Pioneer Day

Well, it's that time of year where Utahns get a day off and the rest of the country has to work. That's right, it's Pioneer Day. I'm actually on vacation in North Carolina right now, but I thought I'd get a little something down on the blog to celebrate. And so I present to you one of my ancestors: Jane Johnston Black.

She was a Mormon pioneer, a midwife, really short, and an all-around awesome lady. I'm pretty sure that she could beat me up, even though she was less than 5 feet tall. If you follow the link earlier and scroll down, you can find a little biography of her. If you don't want to read the whole thing, I'll just repost my favorite parts below. (On a side note, I'm not closely related to the people who run the site. I'm copying and pasting what they have because I have the same things in my family history records, but mine aren't digitized.)

"My husband being in Canada at the time, I went with the Saints to Montrose before crossing the Mississippi River. A posse of the mob rode up and surrounded our wagons and demanded we give up our fire arms. I had a pistol in my bosom and I drew it out and told them 'Here is my pistol, but I will use it before I give it up.' They did not take it from me but threatened to throw me in the river that night. Then we were ferried across the Mississippi River into Iowa and remained there a short time. I buried what arms I had in a quilt in a hole under the wagon wheel...

"We had nothing to sweeten anything with until the Lord sent honey dew, which we gathered from the bushes until we had all the sweets we wanted. I also boiled maple juice and got cakes of maple sugar. While preparing to leave Montrose, I was engaged in taking up the firearms I had buried under the wagon, when the mob came and asked me what I was doing. I told them the Saints were to have power to resurrect and that was what I was doing. 'Oh,' said one, 'she is crazy,' so I saved our arms..."

One more story which is also in my family record but which I lifted from this site so I didn't have to type it. This time it's written as told to one of one of Jane Black's granddaughters by one of her daughters.

"One morning Grandmother was cooking breakfast on the coals in the fireplace - stoves were not fashionable in Dixie [Utah] in those days. This was probably two or three days before Edward was born. When a large Indian, his face covered with paint, stepped into the little cabin and asked Grandmother for something she did not have, and so informed him, he grunted and walked over to the frying pan of meat and hacked, then bit into it. Grandmother had a hardwood poker standing by the fireplace, sharpened at one end for use in lifting the vessels off the coals. She grabbed that poker and broke it in two across his head. He went down on all fours and scrambled on his hands and knees until he got to the door. He went out head first; she gave him a swift kick in the rear which landed him on his head and face. He finally got to his feet and ran. She ran after him, punching him in the ribs with the sharp end of that stick and he was screaming for help. Mother got to the door and saw the race. He finally got away and grandmother was standing in the road shouting, "You black Devil! If you ever come to my house again, you will get something worse than that!" Grandfather met the Indian a few days later, his head all bandaged up, and the Indian congratulated him on having such a brave squaw."