Timothy G. Merrill, “Felons of Faith: Prison Experiences of Mormon Polygamists in the Nineteenth Century,” Selections from the Religious Education Student Symposium, 2005 (Provo, UT: Religious Studies Center, Brigham Young University, 2005), 99–114.
Felons of Faith: Prison Experiences of Mormon Polygamists in the Nineteenth Century
Timothy G. Merrill
On June 5, 1886, federal marshals raided the homestead of John Lee Jones in Enoch, Utah. The officers surrounded the house with raised pistols and “searched all the House from Cellar to Garret also, the Stables Pig Pens, Chicken House, Black Smith Shop & Foundry, but of no avail.”  They were unsuccessful in their manhunt, Brother Jones records, because the previous night “the Spirit of the Lord Moved Upon me to take My Blankets & a Pillow down into the lower End of our orchard to Sleep, So when they came to arrest Me the next Morning I was not to be found.”  When the marshals had left empty-handed, Jones broke cover and ran four and a half miles across the hills to reach his wife before the marshals did. “I did this,” he wrote, “to head them off from Subpoening [sic] My Wife Betty as they would try & compell her to testify against me.”  His crime? Polygamy.
Jones was arrested four months later in Beaver, Utah. On the evening of December 29, 1887, guards escorted him to the Utah penitentiary. He vividly described his first impression of his new home: “Oh! the awful Scene that met My Eyes. insid [sic] there was a hanging Lamp that Sent out a dim dirty duskey light, & I could precive dark . . . ugly Visiages in human Shape each one was Sucking a dirty Pipe the Smoak darkened the cell till you could Scarsely distinguish anything inside. the dense clouds of Smoak imited from the Pipes, turned me heart sick.”  The smoke was not the only cause of his coronary distress, however. His jailmate, with a pipe dangling from his lips, pointed to the empty bunk and told him that a man had been found dead in it a few days before. Because of the stench Jones almost believed him. 
John Jones was one of approximately 1,300 Mormon men who were convicted and sent to prison for polygamy in the nineteenth century.  In recent decades many scholars have studied polygamy, yet surprisingly little has been written on the prison life of Mormon polygamists in the 1880s and 1890s. This paper will focus on their faith and courage as they were tested to the extreme. The Lord promised His faithful, “I will prove you in all things, whether you will abide in my covenant, even unto death, that you may be found worthy” (D&C 98:14). The story of the sacrifices made by these pioneer men and women to remain obedient to God’s revealed word deserves a special place in the anthology of faith among Latter-day Saints, so that their names “shall be had in remembrance from generation to generation, forever and ever” (D&C 117:12).
“No Man Can Serve Two Masters”: The United States v. the Mormons
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints began practicing polygamy in the 1840s. Joseph Smith, who founded the Church in 1830, was commanded of God to restore the principle of plural marriage that was lived by the ancient patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (see D&C 132). The Prophet revealed the doctrine of polygamy to his close associates while residing in Nauvoo, Illinois, where perhaps as many as 150 men entered into the practice.  After Joseph Smith’s death, Brigham Young assumed leadership of the infant faith and led the Saints from Nauvoo to Salt Lake City. There, in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, the Church publicly declared in 1852 that it practiced plural marriage. In response to news of the Church’s involvement in polygamy, the United States Congress passed the Morrill Act in 1862, which turned bigamy into a felony. The battle over polygamy would be waged for almost thirty years.
In 1878 the First Presidency of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints asked polygamist George Reynolds (former secretary to Brigham Young) to act as the guinea pig in a “test case” that would challenge the constitutionality of the Morrill Act. In Reynolds v. United States, the Church argued before the U.S. Supreme Court that the First Amendment explicitly protected the practice of polygamy under the Free Exercise Clause. All nine justices ruled unanimously against Reynolds on January 6, 1879.  The High Court concluded that to allow polygamy would justify individuals trampling the laws of the land in favor of religious belief. If polygamy was to be allowed on religious grounds, why not allow human sacrifice, too? The Court infamously held that Americans had the right to any religious beliefs, but Congress had power to curtail the practice of those beliefs. 
