Hidden: Sacred/Secret

HIDDEN

SACRED/SECRET

ATHLENE MACLEOD

HIDDEN

SACRED/SECRET

Copyright © 2019 Athlene MacLeod.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-6449-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-6450-0 (e)

iUniverse rev. date:    05/18/2019

No people has ever insisted more firmly than the Jews that history has a purpose and humanity a destiny.

— Paul Johnson

No people has ever insisted more firmly than the fundamentalist Mormon that the purpose of humanity is to become like God and that to become as God one must find his spiritual calling and become his human destiny.

— Anonymous

The question is: Has the Fundamentalist changed his ways and given up? Or has he sociologically survived long enough and adapted for so long that he is still here surviving in secret among us? And ever a part of our environment the same way our brains are distant from our souls and is he using silence and evolution to reinvent with society its hidden outcomes and agendas?

What is a Fundamentalist?

Dedicate

d to

my mother Fern

my daughters SaMaria, Mary, Adona, Angela, Eliza, Heidi, Ariel, Michal, Maryland

CONTENTS

Preface

Introduction

Chapter 1   May Constance Alexandria Davis

Chapter 2   England

Chapter 3   The Long Road to Great-Grandma

Chapter 4   Manchester England

Chapter 5   99 Questions

Chapter 6   Dreaming of Zion

Chapter 7   ANNIE and SEVEN YEARS in LONDON

Chapter 8   Dreaming of America

Chapter 9   Joseph Fielding

Chapter 10   The Hidden Room

Chapter 11   The Atlantic Ocean and Jersey City

Chapter 12   The Very Long Walk

Chapter 13   Pioneer Day A Celebration of Independence

Chapter 14   Wendy KayDean Bunker

Chapter 15   John Willard Young

Chapter 16   A Honeymoon in France

Chapter 17   Married Again and Homesteading

Chapter 18   An Endowment of Love

Chapter 19   Midwifery and Pots of Gold

Chapter 20   Roads and Railroads

Chapter 21   Trip to the Cave with Great-Grandmother

Chapter 22   The Challenge of Authority

Chapter 23   The Little Mansion: in Kaysville

Chapter 24   The American Road to Suffrage

Appendix

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

PREFACE

December 31st, 2010 I met with four very amazing people and was asked to take a good look at writing a book, about the positive and hidden effects of polygamy in the United States. It didn’t seem like a lofty idea to me, at the time but I seriously questioned who the audience would be?

Over the next few days, my mind zipped through old memories and stored journals from my grand-cesters!

Extensive research and a plot that would get someone interested… ‘oh really’

Where did I start?

The reason we were entertaining a story about the effects of polygamy in the world was because we had a common respect for my daughter and several other people these friends had known over the years.

People they had lived next to, who had integrity and affinity for their communities and a deep love for their families; who were the proud and profound descendants of the polygamous culture.

In 2010 I was working with a young woman who had been searching for five years for her biological parents. She believed that she had already met her mother but for some reason the secret was being kept from her. As she did further research, she found a cousin who knew about her adoption and was informed that it would be very dangerous if she pursued the search any further!

However, after some fear and tears, she realized that her suspicion would not be satisfied by the answers she had found. Instead of the power of interest and love she previously had felt she was experiencing an astonishing concern that she was either stolen or sold as a child from the underground era of polygamous reform.

So, this young lady and I went to work looking for all the foster homes she had lived in. There was a repeat in these homes…a pattern occurred. She finally met her mother and to her sad and horrific surprise she found out that her mother had sold her not once but twice… At least that’s how her mother saw it…

The bishopric where her mother resided had convinced her that the only way for her or her baby to receive salvation was for a holy adoption to go through, inside the temple. They told her, this would cause a moral shift in their history. Her mother was so convinced that the only possible way for her to be forgiven and receive Eternal Life was to denounce the father of her child and allow a worthy set of parents to seal the baby to them in the House of God when it was eight days old! The first sale, she explained, had taken place before she had given birth!

The interesting thing is the mother never received any money. However, the adoptive parents paid the hospital bills, her rent for nine months and $50,000 to the Church adoption agency.

The young woman and I spent hundreds of hours looking for the records of foster children she knew who were related to her by blood lines. We found many children who had been ripped from their homes and placed in LDS Foster Care because their immoral parents were practicing a religion that was socially unacceptable? At the time, she still didn’t know who her father was…an infamous polygamous, she thought.

The number of children that have been taken and hidden hasn’t been addressed because it’s unheard of, astonishing and blasphemous to the LDS people.

