Heber Robert McBride...

LIFE SKETCH OF

HEBER ROBERT MCBRIDE
(1843-1925)
Biographical Material Collected
by
Margaret Howard McBride Bachman
Arranged by
Lyle Bachman

Life Sketch
10 September 1937

In Churchtown, Lancashire, England, on May 13, 1843, Heber Robert McBride was born to Robert and Margaret Howard McBride. The second of their five children, he was destined to spend only the first few years of his life in his native city, because, along with the other members of his family, he early became a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and, like them, was forced to seek refuge among his brethren in a more tolerant land.

After his baptism by Thomas Cass and confirmation by Spicer Crandle on July 10, 1854, in his birthplace, he and his parents were so bitterly persecuted by non-believers that they were obliged to leave their home and seek companionship among others of their own faith. Making their way to Liverpool, they arranged passage and embarked on their journey to the United States of America. Hardly had the vessel weighed anchor when mutiny flared among the crew. The rebels chased the first mate into his cabin, but he returned brandishing two pistols, threatening to kill the first one who moved. At his orders, the next officer ran up the flag of distress, which brought boats and officials from the shore. The mutineers were hand-cuffed and jailed. Three days were required to recruit new seamen and prepare to leave again.

The second embarkation was made peacefully, as the ship and its passengers set out on their five-weeks' journey to the New World. At Boston, Massachusetts, where they disembarked, the McBrides found themselves to be the first Mormons to land there. Joining some six hundred other saints, who had gathered from all points for the purpose, they entrained for Iowa City, Iowa, to continue their journey westward with the Martin and Taylor Handcart Company being organized at that point. They were transported in cattle and freight cars, making a regular stop at Chicago, Illinois, and a forced stop at Rock Island, where the bridge had been burned out and it was necessary to ferry the train across.

The handcart company was encamped two miles from Iowa City, but no provision had been made to meet and transport the group from the train to the camp. Many felt like turning back, and surely would have done had their faith not been so invincible. Just at night-fall they set out on foot for the camp, but were soon deluged by a terrible storm. The thunder and lightning were worse than most of them had ever experienced. Some lost their way, Heber among them. Climbing to a near-by hill-top, he espied a fire in the distance and made for it through the water and wet grass in his path. On approaching it, he observed a large group of people huddled in its warmth. They were Saints with whom he had traveled, and the fire was the center of the handcart encampment. He was so overjoyed to be among friends in a free land that all the perils and hardships of the journey were forgotten.

Although the schedule called for immediate departure of the entire Company for Utah, a blunder on the part of those in charge delayed them a full six weeks. But even after the error had been corrected, the situation was far from ideal. The McBride family, seven in all, were given a small handcart incapable of carrying even the meagerest of the effects which they had brought with them from England. Nearly all of their clothing and most of their bedding were left behind with the understanding that it would be freighted and delivered to them upon their arrival in Utah. But they never saw it again, even though it would have added materially to their well-being both during their pathetic trek and after their disheartening arrival in the Valley.
Along with six others, their family of seven were assigned to occupy one small tent as sleeping quarters; then they set out, with Florence as their first stop. Another blunder causing three more long weeks of delay at this point found them hardly on the way but the season well advanced. Thereafter, for the first part of their trek, however, things went quite well, although they were obliged to wade every stream except the Platt [sic] River. Here they were ferried across. It was the last big stream in their path for the rest of their travels.

Their arrival at Fort Laramie, Wyoming, almost coincided with the onslaught of winter. As their trail led upward into the mountains, the weather became colder and more disagreeable and their provisions fewer. They were limited to rations of one pint of flour a day for each family. This was stirred with water obtained from melting snow and each member of the family sipped it by turns until it was consumed. Heber's mother became very ill and his father weaker and weaker because he would deny himself what little nourishment he could have derived from the pitiful ration in order to give more to the children. Soon he could pull the cart no longer, so it fell the lot of Heber, then 14, and his older sister, Janette, 16, to perform the task. They would pull first their mother, then their father; then both would walk until they collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Placing them in the cart again, the two children would continue on as best they could, but they were young and weak and the trail was almost impassable. Many other members of the Company suffered similar trials, and soon death came to take its toll. Most of the men passed on, several at a time.

