Praise for Pioneers

They cut desire into short lengths
and fed it to the hungry fire of courage.
Long after,
when the flames had died,
molten gold gleamed in the ashes.
They gathered it into bruised palms
and handed it to their children
and their children's children. (Chamberlain)


Jane Snyder Richards 1823-1912

It was June 10, 1846, when Franklin and Jane Richards sold their lovely two-story brick home in Nauvoo for two yoke of half-broken cattle and an old wagon. Taking with them two cows, one trunk of clothing, breadstuffs, and one pound of tea given to Jane by a neighbor, they crossed the Mississippi River to join the rest of the saints, after having been driven from Illinois by threatening mobs. Shortly thereafter, Franklin left his family to return to his mission in England.

On July 23, Jane gave birth to a baby boy who died almost immediately. Jane was desperately ill. She could not bear the thought of burying the tiny body on the plains where it could be dug up and devoured by wolves and coyotes, so they carried the little child with them until they reached Mt. Pisgah, Iowa, where he could be buried a little more decently.

Jane's only other child, little 2-year old Wealthy, had taken sick the day following her father's departure and was becoming weaker and weaker as the journey progressed toward the Missouri River. En route they passed a large potato field and Wealthy asked for a potato. It was one of the only things she had desired to eat for many weeks. When her grandmother Snyder went to ask if she could buy one, the owner's answer was, "I wouldn't sell or give one of you damned Mormons a potato to save your lives." She then sent her dog after Mrs. Snyder.

As Jane's wagon came to a halt at Mt. Pisgah, neither Jane nor Wealthy seemed to have much chance of living. They baby boy was taken and buried. Two months later her sweet little girl passed away at Cutler Park. Jane wrote, "I only lived because I could not die."

At Winter Quarters Jane gained back some strength, but her provisions were nearly exhausted. Some days there was barely enough flour for one pancake. She finally traded her husband's violin for a gallon of wine. That winter was very harsh. Jane's skirts were almost constantly frozen stiff about her ankles and would rattle as she brushed against things. There was nothing to thaw them. Scurvy broke out in the camp and hundreds died from it.

In the spring of 1848 Franklin returned from England. On July 5 they proceeded to Salt Lake City. Jane was so ill during the whole of the journey that she was bedfast in a wagon box. She had to be carried in arms across raging streams.

Three months later they arrived in Salt Lake. It would seem a relief, but Jane writes: "I can't here undertake to describe the great sufferings and privation of food and cold, for want of a comfortable house, that we passed through after three months' sickness on the way. "

The next June a son was born to her, but she was in a bed drenched with rain, with neither crust of bread nor an ounce of flour or meal with which to appease her hunger, so weak and faint and hungry that her life was despaired of. The midwife she had used demanded payment, but Jane had no money. She told her to take anything she saw for payment. The midwife seized a beautiful woolen bedspread worth at least fifteen dollars, coldly remarking, "I may as well take it, for you'll never live to need it."

Jane did regain her strength and went on to give birth to four more children. While her husband served faithfully as an Apostle, Jane presided over the Relief Society in Ogden for 31 years, and served as first counselor in the General Relief Society presidency. She died at the age of 89 and her funeral was one of the biggest ever held.