Married Mary Frances Adams 24 Apr 1878 in St. George
Charles William-Fenly-Clifford
Died 14 March 1900 in Mexico
1850 Census
1860 Census
1870 Census
This is from the Charles William Merrell book, but is only a small part of what you can learn about him.
Charles William Merrell, his given name arrived at apparently after some modifications, was known throughout his life as Will. When he was two and a half years old, his parents, Charles and Sarah Merrell, left Iowa for Utah in July of 1852 with the wagon train of Captain Allen Weeks. After a few days Will’s father contracted cholera and died; he was wrapped in quilts and buried near the Elk Horn River in Nebraska. That hardship seemed to portend the entire life of Will Merrell.
His mother became the plural wife of Samuel B. Hardy after two years in Farmington. He build a large home in Bountiful for his wives, but because of his occupation wasn't able to support them well. The children worked very hard at many things just to keep from starving.
In 1860, Will’s family moved to Willard, near Brigham City; it was there that he met and married Melinda Mary Hubbard, known as “Din” in December 1875. Six weeks after their marriage, Brigham Young called them with others to go to Arizona and help establish settlements within the United Order along the Little Colorado River. They left in February and arrived in Obed (between Winslow and Holbrook on the banks of the Little Colorado), Arizona late in March. Along the way, the Merrells met the Jerome J. Adams family who were going to the same area. A daughter Mary Frances, or Fannie, Adams, then 13 years old, often rode in the Merrell wagon.
Life was very difficult in the Arizona Colonies. Because of the swamp-like conditions, mosquitos were abundant and Will contracted malaria, referred to locally as the “dumb chills.” He was very ill for several weeks. His mother, who still lived in Utah, upon learning of Will’s illness, went to the Church authorities and obtained a release for him from his mission. Will reminded his mother that his father had lost his life while crossing the plains and asked her, “Do you think my father would have turned back if he had known the outcome?” His mother was cross and replied, “No! Go on, you are truly your father’s son!” He accepted this as a compliment and continued in his determination to carry out his commitment.
Some time during the first 2 years, he courted Mary Frances Adams, after discussion with Din who up to that point had been unable to have children. The three of them went to the St. George Temple and Will and Fannie were sealed 24 April 1878. They returned to the colonies in Arizona; Fannie lived with her parents in Brigham City while Will and Din lived at the colony’s sawmill in the mountains. On a trip to Logan, Utah, in 1885 with Din, Will married an older woman, Anna Marie Nielsen; an acquaintance of Din’s.
Because of various reasons the United Order was discontinued in the colonies and many families began moving away. Also United States marshals were making raids against polygamists in Arizona which prompted church authorities to suggest moving to Mexico for safety, which Will along with other families did in early February 1885. Will went by wagon with the company of saints, but Din took her daughter Rhoda and Fanny’s daughter May by train, meeting with Will somewhere (probably Deming, New Mexico) on the way south. After a month of traveling over mountains and deserts, the company of saints arrived in Mexico only to find that they still were without a home. There were problems obtaining a tract of land by the colonization company formed by the Church.
Health problems continued to cause Will problems. Malaria attacks reoccurred throughout his life. In a smallpox epidemic in 1889, Will came down with them and was put in quarantine very ill. He was attended by a Mexican woman and Elijah Pomeroy who were both immune to smallpox. Later on in 1899 Will’s eye problem became acute, went to El Paso for help, had it diagnosed as glaucoma, and had his left eye removed. The final tragedy for Will happened in March 1900. He was “topping” some young cottonwood trees to replant around his home when a freak whirlwind flipped a limb end over end striking him in the shin. He lost his balance, possibly due to the recent loss of his eye, and fell to the ground in such a way that he was paralyzed from his shoulders down. He died the next day, 14 March 1900, in Colonia Diaz.
An account that illustrates the integrity and honesty of Will happened while he was hauling freight between Deming, New Mexico, and two towns in Mexico; Las Anscensión and Sabinál. The gendarmes stopped him at some point after he had passed through customs and some contraband was discovered in his wagon. Will knew that he was not aware of how it had been placed there because he had passed customs at the border. Nevertheless, he was arrested, his wagon and horses confiscated along with the freight load. He was taken back to La Anscensión and put in jail.