One morning snow began to fall. The storm grew in intensity and continued unabated throughout the day and following night. It was bitter cold. The dawning of the second day brought no relief, but inflicted added misery on the McBride family when their father could not be found. Finally after some searching by the able-bodied men of the company, they discovered feet protruding from a snow drift. Digging into it, they uncovered his body and those of thirteen other men, all frozen to death. Thus, the family were deprived of their father, who at the early age of 42, starved and froze to death on his way to join the Saints in Zion. Taking one of their last blankets, they wrapped him in it and reburied him in the drift. As they passed on, glancing back at times, they were horrified to see through their tears that wolves had found the spot and were devouring the corpse of their martyred father.

There now remained only sufficient flour to ration four ounces to each family each day. Everyone was so cold and weak that none had courage to push forward. The snow fell continuously, blocking their path completely. But, at this juncture, when all had been abandoned, a stranger on horseback joined them with the glad news that teams and wagons were coming to meet them. Imbued with new life, they set out again and were soon out of the deep snow in the region of the river. Their mother's illness turned out to be smallpox, but the children could not stop, so they moved onward with the rest of the Company. They soon met the men coming to help them, and were given additional provisions.

A pound of flour per day was the family ration for a short time, but, since the bulk of supplies had been left at Fort Bridger, Wyo., with the understanding that the Company was in the immediate vicinity, this amount was soon greatly reduced.

At Devil's Gate, eighteen additional inches of snow and a freezing wind halted them. Heber's mother and the three smallest children were loaded into one of the wagons and he and Janette were left to pull the cart after the wagons had broken the trail. After two miles of this, the children were far behind, week and numb with cold. But, going as best they could despite their tears and sufferings, they managed to reach Sweet Water without being left too far in the rear Another group of wagons and men from Utah were awaiting them there. Taking the cart from the two children, some of them pulled it across the ice while others carried the exhausted youngsters to their family in a cave on the other side of the storm to shield them from the howling northern blast. There they fixed their tent, brought them wood and kindled them a fire to warm themselves. But the bad weather continued and the Company was held in this spot for so long that the daily ration was reduced to four ounces of flour apiece for all over twelve years and two ounces for those under. Death stalked among them again, and most of the Company who had survived the first siege succumbed before a third group from Utah succeeded in reaching them with sufficient provisions to furnish one-half pound of flour apiece to the few survivors.

Taking as many of the Company as they could, among them Heber's mother and her three youngest children--these teamsters set out for Ogden, Utah, leaving Heber and Janette alone again to pull the cart. After two days of slow progress, they were met by more help from Salt Lake City; so, leaving their carts on the spot, they placed their few belongings in the wagons and left. They were given more to eat, were able to ride rather than walk, and were helped each night with their tents and wood-gathering. Thus, they finally reached Ogden, Utah.

A log cabin of one room, containing nothing more than four blocks of wood to serve as chairs, was given the McBride family. By themselves at last, they looked at one another in wonder, at a loss as to what to do to keep from freezing and starving. But they were not puzzled for long because Brother Samuel Ferrin, one of the earlier pioneers who was now established as owner of a home and considerable property in the vicinity, came and took the entire family to his home. He was recently a widower, so he married Heber's mother and she settled down to caring for his seven motherless children as well as her own brood.

With the coming of Spring, Heber obtained work on a farm, and he pursued that occupation for the rest of his life.

In 1860, he was ordained an Elder by John Volker. Five years later he was called to go to the Platt River to help migrating Saints through the snow. On August 1, 1868, at the age of 25, he was married to Elizabeth Ann Burns in Eden, Utah, by John Riddle. In November of the same year, he and his wife were sealed in the Endowment House in Salt Lake City. Shortly after, on February 1, 1876 he took his family and joined several others who had been called by the Church authorities to settle the Little Colorado River country, but the venture proved a failure. Returning to Eden, Utah, which then became the family home, he pursued his occupation as a farmer and worked actively in the Church. He was ordained a Seventy in the 75th Quorum, Dec. 22, 1883, and a High Priest, Jan. 27, 1884, by L. W. Shurtliff in Eden. William Lake gave him his patriarchal blessing in Ogden. After serving as president of the YMMIA and as ward teacher, he was set apart by W. W. Taylor as First Counselor to Bishop David McKay. Then on October 15, 1885, he was set apart by John Henry Smith to serve as Counselor to Bishop Josiah Ferrin.