In the wake of Reynolds, Congress passed legislation intended to cripple the Mormon Church.  The Edmunds Act of 1882 and the Edmunds-Tucker Act of 1887 sealed the fate of polygamists. “It was to be the Mormons’ Waterloo,” one scholar observed.  The Church’s assets and holdings were seized. The Corporation of the President of the Church was dissolved. George Cannon, a polygamous member of the House of Representatives, was unseated. All polygamists (and ultimately all members of the Church) were disfranchised. The Acts allowed the government to convict polygamists of cohabitation, which was an easier charge to prove in court than polygamy or bigamy. They permitted wives to testify against their husbands in court and declared children of plural marriages to be illegitimate. In one stroke, Congress revoked the Saints’ First, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Amendment rights. 
The judges who tried the Saints were generally hostile toward polygamy and the Church itself. Joseph Black recalled how at his trial Judge Judd delighted in “crucifying the feelings of those that were called upon to stand” before him.  George Reynolds’s trial was presided over by Judge Alexander White, who still lacked Senate confirmation but hoped a polygamist conviction would secure him the position. Reynolds believed that was why White was so prejudiced, stating that the U.S. attorney William Carey “was a very poor lawyer, and Judge White turned in and helped him to prosecute.”  Lucy Flake, wife of polygamist William Flake, thought it was ironic that her husband was placed in jail for providing for his family while those who put him there were reputed to frequent “houses of ill-fame.” 
If an obstinate polygamist would not plead guilty, the officials sometimes resorted to manipulative tactics. They might arrest the plural wife for fornication, which forced the husband to plead guilty so his wife would automatically be released. Another tactic was to subject the man’s wives and family to humiliating court hearings. Charles Terry pled guilty on September 20, 1890, just to save his wives from having to testify against him before a grand jury. He plead with the judge, “I am a poor man, have not very plenty of means besides on Saturday last I had a mill burn down which was not paid for, and I ask you to be as mercyful on me as your concience will al[l]ow.” When the judge pronounced his two-year sentence, his family “all started to cry which caused tears to drop from my cheeks.”  It was a bitter experience for Terry and others to leave their families fatherless when cold winter months were not far off.
Often the Latter-day Saints countered what they perceived as judicial prejudice and injustice by being evasive and uncooperative. An incident that shows the lighter side of this involved President John Taylor as he was being examined by prosecuting attorney Dickson in the Rudger Clawson trial. Dickson wanted to know where the marriage records were that would prove Clawson’s plural marriage. Dickson asked Taylor, who was seated on the witness stand, if he could find out who had the records. Taylor replied he thought he could.
Dickson, politely: “Will you be good enough to do so?”
Taylor, blandly, “Well, I am not good enough to do so.” (Laughter in the courtroom.) . . .
“Who is the custodian of the records?” Dickson asked bluntly.
“I cannot tell you.”
“Did you ever know who the custodian of the records was?”
“I do not know that I ever did.”
“Do you know that you don’t know?”
“Yes, I know that I don’t.”
“You know that you have never known who the custodian was? Have you ever inquired of anyone where the record was?”
“I could not say positively whether I have or not.”
“What is your best recollection?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know as to whether you have inquired as to the custodian of the record?”
“I do not think I have.” 
The strain of federal prosecution took its toll upon the polygamists. John Squires fled to Mexico when marshals came to arrest him. When he returned home a year later, he discovered that his plural wife, Favor, had been adulterous in his absence. Favor sold her home and took the money and their children away with her lover. John bitterly wrote of the affair, “[C]harity forbids entering those details in this journal.”  Finally John chose to divorce Favor after she was excommunicated from the Church. The whole matter hurt him financially as well as emotionally: “I have now paid $459.70, the amount of the fine and expenses of the court with interest. I also paid $100 for procuring a divorce from Favor. Then the loss I sustained through being deprived of attending to my business would be at the lowest calculation about $4000. I also lost the property I had deeded to Favor when I went to Mexico. . . . I consider the loss I sustained through the raid made upon us by the U.S. Government cost me about $8559.70 besides the privations and hardships that my family and I endured.” 
Most polygamists served time in the Utah penitentiary.  One of the first trials they faced in prison was the bedbugs. When John Lee Jones laid down to sleep his first night in the “pen,” he noticed “the Walls were black & Spattered with Blood.”  He soon saw that the walls were crawling with bedbugs by the thousands. The prisoners would squash them with their fingers at night; one cohab (a title given to the polygamist prisoners) claimed a man could write his name on the wall with the blood of the vermin. Being beside himself, Jones said, “I lifted my heart to God in Secret Prayer, that he would help me to pass through this bitter experience.”  When everything else had been stripped and removed from him, Brother Jones turned to the Lord in faith for strength.
