A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF
JOHN EVANS
by his daughter, Martha
E. Berg
18 November 1935
The subject of this
sketch was born on the 9th day of January 1829 in Llandovery, South Wales. When a very small boy, about seven
years old, he was enticed to go to Merthyr, quite
some distance away, with a man who was taking a herd of sheep there to the
markets. His father had gone there some time before to work in the iron mines,
so the boy was glad for the invitation and accepted. However, he sent word by
his sister to tell his mother of his going, which naturally caused her much
anxiety. He arrived in Merthyr safely, but it was a
large city and he had some difficulty in locating his father. He finally was
successful, and both rejoiced together at being reunited. Soon after this, in
1838, the family moved to Merthyr where they made
their home.
Father had very little
schooling except what he learned in Sunday School
where they were taught to read the Bible. At the age of nine, he started to
work in the iron mines as a tram-boy which consisted of placing blocks of wood
in front of the wheels to stop the cars of ore. As he grew older, he was
gradually advanced to positions of responsibility and later became a station
engineer. Merthyr, at that time, was a leading mining
center supplying iron for the European countries and the United States and
furnishing much of the iron with which to build the railroads. Father continued
his work at the mines which provided him a very good living until he emigrated to America.
When a young man,
father noticed that missionaries representing the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints came to Merthyr to preach the
gospel. Some of the best men of his acquaintance had joined the church and this
caused him to investigate. He became converted and was baptized on the 23rd day of February 1849 in the Taf
River by Williams Powel and was confirmed about the 25th of the same month by John Thomas. The light of the gospel
brightened up his life so much that he said, “It is the kingdom of God or
nothing for me now.” Upon learning of his joining the church, his family felt
that they had been disgraced; however, later they became somewhat reconciled
and some of them also joined but apostatized.
Soon after father’s
joining the church, at an outdoor meeting in the neighborhood, he was asked to
stand on a chair and preach to the people assembled. This came as a great
surprise to him and he felt very weak and timid in attempting to do so, but
upon complying with this request, he felt the spirit of the Lord come over him
to such an extent that he astonished himself at the fluency with which he was
able to speak.
Shortly after this,
father was called as a home missionary to labor without purse or scrip in the
Eastern Glamorganshire Conference; in July 1851 in Carmarthenshire, in the
vicinity of Llandovery; and later he was called to
preside over a branch of the church which he continued to do until emigrating to America.
Soon after father’s
conversion and acceptance of the gospel, at one of their meetings, the spirit
of the Lord rested in such abundance and with such power upon all assembled
that they spoke in other tongues and it was interpreted. They would also sing
in tongues and others would interpret it with another song. They prophesied and
some of the prophesies were fulfilled during the
meeting and some after the meeting was dismissed. Father said he could well
understand how they felt on the day of Pentecost when the spirit of the Lord
was poured out in such abundance for it was the same in this meeting. He also
saw the workings of the evil spirit as well, and some under that influence
tried to disrupt the meeting but the elders laid their hands on their heads
and, by the authority vested in them, the evil spirits were cast out.
At the meeting of the
saints from time to time, my parents became acquainted. Mother had joined the
church and was living at the Mission Home. William Phillips was president of
the Welsh Mission. Father happened to be at a home where an afternoon tea was
being given and being attracted by a very distinguished looking woman, as he
put it, asked who she was. He was told that she was Mrs. Davies who proved to
be the mother of the girl with whom he was keeping company. My father and
mother, Elizabeth Davies, were married November 15, 1852 at Merthyr
Tydfil by Frank James, an attorney.
My parents, while
still in Wales, became acquainted with a number of church authorities from
Zion. Among them were Apostle Erastus Snow, who was on his way to open up on
Scandinavian Mission, at which time the Welsh saints gave him a very generous
donation; Apostle Lorenzo Snow, who was going to open the Italian Mission; and
Apostle John Taylor, who was to open the French Mission, who entertained them
with singing some of his own compositions, “The Seer” being one of them. Father
also met Heber C. Kimball, President of the British Mission and Franklin D.
Richards, President of the European Mission. He became acquainted and preached
with Dan Jones, an early Welsh convert and missionary who was a friend of the
Prophet Joseph Smith and was with him a Carthage Jail.
