A History of Salt Lake County

The Kingdom Of God Wants Statehood, 1880-1900

1 he Salt Lake Valley gradually recovered from the explosion on Arsenal Hill; yet at times, over the next two decades, the valley itself seemed a powder keg likely to explode from any careless spark. Within Salt Lake County the struggle for power commenced, with statehood the pre-eminent goal of Mormons and federal control over divergent customs the requirement of the non-Mormons. Tension flared into sporadic violence with elections or news of repressive leg-islation. By the mid- 1880t~h~e territorial prison in Sugarhouse processed a new type of prisoner by the hundreds; these "cohabs"-people caught living in polygamy-ranged from the elite to the ordinary, the young to the elderly, and included women, though comparatively few. The apocalypse the Mormon settlers had feared since leaving Nauvoo did not come, yet federal persecution intensified against individuals as well as institutions so severely that it finally drew the sanction of leading non-Mormons. Meanwhile the valley welcomed significant numbers of new res-idents, for the railroad had opened the mines like a cornucopia of In 1888 the Salt Lake Chamber of Commerce launched the Exposition Palace rail car exhibit filled with scenic paintings promoting the valley's resources and attractions. (LDS Church Archives) precious metals. Mineral profits from silver, lead, coal, and copper soared to $10 million in 1882 and survived a national depression in the mid-90s. During these decades, non-Mormons reached parity in the population, dominated among the affluent, and for the first time found a strong political voice. As smelting localized, it demanded manpower. Foreign workers arrived from Asia and Southern Europe to turn the wheels of the industrial revolution, and national ethnicity became a defining ele-ment within neighborhoods, businesses, boarding houses, and coffe-houses. Salt Lake City bustled with commerce and increasingly suffered the crowding and sanitation problems of other nineteenth-century cities. Meanwhile towns and cities in the county grew willy-nilly, and the demand for sheriffs, fire protection, and other government services increased. Thus typical and atypical elements of frontier growth coexisted in the Salt Lake Valley, a colorful, conflicted showcase for the issues of time and place. Like a drama reaching climax and resolution in act after suspenseful act, these decades closed one era and opened the next, for nonconformity was suppressed and Americanism tri-umphed. Polygamy, the war cry of the 1860s-70s, became the blud-geon of the 1880s, then the 1890s' tattered flag of surrender. Accordingly, within a few short years, everything-politics, econom-ics, and lifestyle-realigned around new ethics and systems, and Salt Lake County claimed its modern destiny. As political pressures intensified and the non-Mormon sector grew in numbers and influence, the LDS church leaders' grip on their plan for Zion gradually loosened. By the 1880s, Salt Lake City was fill-ing up, and many large downtown blocks were subdivided by devel-opers. Narrow streets and courts opened to business and housing. In 1883 the Salt Lake City Fire Department reorganized on a profes-sional basis, and the Salt Lake Chamber of Commerce and Board of Trade was established in 1887. Meanwhile rectangular blocks marched south as new developments encroached on the Big Field beyond Ninth South Street. Early developments in what became South Salt Lake included Hussler Mill on Mill Creek near State Street. Winder Dairy formed in 1880, initiated by the wives of John R. Winder, who, as a counselor in the LDS First Presidency, pushed work on the temple toward com-pletion. Later three separate Winder dairies, all run by family mem-bers, combined at 4400 West and 4100 South streets in Granger.' Calder Park developed into a popular amusement park with boating on a lake created from swampland. Later, leisurely crowds enjoyed a dance pavilion, merry-go-round, bandstand, racetrack, roller-skating rink, and bowling lanes. In 1891 the Rapid Transit Street Car Company, which operated the park, linked it to town and installed electrical power. At its peak, Calder Park drew more than 100,000 patrons per season. Later the land was sold to the LDS Granite Stake and renamed Wandamere Park, then sold to Charles Nibley, who donated the land to Salt Lake City for recre-ational use. The Nibley nine-hole golf course thus became a perma-nent fi~ture.~ Electrical power had arrived in the valley, unreliable but shim-mering with potential. Both the LDS-owned Salt Lake City Gas Company and the Salt Lake City Council turned down the chance to sponsor electrical light service, and the Deseret News editorialized In 1891 streetcar service reached Calder Park, which drew more than 100,000 patrons per season at its peak. Later the park was acquired by Charles Nibley who donated the property to the city which created the Nibley Golf Course. (Utah State Historical Society) that the service had not been proven practical. Undaunted, Charles C. Ruthrauff, an agent for the Brush Electric Light Company, approached non-Mormon businessmen. As a result, George S. Erb, who operated the Walker House and Townsend House hotels, became company president; Henry W. Lawrence, active in liberal pol-itics and prominent in merchandising, mining, and real estate, became vice president; William Hoge became secretary; and board members included bankers William S. McCornick and David F. and Matthew H. Walker.3 At eight o'clock on the evening of 3 1 March 188 1, electric street-lights were turned on in Salt Lake City, dazzling a crowd of specta-tors. Soon Main Street became known as the "Great White Way." Although electrical service was so undependable through the rest of the century that some thought it faster to take a mule-drawn trolley than an electrified one, the new energy source steadily improved. Electricity changed urban lifestyle and revolutionized mining and agriculture. By the 1890s, utility poles not only lined Salt Lake City's streets but marched down the middle as well.4 Despite the conveniences of electricity and the new-fangled tele-phone, sanitation became a major problem. Hundreds of work ani-mals moved through the city each day and inconveniently dropped dead in the intersections. A sewer system was not undertaken until the 1890s, and some areas lacked sewers until the 1920s. "Filth clogged the streets," as the gardenlike town disappeared. "Garbage piled up in yards. Household wastes ran onto the ground or into open gutters. Privy vaults and cesspools overflowed and leaked."' One problem lay with providing clean, fast-running water, for the original ditches through the city flowed slowly now, clogged with debris. City Creek, on the other hand, still rioted out of control espe-cially in the spring, and the fast current drowned a number of chil-dren. The installation of water mains solved both problems, and City Creek was channeled below the temple block where it powered the pipe organ in the Tabernacle. Social problems increased with the changing population. During the latter decades of the nineteenth century, city leaders tried to restrain a growing prostitution trade by locating brothels in the upper stories of respectable businesses on Commercial Street-later Regent Street-between First and Second South streets. Periodically, prostitutes were arrested, examined, fined, and released. Otherwise, the Salt Lake Tribune reported, the women "were allowed to go along without fear of molestation as long as they did not ply their trade so openly and brazenly as to offend the public eye."' Sugar House developed as an important