Despite these trying conditions, the prisoners did not lose their sense of humor. James Paxton, an English immigrant, recounted in his journal upon the arrival of a new cellmate, “His wives and mine bear the same names.”  The jailbirds joked that they were staying in “Uncle Sam’s Hotel.” As his “guests,” the prisoners were required to have their beards and mustaches shorn by the barber, though many had not shaved in decades. One older gentleman, now clean-shaven, was congratulated by his comrades for his “improved looks,” which would certainly “enable him to attract two or three young girls as wives when he got out.” 
The men found symbolic meaning in their prison garb. The clothing became a token of their faith and sacrifice and was deemed an honor to wear. Thomas Kirby expressed this sentiment when he wrote in 1887, “When I first put on my Stripes or Striped clothing on, I felt proud that I was counted worthy to be imprisoned and scoffed at for the gospel’s sake.”  William Flake, who later became a member of the National Cowboy Hall of Fame, served a term of six months in the Yuma, Arizona penitentiary. He was so pleased with his prison suit that he took it home with him after his release and wore it in parades and at special celebrations in his hometown of Snowflake, Arizona. 
After a prisoner was initiated into the “Bastille of Sugar House Ward,” generally he would turn his thoughts to home. Letters to plural wives, of course, were forbidden; the prisoners wrote instead to a “Loving Daughter.”  The correspondence frequently revolved around the temporal concerns of the family. Thomas Kirby’s wife Ann wrote him January 21, 1889, “We sold the roosters for 9 cents and half per pound and Alice had a new dress with the means.” In addition to poultry, Ann also sold butter and dried peaches (for 8 cents a pound) to neighbors, using the money to buy shoes and shirts for the family.  Jane Jenkins struggled financially after her husband, Andrew, was imprisoned. She wrote him, “I hope to get along with as little as posebel [sic]. I have only had one dollars of cole sence you went down there.”  Wilford Woodruff went into hiding to evade arrest, saying, “I had rather be a free man any where than to be in the hands of my Enemies.”  From the “Mormon underground,” he wrote his second wife, Emma, “I have made arrangements with Brother Jack to give you $30 order at the beginning of Every other Month. . . . I have ownly received about mony Enough since Christmass to pay the present tuition of Clara & Lucy. . . . Nearly all my rents have stoped payment.”  Of all the hardships they suffered, perhaps the worst was worrying for their absent loved ones.
Being far from their families was especially trying when they received bad news from home. Charles Terry experienced a test of faith when he received word that his first wife was ill. He felt blue and feared he would never see her “any more in this life.”  David Udall was serving time in the Detroit House of Correction when a telegram came stating that his little daughter Mary had died. “My heart sank within me at this sad news,” he wrote. “The very night she died I dreamed of her. It seemed I was with her and we were playing, and she was so beautiful and heavenly.”  The faith of John Jones was tested when he received word that his three-month-old son, Jesse, had died. In his journal, Brother Jones wrote, “I never had the .Pleasure of Seeing my darling little Son in the Flesh, but I know the Lord will, Save and Exhalt him in the celestial Kingdom.”  Being away from home was hard enough, but being away from home at times like that “is hell,” one inmate wrote. 
The inmates did not have too much time to feel depressed, however, because there was plenty to do. In Detroit, Michigan, the prisoners were required to work for exactly ten hours a day, manufacturing chairs and tables.  The inmates attended lectures on topics ranging from the discovery of America to the formation of the earth. James Paxton wrote more than ten songs while imprisoned, including “The Prisoner’s Dream” and “Dare To Be A Mormon.” 
Another diversion from the monotony of prison life was the Sunday religious service. All the inmates were required to attend, which some did grudgingly. Preachers from various denominations (usually “Gentiles”) would come and preach to the jailbirds. Levi Savage attended a sermon given by a minister from the Church of England that was “so utterly uninteresting to me that I could hardly keep my seat” until it was over.  However, the prisoners were sure to remain respectful because there was always a guard present to see that order was maintained. The Mormon inmates were pleased when one of their own brethren came to preach. In one such meeting where a good spirit prevailed, even the gentile guard Mr. Doil took up a hymnbook and joined in the singing. 
