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Show TV Listings, June 20, 1985 from St. Louis. Once a worker was shot from the scaffold by a hidden assailant. But with the recent commencement of carpentry work and Page 8 the accompanying deliveries of lumber, the biggest concern was three guards watched the temple during working fire. While only two or hours, the number was doubled after hours, holidays and Sundays. Every precaution was taken to make sure the temple didnt go up in had the sign, the heavenly direction they had been looking for. Brigham smoke. What the Church lacked in wages for the men who worked on the temple, it made up for in food. After Pat and I sloshed away the lime dust in a wooden watering trough, we headed for the tables where the food was served. The breeze from the west had prevented the smell of the food from reaching us at the top of the scaffold, but our appetites suddenly became ravenous at the smell of hot food. I slung the rifle over my was their new leader. He told them it was time to finish the temple. The force that had been smoldering beneath the surface sud- denly had an outlet. Finishing the temple became an obsession. In addition to the regular e worker missionaries like me, full-tim- The heat inside the building was unbearable. Emma had fired up the wood stove in the kitchen to boil herbs. She was trying to HU the air with a camphor smell to cover up the stench of rotting flesh. The bodies were decomposing quickly in the June heat. Bottle flies were buzzing about the uncovered faces of the two dead men, and were constantly being shooed away by the attendants and viewers. The floor below the caskets was stained with drippings from the dead mens wounds. There was a look of new determinface leavation in every ing the house. The former bickerings and dissensions were forgotten. The Mormons had a martyr now. The prophet who had commanded them to build a temple had shed his blood for the cause. In the weeks of confusion that followed, the people felt a growing force, tear-streak- a swelling of pent-u- p energy seeking an outlet. The special feeling created by the martyrdom worked among them like yeast. The people felt a growing tension, like the force of a volcano seeking to burst through the ground. Some tried to harness the new force for their own benefit. Emma claimed her son was the rightful heir to the presidency of the Church. Sid- ney Rigdon argued that as first counselor in the presidency, he was next in line to take over. Turncoat John C. Bennett produced a letter, supposedly written by Joseph, naming him as successor. James Strang, leader of a group of Saints in Wisconsin, produced a similar letter. Out of the past came David Whitmer, who claimed to have been ordained by Joseph in Kirtland, with Oliver Cow-der- y and Martin Harris as counselors. And, of course, the Quorum of the 12 Apostles claimed to hold the keys to the kingdom. The Saints were restless and un- sure until that fateful day when Brigham Young, President of the 12 Apostles, just returned from a mission to the eastern states, stepped to the pulpit and preached a sermon that would never be forgotten. The words werent as memorable as the sound of the voice and the look on Brigham's face. It wasn't Brigham that the people heard and saw, but Joseph. The voice and face were transformed as if the dead prophet had risen from the dead. The people hundreds of volunteer workers began showing up daily at the quarry and the building site. Most of the men in Nauvoo spent one day a week working on the temple. More work had been completed in the last nine shoulder and joined the men moving down both sides of the serving tables, piling my plate high with roast turkey, boiled beef, fried potatoes and onions, homemade bread with butter and honey, fresh boiled greens, sliced dill pickles, radishes and onions. At the end of the table I was handed a canning jar full of chilled buttermilk. A true feast for months than during the entire first three years of construction. The women handled the preparation and serving of food for the workers. Children mixed mortar and picked up after the workers. On that May afternoon as I worked with Pat ORiley, the major stone work was almost finished. The front capstone, the big rock that would hold all the smaller stones together, would be set in place the next day. A big event was called, the capstone ceremony. There she is, in the green dress, whispered Pat, interrupting my contemplation of the temple. Whos the new lass with her? he continued. "The one with the yellow curls. Lets get down and wash up. I didnt know it at the time, but the new lass with the yellow curls was Caroline Logan, newly arrived in working men, and guards too. It being a nice day, Pat and I headed for a stretch of sloping lawn on the south side of the temple. No sooner had we stretched out and begun our meal than Pat mumbled, his mouth full of boiled beef, Here they come, Sarah and that new lass. From the look in Pats eye, I could . tell the women were approaching from behind me. Not wanting to turn in an obvious stare, I continued looking at Pat, who shoved a big piece of turkey in his mouth. The new lass. Looks