A baby boy was born to
my parents on October 24, 1853 and they named him Moroni.
By now, they had accumulated a little means, and father with his silk hat and
mother in her paisley shawl started with their baby boy, fifteen months old,
for America. They set sail from Liverpool on November 27, 1854 on the “Clara
Wheeler”, a sailing vessel. President F. K. Richards came to see them before
starting and waved them goodbye. Thus, they left all that was near and dear to
them for the gospel. There were 422 saints on board the ship, under the
directions of Henry E. Phelps.
They were eight weeks
crossing, having been driven back by storms which delayed them. Christmas and
New Year’s were spent on the ocean, and mother was
confined to her bed from sea-sickness the entire distance. An epidemic of
measles broke out on the ship and 22 children and 2 adults were buried at sea.
My brother also had the disease and mother prayed earnestly that his life would
be spared until they reached land. Her prayers were answered. They landed in
New Orleans on January 11, 1855, sailed up the Mississippi River on the steamer
“Oceania” and arrived in St. Louis where, about two weeks later, they were
called to part with their baby and only child, which left them sad and lonely
in a strange land.
While in St. Louis, my
father worked in the coal mines, but was sick with malaria a good part of the
time. A very fine branch of the church was organized there and Erastus Snow
presided over it. In going from one place to another, he would ride in a coach
driven by four horses and occasionally father would ride to the city with him,
a distance of five miles. He also rode with George A. Smith, Parley P. Pratt
and others. Father also attended dancing parties with them.
A baby came to gladden
their home on the 15th day of December, 1856 and they named him
Thomas Madoc.
In the beginning of
the next year they, together with a number of other saints, were called on a
mission to build new settlements on the plains for the benefit of the emigrants
who were on their way to Utah. About April 6th, 1857, they left St.
Louis and sailed up the Missouri River, arriving at Florence, Nebraska, near
Omaha, about the last of the month. They left Florence the beginning of May
with ox teams, crossing the Elkhorn River on a ferry boat, then up the Platt
Valley to Beaver Creek, a hundred miles from Florence. This was their
destination, and the city they built there was named Genoa. At this place the
Beaver River empties into the Loop Fork River and the town is located on both
of them. They remained there for three years where their first daughter, Ann
Jane, was born on the 6th of December, 1859.
In 1858, father left
his family at Genoa while he went to Muscatine, Iowa, to work in a coal mine as
he wanted to earn another yoke of oxen. He and two other men were working in
the mine and one day the two men quit work and went home to supper. Father
stayed to work a little longer, and while there alone, he thought he heard a
slight noise, or perhaps it was just some movement of the earth that he felt,
but didn’t pay much attention to it and went on working. Then he noticed it
again and finally heeded the warning and went home. He told them of his
experience and one of the men just laughed but the other took his lantern and
went to investigate. When he arrived at the mine, it had caved in and tons of
solid rock had fallen just where father had been working.
While living on the
plains, my parents met many people who became their life-long friends; among
them being, the Peck and McAlister families of Malad,
the McNeals of Logan, the Huff family of Bear Lake,
and Fishburn and Madson
families of Brigham City, and many others.
At Genoa, a prairie
fire broke out. The very name strikes terror to the hearts of those who have
witnessed them. Mother, her baby not yet born, tried to make her way to the
river bank, three miles distant. An Indian squaw carried her little boy, Tommy.
Father remained back to try to save what he could. He
knocked the pig pen down, liberating the pig. The house escaped the fire, but
the hay and grain and most everything else burned. The government then took the
place over for a reservation for the Pawnee Indians which necessitated by
parents moving away hurriedly.
They left Genoa, going
father west, and crossed the Loop Fork River on the ice, taking a great risk as
the thaw had already commenced, and soon after they landed, the ice gave way.
They crossed on the 22nd day of February 1860. There they
encountered cold and wintery weather and, having no shelter, they had to make
fires out in the open for heat and cooking. Father had to hold a blanket around
mother while she washed and dressed her baby to protect them from the cold.
They traveled 75 miles through a desolate Indian country alone, camping out two
or three nights.