One day a group of cohabs led by Rudger Clawson decided they would protest against the forced Sunday participation by not standing and singing during an Episcopalian service. The guard ordered them to stand as instructed by the minister. The guard succeeded in all cases but Clawson’s. When the warden found out, he had Clawson put in the sweat box, an iron cage six-feet by five-feet, which was the severest and most dreaded punishment in the prison. Clawson remembered, “[The] heat [was] well nigh intolerable, while an almost entire absence of ventilation increased the misery . . . ten fold. . . . Three days and nights passed away ere I emerged from this place of awful gloom, the intensity of which one cannot comprehend until he has endured it.” 
The box was not the only intolerable aspect of prison life. The cohabs had to get along with the “toughs” (non-Mormon prisoners). Thomas Kirby noted in his journal that among the prisoners there were “three for murder, one for Burgurlary [sic] and one for rape one for passing Counterfit Money.” He was quick to add that “these were not of our faith.” Swearing could be indulged in to any extent one wished, even though it was against prison rules. Kirby recorded that the toughs were “the worst feature of prison life, for if it was not for the bad Company we are obliged to mingle with we could do pretty well as prisoners for Concious sake.” 
Despite the trials of prison life, the men would not compromise their belief in plural marriage. If a prisoner would renounce his involvement in plural marriage and take an oath to abstain from its practice, he was allowed to go free. For most men that was unthinkable. Hiram Clawson, father of Rudger Clawson, refused Judge Zane’s offer to take the oath, saying, “To me there are only two courses: one is prison and honor, the other liberty and dishonor.”  Such a response was typical, and typically infuriating for the judge. Judge Zane was more pleased with Bishop John Sharp, one of the wealthiest men in the territory, who took the oath against polygamy because “the United States law forbids my indulging in it any longer.” He explained his decision, “I do not renounce my religion or any part thereof. I simply give up the practice of polygamy.”  The Church leaders were disappointed. They promptly released Sharp from his position as bishop. George Q. Cannon wrote in a fellow prisoner’s album, “A few words would have saved you imprisonment. But those words would have brought dishonor. You refused to speak them. Liberty at such a price was too costly. You have lost your freedom for a time; but you have preserved your covenants, your integrity, your self-respect and the love of God and your brethren. In the day of the Lord Jesus you will not be ashamed.”  When Governor West of the Utah territory offered a pardon to any prisoner willing to take the oath, it was unanimously declined. 
Upon release, most freed polygamists found a hero’s welcome. The time spent serving in prison was comparable to time serving a mission. The wards usually asked the returned hero to give a homecoming address at a fireside or conference. It was clear to government officials that prison did not rehabilitate the polygamous offenders. One government report stated, “Those who are convicted invariably regard themselves and are regarded by the Church, as martyrs.” 
These men and women were not ashamed to suffer “for conscience’ sake.”  When William Flake’s second wife blamed herself for his troubles, William reassured her, “You are my wife before God, and I am proud to own you before men.”  He was merely expressing the same conviction held by thousands of his fellow polygamists. The Church no longer practices plural marriage but is richly blessed by the faith and sacrifice made by those who did so in obedience to the Lord’s commandments. We should honor their memory and legacy. They risked life and liberty for their faith in the Lord and His Prophet. May their example teach us what it truly means to be a saint.
 John Lee Jones, Biography of John Lee Jones, 1943, typescript, 67, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, UT.
 Jones, Biography, 67.
 Jones, Biography, 67–68.
 Jones, Biography, 73.
 Jones, Biography, 73–74.
 Melvin L. Bashore estimates there were approximately 1,300 incarcerated Mormon polygamists (Bashore, “Life Behind Bars: Mormon Cohabs in the 1880’s,” Utah Historical Quarterly 47, no.1 [winter 1979]: 24). Rosa Mae M. Evans projects that if charges for polygamy, adultery, and cohabitation are all considered, there were 940, according to the numbers found in her thesis “Judicial Prosecution of Prisoners For LDS Plural Marriage: Prison Sentences, 1884–1895” (master’s thesis, Brigham Young University, 1986), 31.
 David F. Boone and Chad J. Flake, “William Flake’s Prison Diary,” Journal of Arizona History 24, no. 2 (summer 1983): 146.
