Most of all of you will probably find it interesting that Mitt Romney
has not only polygamist ancestry but a distinct link to Mormon
Fundamentalism. The recent Salt Lake Tribune article
(http://www.sltrib.com/ci_4212788) about Mitt Romney's polygamist
ancestry showed that one of his great-great grandfathers was Carl
Heinrich Wilcken (note that Wilcken was the middle name of his father,
former Governor George Romney). Carl Heinrich Wilcken was one and the
same man as Charles H. Wilcken, one of the men charged in 1886 by Pres.
John Taylor to keep plural mariage alive. His youngest wife, Haidee
Carlisle, was the daughter he met while in hiding at the "Carlisle
residence" spoken of in the accounts of Pres. Taylor's on the
underground.
For your information I have listed links to (as well as cut and pasted
below) several articles about Charles H. Wilcken available online.
They are:
Enjoy,
Marianne
---------------------------------------------
Incidents in the Life of a Sturdy German Jaeger Who Cast His Lot With
"The Flower of the American Army," Marched West against the "Mormons";
and Remained to Dwell with Them.
By the time the important year 1848 had come along, the top of young
Carl Heinrich’s head projected itself six feet three inches above the
surface of the ground on which his feet rested, and he was slim and
straight as an arrow. He was in his eighteenth year – that period in a
young man’s life when the droning of a grist mill could scarce be
expected to prove as alluring as a call from the busy, active, outside
world; especially when, as was the case at this time, that world was
screaming in the birth of larger liberty, and when an impending wave of
war excited the patriotic impulses of every trued son of the Fatherland.
The two provinces of Schleswig and Holstein had been under the
protection of the Danish crown for about 400 years, the consideration
on their part being the furnishing of a certain number of solders for
the Danish army. Except in the northern part of Schleswig, contiguous
to Denmark, the language spoken was German, and the natural leaning of
the people was toward Prussia. The time could not have been more
unpropitious for any attempt at the extension of royal prerogative, yet
the Danish king, with singular lack of sagacity, chose this very moment
to try to incorporate into his domain the northern province of
Schleswig. Both provinces sprang to arms to resist the aggression, and
Prussia, lent aid to the extent at least of furnishing officers to
drill the provincials and get them started in the stern business ahead
of them; with the further understanding that she would not stand idly
by and see them overwhelmed.
Filled with the ardor and enthusiasm of youth and the love of
fatherland, our youthful miller shook the flour dust out of his clothes
and hair, and went off to be a soldier. He enlisted in what was called
the First Jaeger Corps – mounted riflemen, in other words–a picked body
of men of approved courage and marksmanship, designed for service
either mounted or afoot. The heavier cavalry were the dragoon, the
lighter were lancers, "ablans," and hussars. The jaegers were armed
with muzzle loading rifles, slung over the shoulder, and bayonets which
could be attached to their pieces when it came to be business at close
quarter. They rode strong, active horses; and though in a charge their
onslaught lacked the intimidating accessory of lashing sabers or
fluttering lance, they nevertheless, when plunging forward with
thundering mass, erect in stirrup and with the lust of battle gleaming
from their eyes, delivered an attack which few troops were able to
withstand.
The first jaeger corps was soon in the thick of the fighting, and
before very long the men had all of it they wanted–and more. At the
second battle of Kolding, young Carl Heinrich, now a corporal, was one
of a small party which had become detached from the main body and was
threatened with annihilation by the advancing Danes. They sought the
best protection their precarious position afforded, and prepared for
the worst, partially shielded on a side hill skirting the highway. A
dashing body of Danish horses, composed of scions of noble and
aristocratic families, gallantly hastened forward to make a spectacular
capture of the isolated remnants. These calmly awaited the onset, their
nerves steeled and their courage steadied by many previous baptisms of
fire. At length the command "fire" rang out and every Danish horse
turned and galloped riderless off the field. Participation in this
exploit brought to our hero the chevrons of a sergeant.
