Johnson to get the things we had left. Our trunks and dishes and some other belongings. We had only a small team, so left it with my Uncle, Sixtus E. Johnson. While we were there, our first child, a daughter, was born but died two days later. We stayed a year and our son, Sam J. was born there. We went to Moencopi, obtained our possessions there, and moved to Lone Pine where nine families were residing.

We constructed a log house and fixed it comfortable with furniture made of dry goods boxes. Our bedstead was hewed from pine timber and laced across with strips of cowhide. Sam and a neighbor build a single mill and had it nearly completed when Indians drove us away and we moved nine miles to Taylor.

We owned a farm among the pines and went there in the summer to raise a crop. We did well the first year. But the second year the Indians again were raiding ranches so we moved back to Lone Pine June 3, 1886.

The next day my husband had to go to Taylor to get some irons for a shingle mill. He took our four year old son with him. They had to remain there all night, which left me with my two year old daughter, and an eight year old orphan Indian boy we had brought from Utah.

About 4 o'clock that afternoon our neighbor, Nathan Robinson, rode over to see us, and said he was going down Silver Creek a mile or so and look for a heifer. He declared he would return soon. He laughed and joked several minutes with me, then rode away on a big black and white pinto horse. That was the last time I ever saw him.

He had ridden down the creek about a mile, we later learned, and saw four Apache Indians skinning a beef. Riding over to them, he dismounted and began to look for brands on the beef. An Indian armed with a rifle stepped up behind him and shot him twice through the body. They stripped him of some of his clothing, carried the body to the creek, weighted it with rocks and sunk it in a 12 foot hole.

When Robinson did not return by dusk, his wife, Annice, became anxious and said she believed the Indians had killed him.

Our little community had only seven families, three residing on the north and the others on the south side of a small creek. On the south side were John Reidhead, Nathan Robinson and John Mann. To the north were Oscar Reidhead, Ben Sam Johnson, James Millett, and Aunt Abbie, a blind woman afflicted with cancer.

When a man rode in and said the Indians Shot at him and wounded his horse slightly it was suggested we band together for our own protection in case of an Indian raid. Brother Reidhead had a large log barn near his house, so those residing on that side of the creek took bedding and provisions and hurried to the barn.

A ten year old boy crossed the creek to warn us to get to the barn as soon as possible. Awakened from a sound sleep, I jumped up and was so freightened I could not even find my clothes or shoes. It was 2 o'clock in the morning. I sat down a few moments to steady my nerves, then dressed hurriedly, wrapped my baby in a blanket and looked for the Indian boy residing with us. He already had started for the barn.

Stopping at Aunt Abbie's home, I called and told her I would take my baby to the barn and ask some men to come and help her. "No, if they come and kill me I will be out of my misery." she said. "Go on-don't wait."

I again begged her to come over to the barn, but she declined. I told her a man would keep watch on her house from the barn. At 2:30 am the men decided they should send to Taylor for help. Which might be needed if the Indians attacked at daylight. John Reidhead, age 14, made the trip on horseback and informed residents at Taylor of our plight.

Twenty men soon were en route to lend their help. They arrived before sunup, and we sure were glad to see them. We knew the Indians had been lurking about all night, for one would howl like a coyote and another would answer. Then one would hoot like an owl, and another would answer. We knew the difference between the sounds of animals, birds and men.

After daylight we left the barn and prepared breakfast for the men. Then they divided into two groups and started a search for Nathan. They soon found where he had been slain, and some of his clothing still was hanging on bushes in that vicinity.

His body was found in the water about 1 PM recovered and wrapped in blankets and carried home on horseback by sorrowing friends. Word of the killing was sent to Fort Apache, and we were advised to move to Taylor. That afternoon we loaded what belongings we could into our wagons and started for Taylor. Aunt Abbie was seriously ill, but declared if I would drive a team she would try to accompany us.

We placed some bed springs in an old white topped buggy and made her as comfortable as possible. I drove very slowly and was the last wagon in the train, as I had to stop frequently to bath her face and revive her. The other wagons finally got about a mile ahead and behind a hill. At Silver Creek I stopped to get her some water. As I stood on the rocks in the creek, I heard sounds and saw some soldiers from Fort Apache. As they arrived the captain rode up beside me and said, "Lady, have you seen any Indian tracks around here?"

"No sir," I replied, "I am not hunting tracks. I have a sick woman and am trying to revive her."

He rode over to the wagon, took her some brandy, which seemed to help her, then he asked, "What are you doing here alone, and where are you going?" I was ready to tell him when about that time several of our boys returned from the wagon train looking for us. We arrived at Taylor without mishap. Everyone was good to us, and provided room for us in their homes, Aunt Abbie and I resided together so I could care for her.

After we abandoned our previous homes the Indians visited them and killed hogs and cows, tore up bedding and burned many things they did not want. We did not gather a crop that year as the Indians turned their horses into the fields and and wild stock finished what was left. Our men stood guard against an Indian attack for nearly two months. By that time the Indians had returned to their reservation.

We finally went to Lone Pine to get things we had left there, but found little of value. Later we moved our log home to Taylor.

We had very little in the way of furniture for our home at Taylor, but neighbors helped by giving us what they could spare. Later we found one of our cows which provided about two pints of milk each day. We made barley coffee and sweetened it with a little syrup. My husband obtained employment making molasses and cutting wheat at the Cooley ranch. With a scythe he cut many acres and was glad to get the work because we needed clothes and provisions.

I had my stove erected outside under a brush shed because it was too hot to cook in the house during August. While preparing dinner one day there was a sudden shower accompanied by lightning. Suddenly a bolt struck a pine post and made kindling wood of it. The shock struck me and I clung to the table to keep from falling. It seemed as though my head was in a sheet of flames with gun caps popping around it. I fell on my hands and knees, unable to stand, then managed to crawl into the house and fall on the bed. There my plight was discovered and I was cared for. I had a pain in my head for weeks.

Our son, James, was born September 4, Sam was still working at the Cooley ranch and could not leave to return home. So I was left with an 11 year old girl to care for me and three children. I certainly was blessed, and soon was able to care for my family.

