Chapter 21
A Keener Understanding
In the spring of 1931, John and Leah Widtsoe left Europe for a few months to visit family, meet with Church leaders, and attend general conference. Their daughter Ann was waiting for them at the train depot in Utah. In their absence, she had reconciled for the time being with her husband, and she was now expecting her third child. Leah’s mother, Susa Gates, was also there, ready to welcome them home, as she promised to do when they left three years earlier. Her seventy-fifth birthday was in two days, and John and Leah had arrived just in time for a celebration at the home of Leah’s sister Emma Lucy and her husband, Albert Bowen.1
Sadly, John’s aunt Petroline had died two years earlier after a long illness. Ann and Rose, the widow of John’s brother, Osborne, had been at her bedside when she passed.2
While John was in Utah, his schedule was full of meetings with Church leaders. The First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles were handling a difference of views between apostle Joseph Fielding Smith and B. H. Roberts, who was now the senior member of the First Council of the Seventy. Elder Roberts had written “The Truth, The Way, The Life,” an eight-hundred-page manuscript detailing the plan of salvation. He wanted the Church to adopt it as a course of study for Melchizedek Priesthood quorums.3 But Elder Smith had voiced serious concerns about certain ideas in the manuscript.
At the heart of his unease was Elder Roberts’s effort to harmonize the scriptural account of the Creation with scientific theories about the origins of life.4 Elder Roberts believed that fossil evidence proved humanlike species had lived and died on the earth for millions of years before God placed Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.5 Elder Smith, however, argued that such beliefs were incompatible with scripture and Church doctrine. He believed these species could not have existed before Adam’s Fall introduced death into the world.
In a speech to the Genealogical Society of Utah, Elder Smith had vigorously denounced Elder Roberts’s ideas, although he did not mention him by name. Elder Roberts, in turn, had written to the First Presidency, seeking to know if Elder Smith’s speech represented the official position of the Church on the subject or if it was simply the apostle’s opinion.6
The Twelve invited both men to present their views to the council. The apostles then submitted a report to the First Presidency, who carefully reviewed both sides of the dispute and prayed to know how to resolve it.7
Having recently published his own book on reconciling science and religion, John had reflected deeply on the matter. He believed Church leaders needed to help young Saints develop faith in Jesus Christ amid new and modern ideas. Many religious people were wary of science, he reasoned, because they confused facts with interpretations. He was reluctant to rely solely on science to resolve controversy, since scientific understanding was subject to change and often overlooked religious concepts like prayer and revelation. But he was equally cautious about depending on any interpretation of scripture that did not take into account how the revelations and sacred writings came to be.
“I think our wisest plan is to do as we have done these many years,” he told apostle Melvin J. Ballard privately. “Accept all well-established and authenticated facts and refuse to base our faith on theories, whether scientific or theological.”8
On April 7, the day after general conference, the First Presidency called the Twelve and other general authorities together to settle the dispute. John listened as the presidency expressed their view that both Elder Smith and Elder Roberts should drop the matter. “Both parties make the scripture and the statements of men who have been prominent in the affairs of the Church the basis of their contention,” they observed. “Neither has produced definite proof in support of his views.”9
The First Presidency reminded the quorums of Joseph Smith’s teaching: “Declare the first principles, and let mysteries alone, lest you be overthrown.”10 They warned that preaching personal opinions as if they were Church doctrine could cause misunderstanding, confusion, and division among the Saints. “When one of the general authorities of the Church makes a definite statement in regard to any doctrine,” they said, “whether he express it as his opinion or not, he is regarded as voicing the Church, and his statements are accepted as the approved doctrines of the Church.”11
They urged the men to preach the core doctrine of the restored gospel. “While we magnify our calling in the realm of the Church,” they said, “leave geology, biology, archeology, and anthropology, no one of which has to do with the salvation of the souls of mankind, to scientific research.” As far as the origins of life were concerned, they had no more to say than the First Presidency had already said in their 1909 statement, “The Origin of Man.”12
In John’s mind, the presidency’s words settled the matter. He and the other Church leaders in the room, including Elder Roberts and Elder Smith, sustained the decision and agreed to no longer discuss in public the question of humanlike life before Adam.13 Still, Elder Roberts could not bear to remove the topic from “The Truth, The Way, The Life.” In the end, he set the manuscript aside, unpublished.14
Later that year, in Cape Town, South Africa, William and Clara Daniels and a dozen other Latter-day Saints sang a hymn together, as they did every Monday when they met for gospel discussions at the Daniels home. Yet this was not just another cottage meeting. Mission president Don Dalton had called them together for a special conference.