At a preliminary hearing, the judge and lawyers advised him to pay a fine so that he would be set free. Will knew that he had been unaware of the contraband therefore he was morally innocent. He didn’t want the Mexico nationals to think the “gringos” were easy prey for a lucrative extortion racket. He told his lawyers that Americans could be jailed on the slightest pretext if it was known they would buy their way out.
He was transferred to El Paso del Norte (now Ciudad Juarez) for trial. He refused to let a real estate man from El Paso buy his way out of jail and all attempts by Church leaders to plead his case were unsuccessful. In jail, Will was trusted enough to go into town and buy bread for the other prisoners. Also, he was assigned to oversee two Mexican fellow inmates who were sent to get water from the Rio Grande River. The two bolted and crossed the river to freedom, while Will returned to jail even though the Mexicans told him he was a fool for not escaping.
At the end of his long-awaited trial, the judge told Will, “We know you are morally innocent, but technically you are guilty. Confess and we will let you off with a fine and will not be accused of being too lenient with American citizens.”
Will, according to his daughters, Olive and May, said, “Sir, I came in here innocent and I will leave my bones to rot in this place rather than walk out in dishonor!” That reply was related in a meeting of Mexican President Porfírio Díaz’s cabinet and Benito Juárez, a cabinet member, said, “Mr. President, if that’s the kind of people the Mormons are, we want all of them who will come to our country. They are the kind of people we need.” Needless to say, Will remained to finish serving his sentence.
At his funeral, he was extolled for his virtues and the great missionary he was with his actions towards all he knew. The Mexican people had a great love and trust in him that they affectionately referred to him as “Guillermo” (the Spanish word for William).
This is a history of Charles William Merrell by his daughters, Olive and May:
Our father was a large man, about five-eleven in his stocking feet. He was born 27 November 1849 of Charles Merrell and Sarah Finley. His hair was dark brown and his eyes real blue. He had prominent features with a kind expression that little children loved. Babies and children were always attracted to him. He was a good, kind husband and father, and dealt justly and fairly with his family. He wouldn't stoop to anything mean or low, though he had to suffer for it. He upheld the right wherever he went. He had good morals and vulgarity was repulsive to him. He was father of fourteen children, twelve of which grew to maturity. He was a pal to his boys, teaching them to work, to swim, to ride horses and take care of them. He gave the boys stock in the tannery for their work around the tannery and when they sold out to go to Dublan, Jerome and Fenly had enough stock to trade for a nice buggy for the family use. He looked forward with pleasure to the day when he would have grandchildren, but he passed away before Thelma Hatch, the first grandchild, was born.
Early in 1846, my grandparents, Charles and Sarah Finley Merrell, moved west with the body of the church and settled at Council Point, Iowa. It was there that my father saw the light of day on the 27th of November 1849, the eighth child.
When he was three years old, the family commenced the journey across the plains on the Fourth of July, and on the thirteenth, his father died of cholera. They buried him and resumed the journey. Years after they reached the Salt Lake Valley, his mother married Samuel B. Hardy. I have heard my father say he was a good stepfather.
When my father was eleven years old, the family moved to Willard, Utah, where he grew up as other boys of pioneer families, working hard to help support the large family. He sacrificed opportunities for education which he craved. He entered into the social life of the times--sleigh riding, dancing, husking bees and all. He was a good skater and could write names in the ice with his skates. Once he won a contest with a girl, being the first couple to reach a given point. I asked him once if he ever proposed to a girl and was refused. He said, "Yes". I asked him what she said. "They would say she flew quite high to light so low". She didn't ever get married.