They arrived at Wood
River, 25 miles west of Grand Island, Nebraska near Fort Kearney, where they
settled for awhile. While here, in 1861, Buffalo
County was created and named. Father was appointed the first deputy sheriff and
later became sheriff as the latter was disqualified. Sometime later, when
father was taking some produce to Fort Kearney to sell, a man came up to his
wagon to buy. Who should it be but the former sheriff, Patric
Gunn. Naturally, father thought it meant trouble as it
had been necessary for him to attach the sheriff’s property, he having
committed a crime, to pay the expenses of his trial when father took his place
as sheriff. There was no cause for fear, however, and everything went off
peaceably.
Father had a good
place at Wood River, plenty of water, timber, hay and grass. He assisted in
building the first telegraph line that came west. He also had considerable
experience in hunting buffalo and other game upon which they subsisted largely.
Father and some other men were hired by Brother Peck and another man who were
his neighbors, to build a store for them at Kearney City, a small town near the
Fort. They built it of sods as no other material was available, so with strong ox
teams they plowed the sod and then cut it in the desired lengths with a spade
and hauled it to where the store was to be built. At this time, the Pikes Peak
gold mine rush was on and people were going there by the hundreds. Sometimes
one hundred a day would camp there, and as one company moved out another moved
in all summer, making things very prosperous. Many of the travelers had their
violins and other instruments with them and they held dancing parties and
entertainments in which father took a part. He was quite a favorite with them
when they learned he could sing and step dance. He was called on often to
participate and they wondered how he could make his feet go so fast in so many
positions.
Near Fort Kearney is
Grand Island in the middle of the Platt River. It is about 60 miles long, and
is owned by the government. It was used then for the benefit of the Fort where
they raised hay for the cavalry horses, also wood and kept their stock there.
Some men contracted to put up the hay and father was hired to help. He did the
raking and they put up 200 tons one year. At this time, the war broke out
between the North and the South and soldiers were being sent to the front. A
company of soldiers under the command of Col. May, a large and handsome man,
came on foot from Fort Kearney, a distance of 15 miles, and camped near father’s
place for breakfast. He was surprised to see some men with whom he was
acquainted among them, so asked them all about it. They told him that firing
had commenced that morning and they had received a telegram to leave
immediately. They drank all the milk the folks had and all the water in the
well.
Father took the
produce he raised to Fort Kearney to sell. One day when he was taking a load of
watermelons there, he met some soldiers who bought them all and gave him a good
price. On his way home, in a lonely place, an Indian came up to the wagon and
snatched his whip away from him. Father jumped out and regained the whip, but
the Indian drew his bow and arrow. He aimed straight at father. At this, he let
his team go on and he walked backwards, keeping his eyes fastened on the Indian
until he was out of sight. The Indian, however, did not shoot and father was
greatly relieved when out of range. Father went some miles away to talk to a
Brother Joseph E. Johnson to discuss plans for the future, and Brother Johnson
said, “Whatever you do, don’t remain in this country another winter, for this
is the very war predicted by the Prophet Joseph Smith twenty-nine years ago,
and when the Indians learn that the people of the nation are at war with each
other, they will take advantage of the situation and take the law in their own
hands and it won’t be safe to live here any longer.” He also said, “I wouldn’t
live here another winter for all I’m worth.” They decided to come to Utah that
summer.
An independent company
was organized with Harvey Hullinger as captain and
father was appointed chaplain. On July 8, 1861, they started for Salt Lake
City, quite well equipped. Father had three yoke of oxen, two yoke of cows, two
wagons, two plows and two stoves which were rare in those days and a number of
other things. George Day, a boy of twelve years, drove one of his teams. When
about to leave, a fine pair of oxen were missing which were never returned. After leaving they learned of some killings by the
Indians. One case was of a father and his two sons.
They arrived in Salt
Lake City on September 8, 1861 having spent two months on the way. One of the
first things father did on arriving in Utah was to give one of his cows as
tithing. They came directly north, going to Calls Fort, just north of Brigham
City, to see father’s sister, Mrs. Ann Powell, and family who had joined the
church and emigrated previously. They were very happy to be reunited again and
insisted on my parents remaining there during the winter which they did.