business and residential district in the city's southeast corner. The sugar mill for which it was named served as a paper mill, a woolen factory, a bucket and tub works, a roundhouse and machine shop for the Utah Central Railroad, and a coal yard office and weighing station. A variety of Sugarhouse businesses extended services southeast to residents in Millcreek and Cottonwood. By the mid- 1880s, Sugar House gained increasing importance due to the presence of the territorial prison and the new clientele that began rotating through its doors. Meanwhile the paper mill, which provided newsprint among other products, had moved to the mouth of Big Cottonwood Canyon, housed in a $100,000 structure built with discarded temple blocks. In 1892 the building burned. Telephone calls notified both the manager of the Granite Paper Company and the fire department. Fire wagons rushed thirteen miles south and east-one horse dropping from exhaustion on the way-but by the time they arrived, the mill was in ruins and was never rebuilt.' Shops, stores, hotels, saloons, and businesses of all kinds multi-plied during these decades. Women represented a minority in the workforce, though a significant one. More than two thousand work-ing women were listed in the Utah Gazeteer, for instance, between 1892 and 1893. More than seven hundred were represented in the professions of teaching, medicine, music, art, and literature.' In addi-tion, 260 women stood behind store counters, and more than sixty others dominated the lodgings business, operating hotels, lodging houses, and boarding houses. Over 150 women listed themselves as laundresses or washwomen and another thirty as waitresses or cooks. Only eighty women stenographers, secretaries, typists, bookkeepers, and copyists appeared in the listings, as men still dominated the cler-ical field, but nearly one-fourth of the female workforce worked in manufacturing, including milliners, seamstresses, knitting mill work-ers, and factory workers.' Women also played an enormous role in social and community work. Joining the LDS Relief Society in charitable endeavors were women's aid societies among the Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish communities. Congregationalist women not only formed an active benevolent society, but also a sewing school and a Young Ladies Missionary Society. Baptist women made a special effort to reach the Finnish, Swedish, and tiny African-American communities. As early as 1866, the Jewish Ladies Benevolent Society aided charitable causes and assisted the Masonic Lodge with its annual ball. No sooner was the first Unitarian charter in the county signed in 1891 than the Alliance of Unitarian Women began crucial fundraising through sponsoring teas, dances, and dinner parties.'' The Methodists established a women's boarding house known as the Esther House and ran four charitable societies. In 1881 Angie F. Newman spearheaded a successful drive to create a "house of refuge for discontented and abandoned plural wives and children." Although Newman's plan soared through the fundraising and build-ing stages, the $100,000 building failed to attract its desired clientele. In 1887 only eleven women and twice as many children moved into the structure that later became the Ambassador Club." Non-Mormon women, accustomed to supporting mission schools, orphanages, and other good works, approached polygamy politically, as well. Two hundred women formed the Anti-Polygamy Society, which sponsored lectures and meetings locally and in the East, and published The Anti-Polygamy Standard. The group saw itself in the tradition of the early abolitionists who had mobilized public opinion to eliminate slavery; they hoped to rescue their LDS sisters from what they viewed as a coercive system and a social evil." At one point, the society petitioned Congress with 250,000 sig-natures collected nationwide to request that women in Utah be deprived of the right to vote in order to diminish Mormon influ-ence." This stance was not unanimous among women's groups in the East, some of which supported suffrage regardless of polygamy, yet it had an effect. Church missions within the county also led out in providing medical services. The Episcopalians opened St. Mark's Miners' Hospital in 1874 in a converted residence on Fourth South and Fifth East streets. Supported by a dollar donation from miners' monthly wages, it primarily treated injuries and lead poisoning, serving eight hundred patients in 1883 alone. In 1894 the St. Mark's School of Nursing opened, the first in the territory.14 The Sisters of the Holy Cross opened the Holy Cross Hospital in October 1875, a long-lived charitable hospital. The sisters worked with Father Scanlan to establish the St. Ann's Orphanage and St. Mary's School as well. Wealthy Catholics such as mining magnate Thomas Kearns played a major role in funding.15 When the Holy Cross Hospital moved to a new location, the LDS Relief Society founded the Deseret Hospital on its former site in 1882. The Deseret represented the Salt Lake Valley's first general hos-pital but would remain open only two years. A number of women ranked prominently within the medical community, including Dr. Ellen Fergersen, Dr. Martha Hughes Cannon, and Dr. Romania Pupils from the Seventeenth Ward School, shown here, attended classes held in LDS wards, were taught by teachers called by bishops, and paid a tuition. (Utah State Historical Society) Bunnell Pratt-the last, Utah's first trained ophthalmologist. All three served a stint as resident physician.16 In 1882 the National Board of Health reported Salt Lake City's mortality rate lower than that of two-thirds of other cities in the United States." This marked a significant change over the early set-tlement years when an 1850 report showed the second highest death rate of any state or territory due to inadequate housing and food, infectious diseases, and childbirth complications.'8 Infant cholera, however, took a tragic toll every summer, and the lack of sanitation compounded the ravages of typhoid fever, smallpox, and other com-municable diseases. Nothing, perhaps, better illustrated the complex interactions in the valley around religion than the distinctions between children's schools. The private mission schools were free, but the public schools were not. All were denominational in the sense that they were sup-ported by churches and included religious teachings within the class-room. In terms of geographical boundaries, open enrollment, and tax use, the Mormons had established public schools. School districts coincided with LDS ward boundaries, and teachers taught Mormonism along with academics. Funding came from tuition as well as property taxes. By the 188Os, a teacher generally supervised seventy-two students for an average salary of $46.80 per month for men and $28.31 for women.I9 Even the Deseret News editorially accused the system of employing teachers who "had no other qualifi-cations excepting they were out of employ," and of overcrowding and high tuition." In 1884 the University of Deseret welcomed secondary students on Union Square where West High School would later stand. At that time, twenty teachers were listed on the faculty; however, the univer-sity felt the pressures of the times and went through numerous ups and downs before its status would be stabilized by statehood and a campus built, partially on lands ceded by Fort Douglas. Meanwhile, other denominations established their own schools in the valley. Protestant mission schools became particularly prodi-gious, founded with the intent of arming students against Mor-monism even as they studied secular subjects. These schools were supported by eastern fundraising and claimed trained teachers, which attracted many students including Mormons. This professionalism would credit the mission schools as the forerunner of the public school system. The Presbyterian Church alone operated thirty-three schools in the territory with fifty teachers and an enrollment of over two thousand pupils, most of them Mormon. The Catholics also welcomed Mormon students at St. Mary's Academy, All Hallow's College, and other schools. Scanlon, who became bishop in 189 1, described a friendly feeling, "owing to the fact that I, with my priests, have adopted reconciliatory policy towards them. Instead of abuse, which is unmercifully poured out against them from Protstant pulpits," he went on, "we preach Catholic truth savored with ~harity."