The young woman found her adoption papers finally after seven years of intense research after questioning her mother repeatedly. The young lady’s mother then told her daughter that not once, but twice she had been sold. The reasons became increasingly apparent as she and I looked further and further into: this outrageous idea of confiscating babies before they are born and impounding their bodies for research on the polygamous genes. (A story told to her by her mother after she had finally found her.) A research that will cause you to shutter.

Questioning Mormon officials about enacting such a heinous crime was one of my hidden intents, and I asked several bishops and stake presidents how they felt regarding the wellbeing of the innocent children whom were born to unmarried young people and polygamists and their reaction to this was unanimous! They all had the same belief that babies and children are far better off with a father and mother who has been sealed in the temple where they have a chance to serve the Lord and follow the Living Prophet! Without a previous briefing of any kind each of them simply said and almost word for word, Polygamy is not ordained of God and is unrighteous and an abomination to the Lord and young women who get pregnant out of wedlock are considered irresponsible and counseled to give the child to parents who have been unfortunate at conceiving their own but willing to sacrifice for a child’s future and faith.

When I asked, Did not our Prophet Joseph Smith establish this Celestial Marriage law when he was here?

Oh, yes, but that was done away with long ago. It was only to take care of the widows and orphans. They would come back with a hundred reasons that Joseph was still a prophet of God and worthy of ‘ushering in the last dispensation of time’, but, but, but.’ Is it really possible that the souls of these precious babies and the salvation of the parents are at such a risk that they can be "taken, hidden and given away! Is it real?

YES, it is!!

My intention is not to prove Joseph Smith an imposter. Neither is it to prove that all polygamous people are bad people or good people. My intention is to bring out into the light the icons in history so that honor can be restored to some of the hidden ones.

One of my friends had worked at the DA’s office in Salt Lake City for 35 years. And she had proof from the court trials that took place that they removed the children from their safe and loving homes because of ‘technical errors’ that occurred in the courtroom which were overlooked by attorneys working for the polygamous or defendants: proff that they would lose, and the Church would win. She also had proof that would aid our research.

She was so touched and inspired that we would actually attempt to challenge the Church on behalf of the mothers who had been robbed of loving and raising their own babies. Her heart and mind was actively looking for a way to get the innocent and the willing back to their families and she had helped several children find their way back home…

Who would believe that polygamous children fear being taken out of their homes because they are hated, not for who they are but because of the acts of their parents?

The fundamentalist parents of these polygamous children teach them that they are above the law of the land. They are taught to believe that the government of the religious body is above the legal laws in their jurisdiction because the laws of God are higher, more righteous, (not much different from the LDS Church) but the laws of man are evil and are created to protect the criminals.

They are taught that the innocent need no recourse and that only the criminal would beg for pardon against a crime they have not yet paid. The children are taught to pay every day for their wrong doings and to repent and seek forgiveness even if they are uncertain of their shame or guilt.

They are taught that they are bound by a higher law that gives them no room for error in their personal lives and therefore they could not break the lesser laws of man.

Just like all other societies where the rules get broken by the few it is the whole-body that reaps the benefits or the consequences of the rebellious.

Jesus was a rebel. They are taught, but his law was not for the week it is for the meek.

When Jesus said, "And the meek shall inherit the earth. (That word that did not exist in Jesus’ day).

Polygamous’ are not the only fundamentalists…

The Lost Books of The Bible teaches that Jesus said, And the innocent shall inherit the earth.

These children are trained to follow orders until they have a mind of their own and can make decisions that are good for all.

But there are always those whose job it is in every society to challenge the way. They are the Orin Porter Rockwell’s and the Martin Harris’s in every culture and in this history, it is John W. Young the son of Brigham Young!

It seems that Utah took on the right to condemn any and all who embarrasses the Authorities. The same thing that the Pharisees and Sadducees were doing in Jesus’s time.

It seems Utah has taken on the scapegoat effect: killing one goat for the law and letting the others go free for the purpose of glorifying the policymaker. Scandalous!

The way we see it is that Utah is still using polygamy as a term in the court system to condemn those they want convicted and to exonerate those they want to expunge.

Examples will be made for this opinion, by way of controversy and enlightenment and by way of historical evidence…And the bold term adoption is the largest course of rancor and a counterfeit course of salvation for the indentured servants of the Lord or otherwise…

Known as wayward and insubordinate followers: the polygamous who choose to live the law they have been taught instead of following the living prophet are excommunicated and their life works are expunged from the records of the church.

And that is what happened to John W Young.