Two months later there was a simple yet an impressive ceremony the
entire force at the camp is paraded, with bands playing and colors
flying. At the commanding general advances and takes position in front,
there falls a silence that is profound and almost painful. An adjutant,
in a loud voice calls out a few names. Those responding to these names
step forward forming a new thin scattered line several paces in front
of the main rank. Then accompanied by his staff, the general moves
along this scattered line halting a few seconds in front of each man,
and passing on to the next, till the left of the line is reached.
Finally the bands strike up again, the colors flutter more proudly than
ever, the few men in front fall back into their places, the line of
troops wheels into column, the corps and regiments march away to their
quarter and the ceremony is over.
In the incident just described the First Jaeger corps held a place of
honor. At the call of the adjutant, a tall straight 18 year-old
sergeant steps to the front. The grizzled general as he approaches the
stripling says a few kindly words, and seems to be clumsily fumbling
with the button of his coat. The boy is too well-drilled to let his
eyes wander or deviate from the "straight ahead;" he stand like a
statue. But when the order is given to take his place in the ranks his
eyes drop for a moment and proudly rest on the plain, black, grim
insignia, most prized of all German decoration, the iron cross, cast
from the metal of captured cannon and given by the king "For Gallantry
in Action."
This was in the spring of 1857. He reached New York in due time,
disembarking at the famous old-time immigrant landing-place, Castle
Garden. He was not less green than many another German whose entry was
through these portals, and like many another he was much disappointed
in his expectations. He wandered around short time seeking employment,
his small stock of money growing rapidly less. At his boarding house
and in German circles, which he frequented, he learned of the proposed
expedition against the "Mormons." He didn’t know anything about the
"Mormons," but he did know something about war and the soldier
business: so, rather than continue in idleness, he decided to enlist in
the U.S. army. A strapping fellow of his size and type was too good to
be allowed to get away, and the recruiting officer signed him on the
spot. He was sent over to Governor'’ island in New York harbor, where
already were assembled hundreds of "rookies:" receiving their first
instruction
in the manual of a
rms and target-shooting, preparatory to transfer to the ranks of the
army which was to bring the recalcitrant residents of Utah to terms.
Many of his comrades thought the "Mormons" were a tribe of Indians, but
from the better informed he gathered that there would be many
attractive features to the campaign, especially after the adult male
part of the rebellious element was disposed of.
"Well, go to your quarters and turn out for drill only with the
battery; you needn’t bother any more with these beginners."
At length the grand column moved out from Leavenworth on its long march
across the plains. It numbered about 1,500 men, infantry, cavalry and
artillery, under command of Col. Alexander. Gen. Johnston, who was the
titular commander, did not join the force until the troops had
established winter quarters at Bridger. The three arms of the service
were separated by about a day’s march; the artillery, being in the van,
the infantry 15 or 20 miles behind, and the cavalry bringing up the
rear. There were two batteries of artillery, each of eight pieces or
ordinance with six houses to the piece, and about 70 men. The latter
had as extra equipment short flintlock carbines. The force was
altogether seen on this side of the Mississippi river, and was spoken
of them and has been since as the "flower of the American army." But to
the eyes of the young soldier fresh from the battlefield of Schleswig
and the severe discipline of the Prussian drillmasters there was
nothing of the flor
al or nosegay
order about it. To him it seemed an untrained horde, ragged in drill,
regardless of discipline, and ridiculous in its pretense at guard duty.
There never was a time from the first day out of Leavenworth until the
mountaineers began to test their mettle near Green River, when an
active raiding party, either red men or white, could not have made off
with all the stock and left the command afoot and at the mercy of any
foe. The personnel of the troops was also inferior, the newly enlisted
men especially being of the roving, shiftless class for whom the small
stipend them paid was less a temptation than was the opportunity for
adventure.
