Written by William Wilson Sterrett
(1825 - 1912)

Submitted by Garold N. Davis

Pioneer Experiences

I, William Wilson Sterrett, was born on the 18th day of November, 1825, in Ross Township, Butler County, Ohio, near the town of Venice.

My schooling consisted of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Books in those days were scarce. My mother was naturally a good woman and taught me to be honest and to respect the name of the Deity. She was a good woman and done the best she knew how. Father was worldly minded but an honest man. I served two years at the tailoring business and spent a few years on the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers steamboating, until the Mexican War commenced. I then went to Mexico in the quartermaster’s department. I remained in that country until the treaty of peace, then went back to Ohio in 1848. I had heard a rumor of the discovery of gold before leaving Mexico.

In the spring of 1849 I was full of the gold fever and started for California but only got to Iowa that season. In the spring of 1850 I started and arrived in Salt Lake City on the 8th day of August. In all my ups and downs I had many temptations to pass through. I also had many reflections in regard to a future state. I, being a firm believer in the existence of a Supreme Being, never had found any person that could tell e any more than my mother had instilled into me; I, of course, was very ignorant. But thanks be to God, I was amongst a people who could inform me. I had always been a reader and always read everything that came in my way. During the winter of 1850 I read the Book of Mormon, Voice of Warning, and some other works, and I became convinced of the truth. The Holy Ghost enlightened my mind to the extent that I knew for myself of the truth, that it was of God. There were many Gentiles in the city during this winter, and some of them joined the Church. They were called “Winter Mormons.” I held off not wishing to be called a “Winter Mormon,” until the most of them had bid farewell to Mormonism as well as Salt Lake City.

In May, 1851, I was baptized by Elder Ruben McBride in the waters of City Creek.

I married the daughter of Elder Simeon Crandel, she being rebaptized at the same time and by the same elder; her name is Mary Jane. After confirmation that same fall, I was ordained a teacher in the 19th Ward under the hands of Bishop James Hendricks and others. I continued in that office until 1852 and was ordained a Seventy under the hands of George D. Grant, William H. Kimball, and James Ferguson and was put in the 33rd Quorum of Seventies. We received our endowments in the upper room of the Council House, as it was called in those days, and helped break ground for the foundation of the temple.

In November 1853 we went with Brother John Nebeker as captain to Fort Supply. Sometime in December we found we did not have flour enough to last all hands until spring. Eight of us were sent with four wagons to Salt Lake for a supply. The winter set in early, and when we got within about one-half mile of the top of the big mountain, the snow became so deep that we had to camp, the oxen not able to pull the wagons. We counciled as what was best to do. Some was for returning, but some of us was for pushing ahead. The snow was about five feet deep and snowing still. Six of us concluded to try and tramp a trail to the top of the mountain. We started about eight o’clock p.m. and took it single file. One kept the lead as long as he could stand it, then fell back to the rear and waited until he again came in the lead. By this means we worked our way by sunrise the next morning to the top and went back and drove our oxen along our trail. When we got them to the summit, the crust bore them up. We left our wagons there that winter. We sent a man to the city on horseback for help, and by two o’clock plenty of help came, and we got to the city that night. We spent the winter in the city. The next spring we went back, Brother Orson Hyde going with us, remaining during the summer and fall, and returning to the city and spending the winter. In the spring of 1855, at the April Conference, I, with about 40 others, was called to take a mission amongst the Elk Mountain Utes. By referring to my journal, I find that I left May 9th in company with Elders Stephen B. Moore, Lot E. Huntington, and Christopher E. Perkins with two yoke of cattle on our wagon. Our journey through the settlements to the city of Manti was pleasant. The people of the settlements were kind and hospitable.

On May 21st we left the good people of Manti and resumed our journey to Six Mile Creek and camped. We numbered 41 men, 15 wagons, Brother A. N. Billings, Captain, with Joseph Rawlins, Wagonmaster and Captain of the Guard. June 2nd we arrived at Green River. The next day being Sunday, we laid over and held meeting, a number of natives being present. They were invited to hear Brother L. E. Metcalf speak to them in their own language. They manifested a good spirit and listened attentively.

