Book Reviews

Take Up Your Mission: Mormon Colonizing along the Little Colorado River, 1870-1900. By CHARLES S. PETERSON. (Tucson, Ariz.: The University of Arizona Press, 1973. xii + 309 pp. $9.50.)

Mormon plans for colonizing northern Arizona took shape in the early 1850s. Exploratory visits southward began no later than 1855, and by 1873 migration was well underway. Having learned the dangers of evangelizing amidst the unregenerate, the Saints sought refuge in the desert. Isolation would insure Mormons a majority and permit their institutions to flourish.

Moving down the Little Colorado River in stages, colonies were formed at Moenkopi and Tuba City east of the Grand Canyon. While hardships and a dedication to shared purposes bound immigrants to each other, it was the United Order — Mormon socialism — that was expected to keep Mormons cooperatively together once settled. Resembling other socialistic, communalistic ventures of the period, the Orders expressly eschewed private property and the open market in favor of a Rousseauite equalitarianism imbued with millennial expectations.

Orders were set up at a number of villages along the Lower Little Colorado. Those at Sunset and St. Joseph lasted into the 1880s. All were dreary failures. Work was rotated among the membership, and compensation was often distributive. Responsibility and incentive were thereby minimalized with the inevitable result that authority was increasingly centralized. If men did not own their property neither did they fence it. The cows were in everybody's corn when it was nobody's turn to shoo them out. Pursuing an Owenite literalness in economic theory, the Saints also aspired to Shaker-like uniformity in dress and manners. At Sunset the monocratic Lot Smith dispensed equalitarian sandwiches, sermons, and spankings from the head of his "long table." More devoted to the interests of the group than to group idols, Smith made Sunset prosper even while permitting the Order to fail. Under his leadership "property rather than union" (p. 122) became the basis of village life.

Peterson turns from the Orders to other examples of Mormon socialism. He discovers that "cooperation was a labored product. . . . Mormons . . . never successfully put aside the countering tendencies of personal interest" (p. 124). Proposing to test the motivational impact of what he calls "ideologic voluntarism," Peterson undertakes an analysis of two Mormon efforts to employ unified and egalitarianized manpower as an instrument for achieving group power vis a vis the Gentile world. Specifically the Mormons established a merchandising cooperative, the Arizona Cooperative Mercantile Institution (ACMI). They also organized Mormon workers into a "union" of sorts in order to deal with the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad. In 1880 Mormons went eagerly to work for the Atlantic and Pacific. The plan was to bring in needed capital by putting Mormons to work on the road. Welcoming the A and P for this reason, Mormons also hoped to monopolize and control the labor market to head off the Gentile immigration expected to come with the railroad. The same thinking brought ACMI into existence.

John W r . Young, Brigham's controversial son, took charge of Mormon railroad affairs. Evidencing a "sharp edge of individualism" (p. 128), Young borrowed heavily of money and labor, falling in debt to both. Seeking profit with communalistic objectives proved a poor business. It was, suggests Peterson, perhaps too mildly, an "exercise in divided loyalty" (p. 136). ACMI while not a failure in all respects as a business, nonetheless failed to "raise a barrier against the . . . greed of Babylon's middlemen . . . contribute to self-sufficiency ... or brothely love. . . ." (p. 148). "The People," it need hardly be said, though Peterson does say, did not own the cooperative. The pattern here as elsewhere was centralization, profit-taking, and authoritarianism, with no significant social or economic benefit to Mormon consumers. Once again it was a speaking socialism in the rather shamed face of a silent capitalism.

In the final half of the book the author considers Mormon approaches, ideological and practical, to Arizona's brittle desert land. Peterson rests his theoretical discussion on the speculations of Albert Weinberg, making this part of his commentary much less satisfactory than his fascinating account of Mormon struggles to force the desert to yield to human purposes. The book concludes with chapters on Mormon relations with the Indians and the merchant-politicians at St. Johns in the mid '80s. The last chapter offers "social and cultural glimpses."