INTRODUCTION

I was twelve years old when I went to care for my great-grandmother. I was muscular and tall for my age so I thought that was why she had requested my assistance. The year I went to her home was 1946. I could be with her for only ninety days. School would start again, and I could not afford to miss any school. Besides I had a boyfriend no one knew about, and I wasn’t going to let anyone know how precious he had become to me. I often felt homesick after separating from him on the path coming home from school.

My great-grandmother was 106 years old at the time I went to care for her. She lived exactly one more year, to the date, from when I arrived to care for her. On June 5th, 1947, she passed into the next life…I am now looking back into my stay with her and getting the facts, and my feelings sorted out. She was an amazing woman and had a rich and dramatic history.

Thank the Good Lord I kept an elaborate journal of my time with her and the vibrant and resilient stories she told me.

I am 68 years old now. It is the year of our Lord 2002, and I have been amazed abundantly in my life by the challenges given to the children of men and the saints …I have suffered my share of indecencies and heartbreak in my life, but I don’t see myself as less fortunate than my fellows. I have had my share of exotic and elaborate experiences as well. Sometimes I see myself a continuation of my great-grandmother’s story and sometimes I feel like there’s a breach in the contract I might have had with her amazing and passionate Lord.

CHAPTER 1

May Constance Alexandria Davis

Born in London, England on May 30th, 1840 in a small hamlet called Honeybrooke, where May lived until she was ten years old.

She ferried across the Cambridge River and swam the vast waters of the Atlantic, in 1850. Her ship docked in Port James on October 25th, 1850. The whole adventure across the ocean took 21 days and 14 hours 22 minutes and 15 seconds.

After a short stay and a winter of heartbreak in Jersey City with her uncle, she made a long and arduous trip to Salt Lake Valley. She arrived in Salt Lake City on the 24th of July 1851 with her sister Annie and her Aunt Millie. She was eleven years old, and the huge party, she felt, had been set up just for her personal liking. Upon arrival in the great new city of Zion, she and her companions went directly to the President’s house and were immediately put to work as per the terms of their agreements and contract with her father.

May’s, Aunt Millie was nineteen and built like a princess and her sister Annie was seventeen and built like a workhorse. The combination was perfect for May, my great-grandmother, who was neither shy nor awkward, but young for an immigrant and apprentice.

The President, and also a prophet, Brigham Young gave them room and board and two days to recover the long journey to Zion. On Monday morning at 3: AM they altogether attended morning prayers and began the long life of pioneering the new frontier.

My great-grandmother called the President and his associates brothers. As God would have it, it turned out to be a blessing in general for my great-grandmother, which by terms of her own vocabulary she married her brother and no one, would have known the difference. And strange as it was, her children were accustomed to calling their own father uncle until they were old enough to figure it out for themselves.

Because of the age difference in my great-grandmother and my great-grandfather, it was easy to understand the almost silent way they lived their life. My great-grandmother’s love for her husband was bound by a reverence that took my breath away when she spoke of him. But still, she kept her maiden name and was known all her life as Sister May Davis.

She fell in love in 1845, when she was five years old and smitten with the deepest love. She told my great-grandfather in 1854 of her love for him, at that time great-grandmother was only 14 years old. As fate, would have it, she was separated from him for almost two years. As he served a mission, in Britain. They married on the 28th of July, 1856 in the Lion House. Then later when the endowment house was finished, they took their endowments together.

She gave birth to 6 children in 8 years’ time. During the first 7 years of her marriage 2 of her children died in her arms and 1 year later so, also did her husband.

At 36, she delivered her granddaughter, and 11 years later she watched as her youngest daughter, only 17 years old, slip away; dying in childbirth.

Her first and oldest living son, Hyram was crippled, like her father, from a fever caused by a bullet wound given to him when he was 13 years old, which often reminded her of her father’s crippling from the fever of the Spanish Influenza.

She was the third wife of Joseph Fielding. Then my Great-grandmother gave him three more wives during the first six years of their marriage…

There was an explosion on their anniversary in 1862, that took his life, in 1863.