We next moved to Round Valley (Springerville), and then settled on 80 acres at the present site of Egar Several other families soon settled in that vicinity and the town was named for one of my cousins.

We moved in 1886 to the Salt River Valley and had a good home there with a fine orchard, some bees, cows, and we even sent milk to the Tempe dairy.

Then we decided to go to Juarez, Mexico, to visit my father, James F Martineau. He was a surveyor and went to Juarez to survey the colonists' township. Colonel Kosterlisky, a friend of my father, wrote and asked us to come for a visit, suggesting we bring anything we wanted and there would be no charge as he would "Frank us through".

We loaded one wagon with provisions, taking enough to last us a year. We had an uneventful trip from Phoenix to Tucson. Camping there one night, we were sitting around our camp fire when a man came running and said, "Take it off!" He turned his back and a big Gila monster was hanging to the seat of his trousers. One of the stable men took hold of the reptile and cut out the seat of the man's pants. The fellow said he had [been] drinking and was lying in a small arroyo when the reptile grabbed him. The last we saw of the reptile, it still gripped the seat of the man's trousers in its jaws.

We moved on to St. David and, as it had been raining, some of our dried fruit became damp so we unloaded the wagons to dry our things. The next day word came from Colonel Kosterlisky that all travel south of the border must be halted because of trouble in Mexico. We moved into a house at St. David while awaiting word to continue our trip.

September arrived and we decided to stay and send the children to school there. We had six of school age. We finally sold our home at Nephi, in the Salt River Valley, and bought one in St. David. We cleared 40 acres of land, dug three artesian wells and planted a fine apple orchard. We resided there several years, then decided to return to Mesa where we established a home and resided many years.

We experienced many hardships, but enjoyed good health and did not fret over our troubles. My husband now is 84 years old and I am nearly 81. We had 11 children, 46 grandchildren. We spent our lives and energy in helping build a great State.

Song
Called to Arizona
in 1876

Each one in the company composed a verse as they traveled along the long and dusty road to Arizona.

Mother's Verse

We started in the winter and it was very cold I am sure
we never would have gone, had we not been called,
but to fulfill this mission we thought it we the best,
so we started on the road to Arizona.

Chorus

Hurrah, Hurrah we’re off to find a land
Hurrah, Hurrah we’re drawing through the sand
Our teams are very poor and water not at hand
as we go down to Arizona

Father’s Verse

We feel to thank the Lord, for a man like brother Brown
and to all his party, whom honor doth belong.
They pioneered the roads and helped the Company on,
to settle up the land in Arizona

Andrew Woods

You that go to Arizona be sure and take enough
of flour, beans and bacon and other kinds of stuff,
for if you do not do it you’ll find it rather tough
before you raise a crop in Arizona.

Rachel Fulmer

Hurrah, Hurrah, we are off to find a land
Hurrah, Hurrah, we’ll face the drifting sands,
we’ll cross the barren desert according to command,
and settle up the land in Arizona.

Thad Fulmer

We traveled in the winter through mud, sleet and snow
and if you ever travel it you’ll find that it is so,
the road was long and winding, not like the flight of crows
like going around Jerusalem, to get to Jerico

Tom Lowes

We entered House Rock Valley late one afternoon.
The wild Mexican cattle stared at us like Goons.
We went on to the ranch house to see about some food
its a lot better here now, in House Rock Valley.

History of Benjamin Samuel Johnson and Susan Elvira Martineau

2009-01-25T09:04:00.000-08:00

Brief History
Benjamin Samuel Johnson and Susan Elvira Martineau

Prepared by a son Samuel Joseph Johnson

And the Lord said, "And these I will make my rulers." He could well have been referring to Benjamin S. Johnson and Susan Elvira Martineau Johnson, for true to their convictions and their calling they lived out their second estate, in righteousness and when the Lord called them home, I know, He must have said, "Well done thou good and faithful servant. Enter thou into thy Joy."

Benjamin Samuel Johnson was born on the 20th day of April, 1853, at Santiquin, Utah. Susan Elvira Martineau was born on the 14th day of August, 1856, at Parawan, Utah. Much could be said of the lineage of these stalwarts of Righteousness, but a record of their ancestors is contained in other biographies.

During the year of 1874, this couple was married in the Endowment House in Salt Lake City, Utah, by Daniel H. Wells. Shortly after this marriage, President Brigham Young issued a call for missionaries to go into the state of Arizona, and there, settle the country and preach the gospel. This call came to many of the saints, including this newly married couple, Sam and Elvira. This group of colonizers and missionaries left Logan, Utah, on the 7th day of March, 1876, and traveled southward for about three months, arriving at Tuba City or Moencoppy as it was then called. Here many of the group stayed while others traveled on. Ben and Elvira, as they were known, made their first home in Moencoppy. Here Ben was put in charge of all farming activities and Elvira was in charge of the kitchen. Here in Moencoppy they did much work among the Indians and became very efficient in the speaking of the Indian language. While in this little community, Ben S. Johnson planted many fruit trees, he had brought with him from Utah. I (S.J. Johnson) recall that just prior to Father's death, I took him back to Moencoppy and there we saw the trees loaded with fruit and from the Indians there we secured a basket full of apples from these same trees that Father planted.

While living and doing missionary work among the Hopies, Father had many exciting and dangerous experiences with the Indians. Once a band of Hopi Indians with painted faces came into our camp and brought a young Indian man and said they wished to see the leader of the settlement. Brother Brown (Bishop Brown) came forward and the Indians said, "This young man has stolen and killed some of your cattle. He is no good. Kill him, stone him or skin him just as you wish." Bishop Brown stated, "We wish to do nothing to the boy. If he has stolen our cattle, just return to us the number killed and that is all we ask." Then the chief spoke. "No, this boy did not kill your cattle, but your boys killed two of our cattle, so you give us two beef and we will go away peacefully." Father often remarked how disappointed the warriors were that Brother Brown had not imposed a stiffer sentence on the Indian boy who was supposed to have done the killing.

A few years later Father moved to Lone Pine. This trip took them along the Little Colorado River, through the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert. At Lone Pine, he set up a shingle mill and built a log house to live in. Here they farmed, raising potatoes and corn. As Indian trouble was always to guarded against, it was the duty of Luellen Harris to ride the ridges and guard against raids. He and this group of saints had a wonderful time, with corn roasts, baked potato roasts and barbeques. One day the joy and silence that had prevailed throughout the community was broken. About 4:00 a.m. the camp was aroused by the milling and sniffing of the animals. This was an obvious sign that the cattle were smelling buckskin. Father awoke the camp, the oxen were hitched and away they went for the nearest community. Before leaving all the calves, cows, horses and chickens were turned out as they did not know when they would again be able to return home. As they went down the canyon they looked back as the Indian warriors broke open the doors, rifled the houses, ruined the bedding, stole what they wanted, killed the animals and took only the hind quarters, leaving the rest to waste. We wasted no time as we knew that once they had completely devastated our homes they would head for the next ranch. Penrods was the next ranch, we had sent a runner to warn them of the impending danger. The Penrods also fled their home, but in their haste they forgot to turn out the calves. Mr. Penrod sent Eaf Penrod back to do this chore. After turning out the calves, Eaf passed the milk house and thought that this was surely an opportunity to drink all the cream that he wanted, so he went in and drank his fill. As he came out he could see the Indians swooping down the hills by the house so he began to run, bullets pierced his clothing several places, but he was uninjured. His father asked him while at a crucial time as this, that he would delay to drink cream. His only answer was that if he was to be killed, he wanted to die will a full belly.

At the Penrod Ranch the Indians did the same thing. Killed hogs, chickens, cattle and then went on their way. At the next ranch they found a lone man, killed him, looted his home, took his horse and saddle and went on. The next day they killed Nathan Robinson. When he was found he had three bullet holes in him. They stole all his belongings that they wanted. They stripped his body except his garments and threw him in the river. That evening they came to the settlement where the people had all gathered, here they surrounded the town, built fires and whooped and hollered all night. The next morning as people began to stir, it was a funny sight. Some were in their night gowns, petticoats, underwear. Some hadn't had time to gather up clothing before their hurried flight, while others had lost it on the way. The people all immediately went to Taylor for protection, and they never returned to their homes, because they had been so thoroughly destroyed. While in Lone Pine a child Wilmirth was born to Sam and Elvira, and while at Taylor another child, James was born. After leaving Taylor, they moved to Amity on the head of the Little Colorado. Here they became intimately acquainted with Jacob Hamblin, the Great Indian Missionary. I recall he used to tell of his missionary experiences. They next moved to Eagerville where father built a home, the fourth house to be built in the village. Their next home was St. Johns. Here father made a living by hauling. Coal was hauled from east of St. Johns and salt from New Mexico. They found the Mexicans to be as treacherous as the Indians, and every man had to carry a gun and at every camp one must stand guard. Not withstanding every precaution taken, many wagons were looted and burned. I remember during the cowboy Mexican trouble, Nat Greer caught a Mexican, cut his ears off and let him go.

Times were hard, and they felt very fortunate that they had barley bread, corn dodger, hominy, parched corn penoli, and molasses for sugar, while living in Meadows, a small community along the Colorado. As a boy I had to glean wheat from the fields after the reapers. Also, we gathered straw from which mother braided hats for the family and neighbors.

Once Father made a bargain with a butcher in St. Johns to take all the rabbits we could kill. He hadn't reckoned on the fact that father was an expert shot. The first day we were out we killed over 100. We delivered them to the butcher and that completed our rabbit business. We had killed more in one day than he had supposed we could do in a week.

Father was an excellent sawmill hand, and also a champion Cradler, having held that title many years in Arizona.

The next family move was into Greer Valley where Father fenced and farmed the land over an area two miles square. This later became the town of Young, and the town is still standing on the same area my father owned and farmed. At this time my grandfather's family, consisting of his five wives and their children, moved to Tempe, Arizona, so father moved there with them in 1886. The church authorities advised the saints to sell their land in Tempe and move to Mesa. Many did and others stopped three miles west of Mesa at a place called Nephi. Here again they were pioneers, as each place they went the land must be cleared and irrigated in preparation for planting. Father also built a home in each of the places we lived. As we had to haul water from the canal at Nephi, father cut a willow and water witched a well near the house and it was wonderful water, cool and clear and we never did draw the well dry. While at Nephi he again set out fruit trees and orchards.

In the year of 1899 he took his family and moved to San Pedro Valley where he again cleared the land, dug canals, planted trees, dug artesian wells and did truck gardening for a living. Again they moved into Pomerene three miles south of Benson. Here he engaged in dairy farming and for many years shipped milk into Phoenix. By this time the children were all married, and he moved with his wife back to Mesa, built a little home surrounded with citrus trees and here he hoped to spend the rest of his life, working in the temple with his life time wife and sweetheart Elvira. This he did faithfully for the last 13 years of his life.

One day after enjoying the work in the temple he was coming down the stairs when he fell and broke his hip. This was the end of his earthly mission and he died a few days later, thus ending the career of a noble Latter-Day Saint, and ending his missionary labors which had lasted for 63 years. Benjamin Samuel Johnson died in 1939 having lived 86 years, 5 months.

A great deal has not been said about the life of Susan Elvira Martineau Johnson, but let it be known that she was a constant companion, sharing joy and sorrow, and playing well the part of a mother to her children, and ever exemplifying the teachings of the Savior. "For inasmuch as you do it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

S. J. Johnson
Mesa, Arizona
May, 1947

Family group sheet

2008-09-02T20:57:00.000-07:00

Letter written by Benjamin S. Johnson to son

2008-06-05T07:43:00.000-07:00

Letter to Samuel Joseph Johnson

The son of Benjamin Samuel and Susan Elvira Johnson. Born 17 March 1878 in Skootenpah, Kane County, Utah.

On March 18,1922, his father wrote him as follows:

My dear son Jodie:

Yesterday was your birthday. Just 44 years ago you came to us as a sunshine, but in a cold country and on a cold night. The wind was howling and the snow was drifting all over the floor, through the old shingles, cracks in the house, and around the windows and door.

I had sheets up around Mother’s bed and one over the top of it, but the snow and wind would find its way through onto Mother and you. The old house we were in had not been used for several years. The floor was mostly gone and it was a horrible old house for such a fine fellow as you to be born in. Your mother was sick with a bad cold and cough. When you came your eyes were swollen nearly out of your head.

You could not lay down as hot water seemed to fill your eyes and you would keep crying. I would have to take you up. We had a big fire place in the house, but the chimney was not high enough and the wind blew the smoke into the house, so I could only keep a little fire. I would sit there all alone with you on my knee trotting you all the time.

As soon as I quit trotting you, you would wake up and begin crying.
There I sat, half frozen to death and so cold and sleepy that I wished that I could go to sleep and die. I got so nervous jiggling you and keeping myself on the go, for so long a time and so steady, that I nearly had a nervous breakdown. I felt like throwing you out the window into the snow.

There was at this time a lot of sickness. One woman, Dorkis Clark, was cramping in her stomach and we could hear her screaming. The midwife was the only one that could do anything for the sick and she had three or four old shacks to keep going to, and that left me all alone to keep the snow off of Mother and to wait on and you to jiggle on my knee (teeter). The most horrible night I ever spent in my life was the night that you came to me as a sunshine, on a dark and stormy night. One night was not all. For over a week I held you and cared for poor old Ma, who had several setbacks and was out of her head.
The rest of the letter was lost.

[The place where I was born was an old vacated sawmill where a few of the old houses were still standing. A group of pregnant women gathered there where one midwife could take care of the bunch, as there were no hospitals or doctors in those parts. Sister Rachel Lee, the fifth wife of John D Lee rode on the running gears of an old wagon behind a yoke of oxen from Lees Ferry to Skootempah where I was born through the rain and snow. God bless her. She held the company three weeks awaiting for me. S.J. Johnson] (Grandpa was near 25 and Grandma, 21/22. Their first child, Bertha Elvira, lived two days.) [There are two slightly different versions of this letter.]

This took place in a deserted saw mill camp near Kanab, Utah. Some transient pregnant women had stopped off there in the old shacks to get the benefit of a midwife, Sister Lee. She had come in January, and had to wait until the 17th of March for Elvira Johnson's baby, so the others got in on the deal.

Rachel Lee, the fifth wife of John D. Lee, was worried about Elvira Johnson and against the wishes of her husband, had made the trip to Scootenpaugh.

John was anxious to leave Lee's Ferry and go to Blanding to get his land ploughed in time for the spring crop. Rachel had her son Ralph hitch the oxen to the running gears of a wagon and they took the 60? mile trip over the Buckskin Mountains through the cold and snow of January.

Samuel J. was blessed 12 June 1877 by his Uncle Sixtus E. Johnson. Baptized 25 November 1886 by Uncle Benjamin Farland Johnson and confirmed by him 26 November, in Nephi, Arizona. Ordained a deacon (in Nephi) 17 November 18 _, by Samuel Openshaw. Married to Cora May Allred 30 September 1896 by Grandpa Benjamin F. Johnson. Ordained an Elder 7 March 1897 by James L. Lisonbee. Endowed in St. George Temple. Married by David H. Cannon 20 September 1898. Ordained a High Priest by Bishop John Merrill 31 May 1905, San Pedro Ward

He was Sunday School Superintendent ten years or more. First Counselor to Bishop, Branch Counselor, Branch President twice. Filled a two-year mission, a long time Stake mission. Temple grounds guide. Long time Temple worker. Road, Wood & General Hauling Contractor and freighting of all kinds with teams. He turned a team of 16 horses and three wagons around in a Tombstone, Arizona street.

He was huge: 61/2 feet, 52 inch chest. Father of ten boys and two girls. A good farmer, blacksmith, carpenter, rock mason and foreman to lots of jobs.

Died 22 July 1963 in Phoenix, Arizona.

Autobioghraphy of son Samuel Joseph Johnson

2008-06-05T07:29:00.000-07:00

Samuel Joseph Johnson
Autobiography
I was born at Skootempah, Kane County, Utah, under very humble circumstances. The snow drifted in and covered Mother's bed. Grandmother Lee, as I always called her (she was the wife of John D. Lee), had a dream. She saw mother in trouble, so she got up in the middle of the night, took an ox team and drove 60 miles through the rain and mud on the hind running gears of a wagon to get to Mother. After I came, they moved to Johnson for a while, then started to Arizona. On the way coming off the Buckskin Mountains, father and I were thrown out of the wagon as the team ran down the mountains. We were dragged along some distance, but not hurt bad, just badly scared and bruised.
While crossing the House Ranch Valley, two cowboys came to the wagons and asked mother to let them take me for a ride. They said they would ride on to the ranch that was not far away. They reached the ranch early in the afternoon. One of the boys went out and roped a wild cow and milked her and fed me. Then they spread a blanket on the floor and gave me their spurs and pistols to play with. I was having a good time when Mother arrived on the scene worried and scared.

Within the next day or two they reached Lee's Ferry. They took me over in a small boat first, then ferried the rest over. We traveled on to Tuba City then on through the Painted Desert to Holbrook, then through the Petrified Forest, to Snowflake, Taylor, and on to the Lone Pine vicinity where we lived until I was four years old.

The Indians broke out and killed Brother Robinson. While they were off sinking him in the river, Father and I passed by and saw their horses tied in the cedars and covered with sweat. I remember being run out of Forest Dale by the Indians. They ransacked the house and shot the pigs. I saw the body of Nathan Robinson with three bullet holes in it. We moved to Taylor. While playing in the street one day, I saw Brother Plumb coming as hard as he could ride. The Indians had been chasing him and had wounded his horse, which was all covered with blood, he had barely escaped. Father then moved to Amity on the Little Colorado River. There we lived neighbors to Jacob Hamlin, the great Indian Missionary. I have listened to his wonderful experiences among the Indians.