The materials of the text—much new, all exciting—are presented enthusiastically and with scholarly care. Even so the book suffers measurably from organizational problems. At times the facts jostle one another, seemingly on the lookout for a theme to hitch onto. The theoretical underpining is evanescent, it disperses rather than collects the data. Perhaps most unfortunate, Peterson has not taken the opportunity to raise what appear to be the obvious questions that emerge from his analysis concerning socialistic renderings of equalitarianism or concerning equality itself. Indeed euphemistic obfuscation —"ideologic voluntarism," for example —indicates he prefers to evade these matters. If it is too much to expect a kind word for capitalism, there is hardly any reason to be gentle with socialism.

Typographical errors are not serious, e.g., Welch for Welsh Indians. The primary bibliography is superb.

ROBERT J. LOEWENBERG, Arizona State University Tempe

Land of Living Rock: The Grand Canyon and the High Plateaus: Arizona, Utah, Nevada. By C. GREGORY CRAMPTON. (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1972. xvii + 267 + vii pp. $17.95.)

This handsome volume is an excellent accomplishment brought about by the fusing of several qualified talents. The author's text has been blended smoothly into an outstanding overall design with pleasing type and a superb binding. Few books are blessed with such imaginative, functional maps, evidently conceived by Merrill K. Ridd. The firm of Keith Eddington and Associates is to be commended for coordinating the various phases and achieving a work of beauty.

The format is most interesting and distinctive. The book is divided into four parts, each of which has three chapters, and each chapter except the first is broken down into four or five sub-sections. The seventeen maps and diagrams, in color, are conveniently placed to illustrate the text. Sixteen color and one hundred five black-andwhite photographs, most of them outstanding, accentuate the author's appreciation of the area's pictorial values. Two hundred thirty pages are devoted to the photographs, maps, diagrams, and text, augmented by a preface, nineteen pages of footnotes, seventeen pages of bibliography, and a scant fourpage index. The bibliography, usually a strong point in this author's publications, is copious, but the list includes a surprising number of superficial references inconsequential to the theme, while some important Mormon source materials are excluded. The index is inadequate, even for this short text.

Dr. Crampton has traveled far in compiling his material. He has interviewed many people, visited pertinent archives. His combing of the gleaned detail has been, of necessity, highly selective and the resulting brief text is a melange of history and several of the sciences.

The book, essentially about the land, water, and people of the Grand Canyon country, does not appear to be directed at the hard-nosed specialist but more toward the layman possessing limited knowledge and the time needed to enlarge his understanding of one of the most interesting regions in the world. On page 15 Dr. Crampton notes ". . . nearly everyone has been satisfied with the partial view." This generally has been true, and the author now shows the other side of the coin by making a broad, although highly condensed, presentation. His technique probably will reach more people than the "in depth" monographic approach relating to specific phases.

This reader thinks that two chapters of the book stand above the others. These are chapters four and nine, dealing with Spanish exploration and mining and Indian phases respectively. Considering the ecological and racial minority problems facing our country today, the thoughtful citizen might well ponder Dr. Crampton's words on page 163: "The Indians of the Grand Canyon country had lived in harmony with the land that supported them. They did little to change the face of nature. They were at one with the earth and could not easily survive under the impact of those who exploited it."

It would be nice to report that this historical synopsis is free of errors, but it is not. About eighty aberrations were noted, none monumentally detrimental to the overall scope of the work; but they will be recognized by knowledgeable readers and will affect the author's credibility. Erroneous captions of photographs involving locations, distances, and dates appear on pages xviii, 22, 46-47, 61, 115, 140-141, 143, and 157.

One closes this beautiful book with the feeling that its production was more important than historical fidelity. The gem was placed in its setting before it was fully cut and polished.

P. T. REILLY, Sun City, Arizona

The Joyous Journey of LeRoy R. and Ann W. Hafen: An Autobiography. By LEROY R. HAFEN. (Glendale, Calif., and Denver, Colo.: The Arthur H. Clark Company and Fred Rosenstock, The Old West Publishing Company, 1973. 335 pp. $11.50.)

To share one's life with others is an act of generosity; to chronicle carefully its events, a labor; to detail them literarily, a work of art. Using journals, diaries, letters, and their own recollections, the Hafens have recaptured highlights and mileposts along their joyous journey of history. In general the writing is Dr. Hafen's.

