On the McKinnon, Wyoming website (the city McKinnon being named after Archibald McKinnon Sr.), there are some memoirs written by the Stake President of the stake that was being formed there. Archibald was the 1st counselor and accompanied the stake pres on many occasions to the city - which is why they named it after him. Anyways, I will post every now and then a memoir written that has Archibald in it, or one that he was present for as he accompanied the author of the memoir.
Below is a memoir written by John Baxter - the stake president of the area. (Also our great great great cousin):
"In September of 1904, in company with Andrew Jensen, assistant historian of the Church, with some of our Relief Society sisters and sisters of the Primary association (we were accompanied also by Archibald McKinnon of the stake presidency), we made a trip toward the Manila Branch, 125 miles from the Woodruff Ward on the Henry’s Fork of the Green River. On the way, about 32 miles southeast of Lyman, there is a little village called Lone Tree, where a few families had located; and although we knew it was a pretty wild place, we thought we might organize a Sunday School there. A house had been built, not far from the road, among some of the pine trees. Here we saw children playing around the house. We drove up to the house and I, on entering, found a woman with a very large family of children. They were in very destitute circumstances. The children were very shy, not having been accustomed to seeing strangers. I told the lady that we thought it would be nice to organize a Sunday School there and, said I, "I see you have a lot of children here that need the benefit of a Sunday School. What do you think about it, milady?" She said, in a very drawling tone, "Wal, I dunno, but I don’t think it would work. They tried it once before, and it didn’t go. The cowboys rode into the house and shot up all the windows—scared the kids nearly to death—and broke it up, so I don’t think it’ll work." I said to her, "If we organize a Sunday School, would you send your children?" She said, "I reckon I would, but I don’t think it’ll work." I said to her again, "We are thinking of holding a meeting in the schoolhouse on our return. Do you think the cowboys will interfere with us?"" She answered, "Wal, I donno. They might shoot around, but I don’t think they would shoot you. They shot a man here last week, but he needed killin’."
"In thinking about this, I thought the prospect of our having a Sunday School at Lone Tree was very flattering. We thought we would try, so we posted a notice on the schoolhouse door, appointing a meeting on the following Monday evening at eight o’clock. The sisters pled with us not to attempt this meeting, but Brother Jensen and I thought it would be all right, so we went on to Manila, and there we held a branch conference and installed Peter G. Wall as bishop of the contemplated ward. Brother Jensen obtained his historical data, and after spending a pleasant time with the people of Manila, we drove back to Lone Tree."
"Arriving there a little before sundown on Monday evening, we heard of a man by the name of Harry Bullock, who had relatives in Provo, Utah, who were members of the Church, and we thought that he would be all right for superintendent of the Sunday School if he was a member of the Church; so we drove to his house. Now Mr. Bullock was not at home, but his wife was there, and they had a large number of hay men. They were just in the middle of haying. The wife hesitated for some time before she let us in but finally did ask us to come in. The boys took care of the team. She was preparing supper for the hay men and said that as soon as they were through with their supper, she would prepare some food for us. We had not been there long before the cowboys came in from the hay field. They were galloping as fast as the horses could run—shouting and yelling at the top of their voices. Our ladies were very nervous and did not want to stay, but there was nothing else to do. While the boys were eating I told them the object of our visit and asked them to come to the meeting. They said, "Shore, we’ll come." One said, "When you organize a Sunday School here and make it go, I will show you a white cow!"
"After finishing their meal they retired to their bunkhouse, and after we had eaten, it was time for us to go to the meeting. We had to walk about half a mile to the schoolhouse. It was very dark, and we had to go through the woods. One of the ladies took Brother Jensen by the arm and the other took me by the arm—one on each side of me. I never had ladies cling so tight to me before or since as those ladies did that night. When we arrived at the schoolhouse, no one was there. We found a coal oil lamp, lit it, and set it upon the cupboard in the center of the hall. Then we sat down and waited. About nine o’clock a woman with a little child came in. At ten o’clock a number of cowboys came. They had their leather chaps, with spurs—their six-shooters hanging at their sides. At eleven o’clock we commenced our meeting, with quite a little congregation. The cowboys were no particular about making any noise. They did not take off their hats but acted as if they had never been in a meeting before."
"Brother Jensen was the first speaker. He had recently returned from the Holy Land and carried with him some souvenirs, among which was a Star of Bethlehem which he had bought at Bethlehem, some stones from Mt. Carmel and the Sea of Galilee, and other little trophies. Showing these and talking of his travels through Palestine was quite interesting to that group of listeners. I then addressed the assembly, speaking of the organization of the Sunday School and of the benefit that it could be to the children of the community. Incidentally, I said that sometimes, under the auspices of the Sunday School, we got up dances. One of the cowboys started yelling, "Whoopee, let’s have a Sunday School!" The others all agreed with similar shouts, so we proceeded to organize.
"We chose Harry Bullock as superintendent. He could raise no objection because of his absence. Two girls who had attended the BYU at Provo, Utah, volunteered to assist. They were voted in, and we finally effected an organization. The voting seemed to be very amusing to the cowboys. One fellow sitting near the center of the room first voted with one hand, then with both hands, and finally with his hands and his feet also. As the voting continued., his enthusiasm seemed to increase. After returning home, I learned that the Sunday School lasted two weeks. The girls went on the roundup with the boys out on the range, and the Sunday School was broken up. Several years later, however, we did organize again and had a good Sunday School at Lone Tree, which is still functioning."