After Clara offered an opening prayer, William told the story of his conversion and the beginnings of their small meetings. “We first studied Book of Mormon Ready References, and we are now studying Jesus the Christ,” he reflected. “I have received much knowledge and can tell many people much about the gospel.”15
Clara also bore her testimony, expressing thanks for her membership in the Church. “I hope that the Lord will help us to remain steadfast,” she said.16
Several others shared their testimonies, and then President Dalton addressed the group. “I feel sure that the Lord is at the head of this work,” he said, “and if we live the commandments, the Lord will not withhold anything.” He spoke of the brother of Jared in the Book of Mormon, who lived so close to the Lord that nothing was kept from him. “It will be the same way with us,” he testified. “I know that if I am faithful, I will see wonderful things.”17
President Dalton still worried about the way some members of the Mowbray Branch treated members of mixed race like the Danielses. In handling such cases, the First Presidency had advised him, he should consider the feelings of all Saints. Racial tension was a problem that must be treated with great care to avoid offending Black or white Church members, they wrote.18
Knowing and admiring William’s faithfulness, President Dalton wanted to give his labors official recognition. “I feel that a branch should be formed here,” he announced at the cottage meeting. “Brother Daniels should have the privilege to perform a specific labor. I know that by his diligence the barrier will be lifted, and he will be a leader in Israel.”
William was then called to serve as the branch president, Clara as Relief Society president, their daughter, Alice, as Relief Society secretary and branch clerk, and their friend Emma Beehre as Clara’s counselor. President Dalton then laid his hands on William’s head and set him apart for his new calling. He did not ordain William to the priesthood, so William could not administer the sacrament or set branch members apart in callings. But his new responsibilities would give him greater opportunities to serve and grow in the Church.
“I have been thinking of a name for this branch,” said President Dalton. “I should imagine that the name should be ‘the Branch of Love.’”19
At their next Monday gathering, William asked Clara and other newly called branch leaders to share their thoughts about their new responsibilities. “I find it a bit difficult,” Clara confessed, “and know the Lord will help me in my work, as the same Lord has helped the first sister that started the Relief Society.”20
As leaders of the branch, William and Clara continued to care for the missionaries, who attended the branch meetings along with white visitors from the Mowbray Branch. William also made sure that Alice kept careful minutes so copies could be sent to Salt Lake City. He did not want the Love Branch to be forgotten.21
Back in the United States, thirteen-year-old Paul Bang became the Cincinnati Branch’s newest deacon on February 14, 1932. Boys his age had been receiving the Aaronic Priesthood since the late 1800s, when deacons chopped wood for the poor, stoked fires to heat meetinghouses, and performed other acts of service in their wards and branches. It was not until President Joseph F. Smith introduced Aaronic Priesthood reforms in the early twentieth century, though, that ordaining young men to priesthood offices became routine. After that, young deacons began taking a larger role in the branch and its meetings.22
Now, in addition to caring for the chapel and grounds, Paul could pass the sacrament, collect fast offerings, carry messages for the branch president, and assist widows and other needy Saints.23 Like other deacons in the Church, he was also expected to understand and explain each of the Articles of Faith, obey the Word of Wisdom, say opening and closing prayers, pay tithing, and know the story of the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood.24
Paul was not given the chance to carry out some of these new responsibilities right away. For decades, adult men had passed the sacrament, and many people throughout the Church remained uneasy about letting boys perform this role. In Cincinnati, the sacrament was always blessed and passed by two adult men, sometimes Paul’s older brothers Chris and Henry.25
Still, if Paul’s new priesthood responsibilities did not keep him busy enough, his many chores at his parents’ grocery store made up the difference. He liked working at the store. It opened every morning at six o’clock and did not close until eleven o’clock at night. He tended the counter, stocked and straightened shelves, and kept the wooden floor swept and oiled. When his brother Chris cut meat, Paul would scatter sawdust on the floor to absorb the mess. He would then scrub the cutting blocks with an iron brush once Chris finished his work. After school, Paul would load up boxes and baskets with grocery orders and make deliveries around the neighborhood.26
When the economic depression hit, Cincinnati was in the middle of a construction boom. Work had just begun on a nearly six-hundred-foot skyscraper and a massive new train terminal. These projects, along with a diverse local economy, helped the city weather the worst of the crisis. Yet wages were dropping and unemployment ran high.27
The Bangs lived in a poor neighborhood where white immigrants like their family lived, worked, played, and studied side by side with African Americans, Jews, and other ethnic groups. Once the city fell on hard times, many of the Bangs’ usual customers could not afford to pay their grocery bills. Rather than turn aside customers, Paul’s father often gave groceries away or let people buy on credit. But his kindness and generosity could not keep the family business safe from the Depression, and in April 1932, he filed for bankruptcy. Even so, he refused to close the store or stop helping his neighbors.28
The Cincinnati Saints carried on amid the economic decline. Hoping to encourage activity among Aaronic Priesthood holders, the Presiding Bishopric had recently asked branches and wards throughout the Church to begin commemorating the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood each year. On May 15, 1932, four recently ordained priests in the Cincinnati Branch, all of them nineteen or older, spoke in sacrament meeting on the history and growth of the Aaronic Priesthood. Charles Anderson, the branch president, also spoke, as he usually did at the end of sacrament meeting.29
Paul did not have an active part in the program, but more opportunities to serve would come. Attendance at the branch rarely exceeded fifty people, so odds were good that his parents or one of his older siblings was giving a talk, singing with the choir, saying a prayer, or otherwise assisting at any given meeting.30 His brother Henry, in fact, had recently offered the closing prayer at three sacrament meetings in four weeks. And on the day when he was not saying the closing prayer, he gave a talk.31
Paul was a Bang, so it was only a matter of time before the branch put him to work.
In Utah, meanwhile, Relief Society social worker Evelyn Hodges had much to worry about as the world plunged deeper and deeper into the Depression. Her father, who had once pleaded with her to stay home so she would not have to work, had fallen on hard times after products from his farm in Logan stopped selling. Evelyn knew how to help him apply for Church and state relief, but he was not interested.
“I can get a job,” he had told her at the start of the Depression. “I know I can get a job.”
Evelyn had her doubts. Every day in Salt Lake City she spoke to people who said the same thing. “If I can just get down to Los Angeles,” they would tell her, “I can get a job.” In Utah, one in every three workers was unemployed, and no one was hiring. But Evelyn knew the situation was not much better in California or anywhere else in the United States. She tried to explain that jobs were scarce everywhere, but some families she worked with did not believe her.32
By the summer of 1932, she had good reason to hope that change was on the way. After the U.S. government created a program to provide financial aid to states and businesses, officials in Utah quickly enlisted Relief Society Social Service to help the state apply for a federal loan. Evelyn and Amy Brown Lyman spent hours gathering statistics and individual case files to document the deprivation in the state. They then took their research to the state capitol, where lawmakers used it in their successful bid for federal assistance for Utah.33
Evelyn learned from Amy as they toiled together. Amy was straightforward and often brusque when speaking to the social workers. While Evelyn liked Amy’s outspokenness, she had to admit it sometimes chafed. Amy did not hesitate to criticize her when she made a mistake. But Evelyn knew that Amy was not punishing her. Amy simply did not feel she had the time to be subtle or diplomatic. She expected everyone in the Social Service office, herself included, to give everything they had to the work. For that, Evelyn had come to love and admire her.34
The federal relief funds arrived in Utah in August 1932, bringing hope to many despairing Saints. Once again, the state called on the Relief Society for help, and Amy and her social workers soon played a key role in distributing the aid.
With most local Church and government relief funds running out, many of the bishops Evelyn worked with were eager for their needy ward members to receive assistance from the federal government. Yet there were Church members who worried about the Saints becoming dependent on government aid. Some people resisted seeking Church relief because they did not want their bishops, who were often neighbors and friends, to know about their situation. Others did not want to feel the stigma of dependency when they went to church.
Dependency continued to spread, however. Government leaders in the United States had underestimated the economic collapse, and the funding they offered did not provide permanent relief to the American people. The economy continued to spiral downward, taking hope with it. Every day more people were losing their jobs and then their homes. Evelyn often saw two or three families living together in a small house.