~' Despite the decisions of various Mormon families to send their children to mission schools, the LDS church vigorously resisted the dismantling of its territory-wide public school system in favor of free schools. This policy raised almost as much ire locally and in the East as did polygamy. Even recreation in Salt Lake County seemed stamped LDS or Non. For decades, the resorts along the southern tip of the Great Salt Lake had proven popular, though criticized in the Deseret News as morally harmful, especially for youth. In 1893 the newspaper announced that an LDS church-owned company had hired architect Richard Kletting to design the "Coney Island of the West" on the south shore to provide a grand recreational alternative. Originally company officials banned Sunday opening and the selling of liquor but later changed each policy in order to maintain a competitive business.22 Saltair's domes and arches blazed with thousands of electric lights, dazzling its clientele. From the central pavilion, two-story wings extended into the lake. Bathhouses lined the first floor with stairs leading into the water, allowing bathers, the Deseret News explained, to enter the lake "unseen by the mighty crowd of specta-tors and avoid the light remarks and ridicule of the vulgar and unre-fined if clad in the too often abbreviated and unsightly bathing s ~ i t . ' ' ~ ~ The resort offered a restaurant, snack bars, and picnic areas. With nightfall, ladies took gentlemen's arms and lifted their fanciest skirts to climb the grand staircase leading to a large ballroom flanked by club rooms, dressing rooms, and parlors for men and women. Families caught the train to Saltair for daylong excursions, and downtown residents escaped after work for a relaxing swim or walk around the pavilion, all catching a night train back to the city. So popular was Saltair that the first seasonal attendance in 1893 totaled 100,000, impressive since the city's population rested at 50,000.24 Salt Lake County's increasingly diverse population was mani-fested in many ways. For instance, the all-black Twenty-Fourth Infantry was stationed at Fort Douglas until 1898. The troops boosted the small African-American community by 40 percent, still only 0.5 percent of the total p~pulation.~T'h e presence of federal troops was resented by the Mormon populace, and the black soldiers felt a double lash of prejudice. In October 1896, Private Thomas A. Ernest protested in a letter to the Salt Lake Tribune that the men of the Twenty-Fourth Infantry had enlisted in the military "to uphold the honor and dignity of their country as their fathers enlisted to found and preserve it." Ernest con-tinued: "We object to being classed as lawless barbarians. We were men before we were soldiers, we are men now, and will continue to be men after we are through soldiering. We ask the people of Salt Lake to treat us as The first African-American congregation in the territory emerged with the founding of the Trinity African Methodist Episcopal Church. The chapel for the East Side Baptist Church, com-pleted on Third South and Seventh East streets in 1891, was later acquired by the African-American Cavalry Baptist Church after the East Side congregation merged with the First Baptist Church. The First Swedish Baptist Church was organized in 1891 also, and in 1896 the westside Rio Grande Chapel was dedicated. Those drawn to the valley by railroads and mining reflected the immigrant workforce pouring into the United States. From settle-ment on, the proportion of foreign-born residents had been high. In 1870 nearly 69 percent of the heads of households in Salt Lake County were foreign born; however, 56 percent of them came from English-speaking countries.27 That pattern began to change with the arrival of Chinese workers who built the great western railroads, soon followed by mine and smelter workers of Slav, Greek, Italian, and Japanese descent. Although the workers clustered in boarding houses, tents, and shacks near the mines and smelters, each group also maintained a presence in Salt Lake City. Chinese workers were granted little credit for their railroad building, and yet their innovative methods amazed superintendents. In Bingham Canyon and elsewhere, railroad builders such as Charles Crocker, general superintendent of the Central Pacific Railway, encouraged their use. The Chinese lowered one another in hand-woven baskets in order to set dynamite charges that blasted tunnels through sheer cliff faces. In addition, the workers insisted on Chinese dishes, high in vegetable content and healthier than the meat-and-potatoes diet of American workers. Their tea drinking protected them from the effects of pol-luted water; the creek running through Bingham Canyon suffered from both industrial and residential pollution. And they surprised other canyon residents with their penchant for a steaming bath every evening, which eased sore muscles as well as assisted hygiene. Most folks believed a weekly bath more than ~ufficient.~~ No reliable records were kept of the number of Chinese and other ethnic workers in Salt Lake County during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; however, the 1890 census counted 271 Chinese residents in Salt Lake City alone, and the city continued to house the largest community following the turn of the century. Plum Alley ran north and south between First and Second South streets, dividing the block between State and Main streets and was lined with grocery and merchandise stores, restaurants, and laun-dries. When the Chinese Lunar New Year came around, the commu-nity invited city dignitaries to attend a feast, followed by gifts of red envelopes containing money for the children. Henry Ju recalled col-lecting this "lucky money," which could amount to "quite a haul, . . . they used to give silver dollars."29 The traditional parade featured a two-hundred-foot Chinese dragon, "which progressed along the street like a gigantic centipede," Ivy C. Towler remembered. "The dragon itself, which swayed from side to side, had a head six feet tall spitting fire from its vicious red mouth." Canvas painted in bright colors draped over wooden arches to give the dragon's body "a muscular appearance. Curtained sides hung down within two feet of the ground showing the legs and [san-dal- clad] feet of many Chinese marching in regular rhythm."30 Murray saw an influx of smelter workers from Yugoslavia, Germany, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. Italian and Japanese people also joined the community but applied their skills more often to farming vegetables to sell to the smelter workers. The town split between the more settled farmers whose activities revolved around LDS wards and schools and the industrial workers who found sup-port and camaraderie in proliferating coffeehouses and saloons. In the 1890s Murray hit its rebellious heyday, with forty-seven saloons, breweries, gambling establishments, dance halls, and broth-els. "The town motto during this decade was 'If Anybody Went Dry on State Street in Murray It Was Their Own Fa~lt."'