At 17, Reed Smoot was a graduate of Brigham Young Academy - a member of the first graduating class in 1879 - and working for his father as a general roustabout in the Provo Cooperative Institution.
When he heard his father comment to a customer that he "wasn't sure he (Reed) would be much good," the lad dug into the job with the tenacity that later marked his 30 years as a U.S. senator from Utah. Within a year, he was general manager, and he soon owned and operated his own drugstore, the first of numerous successful business ventures.As one of Utah's most notable politicians, Smoot may have done more to counter negative impressions about the state and its majority Latter-day Saint population than any legislator before or since. His terms, from March 5, 1903, to March 4, 1933, began soon after statehood when misunderstanding, lingering resentment and suspicion about Mormons still plagued the state.He may also have been singular in congressional history in that he served in the highest American legislative body while at the same time sitting on the highest council of a religious organization. He was a member of the Council of the Twelve of the LDS Church and, given the usual format of succession in the church, was just one seat from the presidency when he died in 1941.
In his dual roles as political figure and church leader, Smoot was the person "most responsible for the change in attitude toward Mormons, from persecution and obloquy to widespread respect, if not enthusiastic approval," wrote Milton R. Merrill, in a book about Smoot's life.
The informal recognition as "Apostle in Politics" colored his career from the outset and sparked one of the longest and most bitter debates ever surrounding the seating of a senator.
Smoot's headlong dive into politics within the Republican Party put him on the opposite side of the political fence from his father, Abraham O. Smoot, a rabid Democrat. But the younger Smoot had studied the parties in depth, comparing two New York newspapers that represented both points of view. And the Republican platform coincided most closely with his personal beliefs, even though that made him the only Republican in Provo for some time.
His personal life had prepared him for challenges. Born Jan. 10, 1862, he was the third child of Abraham's fifth wife, Anne Kirstene Morrison. He was interested in marbles and baseball, like most of his peers, but he was more interested, in the long run, in business and figures. He played catcher and first base for a Provo town team and was obsessed with working the statistics of bigger leagues from newspaper accounts.
By 23, he was president of Provo Woolen Mills, and soon after he became the first and only president of Provo Commercial and Savings Bank. With interests in coal, lumber, real estate and mining, he became comfortably well off. Com-merce, in fact, appears to have exceeded his interest in church service during his early years. While most young LDS men were spending three to four years on missions, he turned down two calls and served only 10 months of the third, returning home from England when his father became ill.
In 1895, however, he became serious about service to the church in which he had always believed. He became a counselor to the president of the Utah Stake. Five years later, on April 9, 1900, he was sustained a member of the Quorum of the Twelve.
With no previous political experience, when Smoot became interested in public office, he aimed directly for the U.S. Senate. "He didn't plod, he vaulted into the most important office" available to him, Merrill wrote. His selection by the Utah Legislature, which at that time selected representatives to Congress, immediately set off a storm of protests. The Salt Lake Ministerial Association led the charge, objecting to having an LDS Church official serve as one of the state's representatives to the Senate.
One editorial writer said "Reed Smoot really has no more place in the Senate of the United States than would have the sword bearer of the sultan of Turkey." Smoot's position, in a letter to a friend, was that "if they can expel me from the Senate of the United States, they can expel any man who claims to be a Mormon." He was convinced that he could best serve the interests of the church as a "missionary" in Congress.
The case became a focal point for the broader debate of religion and politics and whether an individual could be barred from public service on the basis of religion.
Although Smoot was seated as planned in 1903, the debate broadened and became more ugly. When the senator was accused by one of his detractors of being a polygamist, it actually worked to his benefit and that of the church. His marriage to Alpha Mae Eldredge and his home life with one wife and six children was minutely scrutinized and found to be exemplary. The glaring spotlight on polygamy also served to convince some church leaders that polygamy had to go forever, in practice as well as theory, regardless of some individual beliefs.
Washington life, however, was painful for Alpha Mae when her cards announcing visiting hours were consistently ignored. Finally, Mrs. William H. Taft called, and things began to improve, although Alpha Mae Smoot was never enamored of life in the national capital. After her death, Smoot married Alice Taylor Sheets, a widow.
For four years, the Senate's Committee on Privileges and Elections considered Sen. Smoot's status before voting that his election and right to serve were valid. He then was able to put his full attention on matters of particular concern to him - with such items as land issues, national parks and tariff protections for American businesses heading the list.
Although Smoot unquestionably had the support of top LDS officials in his congressional service, there is little evidence that he often received direct instructions on legislative issues, Merrill writes - probably because Smoot's own philosophies were so in tune with theirs that there was no need. Although he had detractors even within the church, his standard of ethics, determination and devotion to his public responsibility were generally recognized.
The conservative senator from Utah gained a reputation for treating public monies with the same thrifty care that he gave his own. "The waste of government money pains him acutely," said Alfred P. Dennis of the U.S. Tariff Commission. "Waste of anything affects him disagreeably, like the presence of a civet cat or a strong infusion of mustard gas."
One of Smoot's pet peeves was the amount of "piffle" printed in the Congressional Record. The money he saved by keeping a watch on the matter could have paid the national debt, a contemporary said. He even voted against suggested raises for congressmen, irking fellow senators.
The most significant accomplishment of his congressional career was the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act, an extensive bill that imposed duties on imports to assure the advantage of American producers.
In April 1917, as the Senate debated America's entry into World War I, he gave one of the most impressive talks of his life. Following others who had expounded in long, sonorous speeches, he said, "God bless and approve the action to be taken by the Senate this day. Oh Father, preserve our government and hasten the day when liberty will be enjoyed by all the peoples of the earth."
The Utah senator became one of the deans of the Senate and was part of the group of insiders in the famous "smoke-filled room" where Warren G. Harding became the presidential nominee in 1920. A grateful Harding offered Smoot the job of U.S. treasurer, according to the Utahn's diary, but Smoot preferred the Senate, where he had earned senior ranking on the powerful Finance Committee.
The 1932 election was a disaster for Smoot, politically and personally. The 1929 stock market crash and the ensuing Great Depression had ruined him financially and brought an about-face in national politics. His ultraconservatism was no longer attractive to a majority of Utahns suffering the depression's effects.
After his loss, Smoot faded into relative obscurity, continuing his service in the church council, but not involving himself in outside activities to any extent. He died Feb. 9, 1941, while vacationing in Florida.