Father hauled logs to the saw mill and I went with him. One day as I was chucking a rock under the log, the cant hook slipped out and let the log back on my finger and mashed it as flat as a pancake, but that didn't stop me going with him. I would hide under his bedding and after hours of travel would crawl out and surprise him.

From Water Canyon we went to Eager and built a home there. I was six years old then and when my sister Bessie was born, Father sent me with a team after Sister Little. She was a midwife. I made the trip and got back in time all okay. Later we moved to St. Johns. While there, Father hauled freight from Holbrook a distance of 80 or 90 miles. I always went along. The freighters were often attacked by the Indians, men killed, horses and provisions taken, and wagons burned. One night, we camped on the bank of the Little Colorado River. We were warned by the stage driver to look out as the Indians had attacked some freighters just ahead and were coming our way. Nothing happened that night except the loss of sleep. At daylight, the wagons moved on. I went to the river to get me a drink and filled some empty cartridges with water and fit them together by twos. As I passed the coals where our fire had been, I threw the cartridges in and walked on; just then the Buckboard stage came up out of the river and as they got on top, the wild mules got scared of something, left the road, and ran over the camp fire. The shells began exploding and blew coals and ashes over the mules and away they went across the prairies of sage brush. The drivers were yelling "The Indians! ", and the men all stopped to see what had happened. They thought the Indians had shot up the place. I explained what I did, and what a laugh they had on the stage drivers. On his way back he stopped and asked how we came out with Indians that morning.

After living in St. Johns for some time, Father moved the family to the sawmill in the mountains southwest of St. Johns, where he worked for several months. While at the sawmill, I had several experiences. One day mother took James, Willmirth, and I and went down three miles to visit a family. On our way home through the timber we heard shooting. The bullets were humming through the trees knocking off limbs over our heads. Mother said, "Let's kneel and pray." Just as we dropped to our knees, a bullet hit the tree where we stood. Father took the family one day in a large cave in the mountain. We had to crawl on our hands and knees for a long ways, then it opened up into rooms. As we went along with our torches, I came to a small round hole in the side of the cave. I saw a fire with a lot of pots and kettles hanging over it and two old men with long shaggy hair, and long beards. They were smoking their pipes and talking. I saw their guns leaning against the wall and a large dog lay nearby. Meat was hanging on the wall and they were sitting on bear hides. Meat was roasting on the coals. The folks had gone on and I was alone in this room of the cave. I hurried on and soon saw their lights in the distance. After stumbling down a number of times in the darkness, I caught up with them, all excited over what I had seen. After hours of wandering around the cave and finding many arrowheads, beads and pottery ware, we wound our way out. Another time, I visited the cave and heard shooting going on in it.

The mill hands put up a swing on a big pine limb 40 feet high. I use to swing there by the hour. One Sunday morning I went out to swing and father came by and said I shouldn't swing on Sunday as I might get hurt. Soon a boy came along and wanted to swing. I told him that Pa said that we would get hurt and I was afraid, but he insisted on standing up to swing so we did. We soon were going so high that we could see over the limb each time we went up. All at once the board slipped out and down the boy went. I held on to the swing till it jerked me loose, and out I went like a whipped cracker through the air and I lit about 40 feet away in the treetops. I broke my left wrist and skinned my face. Daddy whittled out some splints and I went to Sunday school that morning. I never swung again on sundays.

Father hauled lumber from the mill to St. Johns that winter and I went with him a lot. We lived with Orville Bates on a ranch near the sawmill. During the winter a big skunk moved in with us. He lived under the floor during the days and up with us at night. He would skim the milk at night and boy did he get fat! One night daddy caught and killed him. He dressed him in fine shape and mother put him in a big dripper and baked about two quarts of oil out of him. Skunk oil is good for the croup. Mother sent me out to dump out the skunk. It was so crisp and it smelled so good that L. L. Bates, his sister, my sister and myself decided to taste it. We thought that if the oil was good, the skunk was too. So we salted him and ate him up.

In the spring of 1885, Father moved to the Meadows, a small farming district 18 miles north of St. Johns. We made the trip on my seventh birthday. When we camped for dinner, I had to take the animals for water which was about a mile away. I got on one of Brother Bates's mares, with a pair of spurs. She was from race stock, and when I touched her with spurs she gave me the ride of my life. The faster she went, the tighter I clung on with the spurs. That was some fast ride.

Each fall after the grain was cut, the women would take the children and go gleaning on the fields. They gathered the long wheat straws and braided them into hats. The heads were picked up separately and thrashed. I learned to braid the straws and Mother braided my hats.

Father took a contract building a fence in Greer Valley, along the Little Colorado, 18 miles northwest of the Meadows, on the Old Howe's Ranch, and he moved the family there. It was a beautiful valley. There I spent some of the happiest hours of my life, riding the Little Colorado and Zuni Creek to see if there were any cattle in the bog. If I found any, I would report to the ranch foreman and he would go pull them out. I was to get 15 dollars a month and I had to make the ride daily. There was about seven miles to ride on each river. My first outfit was a dandy. I found an old army curb bit with long shanks on it and Father took some canvas strings and braided me a headstall and a pair of reins. An old mule was brought up for me to ride. He was 30 years old and grey headed. Father put a doubled blanket on his back, I was boosted on him, and then father took a rope and made loops for stirrups. The wild cattle were bad to fight and I was afraid to get off and drink so I got me a bottle and tied a long string to it. In this way I could ride out in a stream and let my bottle down to fill. Once I lost my hat and I had to wait till the cattle went to the hills to get it. After that mother tied it on my head. This mule was so old and stiff he couldn't even lope.

