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Show in my father's house/ 88 on the knob, Elsa blurted, "Aren't you even going to kiss me?" My father ducked his head, and came back to peck her on the forehead. Aunt Elsa, barely fifteen, was married for time and all eternity. On May 12, 194 5, my father and fourteen other patriarchs entered "the Bug House," as the group called the state prison. A few hours after their incarceration, Church President Grant, who worked so hard to see his one-time brethren imprisoned, died happy in the accomplishment of his goal. My father occupied the cell where former Church President Lorenzo Snow had served time for polygamy in the late 1800*s. My father confided that while there, "I was able to have the spirit of the Lord with me almost all the time. It was as if President Snow left me not only his example, but his courage." My father grew closer to the other men, to Uncle Levi and Brother Musser, in particular. They formed a community distinct from the criminals that surrounded them, yet they were respected, even liked. They received frequent visits until prison officials prevented them from seeing their plural wives. Thereafter, the prisoners' only contact with their plural families was a quick encounter through the fence when they worked in the garden. There, they could hope that a touch on their children's faces would be retained by young minds. For some children, who were never to see their fathers again, this was their only contact |
