A Life History of

EDWARD MORONI THURMAN

written by himself

I was born December 15, 1848 at Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, England, the son of Edward Thurman and Nary Ann Gibson. The Mormon elders were making many converts about that time. The book of Mormon was being read by many. While I do not know, I am sure that, that book converted my mother but not my father. There must have been some misunderstanding between them for 1854 found my mother and her two little children in Liverpool, England on their way to Salt Lake City. Father paid their way but did not go with them. I cannot forget how smokey and dark everything looked and how close Mary and I hugged to our dear mother when we passed over the gangplank of the ship upon which we would sail.

The good ship Germanicus finally moved out and stopped at a port in Ireland to take on other passengers. We drifted along slowly but surely. My mother engaged Brother Thomas Soisgj to take care of me and he had a lively time to do so. We drifted on so slowly. After about four weeks we were only about half way across the ocean. There we stayed not a breeze to stir the sails. The trade winds kept taking us south. After another four weeks we were about three hundred miles south of the Florida Straits east of the Bahama Islands. An old captain aboard said he could pilot us through the Islands. Our destination was New Orleans.

As we could do nothing to pass through the Florida Straits, our good captain took a chance. We were sailing along nicely when the old ship struck a slanting rock and out went the front of the ship. Oh! What a stampede for the deck, women screaming and some on their knees praying, children hanging onto their mothers. I can never forget the panic and turmoil of that occasion. There we hung on the rock. The Captain ordered all the passengers to the back part of the ship to weigh it down into the water. The boats were lowered into the sea and fastened to the ship. The Captain would shout and every sailor would lend his ear. After an hour or so the ship commenced to slide backwards into the water. Oh, what a relief. I don’t think there was a dry thread on any of us. The sailors were ordered to the front of the ship to turn it around the big rock. Boats were sent ahead to sound the depth of the water.

We were met at the mouth of the Mississippi River by a long board. We were transferred to a steam boat to ascend the river. About twenty miles below St. Louis, quarantine officer met us. Cholera had broken out and we were unloaded to die. Five of the passengers did die.

Two weeks later we were taken to St. Louis where we received orders from Salt Lake City, to remain there. My mother and her children arrived in St. Louis with 50 cents to winter on. The president of the branch was a fine fellow and did everything he could for the comfort of the saints. The winter finally passed. In the spring of 1855 my mother married James Perkes. We moved four miles west of St. Louis to a coal camp where my stepfather secured work. We lived there four years then we moved to Bellville, Illinois where we lived for five years. The Mormon Elders had called at our home several times encouraging us to move to Utah, as the Civil War had broken out. It seemed like destiny was against us.

In the spring of 1862 the Perkes family was in St. Louis, all but John (John is the son of James Perkes), who enlisted in the northern army. We started westward and camped six weeks more waiting for the teams to take us to Salt Lake City. Before the tea arrived the company numbered six hundred.

In the early part of July we started across the plains. Captain Miller of Farmington, was in charge of our caravan. Each morning when the wagons were ready to start the young people would gather and sing ‘Come, Come Ye Saints”. That was the happiest time of my life. For breakfast we would have soleratus bread and bacon, then lay down on our stomachs and drink out of a clear stream of water. We rolled up our pants and waded in the stream, then we started walking on and on until we were all in. I walked every step of the way from Omaha to Salt Lake City. Thanks to the Lord God of heaven for all those trials. It makes the Gospel just a little better. We arrived in Salt Lake city October 17, 1862 and moved on to Hyde Park, Cache Utah.

To say we were thankful would be putting it mildly. We Had a lot of pluck. We applied for work and got all we could do. Thrashing was on and the four of us, Father, Rueben, William and myself, went to work and in a few months had enough wheat to last us a year. (Rueben and William are sons of James Perkes.) We borrowed a log house. It was one room and we put a pole the length of the room for a partition, then piled straw in one side of the room for our beds.

In the spring our clothing was worn out. My mother took off one of her petticoats to make me a shirt, then cut up the wagon cover and made us all pants. We were pretty poor, but when I got my new outfit I had to go and see my girl. She had an old maid sister who met me at the door. She looked me over from head to foot and laughed. I grew very angry. My eyes fell and I turned and went home, but was not daunted. I still had a little spunk left.

The tenth day of June, 1863 James Wolf and I left Hyde Park, to meet the incoming immigrant saints. On June 15 we met at the mouth of Weber Canyon along with others and were organized. Chester Loveland of Brigham was Captain and Orval Childs was assistant Captain. We moved slowly up Weber Canyon and a few days later we were camped on the Green River. The river was very high. We ferried our wagons across and our Captain ordered the horses to be unhitched from the wagons so they could swim across the river. I was a boy 19 years old, and yes, I will admit I cried, for my fondest hope, my first horse, went down swimming across the river and was drowned . . . The same day six of the boys were drowned -- still, we went on. In about two weeks we were in Laramie, Wyoming. We stayed there for six weeks waiting for our loads. Just before sundown the long awaited train arrived and we were there to meet it. After we got our wagons loaded, a sweet—faced sister said to me, ‘Brother are the roads as rough as this all the way to Zion?’