One evening as I was coming home around the mountains, singing some song, I came upon a band of Zuni Indians on their way back to the reservation. They carried guns and I thought they were on the warpath. I left the trail and took off across the flat, whipping and kicking the old mule as hard as I could, but he only seemed to trot slower. The Indians began yelling and laughing and that scared me all the more. When I arrived at the ranch, no one was there. I went to the spring and found that the Indians had gotten into the milk and drank all they wanted. Their tracks were all around the house and I decided they had looted the place, so I rode on home. When I told Mother that I had seen the Indians, and what had happened, she laughed and said, "Those Indians were just putting meal and cobs into the spring to make it rain." Later on I was given a real cow pony, saddle, bridle, reata, and spurs. I learned to ride the range, rope calves, and ride in races. Joe McKinney practiced me up for the fall roundup. After the fall roundup, the calves were branded, and all cattle turned loose, and the boys had a three or four rodeo with lots of gambling at nights. Joe had a white saddle horse called Whiteman. I rode him for Joe in a race and won three hundred dollars for him in the free-for-all cow pony race. I also won 25 dollars for him by catching a calf the first throw. He had practiced me on that for two months.

One day I rode to the ranch and found Ed Hale very sick. He had cramps and would draw up in a knot. He had come to the house very hot and had gone to the milk house and had drunk a lot of cold milk. It was cramping him to death. Joe couldn't leave him so he saddled up one of his best horses, and with Mother's consent, sent me to St. Johns which was 35 miles away. He told me to bring back a syringe. Joe directed me up the Little Colorado River, over a trail, through the mountains, and into St. Johns. I had never been that way before, but I knew the general direction. I made the trip, brought back the syringe and had lots of fun. As I was riding up the river, I saw two bulls fighting. The big bull pushed the smaller one over the bank into deep water and he had to swim a long way to get out. I didn't like to see this so I ran at the big bull and crowded him off the bank and he had to swim too.

Father had permission to milk all the cows he wanted that summer. As I rode about my work every day, I would watch for fresh cows and whenever I saw one that looked good, I would drive her home and put the calf in the pen. When daddy came home, he would milk and if she gave plenty of milk he would keep her, and if not he would turn her and the calf out. I drove one home and had a lot of trouble because she got on the fight. She looked like she would be a dandy. Daddy roped her and as soon as the rope hit her head, she came right after us. We just did get over the bars. We finally milked her and I went in the calf pen to turn out the calf and it fought like a tiger. Daddy came and it fought him, but he finally conquered it. The cow was so mean that we had to turn her loose. Several days later I was out on the flat and met the cow and calf on the trial. The calf remembered me and rubbed its head on me.

One evening Willmirth and I went after the cows. We saw an old skunk with a dozen little ones following her, so I got rocks and killed five or six and tied them on the saddle and went on home. When I rode up to the house daddy said, "Say, why didn't you get more skunks." I said that I didn't have any more strings on my saddle or I would have.

Every year in June the Zuni Indians would have a snake dance and ceremonies for rain. They would come down to the lake near our home and hunt snakes of all kinds, especially rattlers. I have ridden in the hills and watched them catch them alive. They carried a forked staff which they put over the snake’s head, then they would slip his head under their belt. When they filled their belt, they would go to the lake and put them in the snake den and then go hunt some more. Some Indians carried wood until they got great stacks of it. On a certain day in June, they began their dance at night. The whole surroundings would be lit up by their bon fires. We could see them throwing the live snakes into the fire as they milled round and round in great numbers. For days before the ceremony they would ride to all the springs and running streams in their part of the country, and sprinkle corn meal and put corn cobs in the spring water. Then it would rain.

One summer day, father and I went fishing and swimming in the Little Colorado River. We found a nice deep hole and had a nice swim. We then caught a lot of grasshoppers and began to fish. We caught all we could carry home. Father put a small pole on his shoulder and hung the strings of fish on the pole. I had all I could carry so we started home. I was barefooted, so I took the trail. On the way we found a young bull laying in the trail. He had been branded from his ears to his tail and was as poor as a crow. I decided to make him give me the trail. Father told me to let him alone as he might hook me, but I went and gave him a kick. Up he came and away he and I went down the trial, losing my fish as I went. Father saw that he was going to catch me so he dropped his fish off the pole and took after the bull. We were all lined out down the trail and on the home stretch with me in the lead. Father began punching the bull with his long pole. All at once the bull turned on father so quick that the bull and father went down in a heap, with daddy on top. Daddy had the first laugh on me, but I had the last laugh on him. As they both jumped up, Daddy got the bull by the tail and threw him down so hard that he didn't get up. We then went on our way after gathering up the scattered fish.

A few weeks later, Father sent me across the valley to the Greer Ranch with a horse. I rode up to the gate and went in. As I was about half way to the house, a dog came bounding around the corner of the house. He bit me as he passed, hit the gate, and came back by and snapped at me again. Old nigger Jeff came running out and took me in the kitchen and poured turpentine on the wounds. He then went out to get the dog. She had gone in the kennel and had bitten one of her pups, so he locked her up. He shot her later and kept the pup, but it went mad and was killed later. I escaped the rabies (going mad) and my wounds soon healed.

One day I went to St. Johns with Mother to get provisions. It was a long days drive with a team, a distance of 18 miles. We went up one day and came home the next. There were many roads leading in different directions, so we watched the landmarks on the way up. We saw a large tree which the buzzards used for their roost. The limbs were all white. On our way home it got dark long before we reached the timbered hills. We traveled on until finally it was so dark we couldn't see the road so we stopped and waited for the moon to come up. While we were waiting we heard mumbling sound in the distance. We kept still and listened. It got closer and closer until we could recognize the chant of Indians on their way to the reservation. They had been out to devilment of some kind and were going home. It was so dark that they never saw us as they took the trail that led down the canyon to the Zuni Village. Soon, the moon came up bright and full and we could see we were near the old buzzard roost so we knew we were on the right road. We met Father on the road coming to hunt us.