The book divides logically into three parts. The first recalls vividly and often humorously Roy's heritage as a second generation Mormon boy born in the arid Southwest of Bunkerville, Nevada, in 1893, the youngest child of polygamous, patriarchal John Hafen, a Swiss covert to Mormonism. Coupled to these peculiarities of the Mormon church in his early life were the influences of the Virgin River and pioneer work ethic so much a part of those Saints' lives. This portion is an important historical document.

In this setting, with its plentitude of peer and sibling rivalries and support, Roy Hafen grew up and learned, especially that "formal education" could make a difference for him. His pursuit of it led him away to schools throughout Utah and eventually to the University of California where the great western historian Dr. Herbert E. Bolton prepared him and other distinguished colleagues for history careers.

Ann Woodbury's birth in St. George, to second generation Mormon pioneers, provided her advantages and "luxuries" not known in Bunkerville. Early she loved literature which was to become so much a part of her own life and career. She recalls with vivid emotion her patriarchal blessing, given traditionally to young Mormons, in which Brother Jarvis assured her that her wishes "to make nice poems and stories" would be realized.

At St. George Roy met Ann. Their courtship recollections are humorous, warm, and intimate. The joyous journey had begun.

The second part of the book details Dr. Hafen's professional career. An assignment with the Colorado Historical Society became the launching pad. While he remained with the society for thirty years as editor and state historian, his stay was not without occasional rough waters. Perhaps the major challenge came with physical exhaustion and collapse in 1937 due to overwork. Recovery was slow but complete. By this time his professional competence was nationally recognized.

During these years Ann took care of their two children and expanded her own literary interests. The untimely death of daughter Norma shocked their lives. But the team of Hafen and Hafen continued with Ann becoming more involved in historical research and writing.

The final portion deals with the golden years after retirement as Colorado state historian in 1954. The Hafens returned to Utah, located at Brigham Young University, and continued to produce quantities of quality histories. Their more contemporary activities are quite well known to readers. Modest in the recounting of their many honors and achievements, Dr. Hafen notes two with special meaning: his own "Distinguished Citizen of Denver Award" and Ann's "Poet Laureate Award" in Manila.

But the last years were not without tragedy. After seeing two of her brothers stricken and die with cancer between 1964 and 1968, Ann was herself afflicted in 1970. Dr. Hafen relates the last of their life together with deep affection and sensitivity.

The book has its limitations—it is not their family story nor the story of their family life in the traditional sense; it only rarely provides the reader with introspective insights into the feelings and moods of these two highly successful and complex people; and occasionally, the record reads with the tedium of a historic travelogue. Yet, one soon realizes that this was one of the devices the Hafens used to collect, live, and produce history in such quantities.

It is a good book. It is more than mere biography. It is the story of a highly successful historian and how he pulled it all together. It is the story of pioneer progeny moving from the setting and soil of their humble homes to international awareness and acclaim. It is an unusual love story of history that was the joyous journey of LeRoy and Ann Hafen.

MELVIN T. SMITH, Director Utah State Historical Society

The American West in the Twentieth Century: A Short History of an Urban Oasis. By GERALD D. NASH. (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1973. viii + 312 pp. Cloth, $9.95; paper, $4.95.)

Despite trends in the twentieth century which have made the United States and the Far West largely urban and commercial rather than rural and agrarian, many historians continue to emphasize the development of features which have long ceased to be major aspects of our society. Gerald Nash offers here an attempt to reverse that trend by showing that agrarianism and atavism no longer serve as useful vehicles to understand the development of contemporary society.

The thesis of the book is that while the West began as a rural region, it has long since developed into an urban oasis in which the patterns of life generated by the previous society have been modified to such a degree as to make them hardly recognizable. The discussion centers around California which Nash sees as the pacesetter of western political, social, and economic development in the twentieth century. Following a rather conventional pattern of chronological division (The Progressive Era, The First W r orld War and the 1920s, The Great Depression, World War II, and The Post-war West) Nash sees the Second World War as the point at which the West had become so influential that the trends which it set largely influenced the remainder of the United States.