In February, 1862,
they moved to Brigham City and lived in a small adobe house where the Tithing
Office now stands. On March 1, 1862, another boy was born, John Gomer. Later
father purchased a lot where Brother Thomas Slatter
lives, on which there was a two-roomed cellar with a dirt roof, but it was
considered a very nice place to live. In this house my brother, Joshua, was
born on March 6, 1864. Father disposed of the place and purchased a lot with a
four room adobe house on it situated on 2ndWest between 1st and 2nd North Streets where my niece, Mrs.
Victor E. Madsen, and family live. This was their permanent home and two
daughters were born - Mary Elizabeth on April 7, 1867 and Martha Madora on November 20, 1971. In 1875, they were called to
part with their beautiful and brilliant boy, Joshua, which was a great blow to
them.
Father worked at
whatever he could find to do; farming, gardening, hauling wood from the canyon
for himself and others, helping to make roads and ditches, working on public
and private buildings and building up the place generally. He also did work as
a sub-contractor on the Central Pacific Railroad which is now the Southern
Pacific and also on the Utah Northern which is now the Oregon Short Line.
After coming to Utah,
hard luck seemed to follow father. He purchased some land just west of where
the sugar factory now stands which was a very choice piece of property and one
of the best in the big field. During the spring season the water in Box Elder Creek
rose so high that it flooded over, washing rock and gravel all over the land.
My brother, John, says that he remembers working with father and Brother Jeppson and others with the water to their knees trying to
build a willow fence to turn the current in another direction and save the land
from further damage. This was impossible, however, and the land was practically
ruined. Father then obtained some farmland between Bear River City and
Tremonton, and helped survey Bear River City where he secured a lot and
intended to live in order to be near the farm. Water was taken from the Malad River to irrigate the land but the minerals in it
ruined the soil. He worked for years trying to overcome this condition but to
no avail and it proved to be almost a total loss.
Father later took up a
claim about three miles southwest of Brigham near Perry and built a nice log
house with a shingle roof on it. We lived there one summer when I was a baby.
The eastern half of the property was suitable for farming and the west was
considered very good farmland without water. This was the first dryland wheat raised in that part of the country. The
place, however, was better adapted to dairying purposes. Two railroads ran
through the property, the Southern Pacific and the Oregon Short Line.
Everything looked quite prosperous when one of the engines set fire to the
meadow portion of the land and the grass and sod were ruined.
Father’s little half
acre lot in Brigham City proved to be quite profitable. He raised peaches and
other fruit as well as vegetables. In the fall of the year, he and my brother,
John, would load the wagon with peaches and go to Cache Valley and Malad and vicinity to exchange them for wheat - a bushel of
peaches for a bushel of wheat.
Father was a member of
the Tabernacle Choir for twenty-five or thirty years, and a member of the
Martial Band for forty years. He played the flute and fife and had a bass
voice. He sang in public and on many occasions, he and mother sang character
songs together. It always impressed me when he would give expression to his
feelings in song which he did often in Fast Meetings.
At the April
Conference in Salt Lake City in 1880, he was called to perform missionary work
in his native land, Wales. This would mean a great sacrifice to him and his
family at this time but the gospel meant everything to them. So, on the 13th day of the same month he, in company with R. L. Fishburn, Sr., John Christensen and George L. Grahel and other who were also going to perform missions
left Ogden. They arrived in New York on the 18th and in Liverpool on the 29th sailing on the ship “Arizona.” The day after they landed,
May 1st, father in company with a friend visited the
library and museum and went to see the horse parade. On May 2nd, he took the train for South Wales where he was assigned to
labor.
The second year of
Father’s mission, he was called to preside over the Welsh Conference succeeding
Joseph R. Mathews. An account of his labors is recorded in the Millennial Star
in Volumes 42, 43 and 44. He traveled and preached in all the counties in
Wales, visited relatives in London and other parts of England,
and in Wales gathered genealogy and preached the gospel and bore his testimony
to those he met.
While on his mission,
father preached the funeral sermon of one of the survivors of the famous “Light
Brigade” immortalized by Lord Tennyson in his poem, “The Charge of the Light
Brigade.” The man’s name was George James, father of John James of Salt Lake
City.
During his absence
from Utah, my eldest sister, Annie, was married and had a baby, and later died.
Her death was a terrible blow to father and the family.
Father sailed for home
on April 11, 1882 on the steamship “Nevada” and was appointed chaplain over the
company of saints on board. He arrived home on May 1st and upon his return, he was reinstated in the Choir and
the Martial Band.