He and his first wife grew up in Willard, Utah, and went to the same school. He often helped her with her arithmetic. When about 18 or 20, he freighted into Montana and didn't see her for several years. It was while working there that he saved the life of one of his co-workers by whipping him. It was storming and the snow was deep and it was bitter cold. He and one of the teamsters got off the wagons and walked beside the horses to keep warm. The third one remained on his wagon until he was so cold and stiff he turned to whiskey to keep warm. Father knew he would certainly freeze if left there, so he went back and tried to persuade him to walk, which he refused to do. Next, Father took his whip and started whipping him to get him out. The man only got angry at him and said he would kill him if he didn't leave him alone. The other man, fearing trouble, tried to get father to let him remain in the wagon. Father told him that there were not enough blankets in all three wagons to keep him warm, and went on whipping him until he became so angry that he jumped out to "have it out" with Father, swearing all the time. Father ran and the man was so stiff that when he tried to run, he fell in the snow and was going to remain there. Father again whipped him, making him get up and walk. By the time they reached camp that night, the fellow's anger was gone and he realized his life had been saved and thanked father for it.
At that time, Mary Malinda thought she didn't care enough for father to marry him, but when he returned to Willard, after a short courtship, they were married on the 27th of December 1875. They moved into part of his mother's house and were very comfortable and happy for about six weeks. They then were called to go to Arizona to help settle that part of the country. They left Willard on 7 February 1876, traveling by team and wagon to a place called Obed on the Little Colorado River. It was not far from where Winslow now stands. They arrived there on 18 April.
The next day Father was called to return to Kanab for provisions as his team was in good condition. He was gone six weeks, and when he returned, they lived in Obed and ate at one big table. The "United Order" was being lived there and that was a very happy time in their lives.
On Christmas they went to Sister Bloomfield’s for dinner and my father ate something that made him very sick. He didn't get any better so they took him to the mountains east of Obed. Their first day in the mountains he began to get better, and the second day he was able to get out of the wagon. They stayed with a family there for six weeks. While there, they visited the Zuni and Navajo Indian villages during the Navajo rabbit hunt, which was very interesting.
When they returned to Obed, they found that almost everyone had been sick. There was an epidemic of what they called dumb chills (Malaria). Everyone had to move away from such an unhealthy place. He contracted malaria in Obed, so his mother obtained a release for him from the Arizona mission. Father would not accept the release although his mother begged him to return to Willard to care for her there. There were others there to take care of her, and in the talk regarding the situation, Father said, "My father lost his life crossing the plains, Mother. Do you think he would have turned back even if he had known what the outcome would be?" His mother replied, "No, go on, you are truly your father's son.”
They went to Sunset and entered in the "Order" which was presided over by Lot Smith. Father's health was not good there so he was sent to the saw mill in the mountains. When Father and his wife, Mary Malinda Hubbard, were traveling to Arizona from Utah they met the Adams family and traveled with them the remainder of the way. They located at Brigham City just across the river from Sunset, and were living the “Order" there. My father courted pretty Fanny Adams (Mary Frances Adams) though she was only fourteen. In April 1878, Father took his wife, Malinda, and Mary Frances to S1. George where he and Mary Frances were married in the temple. She became our mother.
After the marriage, they all went north, and Aunt Din stayed with her mother in Willard. Mother went to Malad with father where he worked in the saw mill with his older brother, John. In the fall, they returned to Arizona. Our mother stayed with her mother, Grandma Adams, at Brigham City, and Father took Aunt Din up to the saw mill.
The next spring two babies were born, Sarah Olive to my mother in March, and John Hubbard in April. When Olive was six weeks old, mother went up to the mill to live. Aunt Din taught a little school and they all ate together as they did at the other settlements. The McClellan children were among the school children.
In August, Aunt Din again visited her mother in Willard, Utah. She traveled by team with Sully Richardson, May Whiting, and one of the Acord boys. When they were near Kanab, Utah, the baby took sick and died. They buried the baby there and continued their journey. She was with her mother until.the fall of 1880 when Father went by team and brought her home. May was born in February 1881, and when she was ten months old, her mother took her on Christmas morning and gave her to Aunt Din to make up for her boy who had died. (Another history reads: When she, Cora May, was ten months old, Fan gave her to Aunt Din, where she remained until she was six years old. At that time she came back to her own mother of her own accord. She had learned somehow where she belonged.) Added by Verla Johnson who possesses both histories.
April and July 1883, two more babies were born, William Jerome and Rhoda Ann.