~' Murray claimed that one saloon owner, Charlie Thiede, attained the dubious honor of first convicted murderer in the county. Thiede Mining gave agricultural Murray a split personality as saloons, boarding houses, and brothels appeared in the once-staid farming community. Smelting soon attracted many foreign workers, but its fumes polluted both fields and air. (Utah State Historical Society) ran a popular establishment, but one night he chased his wife out of the house, then cut her throat. Before a county sheriff arrived on the scene, an angry crowd nearly lynched Thiede. Some Mormons believed that some sins required spilling the sinner's blood in atone-ment, and thus made sure that Thiede was sentenced to hang. By "not shedding his blood, the court essentially condemned Thiede to eter-nal damnati~n."~~ After 1890, Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes began arriving in search of employment. Murray shared this population with Bingham Canyon to the West and Midvale (originally called Bingham Junction) to the south. The jobs the Slavs took in the mines and smelters were dangerous and industrial accidents common. The tra-ditions of the godfather and the extended family assumed paramount importance in this perilous and strange environment, for "many Yugoslav workers lost their lives, and the godfather and godmother often hlfilled their maximum duties."" In time the men sent home for "picture brides," who arrived by Bingham maintained a reputation for local governance, ethnic diversity, and rowdy entertainment well into the twentieth century. However, the prodi-gious mining communities were plagued by fires and avalanches. (Utah State Historical Society) railroad. As families formed, they sank roots and became part of the community. The old country became less dominant in their minds and its claim on their paychecks diminished. Families gravitated to Catholic or Greek Orthodox churches, and parents sent their children to English-speaking schools to learn the strange American ways. The social and cultural barriers newcomers faced in the late nine-teenth century and early twentieth century were formidable. The lan-guage, laws, customs, and worldview contrasted with their own, and the larger community disparaged their differences. "Newspapers were filled with lurid accounts of gambling, fighting, and socialism as Utah's own brand of yellow journalism appealed to the sentiments of readers and played on national fears."34 Boarding houses became an essential part of the labor scene, often segregated by workers of many nationalities. Some were large company-owned edifices that took in a hundred or more workers. Others were private homes boarding two or three countrymen. Many Yugoslav families took in borders which added a little income and much household labor. "Laundry, cleaning, and cooking chores were increased for those already burdened with children, communal plumbing, and primitive cooking and laundering fa~ilities.")U~n til the mid- 1920s, however, the boarding system prevailed in Yugoslav homes. Sandy City was nearly overwhelmed by mining, but in the 1890s, the sugar beet industry gave agriculture a boost as an important cash crop. Improved technology and financial subsidies encouraged farm-ers to reserve part of their land for the beets, and the LDS church founded the Utah and Idaho Sugar Company. A sugar factory built in neighboring West Jordan linked the two communities and boosted agricultural profits. Irrigation water remained a paramount concern. In 1880 the Utah and Salt Lake Canal Company formed and proved stronger than other irrigation companies which were separated by precinct boundaries. In 1884 canals were finally completed to carry water west from the Jordan River, and construction continued on pumps and canals to bring water north from Utah Lake. Towns such as Granger depended on community dances, plays, and other events to lighten the agricultural workload. In the 1880s, A. J. Hill, for instance, would send his white-topped buggy drawn by a team of black horses to the end of the streetcar line on State Street. The buggy would return with Frank Merrill's orchestra aboard and the dancing would begin. Later, the Seven Keys Band and the Steadman Brothers' orchestra made the same trek, traveling in a long, narrow wagon pulled by a team sporting plumes in their bridles. The blue-suited band members were an inspiring sight as they moved down the dusty country roads.36 By the 1880 census, more than one hundred people were scat-tered in Riverton, an area that proved ideal for growing sugar beets. Men listed their occupations as farmer, sheepherder, schoolteacher, store clerk, and canal worker; all the women were identified as house-keepers. The need for the latter was illustrated by the majority status of children-61 percent of the total p~pulation!~~ For two decades Riverton residents traveled ninety minutes by wagon to Sandy to shop or twelve hours round trip to Salt Lake City. In 1887 the intersection of Redwood Road and Herriman Road (12600 South) formed the first commercial area, featuring a small store. Then in 1893 Daniel Densley built a two-story brick building that housed small businesses and provided recreation. A post office, bank, harness store, barber and beauty shop, cobbler, and general merchandise store all moved in. The top floor featured a hard wood dance floor and a stage; the hall soon hosted dances, wedding recep-tions, and community parties.38 Interestingly, businesses closed in Riverton on Thursdays for decades until no one could remember the reason. The custom may have originated with British settlers who were accustomed to a half day off on either Wednesday or Thursday afternoon. Or it may have evolved from Mormon fast and testimony meeting, held Thursday afternoon. Or it may have been a combination of both.39 Bingham, the source of so many metals, continued to develop. A passenger rail service linked the town to Salt Lake City, a public school opened, and religion arrived. First a small Catholic church was built in Carr Fork in 1890. In 1897 the Baptists established a mission and, two years later, the LDS church organized the Bingham Ward. Meanwhile the Methodists started Sunday school in the public school building, then in 1897 dedicated a church where a miner known as Brother Thomas Johns began preaching. Religion of any kind found wide-open Bingham a daunting chal-lenge. In 19 12 a Methodist superintendent reported: "Any minister who goes to this charge will either backslide and become a mere per-former of things ministerial, or he will follow his Master into more than one Geth~emane."~' Like Alta, Bingham saw more than its share of natural disasters and was even nicknamed Jinxtown. A fire in the summer of 1895 swept down the canyon and destroyed forty-five structures valued at more than $200,000. The Deseret News reported: "It is lamentable to see all the homeless people walking up and down the canyon with-out any place to lay their heads."" Folks who still had homes took in the homeless, and the Catholic Church provided a temporary shel-ter. The miners "panned the ashes of their former cabins, retrieved their gold dust, and rebuilt."42 With the turn of the century, Binghamites began pressing Salt Lake County for incorporation. Throughout the growth and enterprise of these decades, the polarity manifest around religion intensified over the issue of polygamy. Brigham Young was followed as church president by John Taylor, a mild-mannered, white-haired stalwart and a firm polyga-mist. Taylor counseled courage in the face of federal opposition, telling an April conference in 1882, "Let us treat it as we did the snowstorm through which we came in this morning-put up our coat collars . . . and wait until the storm subsides17Aftert he storm, he continued, "comes sunshine. While it lasts it is useless to reason with the world; when it subsides we can talk to The political storm, however, did not subside. In 1882 the Edmunds Act imposed heavy fines for polygamy and ruled the chil-dren of polygamous unions illegitimate. It established a five-man Utah Commission to register voters and run elections, excluding those who practiced plural marriage. More than 12,000 people were denied the vote when they could not pass a test oath. In addition, the commission worked through the courts to prosecute and imprison more than 1,300 people living in polygamy.