Found at:
http://www.mckinnonwyoming.com/the_wyoming_woodticks.htm
Below is a memoir written by John Baxter - the stake president of the area. (Also our great great great cousin):
THE REORGANIZATION OF THE MANILA BRANCH
"In September of 1904, in company with Andrew Jensen, assistant historian of the Church, with some of our Relief Society sisters and sisters of the Primary association (we were accompanied also by Archibald McKinnon of the stake presidency), we made a trip toward the Manila Branch, 125 miles from the Woodruff Ward on the Henry’s Fork of the Green River. On the way, about 32 miles southeast of Lyman, there is a little village called Lone Tree, where a few families had located; and although we knew it was a pretty wild place, we thought we might organize a Sunday School there. A house had been built, not far from the road, among some of the pine trees. Here we saw children playing around the house. We drove up to the house and I, on entering, found a woman with a very large family of children. They were in very destitute circumstances. The children were very shy, not having been accustomed to seeing strangers. I told the lady that we thought it would be nice to organize a Sunday School there and, said I, "I see you have a lot of children here that need the benefit of a Sunday School. What do you think about it, milady?" She said, in a very drawling tone, "Wal, I dunno, but I don’t think it would work. They tried it once before, and it didn’t go. The cowboys rode into the house and shot up all the windows—scared the kids nearly to death—and broke it up, so I don’t think it’ll work." I said to her, "If we organize a Sunday School, would you send your children?" She said, "I reckon I would, but I don’t think it’ll work." I said to her again, "We are thinking of holding a meeting in the schoolhouse on our return. Do you think the cowboys will interfere with us?"" She answered, "Wal, I donno. They might shoot around, but I don’t think they would shoot you. They shot a man here last week, but he needed killin’."
"In thinking about this, I thought the prospect of our having a Sunday School at Lone Tree was very flattering. We thought we would try, so we posted a notice on the schoolhouse door, appointing a meeting on the following Monday evening at eight o’clock. The sisters pled with us not to attempt this meeting, but Brother Jensen and I thought it would be all right, so we went on to Manila, and there we held a branch conference and installed Peter G. Wall as bishop of the contemplated ward. Brother Jensen obtained his historical data, and after spending a pleasant time with the people of Manila, we drove back to Lone Tree."
"Arriving there a little before sundown on Monday evening, we heard of a man by the name of Harry Bullock, who had relatives in Provo, Utah, who were members of the Church, and we thought that he would be all right for superintendent of the Sunday School if he was a member of the Church; so we drove to his house. Now Mr. Bullock was not at home, but his wife was there, and they had a large number of hay men. They were just in the middle of haying. The wife hesitated for some time before she let us in but finally did ask us to come in. The boys took care of the team. She was preparing supper for the hay men and said that as soon as they were through with their supper, she would prepare some food for us. We had not been there long before the cowboys came in from the hay field. They were galloping as fast as the horses could run—shouting and yelling at the top of their voices. Our ladies were very nervous and did not want to stay, but there was nothing else to do. While the boys were eating I told them the object of our visit and asked them to come to the meeting. They said, "Shore, we’ll come." One said, "When you organize a Sunday School here and make it go, I will show you a white cow!"
"After finishing their meal they retired to their bunkhouse, and after we had eaten, it was time for us to go to the meeting. We had to walk about half a mile to the schoolhouse. It was very dark, and we had to go through the woods. One of the ladies took Brother Jensen by the arm and the other took me by the arm—one on each side of me. I never had ladies cling so tight to me before or since as those ladies did that night. When we arrived at the schoolhouse, no one was there. We found a coal oil lamp, lit it, and set it upon the cupboard in the center of the hall. Then we sat down and waited. About nine o’clock a woman with a little child came in. At ten o’clock a number of cowboys came. They had their leather chaps, with spurs—their six-shooters hanging at their sides. At eleven o’clock we commenced our meeting, with quite a little congregation. The cowboys were no particular about making any noise. They did not take off their hats but acted as if they had never been in a meeting before."
"Brother Jensen was the first speaker. He had recently returned from the Holy Land and carried with him some souvenirs, among which was a Star of Bethlehem which he had bought at Bethlehem, some stones from Mt. Carmel and the Sea of Galilee, and other little trophies. Showing these and talking of his travels through Palestine was quite interesting to that group of listeners. I then addressed the assembly, speaking of the organization of the Sunday School and of the benefit that it could be to the children of the community. Incidentally, I said that sometimes, under the auspices of the Sunday School, we got up dances. One of the cowboys started yelling, "Whoopee, let’s have a Sunday School!" The others all agreed with similar shouts, so we proceeded to organize.
"We chose Harry Bullock as superintendent. He could raise no objection because of his absence. Two girls who had attended the BYU at Provo, Utah, volunteered to assist. They were voted in, and we finally effected an organization. The voting seemed to be very amusing to the cowboys. One fellow sitting near the center of the room first voted with one hand, then with both hands, and finally with his hands and his feet also. As the voting continued., his enthusiasm seemed to increase. After returning home, I learned that the Sunday School lasted two weeks. The girls went on the roundup with the boys out on the range, and the Sunday School was broken up. Several years later, however, we did organize again and had a good Sunday School at Lone Tree, which is still functioning."
Found at:
http://www.mckinnonwyoming.com/the_wyoming_woodticks.htm
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