In July 1926, the Garfield County News reported that “Panguitchites have been anxiously awaiting news from the bedside of Dr. J.J. Steiner, a man loved by every person in Southern Utah.” Residents of Richfield, Circleville, Marysvale, and the mining camps of Piute County, communities where the good doctor had served for years, must have been just as anxious for word from Salt Lake’s Holy Cross Hospital.

John Jacob Steiner was born in Wurtenburg, Germany in 1863, coming to Iowa about 1870, and later moving to South Dakota. He learned medicine from his father, and graduated from the St. Louis Medical College in 1889, with high honors. Steiner opened his first practice in The Dalles, Oregon, but finding that the low altitude did not suit him, he moved to Marysvale in 1892.

In 1900 he took additional training at Johns Hopkins University at Baltimore, and in 1907 he studied in Philadelphia. He never stopped learning more about his profession – he observed surgical practices at the Mayo Clinic in 1917, and as late as 1920, he spent a summer in New York perfecting his surgical technique and learning how to use x-rays.

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What’s better than a calendar to tell you that October Conference is past? Crews putting up Christmas lights around Temple Square.

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Not Bread Alone

By Elsie Chamberlain Carroll

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Chapter 4

As the mail truck chugged to the top of the ridge overlooking Cedar Basin, Linda recalled that September day more than six months ago when she had caught her first glimpse of her new home. Her emotions were almost as mixed today as they had been upon that occasion. She seemed almost a different person now – older, wiser – and a little sadder. She was returning to Cedar Basin after an absence of nearly two months. She had been called to Uncle Peter who had been desperately ill and was even now on his way to a sanatorium in Arizona where he hoped to regain his vitality.

She would never forget his happiness and his tenderness when he learned she was going to be a mother. She had not written him about it for she knew he would worry about her being so far from medical care. He had discovered her condition after he was getting better, when she reached up one day to adjust a window shade. She saw the light of happiness shining in his grey eyes as he reached for her hands.

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Apologies in advance to a great many mothers.

Ethics for Young Girls

Young Woman’s Journal, 1900-1901

Lesson 12: Loving and Serving

In our preceding lessons we have studied a few ethical principles. In this lesson we shall study the principle or law which is the foundation of happiness. This principle is that of loving and serving. There can be no true love without the desire to serve.

The basis of loving service is found in the mother, who attends to all the needs of her little one. Many of these duties would be disagreeable to her if she had to perform them for a stranger, but all the unpleasantness is lost in the mother love. She loves her child all the better because of its dependence upon her. It is a known fact that mothers who shirk the responsibility of nursing their babies never feel the depth of true mother love.

The mother’s loving service follows the child to manhood and he is never too old to need her tender care.

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Saturday, July 20, 1901

We concluded to remain with the Sister until Monday as we could not get to the other place without traveling on Sunday. After the dew had dried off we went out into the orchard and helped the boys pick peaches as they were getting them ready to ship. Spent the day talking upon the gospel. About night I had a bath and changed clothes. Retired to bed quite early. Quite cool. Another nice rain during the afternoon.

Sunday, July 21, 1901

I did not partake of any breakfast. Went off into the woods and had my prayers. Sat and read and talked until noon. Partook of a fine dinner, after which the young people sang some songs. Sister Armwine wanted us to preach to them but some of them acted very peculiar as soon as she spoke about it, so I thought best not to. Had all the fruit I could eat. Retired early.

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Indian Jabber

Tourist (to Indian): “White man glad to see red man. White man hopes big Chief is feeling tip top this morning.”

Indian (calling): “Hey, Jake, come here and listen to this bozo; he’s great!”

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Not Bread Alone

By Elsie Chamberlain Carroll

Previous episode

Chapter 3

Linda closed and locked the door of the little church. She drew the collar of her coat up closer about her face and pulled her hat more firmly about her curls. She should have brought an umbrella, she told herself, for it had looked like storm since morning. Now the ground was covered with snow and white swirls enveloped her as she walked to the front of the building and started up the street.

She had always loved winter, and a white world for Christmas had seemed an essential part of the great festal holiday. But snow as beginning to have disagreeable connotations for her. The house was never comfortably warm when it stormed, and there was the unpleasant dallying of the men before getting out tot heir chores on snowy nights and mornings. The constant tracking in of mud and wet onto the bare kitchen floor was irritating, and Mrs. Bowers’ rheumatism was always worse in bad weather.

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It was April 27, 1916, and a crime was being committed in Richfield, Utah. City Marshal Dan Borg had been apprised of the likely commission of that crime and he deputized his brother, Hans Borg, to assist him in detecting the act and arresting the perpetrators.

The two sworn officers, together with W.A. Cheel and a man named Anderson, assembled at dusk and proceeded cautiously toward a cabin owned by Cheel and rented to Clara McCabe, lately arrived from the mining camp at Marysvale. At 9:30 they positioned themselves under the windowsills and listened for an opportune moment to enter. Two hours passed as the posse members bided their time, listening to conversation from inside and occasionally taking furtive peeks through the windows.

Finally, at 11:30, sounds from within assured the lawmen that criminal activity was in progress. With a single kick, Dan Borg broke open the flimsy cabin door and burst inside, followed closely by Hans Borg. Dan struck a match, illuminating the darkened room and its occupants for a brief moment, then the flicker of his match light was answered by two revolver shots.

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Remember when all the Church’s temples fit into a compact one-page illustration?

From the Improvement Era, 1932 –

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