 Reynolds v. United States, 98 U.S. 145, (1879); for an account of George Reynolds’s involvement, see Bruce Van Orden, Prisoner For Conscience’ Sake: The Life of George Reynolds (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1992), 78–87.
 The Court wrote that “while [laws] cannot interfere with mere religious belief and opinions, they may with practices” (Reynolds, 166). For an excellent analysis of the Reynolds decision, see James L. Clayton, “The Supreme Court, Polygamy and the Enforcement of Morals in Nineteenth Century America: An Analysis of Reynolds v. United States,” Dialogue 12, no. 4 (1979): 46.
The Reynolds case became the legal foundation upon which all future interpretations of the Free Exercise Clause were built. In recent years, the Supreme Court has resurrected Reynolds in a handful of important cases that reflect the continuing debate about Reynolds’s vitality and how the Court has gradually modified Waite’s belief-action distinction.
The Court began to retreat from Justice Waite’s holding in the 1940s. In Cantwell v. Connecticut, a Jehovah’s Witness family was convicted for soliciting door-to-door without a state permit. The Supreme Court reasoned that the Free Exercise Clause “embraces two concepts,—freedom to believe and freedom to act. The first is absolute but, in the nature of things, the second cannot be” (Cantwell et al. v. Connecticut, 310 U.S. 296, 303–4 ). The Court concluded that the government may only regulate religious action “narrowly” in matters that clearly threaten the state. Accordingly, the Court reversed the convictions.
It was unclear whether Cantwell overruled Reynolds because the former was tied to free speech as well as free exercise (see Elizabeth Harmer-Dionne, “Once a Peculiar People: Cognitive Dissonance and the Suppression of Mormon Polygamy As a Case Study Negating the Belief-Action Distinction,” Stanford Law Review 50 [April 1998], 1303). However, in Sherbert v. Verner the Court attempted to clarify the confusion. Sherbert was a Seventh Day Adventist who refused to work on Saturdays. After being fired from her job, she was denied unemployment compensation. The Court held that the unemployment law placed a burden on religious behavior that was disproportional to its economic benefit, and reversed the decision (see Sherbert v. Verner et al., 374 U.S. 398 ).
Sherbert is popularly known for its compelling interest test that largely replaced the belief-action distinction in Reynolds. The four-pronged test attempted to balance the interests of government and the burden placed upon religious practice. In essence, Sherbert required the government to show that there was a compelling state interest to regulate religious conduct. If it could, it then had to show that there was no less intrusive way to accomplish the desired result. Despite the popularity of the test, the Court has chosen to apply it only to unemployment cases since 1972—making it all but impotent.
The heyday of religious exemption was heralded by Wisconsin v. Yoder in 1972. The case involved Amish parents who refused to send their children to public school. The Court held for the parents, ruling that the government could not force the Amish to send their children to school after the eighth grade (see Wisconsin v. Yoder, 406 U.S. 205 ). Justice Douglas wrote in his dissent of Yoder, “[I]n time Reynolds will be overruled” (Yoder, 247). Currently, freedom of religion is in jeopardy. The Court’s schizophrenic treatment of the Free Exercise Clause surfaced again in 1990. In Employment Division v. Smith, two Native Americans were fired from their jobs for ingesting peyote during their religious ceremonies. The state refused to grant them unemployment benefits. Remarkably, the Supreme Court held for the state because the unemployment law was facially neutral and generally applicable (see Employment Division v. Smith, 494 U.S. 872 ). Smith resuscitated Reynolds, effectively rendering Sherbert and Yoder out of fashion. Thus the High Court came full circle.
 This was arguably unlawful for at least two reasons: article 1, section 9, clause 3, of the U.S. Constitution provides that “no Bill of Attainder or ex post facto Law will be passed.” A bill of attainder is a legislative act that singles out an individual or group for punishment without a trial. Antipolygamy laws were aimed solely at the Church and its members. In addition, the laws were ex post facto because they penalized polygamists for marriages entered into before the law made it illegal. As Brother John Squires said in 1888, “It is over twenty years since I was married to my plural wife. At that time, to my understanding, there was no law in force against it” (John P. Squires, “Notes of Interest to the Descendants of Thomas Squires by His Son John Paternoster Squires,” July 14, 1888, BYU Special Collections).