Naturally, the farther he journeyed, the less the German cannoneer was
impressed with the fragrance or beauty of this "flower of the American
army." His own duty had this spice of novelty, that he was usually one
of the hunting party, which furnished fresh meat for the mess. He took
part also in infrequent and desultory target practice with which the
monotony of the march was varied, and saw for the first time the
American Indian on his native heath, though these sons of the forest
and plain had so wholesome a respect of Uncle Sam’s uniform that they
offered no molestation. On approaching Green River, however, a more
vigilant and aggressive attitude was made necessary, by the appearance
of little band of rough-riding mountain boys, who harassed the column,
especially at night, by swooping down and stampeding the horses and
mules, paying particular attention to the transport animals of the
infantry. Not only was the guard strengthened to meet this new menace,
but it was
also found n
ecessary to confine the animals to keep them on the picket line, in
consequence of which they soon became very thin. These mysterious and
daring forays implanted in the expedition a sort of impressive silent
fear. Captain Van Vliet had been previously met, and had reported the
failure of his efforts to secure Gov. Young’s acquiescence in the
proposal for the troops to come peacefully into the valley. He assured
Col. Alexander that if he persisted in the forward march he would not
only have to fight all the way–the canyon passes being fortified – but
even if he successfully made his way through he would find the city
deserted and desolate; there would be food for neither man nor beast–
everything, even the city itself would be destroyed.
The army by this time had become pretty well demoralized and
dispirited. The chief ration was mule meat, and thin mule meat at that.
There was also much less talk than formerly about the good times that
the officers and soldiers were going to have after their conquest of
the rebellious "Mormons." Day by day the troubles and the anxieties
increased. Clouds of smoke by day and pillar of fire by night marked
the efforts of the enemy to burn the grass so there should be no forage
for the stock. With painful frequency reports would come in of supply
trains being burned and the cattle driven off. In this perplexity the
officers held a council of war to decide as to whether to go into
winter quarter, as had been suggested by Capt. Van Vliet, or to try to
fight their way on beyond the mountain barriers into the valley of the
great Salt Lake. Gen. Johnston had not yet joined the command; so his
advice could not be had, but at length the sentiments of the older and
cooler heads prevai
led, an
d it was decided to act on the defensive, moving on slowly and with
caution until a place suitable for winter cantonments could be found.
-End-
In Another Time
The Salt Lake Tribune Arch
http://www.sltrib.com
Frenzied Mob Kills 'Murderer'
Hal Schindler
Published: 10/08/1995 Category: Features Page: J1
Sam Joe Harvey was a swarthy ex-soldier, about thirty-five, tall and
well-built, whose fondness for a scrap earned him the nickname of "U.S.
Harvey." He was known to have spent some time in and around Pueblo,
Colorado, and in the early fall of 1883 meandered from the plains to
Salt Lake City.
Whatever it was that set him off, Harvey wound up gunning down a
captain of police and severely wounding the city watermaster; all this
in broad daylight. It so infuriated the citizenry that a mob formed and
within a half-hour lynched the shooter. A somber Salt Lake Tribune
editorialized that the lynching "was done under the noon day sun and in
the shadow of the temple of the Saints. We do not believe there has
been a parallel to the case in American history. Mobs have hung men
repeatedly, but never before what we remember of have the policemen who
had the prisoner in charge, first beaten him into half insensibility
and then turned him over to the mob. This is not a question between
Mormon and Gentile; it is one I which the good name of the city
government is at stake."
Events began with a telephone call to police at city hall from F.H.
Grice, owner of a restaurant on the east side of Main Street between
First and Second South, next door to the old Salt Lake House hotel.
City Marshal Andrew Burt was the only officer on hand at the lunch hour
when Grice complained that this fellow Harvey had threatened him with a
pistol at the restaurant and disturbed his patrons. He wanted him
arrested. Burt was also captain of police and had been talking to
Charles H. Wilcken, the watermaster, when Grice's telephone call came;
Wilcken went with Burt to collar Harvey.
It happened that Wilcken would find the Mormon way of life suited him
just fine. He converted, was baptized that December, and became a
devout Latter-day Saint, eventually serving a foreign mission. He
became a confidant of church authorities George Q. Cannon and Wilford
Woodruff and for a while acted as a bodyguard to Brigham Young during
the bitter anti-polygamy crusades of the 1870s. Now in 1883,
Watermaster Wilcken was ready to help his friend Andrew Burt arrest and
jail what they thought was merely a drunken transient making a public
disturbance.