Dissatisfaction with the order caused the people to draw out one after another. Father and Charles Whiting stayed until the last. Father got a herd of sheep, which he sold, but never did get all of his money for them. He again took Aunt Din to visit her people and he worked in the Logan Temple with his mother. There he met Annie Neilson and helped her with some of her sealings. For that, she felt she had claim on Father, and a few years afterward, sold her home in Pleasant Grove and went to Mexico.
When Father returned to Arizona, he took Aunt Din, Rhoda, and May to Mexico. Somewhere in Arizona, they met people who had lived with them in the "Order" at Sunset, who were also on their way to Mexico. They traveled together the remainder of the trip. Two of the men in the company with their families were Charles Whiting and Sully Richardson.
When they arrived at the international border, the Mexican officials tried to turn them back. The custom house was sixty miles south of the line at a little town called Ascension. The men all had passports from the head of the government, so they had to permit them to enter.
There was some misunderstanding about just where the land for their colonization was located. A kind-hearted Mexican, who had a large tract of land, invited them to camp on his place until the affair was straightened out. They found a large grove of cottonwood trees, pitched their tents under them and arranged other makeshift living quarters. Some of the people were still living there at Christmas time. Very soon the land was located, or they thought it was, so Father again pitched a tent with a brush shed in front for shade. It was made as comfortable as possible.
I remember Father taking all of us to the grove on Sunday for meeting. It was a great treat to us. One Sunday when we came home from church, we found that we had a visitor in our absence. A cow had broken into our tent, done her dirty work and left.
Others came and settled at that place, making quite a community. A well was dug and water drawn up with a pole for a lever which raised and lowered the bucket. It was not long, however, before they found that our land was farther north, so we had another move and everyone began pitching their tents and building on the new place. That place became permanent and other people came to join them. Mostly for the same reason, because of the persecution endured because of polygamy. The place was named Colonia Diaz, in honor of President Porfiror Diaz, who had allowed us to move into his country and have freedom.
Diaz grew to be quite a large and pretty place. Cottonwood trees planted on main street grew tall and the branches met at the top forming a shady lane the length of town. Farming and cattle were the chief industries. The cattle were driven to the states for marketing.
During the years of getting a start in Mexico, it was quite a struggle to maintain a growing family, build homes, improve the land, and plant gardens and orchards. The climate was good for all kinds of fruit and it all had a delicious flavor. Father planted a large orchard mostly of peaches. A large number of them died as the wild rabbits came in at night and ate the bark. We still had enough left for family use, and Father grafted three different kinds of peaches onto one tree. It was quite a novelty. We also had a nice grape vineyard. Father also helped dig ditches to bring
water into town.
Father and Jesse N. Smith both had good freight outfits and hauled goods for merchants in Ascencion. The merchant Father was freighting for had some smuggled goods and wanted him to testify that he had smuggled them and he would buy him off, but Father would not do it. The merchant put them in the wagon without Father’s knowing it and they were found by the custom officials. He was arrested and put in prison in La Ascencion. The merchant in the meantime had disappeared. Father's wagon and team were confiscated and he had a preliminary hearing in La Ascencion and was to be sent to El Paso del Norte (now Ciudad Juarez) Chihuahua, Mexico.
The customary method of transferring prisoners was to have them tied between two mounted horsemen and made to walk. John Earl volunteered with Jesse N. Smith to take him in their wagon to his destination. He waited for months for trial. Mr. Monday, a real estate dealer of EI Paso, volunteered the necessary funds to buy him out rather than to see a fellow countryman rot in that vile prison. George Teasdale, who was then president of the Mexican Mission went to EI Paso and tried to free Father, but to no avail. Also, Anthony W. Ivins, Helaman Pratt and J.Z Stewart in Mexico City, used every means to free Father, as all were sure of his innocence.
Once he thought he was free to go home, so John Earl and his wife took Aunt Din to bring him home. He had to report every day at the jail so he couldn't leave town. They waited six weeks for him to be free. The women got some quilts to make and Brother Earl got some carpenter work and when they could get no more work, they had to go home without him. It was two months before he was finally released to go home. He had a son, Charles William, born while in prison on the 17th of July 1886. He was two months old when his father first saw him.
The case was brought before President Diaz and his cabinet at the time when the fate of the Mormon colonies was in the balance. They were not wanted in Northern Chihuahua as refugees, and the matter was presented before the cabinet at the same time as the case of Father's imprisonment was heard. The judge had sentenced Father to six months in prison after waiting four months.
He was told by the Judge: "We know you are morally innocent, but technically you are guilty. Confess you are guilty, pay the court fine, and you are free". Father stood up in the prisoner's dock and replied, "Sir, I came in here innocent and I will leave my bones to rot in this vile place rather than walk out in dishonor." The reply was told in President Diaz's cabinet and in the decision of the case, Benito Juarez, a cabinet member said, "Mr. President, if that is the kind of people the Mormons are, we want all of them who will come. They are the kind of people we
need."
Brother Helaman Pratt said at Father's funeral that Father had done more for the Mormon colonies in Mexico than many missionaries could have done. The Father went into that experience like a sturdy oak and came out in the appearance of a turnip sprout grown in a cellar.
The last few months he was there, he was made a trustee and could go out in town and buy bread and sell to the other prisoners, adding a little to his meager food allowance of 30 cents a day. He could also go down to the river to bathe. That was a great privilege for him.
One day he was accompanying two other prisoners to the river to get drinking water for the prison. They jumped into the river, swam across and were free. After trying to stop them, Father had to return to the prison and report it. The other prisoners told Father he was a fool for not going too. At that time, any prisoner who succeeded in crossing the river had every chance to be free, as there were no international reciprocal laws. It was a matter of honor with Father to stay.
During the time of his trial he returned to his cell one day very despondent. His family needed him and he felt it impossible to endure longer. He opened his Bible and saw a passage which read, "Stay (or tarry) thou here for a little while". He said he had never been able to find that passage again, but in his prayer for strength, he promised the Lord he would stay gladly if it was necessary for his work. He wrote a few verses while there describing his experience. The poem was lost, but I remember the last two verses:
There's many a better man than me
Locked up in prison
For the sake of religion
In this proud boasted Land of the Free.
But what good I'm doing here
I do not understand.
I hope it will benefit the Saints,
Who settled in the land.
While in prison, he had learned the language, so he could speak well with the natives. He was a
friend to them and they to him. One day, when I was about thirteen, he ·was away with his team
and wagon. He took very sick with a malaria chill, and one of his Mexican friends brought him
and his outfit home.
He was always faithful in his church duties, and though he didn't hold any high positions, he was faithful to ward teaching or whatever he was asked to do and faithful with family prayers night and morning. While he lived in the "Order", he worked at the tannery with Lundquist and learned quite a bit about making leather, so that was his ambition. He started on little or no capital and worked it up until he could make fairly good leather. He got others interested in it and for some reason they wanted to get it out of his hands and didn't treat him right, so he sold out to them.
In 1887, Father was on his way from Mexico to Wilford, Arizona. He had to pass the ranch of James Mortensen, and it was customary for people passing through to stop overnight or longer, visit, and tell the news. On this occasion, the Mortensen family were all sick in bed. Brother Mortensen told Father to go put his horse up and feed it, but they couldn't do anything for him. Father put his horse up and returned to the house with an armload of wood, made a fire, cleaned up the kitchen, made biscuits, cooked an appetizing meal and served it to the family. He stayed with them two or three days, cooking and nursing them until they were able to take care of themselves. Sister Mortensen called him an angel of mercy.
In the fall of 1899, Father suffered from serious eye trouble. He went to EI Paso for treatment. Young Dr. Irvine, eye specialist, operated and removed his left eye which had been destroyed by glaucoma or glass blowers disease caused by firing the furnace under the molasses boiler.
Father and Brother Holden were partners in the molasses making mill. Father had always fired the furnace. In February 1900, the family moved to Dublan. Soon after this move, he was cutting cottonwood limbs to plant for shade trees. Having lost his eye, his vision was not very clear. A large limb whirled and struck him on the shin, knocking him from the tree. His shoulders hit the ground in such a manner as to paralyze him from the shoulders down. He died at 4:00 a.m., 10 March 1900. He was mourned by a large family and many friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment