Unforgettable
Pioneer Children's Memorial

Pioneer Childrens Memorial

As you stand here, glance toward those imposing mountains to the east. Through that canyon before you, and possibly across this very ground, came tens of thousands of emigrants from all over the world. More than half were children, traveling alone, or following their parents, to a new life. For many this place was the end of a difficult and dangerous trail—some went on—and some never made it this far— their graves mostly unmarked and long-forgotten, somewhere back along the trail. The great stones you see just to the south honor children by name who never reached the end. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion, wolves, snakes, and Indians—it was an arduous trek—indeed, the pioneer trail was an adventure in courage never to be forgotten. Theirs is a story of true heroes, and as you walk up this trail you’ll see memorable moments from the trail cast in bronze that they be not forgotten. They came as obedient children and became the honored fathers and mothers who built our home in these mountains.

Bodell Mortensen

Ten-year-old Bodell Mortensen struggled against the biting cold wind and deepening snow over Rocky Ridge Wyoming. The pioneer trail at this point seemed to climb higher and higher. Starving and freezing, Bodell weakened as she trudged on. The difficulty of her ordeal and those with her was beyond words to describe. Bodell had left her family in Denmark and looked forward to seeing her older sister in Salt Lake. They would never meet in this life. Somewhere in that terrible night, Bodell sat down to rest, her arms full of twigs to build a fire, and never rose again. They found her the next morning—frozen.

Sweetwater Crossing:

Today we cross over rivers in the blink of an eye and hardly even notice, but for the pioneers, river crossings meant danger and often death. Never more was that true than at the crossing of the Sweetwater River near Devil’s Gate, Wyoming on November 4, 1856. The Martin Handcart Company was traveling to this Valley when they were caught by violent winter storms more than 300 miles east of here. Rescuers found them, starving, freezing, and dying, fully exposed to the winds and blowing snow. The rescuers found a large sheltered cove in the mountains, but in order to enter it they had to cross the Sweetwater. Josiah Rogerson, who was 15 at the time, described that crossing. “The creek here was at least two rods wide, and from two to three feet deep, with plenty of ice and snow, so as to carve the recollection forever in the minds of all that waded that stream.” Heber McBride, aged 13 wrote, “We felt very bad to think we had to ford that stream and I don’t think we could have made it in our weakened condition, but when we got there we [were] very much surprised for there were some men there that carried us across.” Perhaps as many as 18 of the rescuers labored all that day carrying the women and children across the Sweetwater, all the while the wind howled, and the sharp ice flowing in the River cut their legs. Patience Loader paid tribute to those young men who sacrificed so selflessly, one of whom, George W. Grant was only 16 at the time. She said, “[They] were in the water packing the women and children over on their backs….Those poor brethren were in the water nearly all day.”

Rocky Ridge

The trail across the plains from the Missouri River to the Salt Lake Valley was more than 1000 miles, and those who crossed it walked virtually all the way. Rocky Ridge is one of the highest points along the entire trail at 7300 feet. It is a barren, treeless, rock-strewn ridge on the high plains of Wyoming, that left travelers fully exposed to the wind and the elements. On October 23, 1856, the Willie Handcart Company, already exhausted, starved, and ill-clothed, crossed over that formidable summit. The wind was howling from the northeast, snow fell and swirled about their feet as they walked. Temperatures were so cold that some of the company froze to death as soon as they sat down. Others had hands, feet, and even eyes frozen. The company had to make 15 miles to their next camp, pulling the burdensome handcarts, and for some it would take 27 hours to complete that awful journey.

Martha Webb Campkin came to America with her husband and five children. With eager dreams they hoped to come west as a family, but Isaac died before they reached the trail. Martha was determined to go on and made her way to Florence, Nebraska arriving in time to join the Willie Handcart Company in the journey west. It is said that Captain Willie initially refused to allow Martha and her family to make the journey. A lone woman with small children could not pull the handcart, but when others in the company volunteered to help her, Captain Willie relented and she was allowed to go. Rocky Ridge was a terrible ordeal for them however, the combined efforts of all saw them safely through and into the Valley. All worked—all helped. From the parents to the youngest children, each who could did their part for the good of their family and company. It is how they survived.

Ephraim Hanks

It was October 19, 1856, when snow came unexpectedly to Wyoming. More than 1000 emigrants were scattered along the trail. They were starving and freezing and people began to die every day. Word reached Salt Lake that people were still out on the plains, and immediately the call for volunteers went out. One of those who answered that call was Ephraim Hanks. With supplies, Ephraim set out from Salt Lake, headed east. As he fought his way along the trail, he met other rescuers who had given up trying to find the lost companies and were returning to the warmth and shelter of Salt Lake. Ephraim, however, pushed on. When he reached South Pass, Wyoming the storms became so bad that Eph was forced to stop for three days. Ephraim, who would cross the plains many times in his life described that storm, “In all my travels on the Rocky Mountains both before and afterwards, I have seen no worse.” Eph could not wait any longer. He borrowed some horses and set out into the storms—searching. Along the way, he came across a buffalo which he shot and killed. He loaded his horse down with the meat and pushed on. Just before sunset on November 10, 1856, Eph found them. "I reached the ill-fated train just as the immigrants were camping for the night. The sight that met my gaze as I entered their camp can never be erased from my memory. The starved forms and haggard countenances of the poor sufferers, as they moved about slowly, shivering with cold, to prepare their scanty evening meal was enough to touch the stoutest heart. When they saw me coming, they hailed me with joy inexpressible, and when they further beheld the supply of fresh meat I brought into camp, their gratitude knew no bounds. Flocking around me, one would say, 'Oh, please, give me a small piece of meat'; another would exclaim, 'My poor children are starving, do give me a little'; and children with tears in their eyes would call out, 'Give me some, give me some.'” Deeply touched, Eph gave them all he had and soon the people were busily engaged in cooking and eating it, with thankful hearts.

Ephraim Hanks stayed with the Martin Handcart Company, ministering in every way he could for the remainder of their journey to Salt Lake City. He and the other rescuers were hailed as delivering angels in what has been described as one of the most heroic and selfless acts of rescue in American history.

Joseph F. Smith

Many images portray the pioneers as sitting in a wagon drawn by charging teams of horses. Closer to reality was that those pioneers who crossed the plains most often came by ox drawn wagon. Oxen were the life and survival of the pioneers. If they went down, the family went no further. Thus, great care had to be taken in feeding, watering and guarding them. They were huge and powerful animals, at times, temperamental, unpredictable, and could be dangerous. Generally, one person was tasked with walking by the head ox calling out commands and driving the team. It was an important and trusted job. Mary Fielding Smith crossed the plains with a large company in the summer of 1848. Her youngest son, Joseph F. Smith was only 9 years-old and to him fell the heavy responsibility of driving one of the teams. Day after day, in all weather and across all terrain young Joseph F. walked by his team, watching over them. He would later speak of them this way. “My team leaders were Thom and Joe. We raised them from calves…. Thom was trim-built, active, young, and more intelligent than many a man. Many times while traveling sandy or rough roads, on long thirsty drives, my oxen were lowing with the heat and fatigue. I would put my arms around Thom’s neck and cry bitter tears! That was all I could do. Thom was my favorite and best, and most willing and obedient servant and friend. He was choice!” Mary Fielding Smith and her son, Joseph brought all their company safely into this Valley and young Joseph accomplished that task without a single loss or accident.

Journey’s End

These pioneers came from all over the world and met on this trail for a journey to a new life and home. Can you imagine all that they left behind to come here? Valborg Rasmussen was from Denmark and one of those determined to come here. Her mother had forbidden her to go, but after much pleading, she finally gave her consent. On the morning of her departure she kissed her mother goodbye, and with a wicker basket full of all her worldly possessions in one hand and a caged canary in the other, she started out. When she reached the ship, she nearly turned back. How could she leave her mother, her family, and friends—all that she had ever known and loved? But, Valborg wouldn’t give up. She walked up the gangplank and stood on the deck. Below were all her friends smiling, laughing, and wishing her well. She said, “I stood my ground without a tear until I saw a sweet tear-stained face come into view. It was my mother. As she squeezed through the crowds, the heat and confusion almost overcame me. I remember whispering…, ‘Oh God, be with us that we may meet again.” Valborg made that journey and was only 11 years old.
This trail required so much sacrifice, courage, and determination. Mary Jane McCleve was just 16 when she came, leaving a sweetheart in Ireland. The endless hardships of the trail, caused her to wonder if it was all worth it. Then just two days out of Salt Lake her father died. “Amid aching hearts and many tears, we buried him by the side of the road…and erected a little marker by his silent grave. I loved my kind Father and it was almost more than I could stand to go on without him…. Up and over the mountains…. Oh! how I worked with tears streaming down my face, praying for understanding. Why? Why? Was it worth my Father's life?

And then she reached that point where she could look down at what you see and she said,

A calm feeling came over me… I wanted to run down the mountain and reach our journey's end….If only Father could have been there to enjoy that sight with us. Maybe he was, for I surely felt close to him that very moment.”

Unforgettable Pioneer Children's Memorial