>From city hall, the two officers strode up First South, crossed State
Street, and turned down Main. Grice, meanwhile, had walked up the east
side of the street until he encountered the lawmen. Sam Joe Harvey, he
told them, had frightened Mrs. Grice and some luncheon customers with
his revolver, then pushed his way through the kitchen and out into the
back alley.
As Burt and Wilcken scanned the noon crowds along the city's busiest
street, Grice recounted the events of the morning. Harvey was looking
for a job, he said, and Grice had offered him work as a laborer around
his farm on the outskirts of town. Grice would pay two dollars a day
and provide Harvey transportation to and from the place. When he was
told the farm was twelve miles from the city, Harvey "belched out in
profanity" and began insulting the restaurant owner and his patrons. "I
pushed him out the door and he pulled a pistol on me," Grice said, as
Burt and Wilcken reached the corner of main and Tribune Avenue (today's
Second South).
The three turned left to check the stores as far as the corner of
Commercial Street (today's Regent Street) before turning around. As
they again approached the Main Street corner, Grice spotted Harvey just
off the sidewalk-but now he was armed with a .45-caliber rifle and a .
44 pistol!
It was later learned that after Harvey had fled the Grices' caf?he went
to a general store and bought a rifle he had seen earlier in the day.
He paid the proprietor, Thomas Carter, twenty dollars for the repeater
along with two boxes of cartridges. "He was nervous and dropped one of
the cartridge boxes, spilling some of the ammunition," Carter
remembered. Harvey had scooped up the bullets, put them in his pocket,
and hurried away.
Outside, Wilcken, who was immediately behind and to the side of Burt
when the shot was fired, sprang forward and caught hold of Harvey,
wrenching the rifle free. He grabbed Harvey by the throat and the two
locked in a desperate struggle, but Wilcken couldn't stop Harvey from
using his revolver. Harvey fired again and the .44 slug tore through
the fleshy part of the watermaster's left arm between the shoulder and
elbow. The cowardice of the crowd was appalling, snarled the Deseret
News, "they scrambled away in terror in every direction. Finally Mr.
Wilcken threw Harvey in a ditch, and after he was overpowered the crowd
returned to the scene to his aid."
Actually, Harvey had pressed the pistol against a Wilcken's body and
was squeezing the trigger for another shot, when Elijah Able jumped
into the fray, twisted the pistol away, and helped throw the desperado
down. With blood pouring from the ugly wound in his arm, Wilcken held
his own until finally Homer J. Stone rushed in to subdue the shooter.
By this time other police reached the scene and took Harvey into
custody. Wilcken's arm was treated at the drugstore as the officers
hustled their prisoner to police headquarters.
Then things got nasty. A swarm of spectators followed the tight knot of
constables as they made their way up the street. Back at Smith's
drugstore, meanwhile, attention turned from Wilcken's gunshot wound to
the figure of the marshal slumped behind the counter. Burt had been
able to make his way from the sidewalk to the inside of the store under
his own power, but he was a dead man. Harvey's bullet had pierced his
left arm, penetrated his heart and lungs, exited his body and lodged in
his right arm. As he fell he was bleeding from five large wounds.
Dr. J. M. Benedict pronounced the police captain dead at the scene and
called a wagon to take the body to an undertaker. When the throng saw
Burt's sheet-covered form lifted in to the wagon bed, a long, low moan
erupted and the first cries of a lynching were muttered. "I say hang!
Who goes with me?" Shouted one man, and from the crown a chorus of "I!"
It was a belated threat.
Sam Joe Harvey was pushed into the marshal's office at city hall and
searched. Officers found $165.80 in gold, silver, and greenbacks in his
pockets as well as a large number of rifle and pistol cartridges. It
was then an unidentified man stuck his head in a shouted Captain Burt
had been shot dead. As one, the police turned on Harvey, "One of the
officers [struck] him violently between the eyes, felling him," the
Herald reported.
>From outside the building could now be heard excited shouts of "Get a
rope! Hang the son of a b--!" The officers dragged the semi-conscious
man to the back door, which opened to a yard in front of the city jail.