*' Mormons responded to this disenfranchisement with outrage. On 4 July 1882, valley residents awoke to find American flags flying at half-mast above Mormon-owned buildings. At first non-Mormons guessed that Taylor had died while in hiding. When they understood the act of protest, they were furious. The Salt Lake Tribune unleashed a series of editorial attacks, jibing that it would "hear no more of Mormon love for the Stars and stripe^.'"^ The Mormons were just as militant, and serious unrest spread. "Shootings were threatened by partisans of both sides at several sites of half-masted flags." Bloodshed was avoided, but the repercussions continued for weeks with charges of Mormon autocracy and treaso-nous attitude. A rumor that the Mormons would protest again on 24 July prompted President Grover Cleveland to order the commanding general at Omaha, Kansas, "to keep all posts . . . in full strength and prepared for any emergency that might arise in Utah.7746 Not surprisingly, with the shift in population and the exclusion of many Mormon voters, electoral politics changed. Mid-decade a few members of the Liberal Party won election to the Territorial Legislature. Then in August 1889 the Liberal Party did what had seemed impossible only a few years earlier---carried Salt Lake County in a legislative and county election by a margin of forty-one votes. Jubilant Tribune headlines read: "Salt Lake City Goes Liberal; The Death Knell of Mormon Rule; The City is Gentile by Forty-One Votes; People Wild with Enthusiasm. . . ."47 Mormon newspapers screamed fraud-election day irregulari-ties were common at the time-but the election held, a clear shift in political fortunes. "For the non-Mormons up to that time had been too impotent in the political elective apparatus to even steal an elec-tion in Salt Lake."48 Not only did Mormons deny and resent non-Mormon accusa-tions of an autocracy, but they saw the ringleading Tribune editors as tyrants themselves. An election song of the defeated People's Party accused the opposition in lines that vividly illustrated the polarity: . . . Hurrah, hurrah, free whisky they'll try, But as for free water, that's all in your eye. They call us priestridden, but what shall we say Of that tyrant, the tripod, they trembling obey? They'll vote as they're told when The Tribune ring sits. And they won't vote at all unless TRIBBY permits . . . Perhaps it is treason to talk in such tones; But they live in glass houses and shouldn't throw stones.49 As partisan politics raged, the Edmunds law brought personal hardship to numerous families in Salt Lake County. Federal investi-gators hunted patriarchs and even questioned children who were taught to lie about their parentage. Many men-husbands, fathers, church and community leaders-lived on the underground. False walls in homes guarded secret rooms, and tunnels allowed the hunted to escape to a safehouses that spanned the western continent in the style of slavery's Underground Railroad in the East. Since the courts were awkward places in which to establish the intimate ties of plural marriage, the enforcement of anti-polygamy laws evolved. The most common charge became unlawful cohabita-tion, punishable by a $300 fine, six months in jail, or both. Eventually a refusal to deny involvement in plural marriage became tantamount to conviction, a practice sustained by the United States Supreme The Utah Territorial Penitentiary in Sugar House was expanded in 1877 to accommodate hundreds of non-violent prisoners-polygamists. (Utah State Historical Society) Court. In other words, those accused of plural marriage were pre-sumed guilty until they declared themselves innocent-and in the process denied spouses, children, and religious beliefs.50 Beginning in 1877, workers began to expand the territorial prison sprawling south of Twenty-First South street. Cells were added to total over two hundred, augmented by bathrooms, a kitchen, a bakery, a new hospital, and women's quarters, as well as a new home for the warden. A stone wall surrounded an exercise yard and gardens and orchards where prisoners worked.51 Church leaders George Q. Cannon and Abraham Cannon both served time, and the latter kept a detailed journal, describing a cell approximately twenty by twenty-six feet and twelve feet high, lined with three tiers of bunks, each bunk sleeping two men. A "fresh fish" was initiated by performing for the group-singing, dancing, speak-ing, or standing on his head. Apostle Lorenzo Snow ducked the requirement by saying the only poem he knew contained fifty verses and would take all night.52 Cannon described the daily diet as mainly potatoes, bread, soup, and A photographer caught the Andrew Cooley family on its way to court for Andrew's polygamy trial, which resulted in conviction. He posed with three of his four wives Jane, Rachel, Ann, and seventeen children. Mary, whose home was in downtown Salt Lake City, is not pictured. meat. Prisoners were divided into the "toughs" and the "cohabs" and issued horizontally striped suits. The cohabs were allowed more visitors and privileges than the toughs, including church services and classes in languages, reading, and writing, at a price of $1.50 for three months. They braided horsehair into bridles, belts, and whips, and made items to sell at raffles.53N evertheless, confinement was not easy; inmates were plagued by vermin and sometimes served inadequate and spoiled food. Prison life was particularly hard on the elderly and the infirm. In addition to dealing with family disruptions and hardship caused when the men fled or went to prison, women also served time for refusing to testify against their husbands. Isabelle Maria Harris was the first woman imprisoned under anti-polygamy laws. At age eighteen, she had become Clarence Merrill's third wife and bore him two babies before seeking a divorce. Officials called her before a grand jury, suspecting that because she was divorced, she would name her former husband as a polygamist. She refused and was cited for contempt of court, fined $25 dollars, and given a four-month prison sentence. She took her infant to prison with her and left her older son with her family.54 The Cooley family was among those running afoul of the law. When Andrew Cooley was summoned to federal court in October 1885, an enterprising photographer rode to the Brighton farm and captured the family on film, dressed up to attend court with him. Mary Cooley was at her Salt Lake City home and not pictured, but Rachel, Jane, and Ann lined up, each holding a baby. Sixteen other children flanked tall Andrew at the center." Visitors were allowed on Thursdays but could only obtain a pass and speak to prisoners the first Thursday of the month. Otherwise, they could only stand on a platform near the wall and observe their loved ones in the prison