Undoubtedly the strongest feature of the book is the discussion of economic development. It is here that the secondary literature and Mr. Nash's expertise are most adequate. From its beginning as little more than a colonial appendage of eastern interests, the West has developed into an economic pacesetter. The key factor in this development has been the emphasis of technology and scientific achievement.

The emphasis on California, however, has led to the slighting of the discussion of other states in the region. There is, for instance, virtually no discussion of Utah politics since World W r ar II despite the national prominence of politicians like Elbert D. Thomas. Arthur Watkins, and Frank Moss. Although he was the Republican party's presidential nominee in 1964, Barry Goldwater receives only passing mention. While the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the Utah Symphony are mentioned, there is no discussion of Mahonri Young or Cyrus Dallin. The impact of Aimee Semple McPherson is discussed, but there is no consideration of the influence of the Mormon church. The discussion of problems of the 1960s includes a consideration of ethnic minorities and the environment but fails to consider the higher than average unemployment which characterized the economies of more than half the states in the region in 1969. That this is not entirely an ethnic problem is indicated by the fact that states like Utah, Idaho, and Wyoming with only small groups of ethnic minorities fell into this category. There is also a tendency to slight conservative and reactionary organizations like the John Birch Society and the American Independent Party, both of which have been quite influential in the 1960s.

For readers whose particular interest is Utah history, the book is somewhat disappointing. The discussion of economic development is excellent, principally because of the secondary literature generated by Leonard Arrington and his associates. The discussion of political, cultural, and social development in Utah, however, is less than adequate. This is due largely, however, to the failure of political and social historians to produce the monographic literature which interprets Utah economic development in the twentieth century.

On the whole, however, Mr. Nash's book makes an excellent contribution to the secondary literature of the American West. The generalizations should form the basis for much further consideration of western development in the present century. The emphasis on urban development has long been needed in the consideration of the W^est and continues a trend set by such scholars as Earl Pomeroy, James Allen, and Duane Smith.

THOMAS G. ALEXANDER, Professor of History Brigham Young University

From the Missouri to the Great Salt Lake: An Account of Overland Freighting. Bv WILLIAM E. LASS. (Lincoln: Nebraska State Historical Society, 1972. xxi + 312 pp. $7.95.)

In the developing years of the trans- Mississippi frontier, few stories have been more fascinating, or so unique, as overland freighting. In recent years several studies have been completed vividly detailing the exploits of Russell. Majors & Waddell and other luminaries in this far-ranging enterprise. Yet this scholarship has left many questions unanswered. Perhaps the major untold story remaining was the total effect overland freighting had on the establishment and growth of towns along the Missouri River. Dr. Lass's book, concentrating on freighting through the Platte River Valley during the period 1848-1869, reviews the ephemeral struggle between Omaha, Leavenworth, Nebraska City, Atchison, Plattsmouth, and lesser known towns to dominate the economic lifelines of the westward passage.

Often the fabled wealth of government contracts or control of the massive westward migration of gold-seekers and settlers depended on a single bridge, at times a short stretch of improved road, or political events far removed from the scene of battle. The fortunes of Nebraska City peaked and died with the Utah War, although its decline was somewhat slowed by its early dominance of the Colorado gold strikes. Mainly because of her geographic advantage, Omaha easily led in the Montana trade of 1864-1865, only to relinquish her position to Plattsmouth the following year.

Protection of the overland was very expensive, and all of the Missouri River towns benefited from military operations during the time of troubles with the Indians. Throughout this period competition between towns to be named as the main depots for resupplying the War Department's far-flung operations caused widespread resentment, especially if pioneer communities commanded little private trade. High stakes intensified the struggle. In the fiscal year ending June 30, 1865, Washington spent over six million dollars in transportation and supply costs for its posts and forts along the three major plains routes. Annuity payments to friendly Indians also proved an important source of wealth for hundreds of individuals who marketed corn and flour or provided services to the Indian Department.

Yet, while a half dozen towns enjoyed unprecedented prosperity during the boom year of 1865 and looked forward to when western freighting would reach new dimensions in the following year, it was the Union Pacific, not the wagon freighter, which would benefit the most from the boom. As the company's iron rails penetrated the frontier, bustling small cities turned into quiet little prairie or river towns. Although overland freighting would enjoy moments of renewed activity generated by gold discoveries in the Black Hills and Montana, plus expanded military operations during the next decade, Nebraska slowly turned to normal economic accommodation.

