Time passes, and the ordinary objects of daily life take on an air of oddity. Styles of furniture and clothing change; modes of transportation improve. And a lifestyle that once was so common becomes quaint, outdated.
Yet, those earlier times are a vital part of who we are, and if we fail to remember them, we will be missing important pieces of ourselves, says Mary Johnson, president of the International Society of Daughters of Utah Pioneers. "Life is a continual round. We need to be connected to what has gone before in order to feel whole. And that also helps us connect to what is to come. Otherwise, we live in a vacuum."
For 100 years, the DUP has taken as its charge the preservation, appreciation and commemoration of the artifacts, histories and people associated with a unique chapter of that past — the settling of what is now Utah.
And during that time, it has compiled an impressive record of achievement — 86 museums in Utah, a few others in Idaho and Nevada; 533 historic markers placed worldwide; a four-volume encyclopedia on pioneer women, along with countless pamphlets, books and other publications detailing the pioneer story; an extensive library filled with more than 110,000 personal histories, thousands of photographs and other resource materials; and a worldwide membership of more than 19,000 women.
During that time, the "dedication of the women in honoring their heritage has been remarkable," says Johnson. Founding members of the group, she says, were "so intelligent, so ambitious, so knowledgeable." They had such vision, she says, and recognized the importance of keeping things. "So much would have been lost without that."
And that vision and effort have continued. One of the most significant achievements has been the hundreds of thousands of volunteer hours put in by all the members through the years, she says.
And one of the things that has made the organization so successful has been its ability to grow with the times. "Our past leaders have been so good at that. They have remained true to the bylaws and the rules, but they have found a contemporary approach. The methods change, but the values remain the same," says Johnson.
At first, the early Mormon pioneers were so busy carving out a life for themselves, they had little time to think what a remarkable thing it was they were doing. But by 1897, 50 years after the first wagon train entered the valley, there was occasion to look back.
A Pioneer Jubilee that year honored all the men and women still living who had arrived in the valley in 1847. They gathered at Temple Square, where photographer George E. Anderson recorded the event — women dressed in their finest black silks sitting on the dusty ground, men with bearded faces reflecting the toll of time; a multitude of faithful and hardy pioneers.
Family members who attended the festivities were struck by that amazing group, and several of the daughters talked about forming a patriotic organization to keep memories of the pioneer achievements alive.
But nothing came of it until April 11, 1901, when Annie Taylor Hyde, daughter of John Taylor, invited 46 women descended from those 1847 pioneers into her home.
"Ever since the Pioneer Jubilee," she told the women, "I have felt deeply impressed with the importance and desirability of the children of the pioneers becoming associated together in forming an organization."
A committee was appointed to draw up a constitution and bylaws, Hyde was elected president of the group, and the Daughters of Utah Pioneers was on its way.
The goals and objectives of the society were straightforward: "to perpetuate the names and achievements of the men and women who were the pioneers in the founding of this commonwealth, to preserve and restore old landmarks and collect relics, to preserve a record of the lives of the pioneers and their splendid heroism . . . to teach their descendants and the citizens of our country, by showing the lives of the pioneers, the lessons of faith, courage and patriotism . . ."
Women were organized into "camps" and camps into companies, in similar fashion to that of early wagon trains. By 1925, camps had been organized in nearly every county in the state, and in Idaho and Arizona as well.
In the beginning, membership was restricted to those whose ancestors arrived in the valley before 1850. But that date was later changed to May 10, 1869, and the coming of the railroad. It was felt that those who came before the railroad shared a common experience that was very different from those who came later.
And although the majority of the people who came to the territory were members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, other pioneers came here as well: '49ers on their way to the gold fields, soldiers, missionaries from other church groups. Descendants of those folks are also eligible for membership. "We have a number of women who are not members of the church, even some who are on the board," says Colette Liddle, a member of the DUP's board of directors.
The world changes, and even simple items become relics of an earlier culture. Things that have outlived their original use and purpose become objects of curiosity and wonder. Extraordinary, one-of-a-kind artifacts and those associated with specific people take on an even grander cachet.
Early on, the DUP recognized the importance of pioneer relics, recognized the wordless stories of life these inanimate objects tell. By 1903, the group had established its first relic hall — a small room in the church's Tithing Office on the northeast corner of South Temple and Main.
Three years later, they had outgrown this space. For a time, artifacts were housed in the Deseret Museum in the upper floors of the Vermont Building on Main Street. In 1915, the collection was moved to the Bureau of Information on the Temple Block. In 1919, items that pertained specifically to Utah State history were moved to display cases in the basement of the Capitol building.
But it was clear that a permanent home of its own was needed by the organization. In 1911, the society began setting aside funds for a "Memorial Hall."
The long, slow process of gathering funds dragged on through times of Depression and World Wars, but by 1946, sufficient money had been gathered and ground was broken on the triangle of land at the top of Main Street. The selection of the site was not without controversy, as many of the neighbors wanted to keep that spot vacant. But the Daughters prevailed. And the building, designed to memorialize the old Salt Lake Theater, was dedicated in July 1950.