The crown on First South in front of city hall had become an ugly
enraged mob of two thousand or more. Sensing that the prisoner was
being moved, they ran to a State Street alley that opened on the jail
yard and demanded Harvey be turned over.
An officer named William Salmon came to the jail door and was greeted
by jeers when he ordered the mob to disband. There was a brief tussle
and Salmon was shoved aside; then, Harvey, his face a bloody mask,
pitched out the door into the frenzied gathering. He was swarmed over,
stomped, and beaten while men ran about yelling for rope. Harness
straps cut from teams in front of city hall were passed forward and,
when they were found too short, used to whip the wretched prisoner.
Still he struggled to break free. His efforts and the momentum of the
surging crowd carried them east-ward in the jail yard until Harvey
finally toppled, fifty or so feet from the jail door; at the same time
a long rope made its way to the spot.
Twenty-five minutes had elapsed since the fatal shot at Burt was fired.
In that time the outraged crowd at Smith's drugstore also was seized by
a mob fever and had marched to the city hall, swelling the throng even
larger. So hysterical was the atmosphere that it was dangerous for
others. W.H. Sells, son of Colonel E. Sells, a prominent Utahn was
riding past a hall in a buggy and happened on the scene. Unaware that
Harvey was already dead Sells tried to reason with the mob, arguing
that lynching was no answer: "let the courts handle it." In that moment
Sells came close to joining Harvey on the stable beam. Only the quick
thinking of Salmon, the police officer, saved him. Salmon pulled Sells
in to the jail and pushed him into a cell. Several other citizens who
urged calm and justice were handled roughly and "came near being
mobbed," according to the Tribune. The Herald said "Officer Salmon's
discretion and prompt action saved Mr. Sells' life."
The horror still was not over, for the mass of angry citizens continued
to clamor vengeance. Harvey's body was cut down and dragged out of the
alley a short distance down State Street. There the crowd was
confronted by a furious mayor William Jennings, who demanded they
disperse. Events moved quickly. The mob broke up, an inquest was
convened that afternoon, and a coroner's jury comprising W.W. Riter,
Joseph Jennings, and John Groesbeck heard the evidence and returned a
verdict that the deceased "came to his death by means of hanging with a
rope by an infuriated mob whose names were to the jury unknown."
Joe Sam Harvey was buried in Salt Lake City Cemetery that very night.
Funeral services for Marshal Burt were conducted a few days later; much
of the city turned out in his honor. Watermaster Wilcken recovered and
continued to serve in various capacities until his death in 1915.
That ordinarily would have ended the story of that black August 25,
1883, in Salt Lake City, but there is an epilogue. Two months after the
lynching, two workers loading sand from an area just went of the
cemetery made a grisly discovery; a pine box. In it was a human
skeleton. The cemetery sexton was notified and later explained that
when the murderer Harvey's remains were buried, the gravediggers
misunderstood their instructions and buried the body "near" the
cemetery instead of in it. The remains were those of the lynched
assassin, the Herald reported. No one, including the city's newspapers,
questioned how Harvey's body was reduced to a skeleton in just two
months.
---------------------
Marching westward with the army in the summer and fall of 1857,
Wilcken, in the early days of his twenty-seventh year, made a momentous
decision, faced a close brush with death, and changed his life [p.310]
forever. During the afternoon of October 7, 1857, he deserted and
headed west. Within a few days he was captured by one of the Mormon
defenders, Jonathan Ellis Layne, who had been out rabbit hunting. As
Layne described it:
Just then I heard a slight noise at my right hand. I did not turn my
head, but drew my gun around toward the noise and there stood a large
soldier. [I] dropped the muzzle of my gun and pointed it directly at
his heart, he threw up his hands and said "Don't shoot, I am unarmed."
I told him to come up to me still holding my gun pointing at him, and
he surrendered himself to me.