 Kenneth David Driggs, “The Mormon Church–State Confrontation in Nineteenth-Century America,” Journal of Church and State 30, no. 2 (1988): 287.
 Mary K. Campbell, “Mr. Peay’s Horses: The Federal Response to Mormon Polygamy, 1854–1887,” Yale Journal of Law and Feminism 13, no. 29 (2001): 59.
 Joseph Smith Black, Autobiography, 1889–1890, BYU Special Collections, 108.
 Quoted in Van Orden, Prisoner for Conscience’ Sake, 78. Roberta Flake Clayton, To the Last Frontier: Autobiography of Lucy Hanna White Flake (n.p., no d.).
 Lucy H. Flake, To The Last Frontier: Autobiography of Lucy Hanna White Flake (Arizona: privately printed, 1976), 101.
 Charles A. Terry, Journal, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, 5–6.
 David S. Hoopes and Roy Hoopes, The Making of a Mormon Apostle: The Story of Rudger Clawson (Lanham, MD: Madison Books, 1990), 78.
 John P. Squires, “Notes of Interest to the Descendants of Thomas Squires by His Son John Paternoster Squires,” March 19, 1888, BYU Special Collections.
 Squires, “Notes of Interest,” entry for March 19, 1888, 72, L. Tom Perry Special Collections.
 Eleven polygamists were sent to South Dakota, fifteen to Michigan, nine served time in Arizona, and forty-eight in Idaho.
 Jones, Journal, 74.
 Jones, Journal, 74.
 James Paxton, “Passing Thoughts,” for October 10, 1889, journal entry, Special Collections.
 Bashore, “Life Behind Bars,” 32.
 Quoted in Dale Z. Kirby, “From the Pen of A Cohab,” Sunstone 6, no. 3, (May–June 1981): 36.
 Boone and Flake, “Prison Diary,” 149.
 Dale Z. Kirby, “Pen of a Cohab,” 37.
 Thomas Kirby, Prison Diary, L. Tom Perry Special Collections.
 Gustive O. Larson, The “Americanization” of Utah For Statehood (San Marino, CA: The Huntington Library, 1971), 187.
 William Hartley, “In Order to Be in Fashion I Am Called on a Mission: Wilford Woodruff’s Parting Letter to Emma as He Joins the ‘Underground,’” BYU Studies 15, no.1 (1974): 112.
 Hartley, “In Order to Be in Fashion,” 112.
 Charles Terry, Journal, 9.
 David King Udall and Pearl Udall Nelson, Arizona Pioneer Mormon (Tucson, AZ: Arizona Silhouettes, 1959), 136.
 Jones, Journal, 76–77.
 James Paxton’s comment in a journal entry for October 9, 1889 was: “Want to get out and can’t and that is hell” (Paxton, “Passing Thoughts,” October 10, 1889.
 In 1883, the inmates at the Detroit House of Correction assembled over 300,000 chairs. The men had to observe strict silence while working. This was one of the hardest parts of their experience (see Carmon Hardy, “The American Siberia: Mormon Prisoners in Detroit in the 1880’s,” Michigan History 50, no. 3 [September 1966]: 204).
 James Paxton, “Passing Thoughts,” September 26, 1889, and September 28, 1889.
 Levi Savage Jr., Levi Savage Jr. Journal, (Salt Lake City: John Savage Family Organization, 1966), 136, L. Tom Perry Special Collections.
 Savage, Journal, 129. “Doil” probably referred to “Doyle.”
 Hoopes and Hoopes, The Making of a Mormon Apostle, 108.
 Kirby, Prison Diary.
 Quoted in Hoopes and Hoopes, The Making of a Mormon Apostle, 114.
 Quoted in Hoopes and Hoopes, The Making of a Mormon Apostle, 114.
 John Peter Rasmus Johnson, Autograph Album, L. Tom Perry Special Collections.
 William C. Seifrit, “The Prison Experience of Abraham H. Cannon,” Utah Historical Quarterly 53, no. 3 (summer 1985), 235.
 Quoted in Larson, The “Americanization” of Utah, 186.
 George Reynolds wrote the phrase “for conscience’ sake” in a letter to John Taylor, which was later adopted as a slogan among the prisoners (see Van Orden, Prisoner for Conscience Sake, 97).
 Flake, To the Last Frontier, 99.