Wildcats, Wagons, Wives and Wardens: A Commitment to Principle

By Virginia B. Webb

This book gives the male perspective of a polygamous lifestyle. Albert was raised in the early twentieth century with a father who spent many years trying to homestead in the hills and valleys around the Utah/Idaho border. He eventually joined his father in leaving the LDS Church to live plural marriage, going to prison twice for choosing to do so.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: May 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781489712417

Virginia B. Webb

Virginia Webb was raised in Utah, the 16th of her father’s 34 children and the third of her mother’s thirteen. She married outside the polygamist culture and after giving birth to eleven children she graduated from the local community college. She also wrote “Seventeen Sisters.” Her sister, Barbara Barlow, worked closely with her to get that book published.

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Copyright © 2017 Virginia B. Webb.

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ISBN: 978-1-4897-1242-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-1241-7 (e)

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 05/11/2017

Contents

Preface

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

Preface

A fter several years of prodding by my father, I began recording his many stories so I could write them. To begin with, my intention was to write only about his early years, ending the story with the marriage of his first wife, Katie.

A friend read the story and encouraged me to finish it–to tell of his beliefs and the role those beliefs played in his polygamist lifestyle, which was unacceptable in the society he was living in.

Besides listening to what Dad had to say, I’ve interviewed aunts, uncles, brothers and sisters. I’ve researched newspapers and journals and filled in some dialogue and feelings where I felt impelled to do so. My hope is that all who read it will gain an understanding, not only of my father, but also of the many people who struggled through those years of deprivation and sorrow, determined to live according to their beliefs in spite of the opposition. They had no time for self-pity. Their deep belief in a just God and their faith in His ability to see them through the worst of times sustained them.

I love my father and hope in writing his story I haven’t offended anyone. Dad was bullheaded, outspoken, controlling and impetuous, often regretting some offensive statement he had made. However, he was also fun-loving, friendly, gracious, forgiving, hardworking and generous to a fault. His belief in God never wavered and at ninety years of age he was still trying to overcome his weaknesses so he would be comfortable meeting the Savior. I chose to tell the story in my father’s voice. When I finished it my mother read the manuscript to him because by then he was blind, he wept.

I’ve changed some of the names and places to protect those who may be offended or hurt by some of Dad’s comments.

1

I n 1955, living in the Salt Lake Valley with three wives was like driving on the freeway with bald tires and no spare–crazy! Most members of the LDS Church wanted to forget polygamy had ever been part of their history. Some individuals even waged a vendetta against polygamists.

So, when I picked up the morning paper on the 28th of October and saw that two polygamists had been arrested, I panicked! They were friends of mine! It was too close to home, we were all part of the polygamist community. My wives were Kate, Vio and Maurine.

Lou, I said over the phone, Albert here!

Yes, Bert, they’re after us again. His voice was calm, but was he?

Is there anything I can do for you?

Thanks, but no. I’m out on bail, I’m going to plead guilty and get my time over as fast as possible.

Several men had been arrested in 1944 and spent time in the Sugarhouse Prison so this time it would be considered a felony. I felt a deep anguish for Louis.

I called Carl who had also been arrested, he said, Albert, the papers present the facts so that our lifestyle seems repulsive. His voice was hollow, his despair evident.

Can I do anything? I said again.

I don’t know, I haven’t decided what to do myself.

Let me know .…… I hung up feeling guilty but grateful that I had not been arrested.

It was Halloween, I finished dinner at Kate’s and wanted to relax, let it settle, even take a short nap but Vio’s children were expecting me to take them to Maurine’s so they could trick-or-treat with her children.

Kate’s home was a small brick rambler in Murray, a comfortable home I helped her get into just a few years ago. She worked as a cook in a small coffee shop to help make the payments. She only had five children left at home.

That was a fine supper, Mother, said as I wrapped my arms around her.

Oh, you always say that, Katie chuckled.

My first wife was small, about 5’4" and her hair had a gray streak in it now. Thick around the middle from thirteen pregnancies, she was still a mystery and delight to me. No one could make pies like her or put on a spread with empty cupboards the way she did. And no one could change from a cuddly kitten to a spitfire cat as fast and she could.

I love you, Dear, I mumbled for lack of better words.

The phone rang and she picked it up saying to me, Those kids have called twice already, wondering if you’re coming.

I gave her a quick kiss. Tell them I’m on my way.