yard. No one was allowed to make any sign of recognition. Half of Cooley's term passed before his family could visit, and then the January day was so cold that the warden invited the family into his home to warm up with tea and soup. To view Andrew, "They all stood on the wall, including the children. Smaller ones were pos-sibly lifted up to see over the rail of the walk. Unbidden tears fell as the women watched their husband and the children their father? Andrew's letters from prison were laden with worries over his family's wellbeing both materially and emotionally. Jane's family grew destitute and finally received meat, flour, and potatoes from the bishop. Andrew was beside himself when, in mid-March, he heard that Rachel's thirteen-year-old Marietta (called Net) suffered with pneumonia. When word came Net was dying, Andrew was granted a visit home, accompanied by a guard. The girl seemed to rally upon seeing her father who comforted her most of the afternoon and promised to return the next day; however, when he reached Rachel's home a second time, he learned that Net had died minutes earlier. His efforts to revive her were futile, and he was refused permission to attend her funeral. Two compatriots recently released from prison spoke in his stead.57 Only a week after the funeral, Andrew Cooley's release date arrived. Had he been a wealthier man, he could have paid a $300 fine and court costs of $120 and been freed a month sooner.58W hile in prison, he suffered the symptoms of a kidney ailment, variously described as diabetes or Bright's Disease, both of which caused malaise, loss of weight, pallor, and anemia, and neither of which could be effectively treated.19 The Cooley family took up their lives again, but less than a year later Andrew was hauled into court again, becoming the first polyga-mist convicted and incarcerated a second time. Again he received a six-month sentence. His health failed so rapidly that a reduced fine of $25 plus $30 in court costs was paid by a brother-in-law. Andrew was freed in time to hold Ann's new baby, born in September 1887. He died a month later.60 In 1887 a crucible was reached that had been forecast by a meet-ing of the People's Party in an unofficial constitutional convention. (The Liberal Party had refused to participate.) The LDS People's Party drew up a constitution containing an article that prohibited polygamy. One month later, on 19 July 1887, the Saints buried John Taylor who had governed the church almost entirely from the under-ground. The following day, under the newly passed Edmunds-Tucker law, the United States Attorney for Utah filed suit in the territorial supreme court to recover the church's property and to formally dis-solve the Corporation of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Perpetual Emigrating Company, and the Nauvoo Legion. Utah women lost suffrage, and all LDS church property in excess of $50,000 was c~nfiscated.~' With that stroke, Zion fell. The Salt Lake temple, still unfinished, the Tabernacle, the Endowment House, the Tithing Office and yard, the Church Historians' Office, the Church Farm, and Amelia's Palace, all were lost to the federal government. Also seized were the church's stock in the Salt Lake Gas Company, the Deseret Telegraph Company, various businesses and enterprises including fifty thousand head of cattle, and more than $200,000 in cash.62 Taylor's successor, Wilford W. Woodruff, was also a polygamist; however, in 1890, Woodruff did what Taylor had found impossible, acting "for the temporal salvation of the Church." He announced a Manifesto to end the practice of polygamy and assured the federal government and the world that the principle stood at an end. Actually, polygamy did not disappear overnight, for Mormons understood that Woodruff was amending practice and not belief. A The completion of the Salt Lake Temple in 1893 ended a forty-year effort. (LDS Church Archives) Second Manifesto in 1904, however, underscored the pronounce-ment, enforced by the excommunication of two church leaders who disobeyed. Gradually, polygamous families set about rearranging their living conditions and encouraging monogamy. Several societies aided wives and children who were displaced or abandoned in the disruption that followed. The aging Woodruff set an elegant example of the shift in lifestyle. He owned twenty acres of farmland between Third and Fifth East, bordering on Seventeenth South streets. A year after he issued the Manifesto, the Woodruff Villa was built south of the farm cabin, a three-story home with winding staircases and beautiful fireplaces. His youngest wife lived in the villa, supervising holiday dinners and birthday parties for the entire clan, while his older wives lived in their homes downtown.63 The renunciation of polygamy represented an enormous accom-modation to mainstream American life and paved the way for state-hood. However, temple rites continued then and a century hence to seal more than one wife to a man for the life beyond mortality. Quietly and illegally, thousands of polygamists continued to practice, hailing Taylor as the last "true prophet." Though excommunicated if found out, these fundamentalists formed a significant subculture lasting throughout the twentieth century. Following the 1890 Manifesto, events moved quickly as water surging through a breach in a dam. With an exchange of promises, polygamists received amnesty and church property was returned. Dedication of the Salt Lake temple in 1893 allowed church leaders to take advantage of outsiders' longstanding interest in the granite edi-fice with tapering spires. The Union Pacific Railroad published a twenty-four page booklet announcing the event and advertising the routes to the valley. "The fame of this city and its Mormon institu-tions has gone abroad into the four quarters of the world," it read.@ The Chicago Tribune described the temple as "ablaze with splen-d ~ r .A" r~ou~n d 75,000 Mormons attended fifteen days of rites at which President Woodruff repeated a dedicatory prayer. Dignitaries who chose to attend were welcomed and escorted through the temple prior to the dedication, including Charles S. Zane, who, as chief jus-tice of the Territorial Supreme Court, had vigorously pursued polyg-a m i s t ~ . ~ ~ Perhaps Zane's tour of the Salt Lake temple indicated how, just as the Manifesto commanded sudden change for many Mormons, the prospect of statehood impelled non-Mormons toward coopera-tion as well. Another example came when the cornerstone was laid in 1892 for the City and County Building on Fourth South between State and Second East streets. Salt Lake City Mayor Robert N. Baskin and the Masonic Fraternity oversaw the ceremony. Perhaps as a protest to the punitive Edmunds-Tucker Act, the cornerstone was laid at the rear of the building. In his speech, Baskin equated the Mormon pioneers with the Pilgrims who landed at Plymouth Rock. Speakers also praised the end of the LDS church's domination of political The handsome Richardsonian Romanesque building was con-structed on steel rails and reinforced in concrete, to stabilize the sandy soil left by Lake Bonneville. Its sandstone walls slowly rose more than three hundred feet to a bell tower flanked by clocks. The four gold alloy bells pealed at the impact of strikers of various weights, announcing the time almost valleywide at every quarter Dedicated in 1894, the graceful City-County Building housed city and county offices, Utah's constitutional convention, and state offices until the State Capitol was completed in 19 15. (Utah State Historical Society) hour. From that tower, the entire county lay visible, extending from the islands of the Great Salt Lake to the mineral-rich Oquirrh Range to the lofty Wasatch Mountains. The first elevator west of the Missouri River was installed, and by the end of 1894, Woodruff ded-icated the b~ilding.