. . . with the big soldier went to the camp. While going he offered to
exchange clothing with me as he was afraid if he was caught with the
soldiers clothing on he would certainly be shot. I did not wish to swap
with him, but when we came to the camp he soon got rid of his soldiers
clothing. I turned the prisoner over to Porter Rockwell. . . . (3)
The deserter a long slab sided Dutchman reports that many of the
soldiers would desert if they believed they would be well treated here,
also that they were dissatisfied with their officers and that the
officers were divided in their councils what to do. (4)
Unaware that an enduring friendship with this man would develop some
years later, Wilford Woodruff also noted Wilcken's presence:
The Brethren Came in from the East & brought in 153 head of Cattle. 3
teamsters & one deserter from the Army helped drive them in. The
deserter reported that Neither Johnson nor Harney nor the Governor or
Judges or any of the Territorial Officers had arrived at the Army
neither any females. He said the soldiers were only allowed 3 buiscuit
2 Cups of Coffee & a small piece of Beef per day that they were not
half fed. They had 75 waggons burned & the Contents of 76. 2 waggons
saved. (5)
Placed in the care of Provo Bishop Elias Hicks Blackburn, Wilcken must
have found his new environment congenial, for he was baptized into the
Mormon faith in December 1857. Then, for more than two years he
effectively dropped from sight. From the winter of 1857-58 to 1860 or
1861 he may well have been living in Heber Valley, probably in or near
Center Creek. He had assisted R. T. Burton in organizing a militia unit
in Heber, operated a grist mill, assisted in planning a July 4
celebration in Heber, and served as adjutant in the county militia
commanded by Maj. John W. Witt. (7)
[p.313] By early 1879 Wilcken had begun his first term as Salt Lake
City watermaster and was active in developing and maintaining the water
system for an ever-increasing population. He helped plan for a canal
from Parley's Creek in what is now Sugar House to the North or Dry
Bench, and he saved the Salt Lake and Jordan Canal from sustaining
serious damage by riding out to determine the cause of a sudden drop in
the water level. After locating a blockage on the dam he enlisted
several neighbors to assist with repairs and thereby insured an
uninterrupted flow of water. Following the municipal election of 1884,
Wilcken found himself without regular employment. The church newspaper
took editorial notice of his absence from city service:
By May 1884 Wilcken was on regular duty with the Salt Lake City Police
Department. In that capacity he was called upon to arrest two drunken
Idaho politicians who had been causing a disturbance in the Salt Lake
Theatre. Wilcken and several others were sued by the political figures
for defamation of character, among other things, but Wilcken's attorney
successfully pled that he had simply been performing his lawfully
prescribed duties and was therefore immune from suit. (14)
Wilcken continued to protect the weal of the community, both public and
Saintly. In January 1885 he, L. John Nuttall, H. C. Barrell, and
President John Taylor took the Mormon church "underground" as the
federal campaign against the church entered its most intense phase.
This began one of the most exciting periods in his life. The duties he
performed, the risks he took, and the success of his efforts are proof
of his devotion and loyalty to his church and its leaders.