I pulled my six-foot one, 200-pound frame into the old pick-up, whistling. Life has been good to me, I thought. We had survived some real hard times but I was only 52 and things were looking up.

Then I remembered my friends’ arrest and my insides groaned. If we could just be left alone!

I could hide my plural families like some men hide their lovers and illegitimate children, but I would not! They were mine! Why should I hide them? I wasn’t ashamed of them!

Still deep in thought, I pulled my truck onto State Street. Then I noticed the sheriff motion me to pull over. Maybe I have a broken taillight or something, I thought hopefully, but I knew better.

As I rolled to a stop, two official vehicles pulled up behind me. I climbed out of my truck as three uniformed men approached me.

Albert Barlow? It was more of a statement that a question.

Yes?

You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent .…. He read my rights, never looking me in the eye.

What’s the problem? I said, but the knots in my stomach knew.

Living polygamy is against the law in Utah, the young deputy said, glancing over at me.

Is it against the law to let harmless people live their religion? I felt disgusted with the whole system, which punished me for my belief in the principle of plural marriage.

You can let me take the truck back to the house can’t you? I was not handcuffed and they had not used their guns.

The sheriff turned to the deputies, Follow him home.

The patrol car followed me back to Kate’s. I parked the truck and stepped out. Turning to the deputies I said, I’d like to tell my wife where I’m headed. And I started toward the house.

They nodded and began to follow me. I’m not going anywhere. I was irritated. My two daughters are having a Halloween party, you don’t need to embarrass them!

We can’t let you go alone, one said, with his eyes cast down.

Oh, let him go, the other deputy mumbled. They both seemed awkward.

I was already halfway to the front door. I smiled at the teenagers as I passed through the living room to the kitchen, Kate looked up from her dishes, alarmed to see me back. "What is it? She asked.

I held her for a minute, and then said, They’re waiting outside. You’ll need to find someone to bail me out, maybe Mart Schaffer. Call Maurine and Vio. The kids will be disappointed.

Oh, Albert! She cried, I was starting to believe this wouldn’t happen again! Won’t they ever leave us alone! Can’t they just mind their business and let us live our life!

We’ll be okay, was I reassuring her or myself? The Lord has always helped us. I added, Remember, we decided to fight this time. We’ll get a good lawyer

She pulled away from me and through her tears, Yea, they can kill us, but they can’t eat us!

I smiled, that was my Katie, always a wit.

I began to relax a little, listening to the giggles in the living room, hating to let her go. The doorbell rang and before I could get to it, thirteen-year-old Alhona answered the door.

We’re looking for Albert Barlow, the deputy said.

Loni looked with alarm to me, I patted her head and walked out the door. You knew I’d be right out, I mumbled.

You were taking too long.

My ride to the county jail seemed endless and then I was jerked to reality with the flashing lights of news cameras as I emerged from the patrol car. What’s a little notoriety, I mumbled to myself, remembering ten years earlier when fifteen men, including me, were prosecuted for the same offense. I lost my job then and I was sure I would lose it again.

The officers processed me with respect and even embarrassment, through the criminal system. Fingerprints, photos, and paperwork–it was old, and I felt irritation for it. They should be spending their time and money on criminals, I mumbled to no one in particular, –not on a family man who is responsible for feeding twenty-four people! If I go to prison, the State will have to feed them. It’s insane!

The cell door clanged shut. I had forgotten how jail smelled; concrete, metal, sweat, alcoholic puke, urine.

The Salt Lake County Attorney told reporters his office would keep going until we clean up this sect.

He had no idea what he was talking about. There were many polygamist sects and most of them were underground. Also many were independents, like myself.

The Attorney General said, We have reason to believe the practice is widespread and growing rapidly. We intend to prosecute, as cases come to our attention.

What a joke! It was a political maneuver! The governor was doing this to garner votes from members of the LDS Church who hated us. From our busybody neighbors who had nothing better to do than count how many women lived in our homes!

The government didn’t understand–we were living a commandment of God! Nothing short of extermination would stop us! Were they going to shoot every man, woman, and child who believed in this law of God? They tried that in Illinois over a hundred a years ago.

Within a couple of weeks a total of five men were arrested for living plural marriage. Two of them moved out of state to avoid prison, one went to prison for a year, signed a compromise to get out and then abandoned his wives. The man I considered my best friend, Louis Kelsch, pled guilty and served his time.