~' Within the City and County Building's arched doors, space was divided into county offices on the south and city offices to the north. A variety of government functions were installed from the county coroner to numerous scribes copying official documents by hand. The new public library opened in the building, a lobbying triumph for the Ladies' Literary Society. Its core of books and materials was donated by the Grand Masonic Lodge of Utah. The courts, the legis-lature, and other assemblies used the building until the State Capitol was constructed on the north bench.69 Most importantly, Congress invited the submission of Utah's constitution, and a constitutional convention convened in the City- County Building to deliberate the issues of statehood. The suffrage movement was rising nationwide as two prominent groups merged in 1890 to form the National American Woman Suffrage Association; however, Utah women now had to insist on their right to vote, for Mormon leadership split on the question. Eliza R. Snow, who had outspokenly supported polygamy, now rode through the territory on horseback collecting petitions, then brought them to the constitutional convention held in the City-County Building. Ultimately the convention voted in favor of female suf-frage. 70O ne year later, Dr. Martha Hughes Cannon would be elected to the Utah Senate, the first woman in the United States to hold that office. As such, she traveled to Washington, D.C., to speak at the fifti-eth anniversary celebration of the Seneca Falls Declaration of Women's Rights. Workers' rights also came to the fore, an increasingly urgent question as the industrial population grew and diversified. Craft unions had organized in the 1850s as artisans came to the valley, but the LDS church had consistently opposed unionism, convinced it represented the "selfishness of the The church sometimes failed to pay workers, justifying withholding wages with the overrid-ing cause of building the kingdom. Consistently it aligned with busi-ness and even the hostile Republican party.72 As the number of industrial workers in Utah grew, however, the trend toward unions did also. The American Federation of Labor was organized in 1886 and its efforts and traumas were felt locally. In the 1890s craft unions demanded collective bargaining and closed shops. Management fired back with collection action while the LDS church leveled the accusation that unions interfered with "the divine rights of human beings."73 The Liberal Party offered itself as the champion of the workers, but discontent workers bolted and formed the Independent Workingmen's party which was immediately applauded by the People's Party and just as quickly rejected by the Liberals as a con-spiracy resulting from "unlawful cohabitation between the managers of the People's party and four or five characterless 'men of the town.'"74 A Liberal Labor League was organized next. As the familiar Mormonlnon-Mormon split developed and exac-erbated around labor issues, some workers decided that creating an independent party had been a tactical error. The Independent Workingmen'sIPeople's Party was defeated at the polls, and the entire episode factionalized workers, leaving them weakened as a political force. Tensions between labor and industry heightened with the eco-nomic pinch of a depression in 1894. Nearly half the workers in the county became unemployed, with nearly 1,600 depending upon the LDS church alone for support. Industrial production suffered simi-larly massive losses.75 Mining magnate Thomas Kearns told the constitutional conven-tion, "I think it is the duty of every man in this convention to throw around the laborer of this territory all the protection we can."76 Ultimately the state constitution included laws that prohibited employing women and children in underground mining and pro-vided for an eight-hour day in both mining and public works. In 1899 many of the craft groups affiliated with the Utah Federated Trades and Labor C~uncil.~' In an effort to ensure admission to the Union, the Utah consti-tution borrowed language from several states recently admitted. It guaranteed that the state would not support any religious denomi-nation or activity, that polygamy was illegal, and that discrimination could not be based upon race, religion, or gender. Finally the docu-ment went East. As part of statehood negotiations, the LDS church agreed to dis-solve the People's Party and to divide members among the then dom-inant Democratic and Republican parties. Many joined the more sympathetic Democrats, yet many others aligned with the party in power, even though the Republicans had been their worst enemies. Statehood on 4 January 1896 brought a rousing celebration. A flag, created in the ZCMI overall factory, draped the Tabernacle dome and left the forty-fifth star open for an electric light to shine through. Electricity also lighted the word "Utah." (LDS Church Archives) For a time, the Liberal Party clung to its identity, but eventually, in 1893, it dispersed into the major parties, as well. Quite naturally, non-Mormons and Mormons found themselves working together to defeat the opposite ticket. The valley that had seen so much conflict led the celebration on 4 January 1896 when President Grover Cleveland signed the state-hood act. The Deseret News headlined the event: "Official Message That Arouses Joyous Enthusiasm in the Hearts of the People."78 Around 15,000 people thronged into the Tabernacle beneath a dome draped by a huge American flag. Sewn at the ZCMI overall factory, the banner's forty-fifth star was left vacant, allowing electric lights to shine through. An American eagle adorned the organ pipes where lights formed the dates 1847-1 896 and the word "Utah." A chorus of one thousand children waved tiny flags, and Tabernacle Choir direc-tor Evan Stephens introduced a new song, "Utah, We Love Thee."79 By then Woodruff was eighty-nine years of age, and George Q. Cannon, a counselor in the First Presidency, read his remarks. Following the administering of the oath of office to state officials, a forty-five round salute was fired from the Capitol site, and Governor Heber Wells offered his inaugural address. The Reverend T.C. Iliff offered a benediction. Following the ceremony, crowds filled Salt Lake City's streets, streamed into the Grand Opera House and the Lyceum to enjoy pro-grams, and high-stepped at the Inaugural Ball held in the Salt Lake Theatre. The governor and first lady led the grand waltz followed by quadrilles, two-steps, a minuet, a schottische, a polka, and other dances." With statehood, the memory of Brigham Young reclaimed an eminent position within the Salt Lake Valley and was even offered reverence by some who had denounced him. Fifty years of settlement were celebrated by placing his statue in the intersection of Main and South Temple streets. The change in times was apparent in the efflu-ence of Salt Lake Tribune editor C. C. Goodwin, whose verbal duels with Deseret News editor Charles Penrose had long scorched local newsprint. Now Goodwin declared: Whatever the future holds in store for Utah, that story of toil and suffering and final triumph should be held as sacred history to every man who honors devotion to duty in man, and self-sacrifice in women. It should be taught to the children in schools. . . that a wrong act on his or her part would be a reproach to the brave men and women who came here in the shadow of despair and by incessant toil and by life-long self abnegation laid