J. Golden Kimball, the legendary Mormon leader, passed away 54 years ago at the age of 85.
Much of Kimball's reputation was based on his subtle humor and occasional use of profanity, a distinct oddity in a man who was a member of the presidency of the LDS Church's First Quorum of the Seventy. But Kimball spent much of his life as a cowboy.Although many of the stories told about him are folklore, those from his diaries or first-person accounts have more credence.
Jim Kimball, an executive with Huntsman Chemical, is a great-nephew of J. Golden. The younger Kimball has long been fascinated by his illustrious relative. He does a wonderful imitation of him and tells authentic stories at firesides. He plans to write a book about "Uncle Golden" that captures not only his humor but also his spirit.
"As T.S. Eliot said, `Between the emotion and the response falls the shadow.' For Golden, there was no shadow. The inhibitions were absent and he said what he felt. He was an example of something rare and precious in any society - a totally honest man."
Jim recalled to me some lesser-known stories. When J. Golden was president of the LDS Church's Southern States mission, the Mormon missionaries were being assailed by the Ku Klux Klan. J. Golden recorded in his diary that he went to Athens, Ga., to comfort 28 missionaries.
After a religious meeting in a forested, outdoor setting, they were interrupted by members of the KKK, who settled in across the river. By the light of the moon, J. Golden could see white sheets, a fire, and he could smell the pungent aroma of tar.
J. Golden knew what it was like to be tarred and feathered, so he told the missionaries, "I'll talk to these men. I can talk their language."
When they yelled across the stream that they had come "to teach the Mormons a lesson," J. Golden said, "Well, we're all Mormons - everyone of us - but Mormons have horns. You cross that stream, and we'll gore the hell right out of you."
They got on their horses and left. J. Golden later heard that one Klan leader had told another that "by the light of a full moon Mormons grow horns and become vicious."
I'll give you one more. As a general authority, J. Golden attended a conference at the Bear Lake LDS Stake. The stake president did some bragging, concluding with the assertion that sacrament meeting attendance was the highest in the church - 95 percent.
When J. Golden got the pulpit, he recalled a visit to Bear Lake a year earlier when a friend had taken him fishing on the lake. After a slow start, the fish started biting around dusk, so J. Golden's friend lit a lantern and they continued to fish. But a brisk wind blew up, the boat sank, and they had to swim to shore.
This year J. Golden's friend invited him to go fishing again. "No way, Harve - you almost killed me last year." But Harve said his new boat would not sink.
Out on the lake, J. Golden said, "Isn't that our boat down there from last year?" He recognized the rods, reels, and the fish "just as we left them - and there was the lantern in the front of the boat - and do you know something? That lantern was still burning."
Then he beckoned the stake president, put his arm around him and asked, "Now, brother, do you believe that story?" The stake president said, "No, Brother Kimball. I don't believe that lantern was still burning after one year."
J. Golden said, "OK, President, I'll make you a deal. You take 15 percent off sacrament meeting attendance, and I'll douse the lantern."
According to Jim, J. Golden is remembered because "he was able to make people laugh. He was not particularly charismatic - a tall, skinny man with a high squeaky voice. Yet he had an unusual ability to acknowledge his own struggles with wit and insight - an unvarnished spontaneity."
Dennis Lythgoe's column is published on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays.