William Morley Black conversion story

I took quite an interest in politics, and in 1848, I ran for sheriff on the Democratic ticket and was elected. In the winter of 1848-49, the news of the discovery of gold in California created quite a fever in our town, and I caught the fever. In the spring of 1849 a joint stock company was formed to go to the gold field. I resigned the sheriff's office and paid one hundred dollars into the company, which entitled me to a passage across the plains to California.


On the first of April, 1849, twelve citizens of the town of Cuba met together and formed a joint stock company, each member paying one hundred dollars into the treasury to be used in purchasing teams and outfits for a journey of two thousand miles through an unsettled Indian territory. We formed as it were a community compact for our defense and protection. The agreement bound us together until we should reach the gold fields. Anyone could withdraw from the company, but in so doing they forfeited the capital they had invested in it. William Maxwell was elected captain. I was elected as a teamster. On the 3rd of April, with light hearts and high ambitions we kissed our wives, children and parents goodbye and took the trail for the Eldorado of the West.

One hundred miles from Cuba brought us to Nauvoo on Saturday, and we rested the Sabbath. I strolled the streets of the city. Many of the houses were vacant. Those that were inhabited were occupied by a people whose language was strange to me. I was told that the builders of the city were a lawless set who for their crimes had been driven out and their beautiful substantial homes had become a prey almost without price to a company of French Icarians who purchased from the mob at low prices the homes of the exiled Mormons. Here we crossed the Mississippi River and followed westward on the roads made three years previously by the fleeing fugitives from Nauvoo. We crossed the Missouri River at Omaha and rested a few days until we were joined by other gold seekers; we numbered 75 men and 30 wagons. William Maxwell was elected as Captain over the new comers to our group.

The journey to Salt Lake Valley was a prosperous one. The most lively incidents were the days when for sport we hunted buffalo, thousands of them were shot down for the mere fun of the thing. No one seemed to consider that they were the property of the Red Men, and that they by generations of inheritance claimed them as we claim our marked and branded cattle. Sad indeed was it for the Sioux nation when the white men made a thoroughfare through their well stocked hunting grounds.

On the 24th of July we entered the Salt Lake Valley, emerging from Emigration canyon. We were all on tiptoe and anxious to see the kind of civilization the Mormons would exhibit to us. Descending from the bench lands we soon encountered well cultivated fields that extended westward in evidently small compact holdings to the very doors of their homes. Every field was irrigated by a newly made irrigation canal, and the scarcity of weeds gave evidence of careful culture. Passing through their city I saw the marking of several blacksmith shops, but not a sign of a saloon, or even barber pole, tavern or hotel could I see. But in the northern and thickest settled part of the town we passed a large brush bowery constructed evidently as a screen from the sun and used for the public gatherings. And today it looked as if the entire community, both old and young, male and female, were assembled there. At first I thought we had lost our reckoning and this was the Sabbath day, but this could not be, as the Mormons were an unchristian, lawless set who doubtless paid no heed to the Sabbath. Passing the city we camped on open ground, on the bank of a small stream called the Jordan. Across the street opposite us stood a low two-roomed house. The laughter of the children announced to us that the inmates of the house had come. I met the father whom the family called Uncle Buck Smithson. I asked if myself and companions could get supper with them. He hesitated and finally said: "You are welcome, we would be glad to have you come, but I am afraid that our simple supper of milk, meat and pigweed greens would seem very poor to you. We have no bread because the flour we brought a year ago has given out. We have not had bread for three weeks, and have no hopes of any until our harvest."

I gave him a pan of flour and in return partook of as relishable a meal as I ever have eaten. The dirt floor was cleanly swept; in fact everything, though crude and primitive, was neat and tidy. When seated at the table Uncle Buck said he wanted them to be quiet, and then he gave thanks for the ample supply of food and asked the Father to bless it to our use. This was the first time in my life that I had heard a blessing asked on our daily food, and this prayer fell from the lips of an uncultured Mormon.

Toward evening I met another Mormon, a Mr. William Wordsworth. He was a man of pleasing address, evidently well educated. He explained to me the nature of the gathering in the bowery. Two years ago today the pioneer company of the Mormon people, the fugitives from Nauvoo, entered this uninhabited and almost unknown valley, and their thankfulness was enhanced by the hope that they were beyond the reach and power of their old enemies who had cruelly mobbed and persecuted them for the last 15 years.

Their suffering and the martyrdom of the Prophet was all news to me and I wished to know the nature of all their suffering. To my surprise Mr. Wordsworth invited us to attend their church services on the morrow. I accepted the invitation and he promised to call for me. Sunday, July 25, 1849, is a day ever to be remembered by me. Mr. Wordsworth called early and after chatting ten or fifteen minutes with members of the company, and again extending an invitation to us all to attend their church, he and I walked together to the bowery. We secured seats near the front of the congregation. On the west was a raised platform of lumber on which were seated some twenty of their leading elders, including President Brigham Young. Under the shade of the bowery, seated on neatly made slab benches were the choir and congregation.

Services opened with singing and prayer, and the sacrament (bread and water) of the Lord's supper was blessed and passed to all the people. Then a man of noble, princely bearing addressed the saints. As he arose Mr. Wordsworth said: "That is Apostle John Taylor, one of the two men who were with our Prophet and Patriarch when they were martyred in Carthage jail." The word "Apostle" thrilled me, and the powerful sermon and testimony that followed filled my soul with a joy and satisfaction that I never felt before, and I said to Mr. Wordsworth, “If that is Mormonism, then I am a Mormon. How can I become a member of your Church?" He answered, "By baptism." I said, "I am ready for the ordinance." He replied, "Do not be in a hurry. Stay here and get acquainted with the people. Study more fully the principles of the Gospel, then if you wish to cast your lot with us, it will be a pleasure to me to baptize you."

That night I slept but little. I was too happy to sleep. A revelation had come to me, and its light filled my soul. My desire and ambition for gold was swept away. I had found the 'Pearl of Great Price' and I resolved to purchase it, let it cost what it would.

After a few days rest the company pushed on for California, but another man drove my team. I gave them my all and in exchange received baptism at the hands of Levi Jakeman. I had lost the world and become a Mormon. “He that putteth his hand to the plow and turneth back is not worthy of me." The parting with Captain Maxwell and company as they continued their journey was a little painful. Their warm, cheery goodbyes touched me in a tender place. As neighbors and companions for 1400 miles on the plains they had become dear to me, and the parting turned my thoughts back to home and loved ones, and a shade of homesickness rested upon me. I stood alone with strangers, but Uncle Buck Smithson saved the situation and strengthened my young faith with brotherly sympathy, inviting me to make my home with them, and he contrived to set me to work, which is a sure antidote for the blues. My first week's work in Utah was running an Armstrong mowing machine (scythe) for Uncle Buck, cutting wire grass on the Jordan bottoms.

On William Morley Black's headstone appears the phrase "I found the gold I was looking for"