And still her own family struggled. When her father’s efforts to support the family failed, he had tried selling some property, but no one was buying. Finally, he let Evelyn send him thirty dollars a month from her own earnings. He was happy for the help.35
As the Depression worsened, and Evelyn witnessed more and more misery in Salt Lake City, she saw an opportunity for greater compassion and growth in the community. “If we can emerge from this struggle with a keener understanding of the needs of human beings,” she believed, “society will be better for suffering through this one.”36
Across town, President Harold B. Lee of Salt Lake City’s Pioneer Stake knew he too had to do something to help people get through the Depression. At thirty-three years old, he was one of the youngest stake presidents in the Church, so he did not have as much life experience as other men in his position. But he knew that around two-thirds of the 7,300 Saints in his stake were either wholly or partially dependent on financial assistance. And when people were starving, there was little opportunity to feed them spiritually.37
Harold called his counselors together to discuss how to help the Saints under their care. From studying the Doctrine and Covenants, they knew the Lord had commanded the early Saints to establish a storehouse “to administer to the poor and needy.”38 For decades, wards throughout the Church had operated small “bishop’s storehouses” to collect and redistribute offerings of food and other items for the poor. Although the Church had transitioned to cash-only tithing in the 1910s, storehouses still existed in some wards and stakes.39 The Relief Society general presidency, which had operated stores and granaries to assist Saints in times of need, likewise ran a storehouse to provide the poor with clothing and other household items.40 What if the Pioneer Stake did something similar?
A relief program soon took shape, one that would also help the Saints be more self-sustaining. With the assistance of the bishops, Harold’s stake would establish a storehouse supported by tithing and donations. Rather than dispense items freely, the program would allow unemployed Saints in the stake to work at the storehouse or on other relief projects in exchange for food, clothing, fuel, or other necessities.41
After consulting with his counselors, Harold submitted the plan to the First Presidency and received their approval. He then presented it to the bishops of his stake at a special meeting and invited them to discuss it. Right away, one bishop asked a question that was doubtless on the minds of many Church members: If the Lord promised to provide for His people, why were so many faithful, tithe-paying Saints destitute?
Harold did his best to answer, reminding the bishops that the Lord relied on them to carry out His work. “The promises of the Lord are in your hands, and the way and the means of fulfilling these must be up to you,” he said. He then urged the bishops to do all they could to make the storehouse a success, testifying that the promised blessings of the Lord would be fulfilled.42
To help carry out the plan, Harold and his counselors recruited one of the bishops, Jesse Drury, to manage the storehouse. Many Saints in Jesse’s ward had been hit hard by the Depression. Jesse himself had lost his job, and he and his family were now barely getting by on government relief.43
Earlier that year, however, Jesse and his counselors had decided to do something to provide extra food and work for their ward members. Just south of the ward boundary was a plot of fertile, unused land. The bishopric approached the owners, and they agreed to let the ward cultivate the land in exchange for paying the taxes on the property. Two neighboring wards in the Pioneer Stake soon joined the effort, and together they found farmers and county leaders who were willing to donate seeds and supply irrigation water. They also purchased vegetable plants at discounted prices and acquired some farm equipment and horses from people who supported their project.44
Now, at Harold’s direction, Jesse led a group of unemployed Church members as they converted an old warehouse into a stake storehouse. They installed a cannery and opened a general store. There was also storage on separate levels and space for handling donated clothing.45
By the summer of 1932, the storehouse was ready to open. Harold, Jesse, and the rest of the Pioneer Stake observed a special day of fasting to commemorate the event, bringing their fast offerings to the building’s opening ceremony. Some women and men in the stake were put to work at the storehouse while others traveled across the valley to work on farms and orchards.46
Soon, a wave of produce rolled in. There were hundreds of bushels of peaches, thousands of sacks of potatoes and onions, tons of cherries, and much more. In return for their labor, stake members could enjoy a share of the harvest. Enough was left over that the Relief Society canned some of the surplus for the following winter. Women also exchanged labor for nonperishable necessities by mending old clothes and collecting used shoes.47
At the end of the year, Harold could see that the Lord was blessing the Saints in the Pioneer Stake. While many of them had faced adversity over the past year, they had remained firm in the conviction that God would help them in their struggle. What was more, they were ready and willing to work together for the benefit of the needy, despite the devastation wrought by the Depression.48