And although members were encouraged to establish and maintain relic halls in local communities, this combination of museum and corporate headquarters soon became recognized as an invaluable storehouse of all things pioneer.
The pianos strike a resonant chord with Colette Liddle. One of them was wrapped in buffalo hides and buried by the side of the trail and left for more than a year before the owners were able to retrieve it. Another was taken off the overloaded wagons and left by the roadside. "But about 45 minutes down the trail, they couldn't find the woman who owned the piano. Finally, someone went back to look. And there she was, sitting on the piano. She was not going to leave it. So, they put it back on the wagon and brought it here somehow. She taught piano lessons on that piano the rest of her life."
Stories like that tell us not only of the hardships of the trek but how much culture and refinement meant to the early pioneers, she says. They knew they were starting over, but they weren't going to leave everything behind.
The same feeling is evident in the room with case after case filled with elegant dishes — china and porcelain tenderly brought from all over the world. And in the hall filled with clothes — dresses, baby clothes, ball gowns, some painstakingly handmade in the latest styles. And in the collection of musical instruments. And in remnants from the old Salt Lake Theater.
Everything in the museum tells a story, says Johnson. From Brigham Young's bathtub, we get a lesson in early hygiene. From the wagon that brought him to the valley — and from the other covered wagons and handcarts — we get a look at early transportation. From the restored 1902 fire engine, we get a feel for firefighting a century ago.
From the case with snowshoes and boots belonging to Jim Bridger, we realize that he wasn't so tall, after all. "I always had a vision of him as huge, as almost larger than life," says Johnson. "But he was a rather small man."
From the collection of dolls and toys, we learn about childhood pleasures. From the replica of the Gardo house, we learn that society moved beyond the log-cabin culture. From the Cherokee headdress, we get a reminder that different cultures interacted in the valley. In the medical room, we can learn of the pioneers' dedication to health — as well as how primitive some of those health-seeking methods were. From the carved wooden leg made in 1875 by John R. Moyle for himself, we get a lesson in perseverance, adaptability and making do. A wooden leg did not keep Moyle from becoming superintendent of construction on the Salt Lake Temple.
It would be easy to spend weeks, months — years — learning all the stories contained here.
And the nice thing about the museum, she says, is that so many, many people can learn those stories.
She remembers the time a man came in who was supposed to inherit a quilt made by his grandmother. But his aunt had donated the quilt to the DUP. "He had felt quite bitter about that," says Johnson. "I knew exactly which quilt it was, and took him to see how beautifully it was displayed here. The quilt had 10,000 pieces, all hand-stitched. And when he saw it, he started to cry. His wife told me that if they had gotten the quilt, it would have been put in a box in their closet. But here, everyone can enjoy it. And after he saw it, he said his bitterness went away."
Of all the items displayed in the museum, Johnson's favorites are probably the photographs. Some people look at the gallery of old pioneer portraits and wonder why they were so homely, she says, "but they aren't homely to me. They didn't have beauticians, but their hair is always neat, their clothes are always neat."
Sometimes the expression reflects the poor condition of their teeth, or the need to sit still for such a long time because of primitive photography. "But if you look in their eyes, there's always a sparkle, always something that just makes me feel connected."
They weren't all perfect, she says. "They were not all nice to their wives. They were not all ambitious. They were just people."
But they were people who cared about their freedoms and their ability to work. And about the things that make life better. "They did their best. And we owe them a lot for what they did so we can now live here in luxury."
Sometimes, she says, when she walks into the museum in the early morning, she feels it is almost as if they are looking down and saying, " 'You do care — about us and what we did.' And that's what this organization is all about — caring."
And so, even though the DUP is proud of its achievements of the past 100 years, it is also looking forward to the next century.
Current projects include a series of county histories that the organization is working on. And there will be replanting of some of the trees at the Capitol that were destroyed by the 1999 tornado. "Trees have always been important to us," said Johnson. "We've tried to preserve some of the early trees planted in the valley, and we've planted trees in honor of early pioneers."
And, she says, they hope to reach out to a new generation, to help them realize not only what the pioneers did, but that those early days can still connect to our lives.
"There are countless times in my own life when I've been strengthened and fortified by the stories of my ancestors." She remembers the time when her husband was in the Air Force and was gone from home a lot. "People would ask me, 'How can you stand it, having him gone so much?' But I would think of my ancestors and what they went through, and that gave me a lot of strength."
What the DUP ultimately hopes to do, she says, "is help create a greater connection from family to family to family. Whether we do it with markers or artifacts or lessons, we want to help people understand their roots, give them a sense of who they are, where they came from, why they are the way they are."
And not just those who have descended from the Utah pioneers. Anyone can find his or her own place in the circle of time, can find a sense of continuity that connects and informs and inspires, no matter how much the world changes, no matter how much time passes.
E-mail: carma@desnews.com