JACOB HAMBLIN SCRIPT
I sure am glad we’re havin’ this chat outside. Inside is not my world — I have been in the outdoors almost all of my life. I settled up in Tooele and was raisin’ cattle. (Don’t go back further than Tooele) They sent me on a lot of Indian hunts. That’s where I first met up with Indians — and where I came to discover just how savy they are. I also learned another great lesson. After many trials with Indians and much cattle stealin’ the presiding Elder directed me to take some men and shoot any Indians we found. We surprised them near a large mountain between Tooele and Skull Valley. They scattered and I went up a ravine looking for some. I hid myself behind a large rock and waited. An Indian came by. I leveled my rifle and it misfired. He sent an arrow and it struck my gun. He sent another arrow that passed through my hat while I was recapping. A third arrow barely missed my head and a fourth passed through my coat and vest. I defended myself with stones and the Indian soon left the ground to me. I met two other men whose guns misfired. I came to know that day that if I never took the life of an Indian — no Indian would ever take my life and that we needed to be friends with the Indians.
I was later sent to this area by Brigham Young to help keep peace between the settlers and the Indians.
It is only through the grace of God that I am here to tell you all this. We had rain and flooding late in 1861 and early 1862 at Fort Santa Clara. One night water was washing away a bank. I was trying to save some property when the bank caved and I went into the river. I felt there wasn’t a thousand in one chance I would live. I heard some one say it was no use trying to save me. I yelled, "It is of use trying to save me. Bring a rope and throw [it} to me and haul me out before this bank caves and I am gone." Again my life was preserved by that kindly providence which has so often saved me when in imminent danger
We pioneer folks have a lot of mistaken ideas about the Indians. They are just a lot smarter than folks let on. The Indians know all about animals and plants. They know what herbs to use for medicine. They know where to find water and they know the mountain trails. Down here they know how to survive in the desert and where to move when water is scarce.
I’ve spent much of my life involved with the Indians — one way or another — trading with them, negotiating with them, chiding them, and doing a little missionary work too. I adopted a young Indian boy. We called him Albert. He was a wonderful son and I had great love and respect for him. When he was 20 he got a fever and died while I was away. He had a premonition about it and told me but I had no such witness. It was a terrible blow when I came home and found him dead.
Once I sent another son, Lyman, to trade some horses for blankets with the Indians. The boy thought to get all the blankets he could. When the Chief put some blankets out the boy said, "No, More!!" So the Chief kept giving him more. Finally, my son decided he had enough and left. When he returned home and I saw how many blankets he had taken I told him this was not honest and I took a number of the blankets and sent him back to return them. When he returned the Chief smiled and said, "I knew you would return. Jacob Hamblin is an honest man".
We don’t always understand each other very well. Take cattle for example. The Paiutes sometimes "harvest" a steer or cow on occasions. They feel they are justified in doing this — after all, we had moved in on their range. Our cattle eat up the seeds their women gather, so why not just take a steer in trade. My brethren call that stealing and feel rage toward the Indians. Some are ready to do a lot more than rail against them. We have to struggle to keep in control. Brother Brigham says to "feed the Indians, not fight them."
We’ve tried hard to convince the Paiutes that they could become really good farmers. They already know how somewhat, but they don’t believe in irrigation. They say that years will come when no water will run in the creek. They remember droughts so they don’t think irrigation ditches will work. Maybe this year, but not next year. They also decided they could get more by raiding freighters or the cattle runs than they could by farming.
Navajo Indians are fierce. An American rancher killed the son of a Chief who butchered a cow when lost in a snow storm. It took two hard days of negotiation to patch up that problem. He wanted over 300 cows in payment for his son’s death. I refused to pay because it was not our fault. It was settled in our favor.
My mission has been to turn Indians in a better direction. I’m afraid I’ve made very little headway. I can talk with them and they treat me with respect. I can even get them to return stolen property but I haven’t been able to make our life attractive to them. They seem to have no interest in houses, schools, churches or farms. It is a tiring effort but I’m not giving up.
06 Feb 2004