We commenced ferrying our wagons—lost one wheel, and finished ferrying and swimming stock on the 8th, broke camp, resumed our journey, and arrived at Grand River on the 10th and camped. We commenced swimming stock and ferrying wagons the next morning and finished on the 15th; no accident occurred. On the 16th we commenced operations for building, taking out water, stalking plows, etc., etc. The 17th being Sunday, we held meeting, after which we all repaired to the water’s side and were rebaptized and confirmed. We then were ready to build, plant and sow. We put in all kinds of seeds which grew finely. The valley was small but had good soil, quick to bring forth. Our fort was built of rock and our corral of cottonwood logs, forming a stockade. Some of the brethren visited the Navajos.

On the 22nd of July, we baptized 15 Indians and confirmed them—14 males and one female. We ordained four elders. On the 23rd, a party of brethren started East for the Elk Mountains. In the meantime, Arra-pine, the Ute Chief, visited us on his way to the Navajo country. When he returned, he brought four Navajos with him. The Utes and Navajos made a treaty, and on August 10th, both parties left for their respective homes.

On the 7th of September we baptized 18 more of the natives and confirmed them members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. On September 12th, Brother Billings and party got back from the Navajo country. On the 15th, a son of Chief Qurit.Sub.Sockets. came in and reported his father very sick and wanted some of the Mormons to come to his lodge (about 12 miles) and to administer to him. A party of the brethren went and found the Chief quite sick, administered to him, and returned the next day. And on the 17th, the old chief came to camp feeling first rate; on the 18th two more natives were baptized. We had our first new potatoes on the 20th. The Indians took a good portion of our vegetables, and some of them were getting rather saucy and mean and had taken some of our horses and cattle, besides taking our vegetation. Out of the 41 brethren of the mission, there were only left at our fort 16 men. The rest were gone to the settlements to see their families. On Saturday the 22nd, two of the brethren went on to the mountain to hunt sheep. William Buchanan and Edward Edwards—this was the last time we ever saw them, for we concluded that they were killed by the Indians. We heard seven shots fired on the mountain.

On the 23rd we changed our herd ground—this we done for fear that the Indians would steal them. However, about eight or ten of them came up to the fort and wanted to know why we changed our herd ground. We tried to satisfy them by saying “To get them on bunch grass,” but they were mad and bent on mischief.

At about 11 o’clock this same son of Chief Qurit.Sub.Sockets came to the fort and called Brother James Wiseman Hunt to get a rope and go and catch his (Brother Hunt’s) horse, as he wanted to trade for him. They started—the Indian on horseback and Brother Hunt on foot, walking ahead of the Indian. He asked Hunt where the stock was. He pointed the herd out, and as he done so, the Indian shot him. The ball struck him on the left of the backbone and ranging down, lodged in the left thigh. The Indian then came back to fort (or within a couple hundred yards) and called to an Indian that stood there talking, who immediately started with him over the river. Brother Hunt called for help. The two who were guarding stock heard him and ran to him. He requested them to administer to him, which they did. One of them, Brother Cutler, then came running to the fort, but too late for us to overtake the murderer. The brethren all started for the wounded man, three of us taking our rifles and revolvers. As soon as Hunt was shot, the Indians ran off five head of horses across the river. When we arrived where Brother Hunt lay, we got him in a blanket and started for the fort, Brother Williams on horseback driving the horses. We looked towards the river, and here come about twenty Indians on horses painted black as crows carrying rifles. They came up to about two hundred yards and fired, and as I said, there was but three of us armed, Cutler, Huntington, and myself. We returned fire.

We were then about three-fourths of a mile from camp. We kept them back so that the brethren could go ahead with the wounded brother. One Indian dismounted and crept up to good shooting distance, had us all in range, and fired; the ball passed close to the head of Cutler and myself and struck Brother Billings in the front finger of his right hand as he was carrying one corner of a blanket. They continued to fire on us until we reached the fort. We succeeded in getting our stock all in the corral. The natives then went to the northeast of the fort where they continued to fire on the corral and fort until dark. They succeeded in setting fire to our hay that was stacked against the corral, but he Indian who fired it paid the penalty with his life.

We kept up our guard all night. We done everything that could be done for Brother Hunt, but he died about 4 o’clock the next morning, September 24th.

James Wiseman Hunt was a good, exemplary Latter-day Saint, a true believer in the principles of the everlasting Gospel, and died a martyr to the faith, and I hope to meet him in the Resurrection of the Just. He was a son of Daniel Hunt and has a brother at this writing, 1895, who is a bishop in St. Charles, Idaho.

On the morning of the 24th, all was confusion, Indians all around and inside our fort, had also sent for the balance of band. We concluded to leave all to them and get away if we could, they having shut off our water which came from a spring northeast of the fort and which ran through our fort. Consequently, we would have been without water in a few hours if all our brethren had been there. We could have held out longer. We saddled up a horse apiece and one or two pack animals, leaving 15 wagons and about 80 head of cattle—in fact, everything we had but the horses we rode and our arms. We rode out of the fort gate expecting every moment to be fired on, but through the mercy of our Heavenly Father, we got safely away.

Many incidents occurred that is not necessary to mention. Not many of our brethren felt like shedding any more of the blood of the Lamanites. We had a better feeling for them than they had for us, and I can say that the brethren of that mission, almost to the man, regretted that we had to, in self-defense, done as much as we did. The Indians followed us to Grand River. We crossed and traveled until dark—made camp but built no fires.

After crossing Green River, Brother Williams selected three of us, C. A. Huntington, Richard W. James, and myself, to travel up the river and to strike the Spanish Fork Trail, to intercept any of our brethren that might be coming back. We took about three days’ provisions and started. The company keeping on the trail, we went out on.

Nothing of note occurred with us for the first two days. Our provisions were fast growing less. We also found ourselves in a strange predicament. The trail we were in search of, I presume, had become obliterated, for we never found it. We got entirely out of provisions and went four days without eating. We then ripped off our moccasin soles, which were of rawhide, and roasted them, but it was poor food. We also killed a small dog that followed us and ate him. By this time we had become so weak that we could not hunt for game. Our horses were becoming jaded as well as ourselves. We were in a manner barefoot as well as terribly discouraged. We knew that we must travel northwest to get out to the valleys, but the prospect was discouraging, for when we could climb to the highest peak, there were a dozen more ahead of us higher than the one we were on. We at last came to an Indian encampment on Green River. One of our party went on ahead to the camp, and being a good interpreter, told them who we were and also that we were starving and told of our troubles with the Indians on the Grand, which brought us very near losing our scalps. Any person that knows anything of the Indian nature knows that if you have trouble with one, all are angry. The Utes are a very revengeful tribe, and as the whole story was told that we had killed some of them and that they had killed three of our brethren, they naturally became angry. The chief of this band was called Black Pine. When we got to their camp, they treated us kindly and gave us first a little bread and after an hour or so, they gave us a little more. And in the afternoon they set out a camp kettle full of deer meat boiled to rags and told us to eat all we wanted. This we done and suffered no inconvenience. The chief put our traps in his lodge and told us to make our beds by the side of his lodge, which we done, and lay down to sleep, not apprehending any danger. But a kind providence was watching over us.

The Indians went into Council and kept it up until about 12 o’clock, whether to kill us or not. Every Indian but the chief was in favor of taking our scalps. Their argument was that we had killed some of their kindred, brothers, fathers, cousins, or some relative, and that we deserved to die; however, the chief prevailed and we were allowed to live.

I will have to break the thread of our narrative to tell how we found all this out. The next year, Richard W. James, one of our party, became interpreter on the Spanish Fork farm for the Indian Agent, Doctor Forney. During that summer, Chief Black Pine came in and recognized Brother James and told him what is above written.