That night we camped in our old campground. The next day was clean up day. The next morning we were. on our way. When we hit the road we had to hang on for our lives. The mules and horses knew we were on our way home.

We followed up the South Platte to get feed for our teams which took us off the main road about six miles. We were all dozing while the horses and the mules were feeding, just at noon when two Indians yelled the warwhoop and started to shoot.

Instantly the horses and mules stampeded. The Indians got away with 49 head of our horses. As soap as we could about twenty of us went after them. Say, that was quit a ride. At Whiskey Gap we overtook them and got most of our horses back. Some of us followed the Indians and before sundown we were close enough to them that we shot them. When we returned to camp we packed the women and children in behind quilts and bedding. Every man had his gun ready. We travelled that way that day and by nightfall we fell in with Captain Rolling’s company of about 60 or 70 wagons, The two companies travelled to together until we crossed the Green River. It seemed good to be nearing home with no more Indians to encounter. Good old Bishop Hunter had the Tithing Gates opened f or us.

Soon gold was discovered in Montana. Times changed, men by the hundreds flocked in to buy grain and feed wheat that sold for $5.00 a bushel. I soon got rid of my homemade suit. My stepfather was a hardworking man and we were soon able to buy us a home of our own. It was a little log cabin, one room and a leanto on the back with a large fire place and a stone hearth.

END OF HIS WRITING.

The writer of this history stopped too soon, so please permit me, Albertie Griffeth Griffiths, to add a little more as follows:

Uncle Ted, as we called him, lived a long, interesting, useful, exemplary life. He grew up to manhood in the pretty little town of Hyde Park, Utah. There he met and fell in love with a girl named Lovina Samantha Griffeth, sister to Andrew Griffeth, (my father) who, three months earlier had married Uncle Ted’s sister, Mary Elizabeth Thurman. Uncle Ted and Aunt Lovina were married in the Endowment House, Salt Lake City, April 26, 1870. They were blessed with twelve children.

On October 10, he married a second wife, Femina Besella Stewart in the Endowment House. They were the parents of six children.

This polygamist family would have been very happy in their two lovely homes, if the government officers had left them alone. But at that time the “deps" were doing all that they could to persecute the Mormon polygamists. Uncle Ted was forced to go into hiding. Oft times he would be gone for many days, his wives not knowing where. Some time in the middle of the night’s darkness, he would tap at the window and ask if he could come in and have something to eat.

At one time he was up in Fairview, Idaho, and he wanted very much to see his families, so being a rather small man he dressed up like an old lady and rode, in daylight, through the streets of Hyde Park. Luck was with him f or no one recognized him.

Finally he decided, with many others, that he must leave Utah So he went and took up a homestead in Star Valley, Wyoming. Years later Star valley became famous for its dairy products, especially its famous cheese.

Both wives, in time, became settled in humble homes in the town of Grover, Wyoming. Their first homes were log cabins with dirt roofs. His family was one of the first four families to settle in Grover, and he remained there until his life was finished.

In that settlement he was the first school teacher and the first postmaster. He bought the first red cutter to carry the mail into the valley in the winter months. On crisp, cold days he made an interesting picture; the red cutter on the glistening white snow, with the happy driver dressed in a fur overcoat and a fur cap.

He filled many offices in the church and civic organizations and he never feared to stand up for the truth. They were all very happy, for many years there in Grover and were doing well financially, but more trouble had to come. One day, January 16, 1892, when uncle returned home from the canyon, I believe he found that his wife--Aunt Mina--had dropped dead with a heart attack. This was a great shock and a sorrow to Uncle Ted. It was told that Nellie, the little six year old girl ran over to the home of the first wife and exclaimed, mother’s dead, can we live with you?

There was no question about it, with Lovina. She took the six children and raised them as her own, with her eight that were still living. That was a large mixed family, but I never knew of them having any serious quarrels or jealousy. You never could tell which children belonged to which woman. They had order and love in their home, although they didn’t have conveniences like we have today.

Every week they all had to have a good bath in an old wooden tub, to prepare them for Sunday. They blacked their shoes by dipping a brush into water or milk, then rubbing it along the bottom of a stove lid and applying it to the shoe. When the shoe was nearly dry. vigorous rubbing gave it a good shine.

In 1904 the Thurman brothers built a beautiful modern home which is still being occupied by one of them, Ray, who has served 52 years as Stake Patriarch in the Star Valley Stake.

Uncle Ted died December 30, 1931 and was buried on the hillside in the Grover Cemetery. Aunt Lovina lived till August 10, 1936, and she was buried by her beloved husband and Nina, the lovely woman who had shared his love.