even better up close. Good enough to make a man want to go back to school. Lad, you better team up with er while Im chattn with Sarah. Nauvoo. Chapter 7 I grabbed my rifle before climbing down from the scaffold behind Pat As a guard, I was expected to keep the rifle beside me at all times, even during the dinner break. One never knew when the mob would strike. Besides, the rifle served as a constant reminder that my responsibilities were different than those of the working men I rubbed shoulders with throughout the day. It reminded me that my job was to be constantly on the lookout for danger and mis- In the six months I had known Pat, he had always seemed intent on teaming me up with someone from the opposite sex. It seemed unnatural to him, the way I kept to myself, pretty much avoiding social contact with the young women of Nauvoo. Pat let me alone for a few weeks when I told him that I was a widower, that my wife Red Leaf, a Ute Indian, had been killed the Commanches, and that I was by not in the mood to court another woman, at least not yet. But now he was back to his old ways, having convinced himself that I needed a new woman to cure what he figured to be a grief. full-blood- ed chief. The desire of the mob to stop the work seemed to grow in direct relation to the desire of the Saints to finish the building. The Mormons expected the dedication to be accompanied by heavenly manifestations and fire from heaven, as was reported at the dedication of the Kirtland Temple almost ten years earlier. The mob seemed truly concerned that the spiritual manifestations might really occur. Why else would they try so hard to stop construction of the temple? The first thing they did was sneak into the quarry one night and saw partway through several of the axles on the ox carts used to carry the limestone blocks from the quarry. Then it was strychnine in the workmens water barrel and the disappearance of a shipment of nails well-disguise- d Please, dont get up, ordered Sarah, as she and her new friend stopped behind me. I put my plate on the grass and looked around as . Sarah introduced us to Caroline Logan, Nauvoo's newest schoolteacher. I have to admit that as the two women seated themselves beside us on the grass, I was somewhat taken in by Carolines blond curls and blue eyes. There was no doubt but what she was one of the most handsome women I had ever seen. But I have to admit that as we sat there making small talk over a big lunch, the thing that intrested me most about Caroline was her apparent lack of interest in me. She wasnt cold, or unfriendly like some of the more vain women are when trying to discourage potential suitors. I hadnt said or done anything to make her feel that way, anyway. Neither had Pat, who had eyes only for Sarah. Caroline was unlike so many of the other young women who seemed so enthralled, with male companionship. She had questions about everything. Mostly the temple, how it was being built, when it would be finished, why we needed all the lumber for a stone building. She wanted to know where the money was coming from to build the temple. She had a good appetite too, chewing enthu- siastically on beef and turkey be- tween questions. I answered her questions to the best of my knowledge, thoroughly enjoying her intense curiosity. I told her how the sisters in Nauvoo saved a penny a week each to buy nails and glass. I told her about several of the sisters who donated family china to be ground up in the plaster to make the building sparkle. I figured she must be a new convert when she asked about the endowments that would be performed after the building was dedicated. The endowment was not something to be discussed outside of a temple, and until the temple was completed, it was a subject not discussed at all, Morat least not by the mons. At that time I didnt know anything about the endowment, having not experienced the ceremony, but I did know eternal marriages were performed in temples and was beginning to think this Caroline Logan was the kind of woman that most men would be proud to take to the temple. She certainly had an active mind, and a generous supply of rank-and-fi- le wholesome good looks to go with it. When I hesitated, not sure how I should respond to her questions about the endowment, she quickly changed the subject, asking me about the capstone ceremony the next day. As I explained how the weight and size of the capstone held the other lesser stones in place, I balanced my rifle across my fingers to illustrate how the capstone worked. Why do you carry a rifle? she asked suddenly, her tone more sob-er. Im a guard, I explained, slapping the butt of my rifle with fondness. "My rifle Old George (named after my old friend Beaver George) and I do the guarding. Against what? Mobs. Theyd do anything to keep the temple from being completed. "like what? that lumber, I explained, her face. That's into looking a make bonfire to that enough "See all would warm the heart of every mob-b- er within 50 miles. She looked away, asking, "Do you really think they would try something like that? If we give them half a chance. No doubt about it. It seemed like a long time before she said anything else. |