There is much to recommend this study, and a careful reading of the text is recommended for scholars and the general reader. Beginning with a clear account of the men and animals used in the overland freighting. Professor Lass carefully traces on five maps, and describes in vivid narrative, the geography and terrain used in longhaul wagon freighting. Added interest is achieved by one hundred personal sketches of men important in the history of freighting's boom, plus an appendix of two hundred lesser known figures who worked out of various marketing centers.

DONALD R. MOORMAN, Professor of History, Weber State College

The Diaries of Walter Murray Gibson: 1886, 1887. Edited by JACOB ADLER and GWYNN BARRETT. (Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii, 1973. xxi + 199 pp. $10.00.)

Back in those dear, dead days when the short story was the most profitable form of creative writing, the Saturday Evening Post was known as the best market in the world both for pay and prestige. An aspiring author sent in a story, which came back with a note,

"Not quite. But we loved your heavy. Try again." The author then recognized that while his hero was a stereotype, his villain was a most interesting character. So he rewrote the story from the viewpoint of the heavy. Now the former villain was the hero, the old hero the new villain; and because the new hero was a fascinating person, the author made his first sale to the SEP.

He had learned not only a trick of the writing craft but a profound truth about life: there actually are no heroes nor villains in this world but only people with opposing viewpoints; each side in a conflict sees the other as villain.

Walter Murray Gibson, apostate missionary to Hawaii, colorful promoter, swindler and adventurer, controversial politician who has been accused of precipitating the fall of the last kingdom of Hawaii, now is being "revisited." His journals have been annotated, his story presented from his own viewpoint. Inevitably, the villain becomes the hero. This new book, containing the last two years of his Diaries, adds to the revised image. Certainly it is all to the good, for even as a hero Gibson is an original person and a marvelous literary character—and those kind are unfortunately hard to find in Mormon history. Our good guys are stereotypes; only our heavies make interesting reading.

If we could come back for a look at things a hundred years from now, we well might be surprised at what scholars will have done with our legendary villains such as Governor Lilburn W. Boggs with his "expel or exterminate" order; John C. Bennett, assistant president of the church, who broke with Joseph Smith at Nauvoo; Samuel Brannan who was sent ahead to prepare a place for the Saints in California and who fell away when Brigham Young decided to stop in Utah instead; the Prophet's brother William who defected after a power struggle with Brigham; William Law, leader of the schism which published the Nauvoo Expositor; and even the "mobbers," so dearly treasured as stereotype bad guys, might be seen as sincerely motivated when revisited.

Already a number of former heavies have gained a new image through revisitation, notable among them Emma Smith, the Prophet's wife, and John D. Lee, scapegoat of Mountain Meadows. There has been some preliminary revisiting of Sidney Rigdon and others. If rumor can be believed, even Bill Hickman, self-styled "Danite Chief of Utah" and "Brigham's Destroying Angel," has been reinstated into the church; and if this rumor isn't true, it very well might be on our revisit a century hence.

And what an interesting history we will have at that time. What fascinating people. It will be worth the trip back.

The revisited Walter Murray Gibson does every single thing which earned him the reputation of rascal, opportunist, and adventurer; but now, from his own viewpoint, everything is justified. The new Gibson has more dimension than the old rascal. The concept is rounded, the character more lifelike. His highly fanciful account of his early life is taken at face value, the dubious aspects of his get-rich-quick schemes— one of which brought the U.S. to the brink of war—are soft-pedaled. Instead of stealing half the island of Lanai, exploiting the natives, and selling church office, he is really taking the side of the Hawaiians against their white exploiters. The new Gibson is interested in helping the leper colony. He pats dogs on the head and kisses babies. Involved in political scandals, he points at others.

In burnishing the revised image, however, we must take care not to polish it too brightly, or the former rascal will lose the very qualities which make him, as a scamp, such good reading. And to do that to a character of parts such as Walter Murray Gibson would be a major literary crime.