solidly here the founda-tions of a state. And out of the granite of these mountains should be hewed an imperishable monument, which should be set up in some con-spicuous place, and upon it, should be embossed words like these: "They wore out their lives in toil. They suffered without plaint. From nothing they created a glorified state. Honor and rev-erence and glory everlastingly be theirs."" The public ceremonies symbolized the tiny stitches that quietly knit the county and its peoples together in numerous ways. Politics and government, economics, education, health services, and cultural events all began to operate now through systems not identified by religion. Gradually and officially, the separation between church and state allowed peoples with differing worldviews to draw together. Salt Lake County ended the nineteenth century as a capital county vibrant with enterprise, innovation, challenge, and triumph. Yet this century's ideological battles would emerge in the next in sub-tle but crucial ways. A lifeway had been suppressed, and a people simultaneously empowered. American individualism and values had triumphed, yet the struggle to assert them would continue. Overall, however, the change in century and status offered what this valley full of immigrants had individually and collectively sought-the oppor-tunity for a new way of life. 1. Rosa Vida Black, Under Granger Skies: History of Granger, 1849-1963 (Salt Lake City: Granger Stake Relief Society, 1963), 135. 2. Greg W. Sessions, "City of South Salt Lake," Utah History Encyclopedia, Allan Kent Powell, ed. (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1994), 515. 3. John S. McCormick, The Power to Make Good Things Happen: The History of Utah Power and Light Company (Salt Lake City: Utah Power and Light Co., 1990), 7-8. 4. Ibid., 10-14. 5. John S. McCormick, Salt Lake City: The Gathering Place (Woodland Hills, California: Windsor Publications, 1980), 47. 6. Ibid., 51. 7. Daughters of the Utah Pioneers, comp., Tales of a Triumphant People: A History of Salt Lake County, 1847-1900 (Salt Lake City: Stevens & Wallis Press, 1947), 76-79. 8. Miriam B. Murphy, "The Working Women of Salt Lake City: A Review of the Utah Gazetteer, 1892-93," in Utah Historical Quarterly 46 (1978): 122-34. 9. Ibid. 10. John R. Sillito and Constance Lieber, "A Heritage of Conflict: Women and Religion in Utah," Paper delivered at a meeting of the Western Social Science Association, El Paso, Texas, 1987. Copy in possession of the author. 11. Ibid. 12. Ibid. 13. McCormick, Salt Lake City, 3 1. 14. Thomas G. Alexander and James B. Allen, Mormons and Gentiles: A History of Salt Lake City (Boulder, Colorado: Pruett Publishing Co., 1984), 110. 15. Bernice Maher Mooney and Jerome C. Stoffel, eds., Salt of the Earth: The History of the Catholic Diocese of Salt Lake City, 1776-1987 (Salt Lake City: Catholic Diocese of Utah, 1987), 57. 16. Kate B. Carter, comp., Heart Throbs of the West, 12 vols. (Salt Lake City: Daughters of Utah Pioneers, 1939), 1: 32 1-22. 17. Alexander and Allen, Mormons and Gentiles, 1 10. 18. Denise Callister Quinn, "Utah's Women Physicians Coming of Age," Medicine in the Beehive State 1940-1990, Henry P. Plenk, ed. (Salt Lake City: Utah Medical Association, 1992), 537-38. 19. Alexander and Allen, Mormons and Gentiles, 1 1 1. 20. Deseret News, 26 December 1855. 2 1. Mooney and Stoffel, Salt of the Earth, 95. 22. Nancy D. McCormick and John S. McCormick, Saltair (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1985), 19-2 1. 23. Ibid., 29-30. 24. Ibid., 35. 25. George Ramjoue, "The Negro in Utah: A Geographical Study in Population," M.A. thesis, University of Utah, 1968, 6-1 3. 26. Ronald G. Coleman, "Blacks in Utah History: An Unknown Legacy," Peoples of Utah, Helen Papanikolas, ed. (Salt Lake City: Utah State Historical Society, 1976), 13 1. 27. Alexander and Allen, Mormons and Gentiles, 105. 28. Violet Boyce and Mabel Harmer, Upstairs to a Mine (Logan: Utah State University, 1976), 1 16-1 7. 29. Don C. Conley, "The Pioneer Chinese of Utah," Peoples of Utah, 262. 30. Ibid. 31. G. Wesley Johnson and David Schirer: Between the Cottonwoods: Murray City in Transition (Salt Lake City and Provo: Timpanogos Research Associates, 199 I), 12. 32. Ibid. 33. Joseph Stipanovich, "Falcons in Flight: The Yugoslavs," Peoples of Utah, 369. 34. Charles S. Peterson, Utah: A History (New York: W.W. Norton and CO., 1977), 153-54. 35. Stipanovich, "Falcons in Flight," 376-77. 36. Black, Under Granger Skies, 30. 37. Melvin L. Bashore and Scott Crump, Riverton: The Story of a Utah Country Town (Riverton: Riverton Historical Society, 1994), 23. 38. Ibid., 57. 39. Ibid., 171. 40. The United Methodist Church: The First Century of the Methodist Church in Utah (Salt Lake City: N.p., 1970), 83. 41. Lynn R. Bailey, Old Reliable: A History of Bingham Canyon, Utah (Tucson, Arizona: Westernlore Press, 1988), 85. 42. Ibid. 43. O.N. Malmquist, The First 100 Years: A History of the Salt Lake Tribune, 1871-1 971 (Salt Lake City: Utah State Historical Society, 1971), 72. 44. McCormick, Salt Lake City, 39. 45. Malmquist, First 100 Years, 1 16-1 7. 46. Ibid. 47. Ibid., 135-38. 48. Ibid. 49. Ibid. 50. Leonard J. Arrington, Great Basin Kingdom (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1958), 359. 5 1. Florence C. Youngberg, Parley's Hollow: Gateway to the Valley (Salt Lake City: Custom Printing, n.d.), 45. 52. Ibid. 53. Ibid. 54. Ibid. 55. Myrtle Stevens Hyde and Everett L. Cooley, The Life of Andrew Wood Cooley (Provo: Andrew Wood Cooley Family Association, 199 I), 132. Photo included in insert. 56. Ibid., 155. 57. Ibid., 154-67. 58. Ibid., 168-69. 59. Ibid., 158. 60. Ibid., 176-84. 6 1. Arrington, Great Basin Kingdom, 365. 62. McCormick, Salt Lake City, 4 1. 63. Daughters of the Utah Pioneers, Salt Lake Liberty Park Company (Salt Lake City: N.p., n.d.), 9. 64. M. Guy Bishop and Richard Neitzel Holzapfel, "The 'St. Peter's of the New World': The Salt Lake Temple, Tourism, and a New Image for Utah," Utah Historical Quarterly 61 (1993): 144. 65. Ibid., 137. 66. Ibid., 149. 67. John S. McCormick, "Utah's Constitution was Framed in Salt Lake City and County Building," Beehive History 20 (1994): 1 1. 68. Newel1 G. Knight, 1894: National Register of Historical Sights (Salt Lake City, n.p.) 5-1 1; John S. McCormick, "A History of the Salt Lake City and County Building," unpublished manuscript on deposit at the Utah State Historical Society. 69. Knight, 1894, 8. 70. Beverly B. Clopton, Her Honor the Judge: The Story of Reva Beck Bosone (Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1980), 90-9 1. According to Bosone, a friend, former Utah Supreme Court Chief Justice Samuel R. Thurman, told her how he supported Snow in arguing to conventioneers, "How dare you refuse the women whose names are in those gunnysacks the right to vote?" 71. Peterson, Utah, 1 16-1 7. 72. Ibid. 73. Ibid. 74. Salt Lake Tribune, 1 August 1890, 4. The intricacies of the labor struggle between 1890 and 1910 are described in John R. Sillito, "A Party for All Toilers: The Labor Party Movement in Utah 1890-1910," Paper delivered at the Pacific Coast Annual Meeting of the American History Association, 1990, copy in possession of the author. 75. Peterson, Utah, 1 16-1 7. 76. Malmquist, First 100 Years, 159. 77. Peterson, Utah, 1 16-1 7. 78. Deseret, 1 776-1 976: A Bicentennial Illustrated History of Utah by the Deseret News (Salt Lake City: Deseret News Publishing Company, 1975), 201. 79. Gustive 0. Larson and Richard D. Poll, "The Forty-Fifth State," in Utah's History, Richard D. Poll et al., eds. (Logan: Utah State University Press, 1989), 396. 80. Ibid. 8 1. Malmquist, First 100 Years, 175.