In his later years,
father disposed of his farmland and devoted his time to caring for his garden
which was a joy to see. He raised different kids of
fruit and a variety of vegetables continuously from asparagus in the early
spring until frost came.
Father took great
pleasure in joining his fellow countrymen, the Cumbrians
and Sons and Daughters of Wales Societies, in their annual festivities at Saltair where he would take his part in singing and
step-dancing. He enjoyed having his grandchildren and great-grandchildren
gather around him while he sang and played his flute for them and they enjoyed
it fully as well.
Father’s family,
together with other Welsh families of Brigham, Willard and Perry promoted a
number of Eisteddfods, and fine educational programs were rendered in both
Welsh and English and old Welsh customs renewed.
In 1914, when far
advanced in years, father met with a terrible accident while visiting in Salt
Lake City. Being fond of walking, he decided he would like to go over the road
upon which he had emigrated into the Salt Lake Valley
fifty-three years before which road was through Parleys Canyon and note the
changes which had taken place since that time. He had gone quite some distance
up the canyon and was on his way back to the city when he noticed some workmen
on the railroad. The foreman called to him and asked him to ride down the
canyon with them as they had seen him going up the canyon in the morning and
thought it wonderful to see a man of his age taking such a walk. Father
declined, preferring to walk, but the men rather pressed the invitation and he
consented. When they had gone a short distance something went wrong with the
car and it apparently left the track. Father was thrown from the car and when
he recovered consciousness, quite some time had passed. It was dark and he was
in an automobile between two men. What did it all mean, and where had he been
during the hours since before sundown, and what had he done to be in this
condition? Had he done any wrong, and were they going to throw him in a deep
gully or put him to death to get rid of him? He didn’t know, but all these
things went through his mind and everything was so strange. It seemed he was
unable to talk to the men. Then he noticed they were driving toward a place
with many electric lights, which, of course, was Salt Lake City. They stopped
at a large building and a man came out and carried father in.
Father was asked if he
had any friends in that city, and as he had regained his faculties by this
time, he told them that he had many friends there and referred them to his
nephew, Mr. W. E. Prosser. Mr. Prosser came and took father to his home where a
doctor was called and the family was notified. His injuries proved to be a
broken collarbone, two broken ribs, a very badly wrenched back and terrible
bruises all over his head and body. He was absolutely helpless and no hopes
were entertained for his recovery. A trained nurse together with members of his
family took care of him until he was able to be taken home.
Father recovered
rapidly; however, it left him in a very nervous condition and he could sleep
neither night nor day and was too nervous to even remain in bed. He improved
some, but never entirely recovered from this condition.
In his later years and
after mother died in May 1914, father devoted much of his time to reading, to
visiting the aged, sick and home-bound, and in doing genealogical and temple
work. It was while thus engaged in Salt Lake City in the temple that he was
stricken with his last illness which necessitated an operation. This he
survived but passed peacefully away the next day, 15 April 1920.
Father ever bore a
strong testimony of his faith in the gospel and died as he had lived - a doer
and not a mere believer of the Word of God.
At a family reunion in
honor of my parents, the following poem written by their grandson, Joshua T.
Evans, was read:
TO GRANDPA EVANS
A name rings out both
loud and clear,
A name we love and
will revere,
A man we honor and
hold dear,
The name of Grandpa Evans.
A pioneer of
staunchest type,
Who always tried to do
the right,
Who braved the
hardships, won the fight,
Was dear old Grandpa
Evans
A welcome hand at
every door,
Visiting sick,
comforting poor,
Fatherless, widows,
many more -
Fine old Grandpa
Evans.
His heart was good,
his soul was pure,
He stood for right,
fought evil’s lure,
The aid and sympathy
was sure
Of cherished Grandpa Evans.
Who footsore walked
and fainted not?
Whose kindly calls are
not forgot?
Who judged no man for
much or aught?
Good-natured Grandpa Evans.
Who loved to sing a
nice Welsh air?
Who step-danced, too,
at gay Saltair,
And played the flute
with talent rare?
Delightful Grandpa Evans.
We, then, have cause
to celebrate,
Praise deeds we try to
emulate,
And many more we could
relate
Of honored Grandpa Evans.
.
