Wonderful Story That I heard at the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival 2012! This is an artwork by James Christensen (my watercolor teacher) that represents the festival each year.
You may know of Archibald Gardener,or you may know his
restaurant at Gardener Village in West Jordan.
Here is a wonderful Artwork by Eric Dowdle of the Village that was created and what it used to look like around Archibalds Gristmill in west Jordan, Utah. Sam Payne told this story at the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival and also played a wondrous piece of Jazz/Folk music that he had composed and dedicate to Archibald Gardener. You can listen to his music above. (But I suggest reading the story first.)
"At the time Archibald Gardener Joined the Church he owned two good grist mills, one saw mill and two hundred acres of land. This was in the place that Archibald was living, Sarnia,Ontario Canada later named Alvinston. Gristmills often formed the economic center of a community, producing flour to bake bread. Half the town hated the Grist mill owner because that is the nature of being the hub of economics. Sam Payne's story says' "He lived alienated by half the town. Then, he joined the Mormon church and was alienated by the other half." He sold his Grist Mills and land for mere pennies and intended to headed west with the company of Saints. Persecution against the new religion was relentless and due to some trumped up charges that had been filed against Archibald, for some business transactions, that enemies "claimed" were sour, Archibold was a wanted man and found himself an outlaw and on the run.
. . . "I went to my mother-in-law’s, borrowed a horse, rode past my old place to father’s home where my wife lay sick. She and the children were being cared for by my folks. I remained there two hours. Then I bade my loved ones farewell before leaving the home of my youth where I had shed many drops of honest sweat and had spent numerous happy days (as far as Gentile happiness goes.) Trusting in the Lord to preserve us all until we should meet again, I started for Port Sarnia on the St. Clair River after dark. I traveled thirty miles and arrived at daybreak next morning. It was about the first of March [1846]. Down to the river I went expecting to cross on the ice...My mind was filled with thoughts of home and loved ones whom I was leaving as an exile. Aroused from my reverie by a cry of alarm, I looked up to see that the ice on the river was breaking up.
I could see down the St. Clair for about ten miles. It was all in motion. I gazed from the bank at a point twenty feet above the river and gazed over the rolling mass which was traveling at a rate of seven miles per hour — at least that is the river’s velocity at this point."
Behind Archibald the 'legal' angry mob was at his heals gritting their teeth and waving their hands, guns swinging as they rode their horses toward the St. Clair River. It was then that (as Sam Payne Says') "Archibald Gardener said one of those - "Lord just get me out of this mess alive" kind of prayers."
Archibald, dismounted his horse. His Journals explain what he did.
"I went down to the river bank and this is the prayer I uttered: “O Lord, God of ancient Israel, Thou knowest the desires of Thy servant’s heart and that I have not done wrong but seek to keep Thy commandments. And as I am fleeing from mine enemies that I may gather with Thy saints, wilt Thou have mercy on Thy servant and stop this ice that I may not fall into the hands of mine enemies? Amen.”
Archibold felt the power of faith as he had never felt it before. The sun by this time had lighted up the tall pines behind the little town of Black River across the river to the west. He looked at a crowd across the river, that had gathered. They were watching his movements and waving handkerchiefs. Above the sound of the river were the faint shouts of the people from the little Village of Black river "don't cross, don't cross." But, with faith in his heart Archibold stepped to the edge of the river. The noise of the grinding masses of ice in the river, sounded like a great waterfall. But then all became quiet....
There was an opening of ten feet between the bank and the accumulation of ice in the river. Archibold took a running jump and landed knee deep in slush and broken ice, ground up by the waves of Lake Huron three miles above. He wound his way around openings where the water boiled and swirled but walked across on solid ice as it formed beneath his feet, his trip took him a mile and about 44 feet down river, though the river was only about 200 feet across. The crowd from Black River on the other side must have followed along down the bank, wondering if he would make it.
When Archibold came near the bank someone from the other side of the bank reached for him with a large rod and pulled him up and onto the bank. Then, on the shores of the St. Clair, with praise and thanksgiving in his heart, Archibold said another prayer, that of thankfulness to his God who had delivered. Some of the crowd that had gathered said, "He must be a Mormon" while others said, “The devil is in the man.”
Archibold left a memory among his posterity that still lives on today. Not only that but he left a legacy all along the shores of the river.
(here is a photo of Archibald Gardner at a young age.)
"One day Archibald's nephew, while there in 1866, twenty years after the Gardner's had left, gathered with a large crowd on the docks of the St. Clair near where the crossing had taken place. Somehow the subject of Mormons came up. One man drew the attention of the crowd to an incident he had witnessed with his own eyes — and as he put it - "hear say none." He related the story just as it has been told for many years among Archibold's posterity.
once I saw a man — a Mormon — did not know his name - who start to cross the river at this place on the running ice. The sight caused so much excitement that a great multitude gathered in no time at this spot. At first people shouted for him to go back but as he came on they stood breathless. The ice jammed solid in front of him and that man crossed the river on solid Ice."
Archibald's Nephew, Robert Sweeten, then spoke up and told them proudly, this man was my uncle - Archibald Gardner.
Retold from Delila Gardner Hughes. The Life of Archibald Gardner. West Jordan, Utah: Archibald Gardner Family Genealogical Association, 1939, pp. 28-30 and Sam Payne Story as I remember, told in Timpanogos Storytelling Festival 2012.
