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Show ; Todays Nauvoo still rich in LDS history By JACK HILL Nauvoo overlooks one of America's great rivers, the Mississippi. Home to the Mormons : from 1839 to 1846, the city grew ; from a few scattered houses in a swampy area called Commerce, to one of the largest cities in Illinois. Saints, or converts from the United States and Europe, gathered ; to this city on the western frontier ; in search of what they hoped would be a permanent home. In those few short years the Mormons built brick homes, planted orchards, gardens and tilled the fertile black farm soil while erecting erec-ting the largest building west of Cincinnati, the Mormon Temple. In February of 1846, hateful mobs supported by Illinois governmental authority, drove the Mormons out. Crossing the frozen Mississippi River, the Saints started the epic trek to the Rocky Mountains. Most got little or nothing for their property. A few bushels of corn, a worn out team of horses or perhaps a sack of flour is all they received for comfortable homes and productive farms. Last weekend, my wife, Anne, and I flew to St. Louis and then drove the 150 miles up the Mississippi to Nauvoo. We had been there before and just enjoyed the . church history and the quiet beauty of today's sleepy, small town of Nauvoo. We had reservations at the Village Inn, a quaint motel on Parley's Street that is owned by the local LDS stake president. Touring Brigham Young's home, the blacksmith shop or Jonathan Browning's home provided pleasant memories of admiration for these hardy American pioneers. But something new has been added for the visitor who had ancestors who lived in Nauvoo between 1839 and 1846. Upstairs at the visitors center you can tell the secretary the name of your relative, in our case, Alexander Hill Sr., and in just moments she will show you on a map exactly where your ancestor had his house and farm. This information in-formation has been painstakingly gathered from the Hancock County records. Armed with this map and a flush of genealogical fever, we set out to see where great-great-grandfather Alexander Hill lived and farmed. It was just a few blocks to the northwest nor-thwest corner of Knight and Gordon Streets, the house lot owned in the 1840's by Alexander Hill Sr. A Iwo-story Iwo-story brick house covered with yellow siding sits on the lot today and across the street is the town medical center. In the basement apartment of the medical center, two Pleasant Grove missionaries. Dean and Stella Steineckert, spend their "off duty"'- hours. The Steineckerts are currently acting as guides in Seventies Hall, a restored meeting place for early church members. From the center of town, it is just over five miles to the 120-aere farm that belonged to Alexander Hill Sr. Today, William Hartweg raises corn and wheat on this rich black farmland. I thought Mr. Hartweg would be interesting to talk to. so after knocking on the door of the two-story two-story white frame house, my heart pounded as I heard footsteps inside. The door opened slowly, just wide enough for me to see an older man, about 70, dressed in blue big overalls and wearing a straw hat, cautiously observing me through the still closed screen door. I introduced in-troduced myself as Jack Hill, a tourist, who was admiring his beautiful farm. He didn't say anything, but continued his skeptical observation from behind the partially opened door. "My great-great-grandfather owned this farm in the 184(i's and I just wanted to meet the current owner," I said, trying to smile and look anything but threatening. Mr. Hartweg said, "That was a long time ago." and then firmly slammed the door. Feeling like an unwanted door to-door to-door salesman. I stood in the shade of the porch looking at the swaying lace curtain in the small window of the door and thought. "I wonder how much Alexander Hill got for this farm when the unfriendly Illinois mob drove him out in lK4t;''" But like old man Hartweg said. "That was a long time ago " Not wishing to end my weekend ' vacation as the gunshot victim of an irate Illinois farmer; I got in the car and drove back out the lane. As we drove through' the lush farms toward Nauvoo, the stark contrast ol this rich fertile soil as compared to the alkali and sagebrush farms ' that the Saints found in Salt Lake Valley kept coming to mind. The two lane road led past the Nauvoo-Colusa High School. In front was a sign, "Home of the Vikings." The school colors are red and gold, however. "Where's a nice place to eat," we had asked the owner of a small knitting shop in Nauvoo's main business area, Mullholand Street: She said. "The Nauvoo Hotel, but it's terribly expensive." Later that night we took the Steineckerts to the buffet at the old Nauvoo Hotel where we had the "terribly expensive" $7.50 buffet. Comparable to the $12 Snowbird Sunday Brunch, the buffet featured ham. chicken, roast beef and a specialty, local catfish. "Terribly expensive" is relative, as that was the best $7.50 meal I've ever eaten. Sunday at sacrament meeting, Heinz and Lola Leonhardt, another missionary couple from Pleasant Grove, were the main speakers. Mem told a story of sugar beet larming in Lehi in the 193t)'s that as an old sugar beet farmer from Granger. I could understand very well. The Leonhardts sent special greetings to Harry Ophar. saying they would sure like a letter. How about it. Bishop'.' II you are fortunate to get to Nauvoo. plan on spending. at least two days and if you had relatives who lived there in the 1840's, be sure to look up where they lived and larmed. If the farm happens to be by William Hartweg's, it might be best if you just waved as you drove by But if he hails you and wants to talk, tell him Jack Hill from Utah said "Hello." |