In the spring of 1886, I was riding up Zuni River looking for cattle that were in the bog. As I neared the divide, I saw a band of wild horses leaving the river. They had been to the river to drink and were on their way back to the range. Another band of horses going down to drink met them. The stallions stopped their band, rounded them all in a huddle, then walked bravely toward each other with their necks curved and their tails straight out. When they met they made a dive at each other like two lions, biting and pawing and kicking with all their might. Both bands stood still and looked on and never moved. The two stallions fought through trees and over small ledges of rocks till they reached the bottom of the canyon. They were skinned and bruised all over and so tired that they both fell down. They got up and looked at each other, then nodded their heads. They drove their bands around each other and went on their way.

In 1886, in the last of September, we left for Tempe, Arizona, in the company with one of father's brothers, Uncle Ben Farland, and a brother-in-law, W. C. Parks. We passed through Concho, Heber, Camp Verde, Fort McDowell and on to Tempe. We reached there the last of October and my brother, Benjamin Franklin, was born the 4th of November. I was baptized in the Salt River where the railroad bridge now stands. I was baptized by Uncle Ben Farland, Jr. That was a hard winter. Here I saw for the first time fruit growing on trees. Mother was in bed with Bennie, my sister Willmirth was sick, and Father was down with a lingering fever, so it was up to me to help make our living. Arthur Openshaw, W. C. Parks, Tom Jensen, and others were hauling lumber from Maricopa, 35 miles south of the nearest railroad station to the Arizona Dam, now known as the Granite Reefe Dam. It is northeast of Mesa on the Salt River. I took Father's team and wagon and went with the men. I got a lot of experience that winter on the freight road. The men were all good to me and I got along fine.

My first schooling was in Tempe. I went to school with Senator Carl Hayden and his sister Sally, and Bert and Mary Winger, whose father was struck blind while trying to spy on Bishop Openshaw, and Ben H. Johnson, who were polygamists.

One day as I was playing in the street, some Indians rode up and began talking to me. Presently one of them reached down and got me and put me behind him and away they went as fast as they could go. I thought that I was a goner. I soon found out that the chief's son, Sandy, was just taking me for a ride.

In the spring of 1887, Father moved his family four miles east of Tempe and three miles west of Mesa, on some new land. There he began clearing the land and planting grain and alfalfa. The snakes and gila monsters were thick. One day while irrigating some new land which was just planted with grain, I turned some water in a hole and out came a gila monster. I put him over on a border. Later I saw a sidewinding rattler crawling out of a hole so I got him on my shovel and carried him to where I had left the gila monster. I wanted to see which one was the most poisonous of the two. I threw the snake on the monster. After tormenting them a little, they began to fight. The snake struck and bit the gila monster many times even fastening his fangs in his neck. Finally, the gila monster caught the snake in the back of his neck and the snake thrust his fangs into the gila monster's neck and wrapped himself around the monster and pulled himself loose. They were both sick and the snake crawled off. He swelled up, bursted and died. The gila monster was sick for a while, then crawled off and I found out which one was the most poisonous.

Father taught me to never kill snakes. He would always pick them up and carry them out away from camp or the house. I have seen him open the gila monster's mouth and look to see if they had fangs. Father said as Brigham did, "If you don't kill the snakes, they won't bite you." Just one incident that proved it to me. When I was in my teens, I was with father, as usual, out on the desert. One day as we were resting in the shade of some willows on the bank of the canal, father was reading with his hand on the back of his head and leaning back. I was sitting at this feet making whistles. Suddenly father raised up and looked around, then laid back. Again, he raised up and looked around and saw nothing so he laid back. The third time he got up I asked, "Father, what's the matter with you?" He said that he didn't know, but that he was just warned to move. Just then we saw in a deep track, all coiled up, a large rattler running out his tongue at us. Each time Father laid back his head he was right over the snake. We knew then why he was warned to move. Father picked up the snake and carried it out of the way. I have found them in my bed while camping, I have stepped on them and over them, and have carried them out of my camp many times.

I spent many happy days in the Salt River Valley. Many of the saints from Tempe moved up near us and some of Father's brothers. They also cleared land and planted crops and soon we had a small ward called Nephi.

At the age of 10 I could mow and rake hay. Father raised a big crop of wheat the first year and he got the Pima Indians to thrash it for him. They tramped it out with horses and cleaned it with the wind. I used to go hunting and swimming with the Indians so I learned to talk the Pima language. Many times I would eat with them around their camp fires. They would make cakes out of mesquite beans and cook them on the coals.

During the big flood in the Salt River in 1891, the water covered a large part of the Indian Reservation and forced hundreds of them to swim to safety. There was an old squaw who was 103 years old and blind. She was paddling around, but didn't know where to go. The Indians said to let her go as she was old, couldn't see, and was no good, but uncle Will LeBarron swam to her and brought her out. The church took a lot of them to the tithing office at Mesa and cared for them. I went down one day to see them and there sat that old squaw weaving on a basket. I asked her how old she was and she said that she didn't know, but that she could remember when the comets fell when she was a girl, and many other events that happened away back. White men had said that she was at least 103.

The year I was 12, the Extension Canal was taken out and I drove a scraper team all winter. Mother lived in a tent and cooked over a camp fire for some of the men. This was in 1889. At that time, Mesa was a very small town with a post office, two stores, and a bakery which were all owned by Mormons. The Valley developed fast and soon there were binders, headers and thrashing machines going every direction. I first learned to tie grain in bundles or sheaves after Father as he did a lot of cradling of grain. Then came the first binders that missed lots of the bundles and I had to follow the binders and bind the loose bundles. Then came the header and the header wagons. I drove one of the first header wagons that came in the valley. Then I followed the thrashing machine and all the rest of the jobs from the strawbuck to the firing of the engine. One hot summer day my companion and I were feeding a large thrasher, raking the bundles on the draiper and feeder. The grain was smutty and we had a tail wind and we could hardly see each other. He caught his fork or hoedown, as they were called, on the slats of the draiper He stepped on the draiper to get his fork loose, but the draiper just moved on with him toward the knives that cut the bundles. When I looked up I didn't see him at first, but then I saw him riding into the separator. I jumped and with my fork handle I threw the belt and the machine stopped with him only six inches from those knives that would have riddled his body to pieces.

