Dances weren’t the only entertainment, however. I’ll never forget when Stephen challenged the students to see who could bring the most dead flies to school. Flies were a plague that year, a plague that could never be controlled. Residents placed cardboard squares of red poison resembling sugar inside and outside every home. The children would collect the dead flies in a glass quart jar, hoping to win by filling it up.
I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw the jars of dead insects lined up against the wall. We’d been taught that we were a “peculiar people,” and I guess the flies proved it beyond any doubt!
I wasn’t the only one to notice our church’s peculiarities.
One Sunday, when my daughter Donna was eight, she and I walked the two blocks home together after the meeting. I asked her to share her Sunday lesson with me so I would be aware of what they were teaching her. She excitedly related the account of Joseph, who was sold by his brothers into slavery in Egypt. I listened as we made our way home, and she wound up her story as we walked into the house. I’ll never forget how Donna hesitated a minute. Then she asked, “Mama, why do we have so many weirdos in the church?”
I couldn’t refrain from laughing. I’d asked myself that same question many times, but not wanting to give credence to her opinion, I responded, “They’re not weirdos. Why do you say that?”
“Because they are, Mom,” she stated emphatically. “Can’t you tell?”
Sorely tempted to agree with her, I turned, with a smile on my face, and began to put a few things together for lunch. I’d seen Verlan in church briefly, and he told me to plan on him for the noon meal. I served hot beans and rice to my children, then Donna washed the dishes and wiped the table while I set places for Verlan and me.
Rushed as usual, Verlan entered and barely kissed me. “Sorry I never made it over to see you yesterday, but I was just too busy. What’s new?” he asked, hoping I wouldn’t reprimand him or waste his time on trivial matters.
“Not much,” I said. Then I decided to share Donna’s observations with him, thinking how interesting it was that an eight-year-old had such insight.
When I completed my story, Verlan looked riled, and the tone of his voice as he spoke to me reflected the look on his face. “There’s no way she would think that up on her own! If that’s what’s in her head, then you must have put it there.”
I silently took the tongue lashing, thinking how every adult in that community lived in denial. But oh, what truths come out of the mouths of babes.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As an extension of the United Order, Ervil announced one day that there would be no more meals in individual homes. Every woman was to give her food money to him. The groceries would be purchased in bulk and then equally distributed. Making sure we knew this idea was about becoming godlier and increasing our faith, he impressed upon our minds the importance of having everything in common.
“It is not given that one man should possess that which is above another,” he said.
Even though I knew he was quoting from Doctrine and Covenants, I thought he was twisting the verse to say what he wanted it to, and I could hardly stand the thought of what this new regulation would mean. As a mother I could easily imagine the drudgery of getting all my children ready to leave the house, walking them to a community kitchen to feed them, getting them settled, feeding them, and then waiting for all to finish before we went back home. And all of this three times a day! It was not to my—or any woman’s—advantage.
When I expressed my views, Ervil retorted rudely, “You have no choice. Every family will participate. Those who are selfish, who keep food hidden to eat privately in their homes, will be punished. By Monday, all your food supplies should be taken to Delfina’s house. While she is away, I’ll donate her house to be used for the good of the saints. I want to form a committee to run the kitchen.” He flashed his charming smile. “They say if you want to get anything done, ask the busiest person you know to do it. Therefore, I am designating Irene to be the manager over the whole operation.”
I was not pleased. “It’s impossible,” I said. “I have four children under the age of six. If I work all day preparing meals, I’ll be away from my babies with no one to tend them.”
“Well,” he replied, grinning, “we’ll set up a nursery where your children will be taken care of and taught the gospel.”
Ervil’s words caused an uproar, and he tried to quiet the women down. “Yes, everyone’s children will belong to the community. Doris,” he said, pointing at her, “you will be the supervisor over the nursery. Appoint other women to help you. But don’t get me involved. I have too many responsibilities as it is.”
I knew he had put Doris in charge because he could trust his niece to implicitly carry out his orders.
Before the meeting was over, Ervil had effectively severed us from our children, allowing them back into our care only at bedtime. Adding insult to injury, he said, “I want to raise all these children up like calves in a stall, as it says in Malachi.”
With no other option but to obey, I put my shoulder to the wheel. At five o’clock the next morning I awoke and got myself dressed, leaving my nursing baby and the other two children sleeping with Donna, while I rushed two blocks away to Delfina’s house, the newly designated community compound to prepare breakfast for the entire community.
I was furious to be under Ervil’s control. Verlan was away working in the States and couldn’t defend Charlotte, Lucy, and me. Dealing with my two sister wives was overwhelming enough without having to carry out Ervil’s latest scheme.
My letter shocked Verlan, and he wrote back the same day, requesting that I not act irrationally.
Go to Joel. I am sure he is keeping an eye on Ervil. As far as the community being united, it will be a good experience. Ervil mentioned to me before I left that he wanted to set up kibbutzes like they have in Israel. Be patient. He is only trying to do what’s best for our people. Keep going, at least until I return. Maybe by then we can figure something else out.
