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Show Reflections, June 14, 1984, Page 5 front of the room, where ly bent over and grabbed my ankles, waiting for the expected whipping which for once I felt was fully deserved. She whipped me until her arm was too tired to do it any longer. After the first five or six lashes, didn't mind the thrashing at all. She could have continued for a week and not inflicted enough punishment to compensate for the fear and embarrassment had brought upon , ar with that skinned rat. In the hours and days that followed, as I thought about the rat incident, I realized that in striking out against had hurt her far more Miss Finch than she had ever hurt me with the many whippings and thrashings. I realized that I could stand up to her, in my own way, and be victorious. With this new confidence, my fear of her was suddenly gone. And without the fear, my feelings towards her began to change. She was no longer the wicked witch trying to torture her student captives, but rather a dedicated old lady trying desperately to teach her stubedents to read, write, and figure lieving that the whippings and thrashings were essential for maintaining classroom discipline. For the first time in my life I wanted to be a good student, to master the subjects, to get good marks, to please poor Miss Finch. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to show her how I hand changed. It was the spring of 1838, and we moved to Far West, Missouri to join the Saints. I Last week Dan Storm and his family joined the Mormon Church and to planned move to Missouri. As ' a youth he had little interest in I I and school came into direct conflict with his teacher, W Miss Finch. . He took an interest in trapping, but was only successful in capturing river rats. In an effort to get even with Miss Finch, who had whipped him on numerous occasions, Dan took a rat to school . . . I carefully washed the skinned rat in the creek, wrapped it in a piece of oil cloth, and shoved it in my coat, chuckling in anticipation of what was going to happen at school the next day. It was early spring, still cold during the day, which meant the students and Miss Finch were still eating their lunches at their desks in the classroom, instead of outside. When the students were dismissed for the recess, lingered a little longer than usual in the coat room until I was alone. I checked back in the classroom to make sure Miss Finch was still at her desk correcting papers. She was. Quickly I took her green lunch pail down from the top shelf and opened it. I unwrapped the skinned rat, still wet and slippery, and placed in in the lunch pail, belly up. Actually, it looked quite comfortable, stretched out on an egg sandwich with an apple pillow. I closed the lunch box, returned it to the shelf, and joined the students outside. When the lunch break finally arrived, I was half wishing I had left the rat at home, but it was too late for second thoughts now as the students and Miss Finch filed into the coat room to get their lunch pails. Miss Finchs response was better than expected. First she screamed, loud and shrill. Then she sprang out of her chair, violently shoving the lunch pail away from her over the edge of her desk. As the box hit the floor, the skinned rat popped out, sliding down the aisle between two rows of student desks, kids scattering in every mid-mornin- g I direction. Miss Finsh was backed up against the blackboard, still screaming, both hands pressed against the sides of her face, when the slippery rate came to rest in the middle of the room. Many of the girls were screaming too. Most of the boys had bewildered expressions, still trying to figure out what was happening. I was the only one wearing a bright smile, and the instant Miss Finch looked at me, realized my mistake in smiling and knew I had been I discovered. She didnt even ask me to admit my guilt. After I had deposited the rat in the trash can, she marched me to the I A black-coate- d preacher, after con- sulting briefly with Penniston, stepped up onto the wooden porch to make a was tall and thin, his speech. starched, white collar stiff and tight around his long neck, appearing to choke off the circulation in the bulging blood vessels on the side of his neck. His hair was black, and slicked straight He back with thick, heavy grease. His face was wrinkled as a prune and set like stone into an unchanging frown. He was not an old man, perhaps in his forties. He didn't waste any time in stirring up the crowd. I hear niggers and Mormons will be voting here today!" He waited for his opening statement to sink in. He waited for the crowd to respond with an angry growl. Missouri was a slave state at that time and any mention of black people (slave or free) voting always made people furious, and this time was no exception. The Mormons were mostly from the northeastern part of the country and Canada and didn't believe in slavery. The first Mormons to settle in Missouri in 1832 had brought some free black families with them. There was no room