The next morning we left our Indian friends, they giving us a small sack of dried meat, and told us to go up the river about twenty-five miles and there we would strike a trail made in the spring by White Eyes’ band. But as usual with us, when we got there, the trail was not in sight. Again we were thrown on our own resources. Suffice it to say that we made our way slowly to the headwaters of Provo River footsore, almost naked, and weary. Here we knew not where we were, and at this particular point, the canyon seemed to turn to the south. We knew that was not our direction. We were in quite a quandary which way to go. Here we killed one of our horses and dried a part for future use. That night I retired apart from the brethren and besought the Lord in prayer that He would shoe me the way out. The answer came in a dream, to go down the stream. In the morning I told my dream, and they were willing. We packed one horse and rode one, and two of us were on foot, and on the second day reached Provo City, where the people came very near killing us with kindness. We reached Salt Lake City on the 20th day of October, where we found our families and friends in a state of great excitement. President Brigham Young had white men and Indians scouring the south in all directions. We were in the mountains twenty-four days. My weight when I got home was 115 pounds—my usual weight being 155 pounds.

I remained in the city during winter. The grasshoppers had been plentiful that year and had destroyed a great portion of the crops; as a consequence, flour was scarce and hard to get, but thanks to Israel’s God, we were not without. In the spring of 1856 I was again called to go and take my family to Fort Supply. I think we had about 20 pounds of flour to start on. However, we had plenty form that time on. I had a good house there, and we were soon comfortable; farmed during that season. We made new farms and planted all kinds of grain and vegetables. The people generally prospered. We also had a sawmill in operation—lumber was plentiful. In the spring of 1857 we were a blessed people—had everything in abundance—cattle, horses, and provisions of all kinds. During the summer, rumors of an army coming reached us. On August 30th, Brother Lewis Robison came up form Bridger, and he with our President Bullock called a meeting. They wanted ten men to go to the east to the Cherokee Trail to see that we were not surprised by any of the coming army. On the 31st, ten of us started on the expedition or mission; that night after supper we organized—H. N. Crandle, Captain; W. W. Sterrett, Clerk. The names of the others were James Oakley, James A. Ivie, Soloman Cowley, Clinton Williams, Peter Wentworth, John Sessions, Frederick Bradshaw, and William S. Lyon. There also was an Indian, Shoshone John, so called. Suffice it to say, we performed the work we were called to do and returned to find our homes deserted. Our families and all gone. Word had been given for all to come to Salt Lake, and they were en route.

We overtook our families and arrived safely in Salt Lake City. After arranging my affairs the best I could, I was then ready for business.

On November 7th, Brother Joshua Terry and myself were called to take some dispatches from President Brigham Young, the first ever sent to the army. We left that morning and in the afternoon met Brother Lewis Robison with a band of cattle belonging to him and Brother Terry. Here Brother Terry left me and returned with the stock. I went on to General Wells’ headquarters and reported. The General says, “William, are you afraid to go?” “No sir,” he said. “They may take you prisoner, but they won’t hurt you.” He sent a young man with me by the name of Meecham and also wrote a letter to the commander. The army at this time were encamped off Hams Fork about ten miles above its confluence with Black’s Fork, Colonel E. B. Alexander in command. General Albert Sidney Johnston had not yet arrived. On the morning of the 10th we arrived at the grand encampment, rode up to the colonel’s quarters and hailed an express from Salt Lake.

The colonel himself came out and invited us to dismount and come in, then ordered our horses cared for and treated us very kindly. He asked us many questions in relation to matters pertaining to our army, how many there were and where posted. He also asked where General Wells’ headquarters was here, all of which were answered to suit the times. He then sent an orderly with us to look over the camp, thinking, no doubt, to impress us with their wonderful power and strength. We left the camp in the afternoon and made our way to General Wells’ headquarters, which were then at Echo Canyon. I was then detailed for scouting and kept that up until we knew where they would have to winter. I was then with Brother Alfred Randle Jr. sent in with Governor Cummins’ proclamation. We left Cache Cane about 4 o’clock p.m. and arrived at President Young’s office about 4 a.m.—this was December, 1857.