Twenty-six months after her marriage to Joseph she gave her best friend, Libby to him as a wife. Libby died in my great-grandmother’s house of milk fever three years later, leaving her six-month-old son, Heber, for my great-grandmother to breastfeed and nurture. She said it was as if she had triplets…

CHAPTER 2

England

Tuesday morning after cleaning the hen house I came in for morning milk and cheese to find great-grandmother with a stack of black and white pictures. The edges were crumpled, and the images were fading slightly, but I could tell she had not shared these pictures very often. I felt a sense of deep respect and reverence by the way she sat in her chair, so upright and elegant. Her view of me took me by surprise. I very quietly pulled the hardwood chair away from the cold stainless steel table and sat waiting for her to say prayers. With my head bowed and my hands folded neatly in my lap she started instead with such a surprise she said…

When I was a small child I went with my elder brother Henry, my Father and my Mother to visit my grandparents in Manchester. My sister Annie was sick at home with the flu and in those days, we seldom took any more risks than absolutely necessary. We stayed at your great-great-grandparents for about a month, I believe. I was given a chance to meet and enjoy my cousins, Aunties, and Uncles, my blessed family, as only a young child can experience. My mother’s father had met a powerful man that he wanted my parents to meet with and have long conversations about the gospel and to look at the business and how it was leading the industry in Manchester.

I reached to touch the photo on top. That had caught my eye. Great-grandmother tapped my hand, and I recoiled it back to my lap.

Please wash and dry up first, my dear. She requested.

Great-grandmother then paused and said a simple and clever prayer for our bread and milk and cheese, ending with, I declare in the name of Jesus our friend, AMEN! Then she started her story again with,

My introduction to the gospel was sure-footed from the beginning. I had my first acquaintance with Joseph Smith the Prophet" in a way that was bound to influence anyone.

"Only five years old, I was one of the delights of that era. Somehow, I had survived the cholera, Spanish Influenza, and the plague that hit the surrounding area and so had my parents. The major destruction of the cholera and epidemics of the time had taken many of my aunts and uncles, father’s mother, and cousins I never had a chance to know. I was a shining hope for my family. My mother lost two of her children to the flu and three others born after me. They probably died due to mother’s frailties and malnutrition, which was very common for women who wore corsets in those days. She nearly died herself as she cared for my father when he caught the Spanish Influenza. Mother’s father, William, recovered but was left with a gait that was embarrassing to him for years afterward. When he was on the mend and working hard, my father’s business became highly useful, and he grew to great status in the community. Many prominent men sought him out for his services. He owned and operated a printing company and was brilliant in the art of print and designs.

"My father inherited his printing knowledge from his father. In those days having a family business was such a powerful means to an end…the end being wealth in the next generation…unlike what happened in America most recently.

There is little respect today for the old common goals and achievements. That I am sorry for. Back then we all expected the value of our parents work to carry on, making life more reliable and friendly for our children’s children.

That was how it would begin with my great-grandmother, the way it started, to unravel; Her story. I watched over her for 90 days. I did little jobs, washed walls, cleaned cabinets and crystal pieces. I took walks with her and helped pull countless weeds, and more and more; An unreasonable list of things. The beginning was beautiful and eerie; the end was passionate and eternal.

I think every child should have a chance to know the great people who helped them get their roots: the foundation of their existence.

My father and mother hardly knew great-grandmother. They spoke of her seldom. While I was spending the summer with my great-grandmother, I would often wonder how my parents were surviving without her love and her inherited grace and understanding about the world… When they had shared their memories, with me, it was more like a lost idea than an embracing one. My mother had spent some time collecting family genealogy from great-grandmother. She gathered a few poems and prose, some military documents, a playwright, church records and such that she had used to prove relationships to members of our family. But the little book my mother put together squelched the intangible worth of the five generations of history packed into the layers of society great-grandmother embodied.

My mother’s keen interest in family history was probably my ticket to the convalescence of my great-grandmother. What a blessing to have my life wrapped into my great-grandmothers.

It is more of a blessing to me now though than I felt it was then. Having Great-Grandmother memories and my mind working together now is much more helpful in the challenges I must face today. I love to reminisce that special time we spent together.

CHAPTER 3

The Long Road to Great-Grandma

There was a long dirt road to great-grandma’s house. As we bumped along from gravel to sand and back to gravel again, I felt like I was on a rollercoaster ride. My tummy would go up and then down making me laugh out-loud and giggle as we went along.

My parents were proud of their beautiful and durable, blue 1945 convertible. I loved going fast. I kept saying to Daddy go faster, go faster. My brother was annoyed by me, but he was just as eager as I was.

‘Daddy’s little girl,’ I got whatever I wanted, that’s what Jonny always said to me.

Mother had a hard time handling the jarring of the car and was competing with me on the other end of the spectrum asking daddy to slow down, or she would hurl. I sensed he was having a good time making her uncomfortable. He said we were late and in a hurry now, but slowed down a little just to speed up again. I will never forget that ride. I still feel the warm summer air on my face, and the tug on my scalp as the wind tore at my hair. Neither will I forget the mess I had to brush out when we got to great-grandmas.

Great-grandmother had asked if I could spend the summer with her. My mother and father had several discussions about me going and