SAMUEL W. TAYLOR, Redwood City, California

A Victorian Gentlewoman in the Far West: The Reminiscences of Mary Hallock Foote. Edited by RODMAN W T . PAUL. (San Marino, Calif.: The Huntington Library, 1972. xx + 417 pp. $8.50.)

These reminiscences make for delightful reading. They present rich insights into the life of Mary Hallock Foote (1847-1938), an author now considered by the literati as a minor writer of local color novels and stories about the West but in the last part of the nineteenth century a popular and widely published author of works which she, as a genuinely accomplished illustrator, generally illustrated herself. This New York Quaker, transplanted in 1876 to the American West as the wife of a civil engineer, left her cultivated and aesthetic beginnings to rough it in the raw mining towns of Colorado and California, with a long interlude in a canyon near Boise where her husband was attempting to harness the Boise River for an irrigation project which would not be realized until a number of years after Foote was forced to give up.

But this book is not a recounting of the life of a woman of letters. It is a sensitive account of the struggles of a woman torn between her need for likeminded friends, for cultivation, and her love of the beauty and vigor of the West with all of its harshness. The book is then replete with what Henry Nash Smith has called the genteel-vernacular tension, a tension which attracted Wallace Stegner who won the 1971 Pulitzer Prize for his novel, Angle of Repose, which is based on Stegner's study of the Foote materials in the Stanford Library. Drawing heavily upon a typescript of Mrs. Foote's reminiscences and numerous letters from the author to her friends in the East, Stegner has translated Mrs. Foote's friends and family into characters, and incidents and events in her life into the major thrust of his plot. The similarity is startling, and reading these two books in tandem is fascinating. Stegner has filtered the whole through the alembic of his imagination, and the result is Mary Hallock Foote with a difference. The two books form an interesting case study in the creative process, as Stegner moves imaginatively beyond even those family skeletons which Mrs. Foote has been so careful to skirt in her own account, to create a novel which is not plagiarism but artistry.

Stegner's interest in Mrs. Foote springs primarily from his continued interest in the impact of the experience of the West on the individual. And the West of Mrs. Foote, the West of the 1870s through the 1890s, is a personal West which comes alive and makes this book valuable to the historian or history buff. The reader gets vivid glimpses of the San Francisco and New Almaden of 1876; of cabin life in Leadville, Colorado; of a primitive Morelia, Mexico, during a brief interlude in 1881; of Boise Valley during the early years; and finally, of mining development in Grass Valley, California, where Mr. Foote was superintendent of the North Star Mines. Mrs. Foote's ability to capture, vividly and freshly, the tenor and detail of life in these virtually undescribed regions during this formulative period make this book highly valuable and entertaining.

Still another reason for the attractiveness of this book is the insight which it gives into early western mining activity and the prominent personae of that great industrial saga. The Footes, respected and admired in their circles, associated with important mining engineers and financiers, East and West.

Finally, the narrative is enhanced by the vigor of Mrs. Foote's style as she relates one woman's adjustments and adaptations, one woman's admirable attempt to cultivate the best values of the East and the West in an era when such fusion was seldom attempted— or possible. The book, well edited and footnoted, is heightened in value by the profusion of Mrs. Foote's own excellent illustrations.

RICHARD H. CRACROFT, Associate Professor of English Brigham Young University

Horace Tabor: His Life and the Legend. By DUANE A. SMITH. (Boulder, Colo.: Associated University Press, 1973. xiv + 396 pp. $12.50.)

Horace Tabor was a busy man; busy, busy, busy. This Colorado mining magnate of the late nineteenth century has been captured in all his dimensions by Professor Smith of Fort Lewis College in Durango. Tabor's luck in money, matrimony, and politics created a legend in Colorado that Professor Smith has disentangled to create what is now Tabor's definitive biography.

Horace Austin Warner Tabor and Augusta L. Pierce Tabor were part of the first wave of large-scale white settlement of Colorado. As a fifty-niner Tabor "got in on the ground floor" of Colorado and played a role in virtually every aspect of that state's development. Tempered by his stolid, pious wife he began his rise in the state. Mining and its quick wealth had attracted Tabor to Colorado and remained his constant interest. However, the expectations of mining provided a poor living, and Tabor became a merchant while grubstaking other miners' pursuits. His merchandising was successful, and 1877 found him opening a store in the new camp of Leadville. He soon became the town's leading merchant, organized a newspaper and a bank, and was elected mayor. Early in 1878 one of his grubstakes discovered the Little Pittsburg vein. Tabor became a multimillionaire before the year ended.