I appreciated his prompt reply, but it did little to calm my anxiety and anger over having to spend my days preparing food for a hundred-plus people.
Our meager menu of beans, rice, whole wheat bread, and cracked cereal lacked nutritional balance. We literally had no fruits, vegetables, or milk for our growing children. I had hoped that with communal money, I could change that by buying produce and dairy products in bulk.
However, my plans came to naught and then I discovered Ervil was dipping into the funds that had been designated for the communal kitchen. When I confronted him, he tried to justify his actions, inferring that it was no big deal. He was just trying to buy extra fruits and goodies to keep in his home to sustain his health.
I blew up. “We all need extra! Most of the women are pregnant. The little ones are growing and need all the nutritious food they can get. These people deserve the same treatment as you do. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. I thought you promised we would all be equal.”
He laughed at my feistiness. “How can our people ever be taken into the presence of God if they are not willing to sacrifice?” Turning serious, almost threatening, he said, “Don’t you breathe a word about how I run things around here. It’s nobody’s business, because God’s put me in charge. If people start murmuring, we’ll find ourselves in the exact position the Israelites were in. It was their complaining and murmuring that kept them from entering the Promised Land. Let’s nip this in the bud and make sure we don’t do likewise.”
Forced to be on my feet cooking and cleaning for twelve to fourteen hours a day caused painful, pulsating varicose veins in my legs. I mourned for my babies in child care. When my breasts were bursting with milk, I was allowed to leave other women in charge long enough to go to the nursery and breast-feed my four-month-old son.
One afternoon I heard wails of despair from the adjacent room. Realizing it was my three-year-old Andre, I kept the baby latched onto my breast and walked to the
other room.
Doris met me at the door and questioned my right to barge into her territory. Andre was squirming on a small chair, his tiny face as red as a beet and his eyes so swollen he could hardly see. I could tell immediately as he tried to keep his eyes shut that something was irritating them. I tried to scoop him into my arms for comfort, but Doris grabbed him in a show of authority, trying to stop me. “He’s been a naughty boy and he’s receiving his punishment,” she said.
“What did you do to my child?” I demanded, forcing him away from her.
“Well, he’s a bawl baby, crying all day because he thinks he needs his blanket, and I wouldn’t give it to him.”
“What’s he got in his eyes?” I demanded.
“Well, he wouldn’t stop sucking his thumb when I told him to, so I dipped it into a can of jalapeños. The spoiled little brat rubbed the stuff into his eyes.”
I grabbed my son, holding him and my baby in my arms for protection. I saw his blanket on the crib, grabbed it, and stormed out of the room. Hell or no hell, I did not put my babies back under someone else’s care.
When Ervil asked around the kitchen that afternoon as to my whereabouts, he was very upset that I had not returned to work. He came to my house to persuade me to go back to the kitchen. I gave him a definite no and he knew I meant it.
Not wanting other women to follow my rebellion, he reassigned me to other duties. “I’ll allow another woman to run the cafeteria. I want you to run the washeteria. Three Maytag wringer washers have been set up outside behind the kitchen. Four teenage boys will be at your disposal. They’ll fill the washers and tubs with water from the well. All you have to do is keep track of each family’s clothes, and when they’re washed, stack them in tubs. The boys will deliver them to their owners. They can hang their own clothes out to dry.”
Again I understood that I had no choice but to obey, so I complied, fulfilling my assignment until Verlan’s return. At least I could keep my children with me. They could play or sleep in the shade while I worked and the teenage boys and I kept an eye on them. The women were especially thrilled, knowing that someone was keeping up their wash. Many had previously been scrubbing on wooden washboards, so they were very appreciative to have the burden taken from them. Luckily, I did not receive any complaints.
JOEL HAD BEEN DOING missionary work in the States with other leaders for several months. They were dedicating themselves to preaching the gospel among the Mormons before they took the truth to the gentiles because they believed that God’s judgments would begin on the house of God.
When he returned, I caught up with Joel in the kitchen soup line, intending to have lunch with his congregation. “Joel,” I said, knowing he could hear the displeasure in my voice, “how long do we have to put up with Ervil’s crap?”
He nonchalantly replied, “Just until you all get sick and tired of it.” I was dumbfounded by his answer! I could tell that he felt this regimentation was unnecessary and if it were up to him, we could stop immediately.
So, the community kitchen soon came to an end.
WOMEN WERE NOT VALUED in the colony. If we had opinions, we learned to keep them to ourselves. We knew our duty was to bear children for our future inheritance in another world. We were told repeatedly not to let a year go by without seeing that a child was born under this holy covenant of plural marriage. We had been intimidated and frightened by the brethren. Birth control was a wicked practice that would take us straight to hell. The average number of children among polygamists is twelve, although many have fourteen to eighteen children. I knew one woman who was used as a righteous example because she gave birth to nineteen children, including one set of twins.
No woman dared mention her dissatisfaction with bearing children. Even if she was emotionally or physically incapable of enduring another pregnancy, she obediently accepted her role without complaining. Her godhood was at stake.