During the period John Taylor was in hiding it was Charles Wilcken who
ran the mail between the safe house, or "Do" as it was called, and Salt
Lake City, arranged transportation for other General Authorities who
had business with each other and with Taylor, and stood guard while
they met. In fact, Wilcken lived on the underground with Taylor during
the last two years of his life, commuting as necessary between the "Do"
and Salt Lake City or elsewhere when not actually on duty. Most days he
would make a trip to Salt Lake with the day's communications and return
between 11 p.m. and 3 a.m. When Taylor died in July 1887 Wilcken took
his son Joseph E. Taylor, in the middle of the night, to his father's
body. (15)
[p.315] With President Taylor dead, Wilcken's services were even more
in demand. For example, he confirmed to Abraham H. Cannon that rumors
of a new "cohab" case against him were true and offered to keep him
apprized of the case's developments. He was much concerned with the
safety of church leaders and on one occasion drove George Q. Cannon and
Joseph F. Smith from the Cannon farm to the tithing office yard under a
load of hay and farm implements. The two men then slipped into the Lion
House without being seen. Another time, Wilford Woodruff was hidden by
Wilcken in his own home one night. Indeed, Wilcken was responsible for
securing Woodruff's safety on several occasions. This account is
typical:
Over the years Wilcken developed especially strong ties to the Cannon
families and to Wilford Woodruff. His closeness to the Cannons is no
better illustrated than by this entry from Abraham H. Cannon's journal:
"Father started today in company with Chas. Wilcken for Logan; he went
by team and will there meet Aunt Carlie and her children. The latter
will be adopted to him as will Chas. Wilcken." Wilcken's "adoption" by
George Q. Cannon was more than a formality; it acknowledged a caring
relationship. In early May 1888 when Abraham's daughter Emma died after
a lengthy illness, Wilcken took the bereaved father for several rides
to help him deal with his grief, offered the closing prayer at Emma's
funeral, and later visited Abraham in company with George Q. Cannon and
anointed Abraham. (17)
Wilcken's life was not all hiding families, midnight messages and
meetings, or confidential warnings; he enjoyed pleasant, sociable
experiences as well. In April 1889 he accompanied Wilford and Emma
Woodruff, George Q. Cannon, H. B. Clawson, and daughter Mamie on a
pleasure trip to California. They stayed initially at the Grand Hotel
in San Francisco and then journeyed to Del Monte and visited geysers
near Cloverdale. At the latter tourist attraction Wilford Woodruff
needed some assistance: "I leaned upon the arm of Brother Wilcken who
aided me greatly by assisting me up the mountain. It gave Brother
Wilcken a good sweating to do so." Wilcken was fifty-seven years old at
the time and Woodruff was eighty-two. (20)
By 1890 Wilcken was spending more and more time with Wilford Woodruff,
a relationship that was probably based more on collegiality and
companionship than on the necessity for a bodyguard. He began
accompanying Woodruff on many of the church president's trips. For
example, he joined Woodruff on a journey through Wyoming, Colorado, and
New Mexico, occasionally speaking at meetings along the way. That same
year, Woodruff "attended the Dedication of Charles H. Wilcken House &
took supper. We had beautiful Music & Singing." (21)
Despite his growing closeness to Woodruff, Wilcken did not neglect his
other friends, especially the Cannons. At the request of Abraham H.
Cannon, he confirmed a rumor that Marshal Doyle had obtained a warrant
for Abraham's arrest, but Wilcken "bought Doyle off, and got his
promise that . . . [Cannon] should not be molested, nor should any
other person without sufficient notice being given for them to escape
and to get witnesses out of the way." Doyle apparently gave Wilcken the
names of fifty-one persons about to be arrested in Utah and Emery
counties, and a messenger was dispatched to warn them. "Thus," Cannon
wrote, "with a little money a channel of [p.318] communication is kept
open between the government offices and the suffering and persecuted
Church members." (22)
Two years later, in October 1891, Wilcken again had occasion to warn
Abraham Cannon of his impending arrest on new cohabitation charges. In
fact, the grand jury had quizzed Deputy Marshal Bowman Cannon closely
as to why Abraham had not been arrested. Bowman had been a member of
several search parties that were unsuccessful in capturing polygamists
and/or witnesses, and there is circumstantial evidence that Bowman and
perhaps another may have been on a Mormon payroll. That, together with
Wilcken's ties to the law enforcement community, may help explain why
so many polygamists escaped capture. As an aside, it should be noted
that Bowman Cannon was not related to the George Q., Angus M., or David
H. Cannon families, but he did have a Mormon connection. He was the son
of Marsena Cannon, the pioneer photographer, who with his entire family
was excommunicated in October 1874. (23)
Wilcken became adept at hand holding during the period of the raid. L.
John Nuttall, for example, had been toying with the idea of giving
himself up to the court on anticipated charges of unlawful
cohabitation. Wilcken traveled to Provo where Nuttall was in hiding to
have a long talk with him and to bring the message from George Q.