for free black people in a slave state, and the first persecutions against the Mormons began, not for religious reasons, but because the Mormons didnt support slavery. "Soon as the Mormons control the dont vote, theyll free our darkies. care to stand in line at the polls behind Mormons and niggers. The preachers words lashed out like I bolts of lightning, striking anger into the heart of every listener. The crowd drew closer together, expressions of anger and concern on every face. Sensing his power over the crowd, the minister plunged into his sermon. He said that blacks and Mormons were both cursed by God. The blacks with a dark skin because of Cain killing Abel. The Mormons because they had new scriptures in addition to the Bible. He read the scripture near the end of the New Testament saying that anyone who added to the words of the Book would have added to them the curses of the Book. He held his Bible high for all to see, and paused for a few seconds until he had everyones complete attention. "Have the Mormons added to the words of this book?" "Book of Mormon," shouted someone from the crowd.' "Theyve added the Book of Mormon, the Book of Covenants, and who knows how many other scriptures to the only true words of God." He shook his Bible furiously at his listeners. I thought the pages might fall out. And because they have added to the words of this book, he shouted. He was in a total rage now, his face red, his eyes blazing and the sweat streaming down his cheeks. The Bible was still high above his head. "God will lay on the Mormons the curses in this book curses of fire, bloodshed, and destruction. Slowly he lowered the Bible, pausing a moment to catch his breath while maintaining the full attention of the crowd. As much as I hated what he was saying, I had to admire his ability to control his audience. I was afraid to move fear someone would see me. wished I had stayed home. With his voice suddenly quiet and personal, the preacher pointed to one of them in the crowd and asked, "Oliver, did you know you are an instrument in the hands of the Lord?" The man look confused, unsure as to how he should respond. The preacher pointed at another man. Jess, did you know you are an instrument in the hands of the Almight? This man looked as confused as the other, not sure how he was expected to answer. Suddenly loud again, the preacher proclaimed, "You are all instruments in the hands of God when you help fulfill Bible prophecy, when you help bring upon the Mormons the curses in this book." He again shook his Bible with such intensity that I thought for sure the pages would fall out. "Oliver," he pointed to the same man he had singled out earlier. "When you beat a Mormon elder with a club, you are fulfilling Bible prophecy!" He pointed to the other man. "Jess, when you throw a torch to a Mormon home, you are fulfilling Bible prophecy." "Is ravishing Mormon women a Bible curse?" shouted someone from the crowd. The preacher hesitated, not sure if he wanted to take responsibility for giving license for that. He finally avoided a direct endorsement, saying, "That curse is mentioned more than once in the Good Book." The crowd responded with a loud cheer. The preacher then changed the subject. "How many Mormons are going to vote in Gallatin today?" "None over my dead body," shouted one of the men, followed by a loud cheer from the rest. The preacher stepped down from the porch, a smug look on his face, having succeeded in creating the desired efect on his audience. Chapter 4 Aunt Sarah wouldn't have sent me into Gallatin for supplies had she remembered it was election day. It was August 6, 1838. was 15 years old. Gallatin was the county seat for Daviess County, Missouri, and there were reports that the Whig candidate for the Missouri legislature, Colonel William Penniston, was going to prevent Mormons from voting in Daviess I County. Most Missouri Mormons were settled in neighboring Caldwell County near the new city of Far West. As Caldwell County filled up, however, an increasing number of Mormons began settling in Daviess county where there was still plenty of good Government land available at $1.25 an acre with easy terms. d I . - During 1837, when the Mormons first began settling in Daviess County, Colonel Penniston and his friend, Judge Adam Black, threatened to burn the cabins of any Mormons refusing to leave the county. Their threats were ignored, and the Mormons continued to move in. During the spring of 1838, when Penniston could see that there would soon be enough Mormons to control the vote, he experimented with a more peaceful solution to the problem. He began attending Mormon Church meetings, slapping his Mormon neighbors on the back, telling them that he was wrong about them. His sudden change didnt fool anyone, and he soon realized this new approach wouldn't get him the Mormon votes. .Continues Next Week SPRING MOTOR HOME SERVICE We repair all makes. More parking. Longer bays to accomodate the largest motor homes Fleet service and discount Bobs GARAGE 278 N. Main 882-031- 3 |