Clearly, childbearing was used as a means of control. No mother with that many children would dare try to leave the group. She understood the rules. The children she birthed automatically belonged to her husband. She’d been told that she could walk out freely anytime, but she would be required to forfeit her children.
I well remember a conversation Verlan had with Joel, in my presence, many years later. Verlan’s sixth wife, Susan, had left him on several occasions, taking her three small children with her to be among her brothers in Utah. Having recently convinced Susan to return to him, Verlan asked Joel what advice he could give him to persuade her to stay permanently. His answer stung my senses.
“Just keep her pregnant,” Joel sagely advised. “Soon she’ll have so many kids she won’t be able to leave.”
Obviously, I was already bound and shackled, being pregnant with my thirteenth child.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A huge flatbed truck, carrying a massive generator, eased down the embankment off the gravel highway into the LeBaron colony. Once the portable power plant was unloaded, word traveled fast among the family and church members. I could hardly wait to enjoy electricity in my home! However, I wondered how the colony had come up with the money to purchase the generator. I knew no monies were available from the church; the little tithing that came in was snatched up by Ervil to support his families.
The rumor spread quickly through the colony: the generator had been stolen. I wasted no time in finding Ervil and accosting him. I knew he could tell by the look on my face and my determined steps that I had caught wind of the deal. As I entered unannounced, he asked, “What’s the problem this time, Irene? You look upset.”
“I want to know the truth!” I blurted out. “Is the light plant stolen?”
“Now, now, don’t get upset. Let’s just say that the Lord put it in our hands.”
His words verified my suspicions. “How can the Lord condone stolen property?”
As always, Ervil laughed, sneering as though he were questioning my intelligence. “You must realize that God allows us to steal from the gentiles.” He tried to pat my shoulder patronizingly.
“That’s a bunch of poppycock!” I yelled, pulling away. “Don’t the scriptures say to love our neighbors as ourselves? Is that loving them? By stealing from them?”
He knit his eyebrows, staring icily at me a second or two, and then he spoke. “Calm down. You don’t understand the things of God. In the first place, our neighbors are those who believe like we do. If you’d just read the Bible, you’ll understand.”
“You’re nuts!” I said defensively. “On one hand you teach that stealing is a sin that carries a death penalty. On the other, you try to justify it from the Bible, telling me it’s acceptable. That’s just crazy!”
“Listen,” he said. Then he sighed and looked at the ceiling as though he were trying to find simple enough words to explain to one as ignorant as I apparently was. I knew he was mentally preparing a sermon, and, though I could hardly bear to listen, I swallowed my pride and stood still.
“We’re just doing like the Israelites did. Remember when they plundered the gold and silver from the Egyptians? God was behind that, can’t you see?”
“No I can’t!” I retaliated, all thoughts of submission gone.
“Well, God allowed them to take the jewels from their wicked masters and carry the spoils into the Promised Land. That’s all we’re doing. We’re using the valuable goods of the unbelieving gentiles to build up the Kingdom of God.”
Disgusted, I interrupted. “That’s just a load of crap, and you know it. I can’t take any more.” I left in a huff.
It didn’t take long for Ervil to realize that the generator caused more problems than it was going to solve. Afraid the church would lose members when the rumor of the theft was confirmed, he quietly sold the generator to some unsuspecting Mexicans.
According to yet another rumor I heard from several people, when Ervil was questioned about the stolen property, he said, “This group is not yet worthy to understand the things of God.”
WITH CHU
RCH MEMBERSHIP GROWING faster than incoming tithes and offerings, Joel felt increasing pressure to provide for his impoverished flock. To deal with the demands, Joel wrote rubber checks, hoping to find a way to cover them before they bounced. Soon he and Alma were dodging their creditors. Because of the influx of members who needed food and housing, they soon owed thousands of dollars, which they were unable to pay.
Verlan told me how appalled he was when he learned that Ervil convinced five followers that he’d received the solution from the Lord to the dilemma. Verlan was so humiliated he made sure I didn’t know who the five men were, for fear I’d lose my faith in the church. Ervil told the men they would go to “Sin City” itself, where they’d gamble for money to pay their debtors. They would redeem the LeBaron name and repay the creditors. He promised the riches of the gentiles would fall into their hands. When Ervil ran his “inspiration” by Joel, Joel was pleased, bestowing his blessings to the euphoric group. With some of the church’s tithes and their meager savings, the men set out for Las Vegas.
Once in a modest hotel room, the men talked about their new adventure, wondering how the casino owners would react when the church members beat the system. The men prayed before they left the room, begging God to turn the cards in their favor, as he had promised Ervil. Satisfied that the Lord was on their side, they confidently sat down to play blackjack at the Horse Shoe Casino.
Believing they had been given a system inspired by God himself, the men laid down big bets. The hopes of the gamblers were dashed all too soon, however, as several thousand dollars vanished before their disbelieving eyes. They barely had gas money for their trip home. They were crushed, and blamed Satan for cunningly stealing their money.
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