I waited in my cell for Katie to arrange bail. She was a capable, dedicated woman. She stood by me through many hard times, always encouraging me, reassuring me of the importance of living The Principle.

And it WAS important, it was our reason for having the many children we were blessed with and for all the sacrifices we made for those children. I was jarred back to reality when the jailer finally came. Mr. Barlow, your wife is here.

I grabbed Kate’s hand, Come on, let’s get out of here! My long strides were hard for her to keep up with.

We were almost to the truck when I slowed down. I’m sorry, Dear, I said, looking at her for the first time. I just want to get home. Who helped you with bail?

Mart Schaffer. Mart was a good man, married to one of my sisters from Dad’s third wife.

Did you tell him the money might be tied up for a long time, that we’re going to fight it legally? That we have the constitutional right to live our religion! I was on my soapbox.

Yes, I told him, he said that was fine.

How is Maurine? And Vio? Did you call them?

Yes, you know Maurine, always calm, always quiet. And Vio just the opposite, upset, wringing her hands. But they’re both anxious to talk to you. We can pick up Vio and go over to Maurine’s.

I opened the truck door and helped her climb in.

I’m tired. I’ll call them from your place. We’ll meet tomorrow and decide a plan of action, I said, as I sat beside her.

My plan of action is to enjoy you every minute I can, she purred as she snuggled up to me.

The following morning I went out for the newspaper to read with my breakfast. I chuckled at my picture on the local front page of the Salt Lake Tribune. Well, is there any doubt I’ll be fired? said as I handed Kate the paper.

Oh, no! She wailed. It even has our address! The children will be harassed by their teachers and the other kids! All the neighbors will know! I can’t stand it, Albert! It’s happening all over again!

I held her as she sobbed. Poor Katie, who loved being social, cared what people thought of her children, always trying to fit into whatever setting she found herself. Her efforts to be accepted by the world were always shattered by the sudden revelation of our lifestyle. I could only guess how hard this was for her.

I was the detail finish man for a construction company that built homes. I took pride in my work and was earning $2.15 an hour. The foreman met me as I stepped out of my truck. We won’t be needin’ you anymore, he spit out at me. We don’t want no polygamist workin’ here! You can pick up your check in a couple of days.

I’ll wait here while you get my check now! I glared. Twenty-five years ago I would have flattened him.

He turned on his heel and left. I waited. Twenty minutes later, the check was in my hand. I was looking when I found this job, I threw over my shoulder. I had never found it impossible to get work and believed that anyone who really wanted to work, could.

I headed for the old home on Fourth East. It had been my castle since 1941, housing all three wives and their children until 1946 when the civil authorities insisted I move my plural wives into their own place to placate my nosy neighbors. But in the last nine years much had happened, and now Maurine and eleven of her twelve children were living in it. She was tending extra children to help make the mortgage payments.

My early arrival told Maurine I had been fired. Her arms went around me immediately. I’m sorry, she whispered, But you’re good at what you do. I’m sure you’ll be able to find another job,"

I held my third wife, grateful for her quiet confidence in me. Maurine was almost 52 with course auburn hair and black eyes. She was as beautiful to me now as she was twenty years ago when I married her. My love for her had grown from deep respect to an intense attraction.

Look at Barbara. I noticed my youngest child crawling toward me. She’s only seven months and up on her knees already. She’s a go-getter isn’t she? Twelve beautiful children you’ve given me and they’re worth whatever I have to give for them, and so are you.

Maurine was quietly independent, and more stubborn than a pair of new boots. She didn’t have the homemaking skills Kate had, but was very well read. She had graduated from the Salt Lake Academy when she was sixteen, two years ahead of her age group. At times her keen mind intimidated me.

Kissing the sweet mouth she offered, I wondered how empty my life would be without her. Mmm, you always smell squeaky clean!

She smiled, gently rubbing her hands up and down my back as I held her. What will happen this time? Her question came with calm acceptance.

Don’t worry, I’ll never let them slander you. I’ll just drop the fight and go to prison, if it comes to that.

It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know what we’re doing is right.

Have you ever cared what others thought of you.

I care what you think of me, she said carefully.

I smiled to myself, holding her tighter. There were many times when I wondered how she felt. She was a private person who spoke with her eyes. They could engulf me or shut me out, shine with approval or coldly condemn. Maurine never raised her voice to me or to her children. She was a good mother.

We drove to Vio’s, a small home on Granite Avenue in South Salt Lake. I had helped her purchase