The next summer father and I were with the header on the desert cutting grain. The thermometer registered 128 in the shade. There were two headers going in the same field and there was a man that hauled water to us and the teams all day long. Men and teams gave out and some became overcome with heat all over the valley. We stood around the water barrels and drank and threw water on each other till morning. Several animals died that night and we were all in, down and out.

That winter there came a cold freak storm. It rained for a week and the wind blew. Then it turned cold and froze. Mother's chickens were roosting in the trees and they froze and fell out. One of our calves that was tied up froze and on the desert where there was no protection from the wind, 16 froze in one field without shelter, poor cows.

In 1891, mother and I saw the river in the streets of Tempe. The railroad bridge went down. The dams went out and houses floated past Tempe. One had a candle in it that was burning. We saw the river dashing against the Tempe Butte and the water dashing 30 feet high. It was a sight to see. Water ran in the south part of Phoenix, and the ferry cable went down. C. T. Hayden of Tempe, offered $125 to anyone who would put the cable back across the river. Uncle Brigham Johnson had a fine team and buckboard, so he decided to get the $125. He tied a strong cord or tiny rope to the back of his buckboard, then tied that to a coil or rope, then tied the rope to the cable and drove his team into the river and swam across coming out down the river all right. They pulled the rope over, then the cable. He fastened the cable and boat together and put his outfit on the boat and ferried it back to town. He then went to C. T. Hayden's store and got the $125 reward. That took nerve. When the river went down, there came the job of putting back the dams of brush and rock and as my usual job, I took a team and went to work on the dam. I had many experiences, and saw some exciting times. One day I saw seven teams and wagons go over the dam and come out way below on a gravel bar. My team was sucked in against the dam and nearly drowned. They were pulled out by another team. There were men below the dam to rescue the teams and men above to rescue them from those suction holes through the dam.

I became well acquainted with some of the Pima Indians, especially Sally and Horace. One time the chief got a good joke on the foreman of the canal. We cut through a gravel point and came on a very large rock. It was too large for the teams to move and we had no powder to break it up. The boss didn't know just how to move it. We were driving around it day after day and one day the chief said, "Why don't you move that rock?" The boss said that he couldn't. The chief said that he would move it for $20 and the bargain was made. The old chief went out on the bank and blew a whistle and in a few minutes there were 20 Indians there. He told them to go and get some picks and shovels and in a little while they returned and they dug a hole and rolled the rock in it and covered it over. The chief went and hunted up the boss and said, "Rock gone, gimme money." When the boss saw that the rock was gone he gave the chief the money and asked where the rock was. The chief said that it was in a hole and with a smile the Indian walked away and the boss said, "Boys, don't say anything and I'll treat you all. I should have thought of that."

As a boy I was fond of horses. As I grew older, I acquired a great love for breaking and training them. I trained my saddle pony to do tricks. When I was 14, I owned one of the best teams in town. Horses and cows were my hobby. Swapping horses and matching teams was another. One time I traded Father two good mares for an old, balky mare, as he needed them. I also tried to trade for a mate to a mare I had. The first year I traded 36 times to get a mate for her. I have made trips on freight roads with a six horse team and have come home with only one of the original horses.

Father helped to start the first dairy or creamery and factory at Tempe, Arizona. He was a stock holder. He got cows and went to dairying and it was my job to see that the cows were milked and that the milk was sent to the dairy, a distance of six miles. James or Bennie took the milk to the dairy in a buggy.

At 14, I drove a header wagon and did a man's work in the harvest fields. At 16, I took a job on a thrasher that was run by horsepower. I pitched bundles to the feeder. Then came the thrashers run by traction engines. I worked on them and was very good at sewing sacks, on the hoedown, feeding the thrasher or running the big derrick fork. In those days the men got paid for what they could do, and not for what they knew, and many a day I drew two men's pay. At 17, I attended high school at Mesa, Arizona, in the old adobe school house. One winter I rode to school on horseback as that was the only way of traveling.

When I was 16, I met a widow's daughter and courted her for two long years. On September 30,1896, just 43 years ago today (September 30,1939), I was married to Cora May Allred. We were married at 2:00 p.m. on Thursday. On Friday morning I left for the desert on a canal job driving a team on a slip scraper. That is the way I spent my honeymoon, working for $1 a day for ten hours. Our first home was a tent which was boarded up the sides, with a fireplace in it. Our start in life was a team and a cow. Times were hard. I hired out just before Christmas to get some Christmas money. I got $1.50 per day for me and the team and I was plowing when the sun came up and when it went down. As time went on there came a son to stay with us and we named him Joseph Elbert. When Elbert was one year old, we decided that we would try to go to the Temple of the Lord. No one would undertake the trip alone so they would wait and go in groups. This year several were going in August, so we began to save our dimes. We saved $77.70, but we didn't have any wagon suitable to travel with. I had inquired of those who had made the trip and they said that $125 was the best that they could do on their trip, so I went to the Bishop and told him my troubles. After paying my tithing I would only have $70 left. I was afraid to start out on so little. The bishop told me to pay my tithing and to trust the Lord and I could go and have plenty of money. I did as I was told and in a few days a man came along with a wagon all fixed up with bows, cover, and a barrel on the side. He was looking for a horse and I had it so we traded. I was then ready to go. The money was stretched and we even helped the ferry bill for the other boys and bought them hay grain and groceries to get home with when they had more than twice as much money to start with. The bishop was right and the Lord surely did as he said.

cool stories of Johnson Family

2008-06-03T07:39:00.001-07:00

http://www.bfjohnsonfamily.byu.edu/bfj/Books/HomeEveningWithJodieAndCora.htm

Benjamin Samuel Johnson and Susan Elvira Martineau

2007-10-29T06:21:00.000-07:00

Benjamin Samuel Johnson was born 20 Apr 1853 in Santaquin, Utah. His parents were Benjamin F. Johnson and Mary Ann Hale.

Susan Elvira Martineau was born August 14, 1856 in Parowan, Iron, Utah. Her parents were James Henry Martineau and Susan Ellen Johnson.