The next five years of Tabor's life are covered in hectic detail and represent the major portion of the book. Instant riches propelled Tabor into the upper reaches of Colorado's sociopolitical elite. To lead their new lives the Tabors moved to Denver where his money bought him leadership as a businessman (in mining, banking, and property holding), as a community benefactor (contributing opera houses), and as a politician. Soon elected to the position of lieutenant governor, he failed in his bid for a senatorship only to become an appointed thirty-day senator. His economic position began to collapse almost as fast as his rise had occurred; lawsuits, the plague of mining entrepreneurs, and futile expenditures in pursuit of a new bonanza completely drained his fortunes from his Leadville mines. However, personal scandal kept his name before the public. His abandonment of Augusta and his romance with beautiful Elizabeth (Baby Doe) McCourt is the stuff from which legends arise and so they did. Tabor's impoverishment was so complete that upon being offered the relatively insignificant position as postmaster of Denver, he quickly accepted.

The rise and fall of Horace Tabor is an exciting story told in an exciting, if somewhat confusing, manner by Professor Smith. Judicious use of Tabor's remaining papers and other primary and secondary sources has been made to create as accurate a portrayal as can be expected. The only shortcoming seems to be the limited analysis of Tabor's significance in Colorado and the West. Tabor's Utah activities are noted but are not given the space Utahns would like.

Although the price is a little steep, western (and gilded age) readers and writers will profit from this study, and for writers, Professor Smith has provided an excellent example for all of us. We need in-depth biographies on many more of Utah's political, economic, social, and religious leaders, especially those since statehood. Without these studies our understanding of the state, region, and nation is severely handicapped.

JOHN E. BRINLEY, JR., Boston University

The Liberators: Filibustering Expeditions into Mexico, 1848-1862, and the Last Thrust of Manifest Destiny. By JOSEPH ALLEN STOUT, JR. (LOS Angeles: Westernlore Press, 1973. iv + 202 pp. $7.95.)

Troubled northwestern Mexico after 1848 was an attractive place to ambitious foreigners. It was politically unstable, sparsely populated, harrassed by Indians, and potentially wealthy in minerals and land. Joseph Allen Stout, Jr., assistant professor of history at Oklahoma State University, describes this situation and the expeditions into that area by Charles de Pindray, Caspar Raousset-Boulbon, Joseph Morehead, William Walker, Henry Crabb, and William Gwin.

The book is based on newspapers, government documents, articles, and books, including some from the Mexican viewpoint. Its organization is solid, with initial chapters effectively describing the situation, narratives of the expeditions and the Gadsden Purchase, and a conclusion. The writing is fairly clear but sometimes confused by perplexing assumptions and reasoning. It is illustrated, indexed, and includes a limited bibliography.

The thesis of the book is that the filibusters were motivated primarily by personal ambition, adventure, and wealth rather than idealism or ideology. The author further says that their expeditions were a result of desperation born of frustration in their lives up to that time. Their personal ambition clearly is paramount, and their desperation is plausible. But when this thesis is related to several other explanations in the book, the result is confusing.

The filibusters are also characterized as being "shaped by their times, reflecting the spirit of the American mission," and of representing the "roily age" of that period. The "American mission" seems to refer to Manifest Destiny and the expedition by Gwin is said to be the "last thrust of Manifest Destiny." Although the author refers to the works by Merk and Weinberg on Manifest Destiny, his thesis is not related well with the analysis of either of these writers.

The theme of Anglo-Saxon racial superiority discussed by Weinberg is cited, but the lives of the filibusters are not shown to emphasize this characteristic. With the exception of W f alker, neither are the filibusters portrayed as visualizing themselves as special agents of Manifest Destiny. Nor, with the exception of Morehead, are they pictured as unwitting tools of that belief.