On May 25, 1894 at the age of 43, his wife died, leaving him with seven children, none of them married. Four months later, in September, he married Elizabeth B. Gould, by whom he had five more children. With eight members of his family, he departed for Welling, Alberta, Canada, June 3, 1904, where he took up land and settled. He died there at the age of 82, on July 31, 1925, after having worked diligently at his occupation, served as a scout in the Black Hawk Indian war, as an Indian guard, and in minor and major church capacities. He had pioneered in many localities and contributed much to the advancement of Zion. At present (September 10, 1937) his descendants comprise 91 grandchildren, 42 great grandchildren, and 31 great, great grandchildren.

Elizabeth Gould McBride passed away March 24, 1940 in Canada.

Note: This edition was typed by Danel W. Bachman, 9 September 1995.






“Oh, Father, Father”
(Short Story of Heber McBride 1843 - 1925)


Heber McBride, then 13 years old, traveled to the Salt Lake Valley in the Martin Handcart Company in 1856 with he parents, Robert and Margaret, and four brothers and sisters.

The following incident, found in his memoirs, occurred one day after the company crossed the North Platte River, just west of present-day Casper, Wyo.

“That evening as we crossed the Platte River for the last time it was very cold. The next morning there was about six inches of snow on the ground, then what we had to suffer can never be told. Father was very bad and could hardly sit up in the tent…. I managed to get father in one of the wagons. That was the last we ever saw of him alive….

“(That evening) the snow was getting very deep and my sister and me had to pitch our tent and get some wood, but there were plenty of dry willows. After we had made mother as comfortable as possible, we went to find father, but the wind was blowing the snow so hard we could not see anything…. We did not find father that night.

“The next morning the snow was about eighteen inches deep and awful cold. While my sister was preparing our little bite of breakfast I went to look for father, and found him under the wagon with snow all over him and he was stiff and dead. I felt as though my heart would burst as I sat down beside him in the snow and took his hand in mine and cried, “Oh, Father, Father.”

“There we were, away from everything, away out on the plains with hardly anything to eat or wear, and father dead and mother sick; a widow with five children and hardly able to live from day to day. After I had my cry out I went back to the tent and told mother and the children. To try to write my feelings is out of the question.

“We were not the only family called upon to mourn the loss of a father that morning, for there were thirteen men dead in camp.

“The men that were able to do anything cleared off the snow and made a fire and thawed the ground and dug a hole and buried all in one grave. I can assure you that the men had no heart to do more, than they had to do.”

(Source: Memoirs of Heber McBride, October 1856)
Darvil B. McBride, Newport Beach, California

Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel, 1847–1868
Source of Trail Excerpt:McBride, H[eber] R[obert], "Tounge nor Pen Can Never Tell the Sorrow: Heber McBride Describes the 1856 Martin Handcart Disaster," Crossroads Newsletter, spring 1994, 3-4. Read Trail Excerpt:was taken to Iowa and their we had to stay 3 or 4 weeks before we could start our journey as we were coming with handcarts[.] their seemed to be bad Management some where[.] got started and arrived at winter quarters of Mormon fame now called Florence[.] their we had to stay for 3 weeks through some more bad management[.] their was 7 of us in familey and all we had was one little handcart and that got to be to much for us before we got through[.] their were some wagnos to haul provisions for the Company and if any was sick to haul them and they did for a while but Mother took chills and fever[.] then our trouble began[.] she would walk as far as she could by holding on to the cart then we get her in to one of the wagons[.] the baby [aged two and turned three on the journey] we had to haul all the way[.] the next one was 6 years old then one 8 but they walked all the way till the snow got so deep they coulden they coulden walke but while the weather was good we got along very well but when food got scarce and it began to get cold the men began to give out[.] teams gave out and so many sick and dieing that they couldent all ride[.] then we were reduced to ½ pound of flour a day for grown people and 4 ounces for children under 12 years old[.] Father at last gave out and in the morning Father and Mother would start out to walk till one would give out and sit down or lay down till we came along and get them on the cart and till the other one was give out[.] then the one that was on the cart was rested then we would take the other one and one would walk by holding to the cart and we would not get into camp till after dark and we had to wade all the streams and the weather was getting very cold and snow falling a little everyday or 2[.] one morning I got father in a wagon and that was the last time we saw him alive[.] I went after we got the tent up but it was snowing very hard and I couldent find him so you will have to immagin how we felt[.] their were 3 other men in our tent[.] Wm Barton and wife and 2 children[,] 1 girl like my sister 15 or 16 years old[,] and 2 old men and my F[a]ther all died in one night[.] I think the 2 old men died like Father did[.] I went in the morning and found my father ded and frozzen stif covered in snow[.] whether he was dead and was put there or how he got there will never be known[.] tounge nor pen can never tell the sorrow and suffering[.] my sister[,] I and Mrs Barton got father to the tent[.] their was 2 families their in the snow and hardley anything to eat but their were men enough to bury the dead[.] Aran Jacksons father died at the same time[.] prhaps you know him[,] he lives on the bench there[in Ogden?] 13 men died that one night and all piled into one pit[.] all died by hardship and starvation and the snow and the cold was something awful and our clothing all about dun[.] when we went to bed we dident hav bedding to keep is warm[.] I have wondered many times since how it was we everd lived for my sister and I used [to] pray we could die to get out of our misery[.] the oxen began to die and then was di[s]tributed among the people[,] rawhide and all[.] we was then at the last crossing of the platte river[.] had to stay there several days so many dieng but had to try it again[.] when we got away from the river the snow was not so deep and before we got to sweetwater we met 5 teams from Utah but they came so much farther than they expected to that they were nearly out of provisons but they were workers[.] the[y] put the tents up and got wood and took care of Mother and the 3 little ones[.] we got to Devels [Devil's] Gate[.] it was so cold all day we could hardley make it but when we got there the tents were up and big fires burning[.] Sister and I cried for joy[.] it seemed so nice to have nothing to do but when we got up in the morning the snow was 18 inc[hes] deep and the north wind blowing hard and cold but the men came and took the tent down and fixed our load on our cart and they went ahead and broake the road[.] went about 2 miles and turend and crost s[w]eetwater[.] when we saw that we felt very bad to think we had to ford that stream and I dont think we could have made it in our week[e]ned condition but when we got there we was very much suprised for there were some men there[.] they carried us across[.] we went into a cove in the mountain and got out of the wind and when we got there the tent was up and Mother and Mrs barton [were] sitting by a good fire[.] the history of the Church says we onley staid their 2 days but that is a big mistake and I dont care who wrote it and I find they pas over the hand cart blunder very light for right their more died than any where on the road[,] for we was reduced to 4 ounces of flour and children 2 ounces[.] just think of it[,] out of a company[of] nearly 500 people[,] 144 dead and it looked like we would all die but some more teams came from Utah [and] then our trouble ended as far as handcarts was conserned for we left them all there[.] soon met more teams then we all got to ride and got to Utah[.] [I] was taken to Sammiul [Samuel Ferrin's] ferrins Ogden Dec 1856 taking about 7 months to make the trip and the family is all alive now in 1923 after all our hardship and our ages range from 68 to 83[.] take what you want from this tho as it may not be just what you want
[Signed] H[eber] R[obert] McBride

Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel, 1847–1868
Source of Trail Excerpt:McBride, Peter Howard, [Life sketch], in Susan Arrington Madsen, I Walked to Zion [1994], 44-46.Read Trail Excerpt:We had to burn buffalo chips for wood, not a tree in sight, no wood to be found anywhere. Just dry earth and rivers. We children and old folks would start early so we wouldn't be too far behind at night. A great many handcarts broke down, oxen strayed away, which made traveling rather slow. Quite an undertaking to get nearly one thousand persons who had never had any camping experience to travel, eat, and cook over campfires. It took much patience for the captain to get them used to settling down at night and to get started in the morning. We saw a great many buffalo as we traveled up the Platte River. The people were forbidden to kill them, as it made the Indians angry. So they hired the Indians to kill what they needed to eat. An Indian sold a man a whole buffalo for five cents' worth of tobacco. Both parties were satisfied. Sometimes a herd of fifty thousand buffalo would cross the plains, and one time our company met three thousand Sioux Indians, all warriors all in war paint. Our people were much frightened, fear held the whole camp in its grip as they all expected to be annihilated. But their fears were groundless. They told our interpreters they were going to fight the Pawnee tribes. They wouldn't hurt us because we were mostly squaws and papooses. It would be cowardly to fight us, so they gave us the road.
Much hunger and cold were experienced by these weary handcart travelers; all they had to eat was a little flour, which was cut to ¾ pound to a person. Many aged people died; even the young people could not stand the hardships. My baby sister [Margaret Alice] and I were even cut to less flour, and we were really hungry. Our teams gave out and died, and we were glad to eat the meat. I remember some men passed us one day and stopped to talk. They gave my baby sister some cookies. She carried them in her little pocket, and I was always with her and would tease for a bite. She would give me a taste once in a while, and it was so good. No cake I ever tasted since was ever so good. The exposure to cold rain, snow, and ice, pushing carts all day, the scarcity of food and wood caused many strong men to perish.
A man by the name of Cyrus Wheelock, just returning from a mission to the Eastern States, was riding a horse. He carried some of the children across the river, even helped pull some of the handcarts by a rope fastened to his saddle. One time he had three little boys on his horse, one in front and two behind him. I was the last boy on that side of the river and tried to wade across. He told me to climb up behind the last boy behind his saddle, which I did. We crossed the river all right, then the horse leaped up the steep bank, and I slid off in the shallow water. I held on to the horse's tail and came out all right.
That night the wind was blowing very cold, and the carts were sheltered behind a big bluff, but the snow drifted in and covered our tent. My father [Robert McBride] died that night. He had worked hard all day pushing and pulling handcarts through the icy waters of that dangerous river, helping many people with all their belongings to reach the other side.
My mother [Margaret Ann Howard McBride] was sick all the way over, and my sister Jenetta had the worry of us children. She carried water from the river to do the cooking. Her shoes gave out, and she walked through the snow barefoot, actually leaving bloody tracks in the snow. Father was a good singer. He had charge of the singing in our company, and the night he died he sang a song, the first verse that reads "O Zion, when I think of you, I long for pinions like a dove, And mourn to think I should be so distant from the land I love."
We camped at the Sweetwater River. A meeting was held. It was decided that we could go no further, the snow so deep and no food. We were doomed to starvation. They gave me a bone of an ox that had died. I cut off the skin and put the bone in the fire to roast. And when it was done some big boys came and ran away with it. Then I took the skin and boiled it, drank the soup, and ate the skin, and it was a good supper.
The next day we had nothing to eat but some bark from trees. Later we had a terrible cold spell; the wind drifted so much I knew I would die. The wind blew the tent down. They all crawled out but me. The snow fell on it. I went to sleep and slept warm all night. In the morning I heard someone say, "How many are dead in this tent?" My sister said, "Well, my little brother must be frozen to death in that tent." So they jerked the tent loose, sent it scurrying over the snow. My hair was frozen to the tent. I picked myself up and came out quite alive, to their surprise.
That day we got word that some teams were coming to meet us from the Valley. Three teams came that night. No one but a person having gone through what we had suffered can imagine what a happy moment it was for this "belated handcart company." Men, women, and children knelt down and thanked the Almighty God for our delivery from certain death. It put new life into all the Saints. The next day several more teams arrived, and there was room for all to ride.
We finally arrived in Salt Lake City, November 30, 1856.



“Oh, Father, Father”(Short Story of Heber McBride 1843 - 1925)

Heber McBride, then 13 years old, traveled to the Salt Lake Valley in the Martin Handcart Company in 1856 with he parents, Robert and Margaret, and four brothers and sisters.

The following incident, found in his memoirs, occurred one day after the company crossed the North Platte River, just west of present-day Casper, Wyo. “ That evening as we crossed the Platte River for the last time it was very cold. The next morning there was about six inches of snow on the ground, then what we had to suffer can never be told. Father was very bad and could hardly sit up in the tent…. I managed to get father in one of the wagons. That was the last we ever saw of him alive…. “ (That evening) the snow was getting very deep and my sister and me had to pitch our tent and get some wood, but there were plenty of dry willows. After we had made mother as comfortable as possible, we went to find father, but the wind was blowing the snow so hard we could not see anything…. We did not find father that night. “ The next morning the snow was about eighteen inches deep and awful cold. While my sister was preparing our little bite of breakfast I went to look for father, and found him under the wagon with snow all over him and he was stiff and dead. I felt as though my heart would burst as I sat down beside him in the snow and took his hand in mine and cried, “Oh, Father, Father.” “ There we were, away from everything, away out on the plains with hardly anything to eat or wear, and father dead and mother sick; a widow with five children and hardly able to live from day to day. After I had my cry out I went back to the tent and told mother and the children. To try to write my feelings is out of the question. “ We were not the only family called upon to mourn the loss of a father that morning, for there were thirteen men dead in camp. “ The men that were able to do anything cleared off the snow and made a fire and thawed the ground and dug a hole and buried all in one grave. I can assure you that the men had no heart to do more, than they had to do.” (Source: Memoirs of Heber McBride, October 1856)Darvil B. McBride, Newport Beach, California