Cannon and Joseph F. Smith that he "must not do it at present." A few
months later, in February 1891, circumstances had changed, and Nuttall
was still anxious to break his exile. He talked with H. B. Clawson and
Wilcken about it, and the latter told him
Through his entire life in Utah Wilcken was willing to do what he could
for his church and its leaders. A German named Joseph Walter Dietrich
had been befriended, possibly by Wilcken but certainly by the First
Presidency. He had been given financial support and encouragement in
his efforts to publish a German-language newspaper. Then, he apparently
turned on his benefactors and became virulently anti-Mormon in his
newspaper. It became Wilcken's duty to close up the publication and
advise Dietrich that his attitude and actions no longer enjoyed church
support. Sometimes his counseling was less radical. In September and
October 1891 he and L. John Nuttall visited Beck's Hot Springs in an
effort to talk the manager, Lehi Pratt, out of his abuse of alcohol.
(25)
In July 1889 Wilcken had entered upon what was probably the most
ambitious business project of his life. With the backing of Mormon
church leaders, a number of men organized the Deseret and Salt Lake
Agricultural and Manufacturing Company. Wilcken was elected one of the
trustees. Other principals included the First Presidency, John Q. and
Abraham H. Cannon, B. Y. Hampton, and others. Their plan was to build a
dam on the Sevier River to provide irrigation water for thousands of
acres of land in Sevier County. As the 1890s opened Wilcken became
increasingly involved in trying to make a success of the company, but
it was tough going. He made frequent trips to Deseret to inspect the
dam-building progress, survey town and home sites, and occasionally
speak to groups of Saints in the area. By January 1892 the company
directors were preparing to sell off some of the assets of the company
to relieve their debt load, and because of an administrative mix-up the
company was in danger o
f losin
g its water rights on the Sevier River. Following a reorganization
during the winter of 1891-92, Wilcken had been made vice-president and
given the responsibility of securing uncontested water rights and
settling all the company's debts. Despite his efforts the project would
ultimately be plagued with problems severe enough to thwart its
complete fruition. His involvement with the company continued until
March 25, 1903, when he resigned. (26)
Wilford Woodruff.
Charles H. Wilcken served as his companion and nurse.
The focus of this paper has been on Wilcken's public life, especially
his many services to the LDS church and its leaders. Space does not
permit an examination of his home and family life, his two failed
marriages, his various employments, his career as an unsuccessful real
estate speculator, or the nature and value of his published writings,
of which there are several. Rather, the aim has been to fit Wilcken
into the rich tapestry of Utah history. No church doctrine carries his
name. He authored no legislative act. There are no schools, streets, or
communities named for him. The only public notice of his presence on
earth is his name on a plaque and a seat in Pioneer Memorial Theatre at
the University of Utah. Why then pay so much attention to an obscure,
barely known nineteenth-century Saint?
Wilcken and perhaps scores of men like him made it all work. While
others whose names are much more familiar dealt with questions of God
and man, law vs. religion, statehood vs. subservience, Wilcken went
about the business of caring for his own families, assisting and
protecting others as necessary, and simply doing what had to be done.
He was not necessarily a great man, but he was a worker bee in Zion's
hive. He may have saved some lives-especially in the incident that led
to Marshal Burt's death-and he certainly shielded fellow and sister
Saints from arrest and imprisonment. He improved the environment in
which he lived, and he lived a lawful, respected, and undervalued life.
10. Deseret Evening News, November 3, 12, December 31, 1873. Wilcken
was severely injured on the farm in 1878 when he was tossed by a bull
owned by John W. Young. He suffered lacerations and bruises on his head
and face that took several months to heal. See ibid., August 13 and
December 9, 1878.
11. Woodruff, Journal, 7:296, 297; L. John Nuttall, Journal, August 27,
1879, Special Collections, Lee Library.
12. Deseret Evening News, March 28, 1879; June 13, July 16, August 1,
1883; March 19, 1884.
13. Ibid, August 25, September 4, 15, 1883, Abraham H. Cannon, Journal
(hereafter AHC Journal), August 25, 1883, Utah State Historical Society
Library.
14. Herbert L. Gleason, "The Salt Lake City Police Department, 1851-
1949: A Social History" (Master's thesis, University of Utah, 1950), p.
61; Deseret Evening News, December 24, 1884, January 14.