Also, the author's thesis of personal motivation does not fit well within Weinberg's broad theme of Manifest Destiny as a moral justification for expansion.

The author supports Merk's statement that the post-1848 filibusters were motivated by petty materialism. But contrary to Merk, who discounts such motivation as a part of Manifest Destiny, the author equates the two. Neither does the book's treatment of "mission" correlate with Merk's analysis of that theme. Moreover, the asserted demise with Gwin of Manifest Destiny is in opposition to the renewed vitality of that theme in United States overseas expansion as discussed by Merk and others.

In spite of these interpretive shortcomings, this book provides a convenient description of several of the most important filibusters into northwestern Mexico.

JOSEPH B. ROMNEY, Assistant Professor of History California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo

The Rocks Begin to Speak. By LA VAN MARTINEAU. Edited by GWENETH REED DENDOOVEN. (Las Vegas: KC Publications, 1973. xiv + 10 pp. $8.95.)

In this provocative book LaVan Martineau claims to have solved the western version of the riddle of the Sphinx. We all remember that ancient Oepidus, with his imaginative reading of the Sphinx's riddle, rescued his people from the ravages of the plague. Fortunately, the interpretation of the meanings of hundreds of panels of rock writing in western canyons has not been essential to the preservation of the health of our nation. But if Mr. Martineau's methods of interpreting the picture writing of the Indians should become the accepted key to unlocking the messages (if they are messages) left by these earlier inhabitants of our continent, a tantalizing puzzle will have been solved, and much new information about their culture and history will be available to us.

At the outset a reader of Mr. Martineau's book is likely to be impressed by his contention that a basic similarity exists between the symbols which appear on rock panels and the hand signs which are employed by Indians while talking in sign language. For example, even a novice in the sign language can easily recognize that a quarter circle above a dot might be a graphic representation of a partially cupped hand coming down over something else, the manual sign and the symbol on the rock both meaning "hidden," according to Mr. Martineau.

The book is copiously illustrated with photographs of rock writing and with carefully executed diagrams in ink which meticulously represent the petroglyph or pictograph of each photograph. And a considerable number of these symbols are explained by descriptions of the hand gestures (sign talk) which underlie the symbols.

Of course, the author of the book very early gives us warnings that "pictography is not a system devised for the mentally lazy, nor is it something to be learned by rote as easily as an alphabetic symbol." Even so, this caution is hardly sufficient for one who would learn to interpret rock panels quickly. First, Mr. Martineau advises us, one must learn a few hundred basic symbols, and he cannot go far until he has a fair notion of the concept or actual idea behind each symbol. In other words, a comprehension of the cultural environment and a glimpse of thought patterns of the author of a rock panel is an exceedingly useful aid to interpretation. To suggest the import of this last statement, one might refer to Mr. Martineau's theory that most of the animals depicted in rock panels do not represent accounts of hunting or of ceremonies involving magic. Rather the "quadrupeds" have human, not animal reference, and indicate lateral motion, an idea difficult to express in a human figure that is facing the reader.

Once a good working knowledge of basic symbols is attained, a reader must still realize that no word order is possible for an author who is trying to compose symbols into understandable phrases. Symbols in rock writing were evidently arranged in a cluster method. And the reader must first identify a topic before he can attempt to read a panel fully, even though most of the symbols in it are known.

As important, however, as an understanding of "sign talk" and its underlying significance in pictography, is a comprehension of the skills involved in cryptanalysis. Mr. Martineau has evidently had considerable acquaintance in both areas.

Though the author is guilty of a fair number of sweeping assertions which might be challenged, for the most part his tone is not polemic but straightforward and reasonable. It would be most helpful if he could cite the support of trained anthropologists or archaeologists, but he is chary of these groups and evidently they of him. It is, I confess, rather difficult to go along with him without the satisfaction of having his theories tested by, say, twenty intelligent Indians from twenty tribes who have had a tradition of sign talk. If, working independently, they should make consistent interpretations of his rock panels, he might go far in convincing a skeptical fraternity of scientists. It would be unfortunate, however, to discredit him simply because he does not have the credentials of formal training. What if he should prove to be right?

KARL E. YOUNG,

Professor Emeritus of English Brigham Young University