Sonia Johnson and the ERA a contentious issue during presidency of Kimball

This essay was first published in April of 2010.

In “Lengthen Your Stride,” the biography of the Prophet Spencer W. Kimball’s tenure as LDS Church president, there is this anecdote: President Kimball, who in spring 1979 was being constantly called by Mormon dissenter Sonia Johnson, retreated to the foyer of the Church Office Building. He was observed by Relief Society President Barbara Smith, who asked him why he was working on papers in the foyer and not his office. The prophet admitted that he was trying to avoid Johnson’s calls, adding he didn’t want to lie when she was told he was not in his office.

Smith replied, “President, may I sit with you here for a while? Sonia’s after me too!”

It’s been more than three decades since Johnson was excommunicated from the LDS Church. She’s become an answer to a trivia game. But the controversy over the LDS Church’s opposition to the Equal Rights Amendment was a headache to church leaders, and particularly its leader, Kimball. In some ways it’s a lot like the uproar over the church’s support of a measure banning gay marriage in California.

The LDS Church actively opposed the ERA — which was steadily losing a battle to garner enough states to become part of the Constitution — for what it called “moral” reasons. Johnson, a lifetime Mormon from Cache County married and living in Virginia, became an active proponent of ERA.

According to “Lengthen Your Stride,” she engaged in a feisty debate with Utah Sen. Orrin Hatch while testifying on Capitol Hill. Johnson later helped start Mormons for ERA and persistently sought an interview with President Kimball.

Johnson claimed she wanted to know if the church’s opposition to the ERA was based on revelation or not. Kimball would not meet with her, believing it would accomplish nothing and that Johnson would manipulate what he would say to her. Johnson’s crusade made her famous. She became a symbol of feminist resentment against the Mormon Church. As she gained prominence, her rhetoric became more barbed. She urged, or suggested (depending on her or others’ interpretation) that people not invite LDS missionaries into their homes. She also referred to the LDS Church as a “savage misogyny.”

There’s no doubt that the LDS Church actively opposed the ERA. In 1978, a First Presidency letter read by bishops urged members to get engaged with other citizens to defeat the ERA. In a 1980 Church News editorial, the church expounded on its opposition. Later an insert in The Ensign was devoted to criticizing the ERA.

This is what the ERA actually said:
“Section 1. Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.
Section 2. The Congress shall have the power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article.
Section 3. This amendment shall take effect two years after the date of ratification.”

It seems a mild two dozen or so words, but its interpretation caused a decade or more of fierce debate. In late 1979, Sonia Johnson was excommunicated. For several years afterward, the LDS Church was subject to a lot of activism against it as a result of its ERA stance, particularly after the deadline for its passage expired.

In “Lengthen Your Stride,” it is recalled, “In January 1981, a group of twenty representing NOW and Ex-Mormons for ERA gathered at the gates of the Ogden Temple and burned temple garments…” The National Organization For Women, which described the Mormon Church as a major opponent in the effort to ratify the ERA, sent missionaries door to door in Utah to petition President Kimball. It was common for protesters to vote against sustaining LDS Church leaders at general conferences, to picket and to fly banners over many church meetings.

The protests faded in the mid-1980s as the ERA diminished as an issue. Sonia Johnson ran for president under a fringe party banner. She wrote a biography, “From Housewife to Heretic,” that can still be found at used bookstores, as well as other small-press books.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardBlogs

Last years of LDS prophet Kimball’s life was an excruciating, fogged journey



I’ve written before on the excellent draft copy of “Lengthen Your Stride,” Ed Kimball’s fascinating look at the tenure of his father, Spencer W. Kimball, as president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The section, Decline and Death, 1981 — 1985, is very painful to read because it provides details of the slow but persistent decline of President Kimball’s health that eventually robbed him of his voice, eyesight, his hearing, use of his body, and sometimes his mind.

Spencer W. Kimball was the prophet of my youth, and I loved the man even though I never met him. It is excruciating to read how he suffered. Although the church might frown on this phrase, I regard Kimball as a reformer. He ended the ban on priesthood for blacks and he was largely responsible for the growth of the LDS Church in Latin America. Although this is only my opinion, I don’t think President Kimball would have approved of the blanket scapegoating for society’s ills of many Hispanic illegals in this country.

Kimball began to decline in the summer of 1981. During that time he felt prompted to call the apostle Gordon B. Hinckley as a new, third counselor to the First Presidency. The calling was the beginning of Hinckley’s becoming the leader of the LDS Church although he would not become prophet for more than a decade.

In “Lengthen Your Stride,” Kimball’s personal secretary, D. Arthur Haycock, recalled this episode as a time that Kimball’s mind and body was strengthened by the Lord. “immediately afterward … the fog descended again,” Ed Kimball writes. In September 1981, Kimball suffered a subdural hematoma. There was a long hospitalization, and afterwards Kimball and his wife, Camilla, lived permanently with assistance in the top floor of the Hotel Utah. One of the earliest frustrations for Kimball was his loss of speech. Ed Kimball writes, “Sometimes he could speak fluently, but at other times when he tried to say one word another word that made no sense would come out. He was aware of the problem, and the frustration was so cruel that he simply lapsed into silence.”

During these long four years, Kimball was never unaware of what had happened to him. Depressed by his inability to work, he wondered aloud why the Lord would not take him. His illnesses made him irritable at times, and he snapped at Camilla, who was his age and also beset with health problems. At the same time, he was miserable without her. She dealt with the occasional stress by crying in the bathroom.

March 9, 1982, He spent the day at BYU for the dedication of the Spencer W. Kimball Tower. It was a rare late appearance, Later that year, on his birthday, Kimball slumped into unconsciousness in his family chair. He could not be revived for hours. Some thought he was close to death, but several hours later he revived. Although unable to talk clearly, he surprised many by recalling what was being said while he was “out.”

By Christmas 1982, “Spencer’s sight had deteriorated to the point that he could only see outlines. … His hearing was failing fast. He could not rest, and seldom slept soundly for more than an hour, even at night …,” writes Ed Kimball. It was a long three years before Kimball finally died, but he still stubbornly attended at least one session of the final conferences of his long life. He was wheeled to temple meetings of the general authorities once or twice a month. “Even that small degree of activity cheered him,” writes Ed Kimball.

Kimball was capable of exercising his authority at times. He strongly criticized an essay in a book by Apostle Bruce R. McConkie, arguing that what McConkie recalled as not being accurate and requesting that it be changed.

In late 1983, he almost died from internal bleeding, but recovered well enough for this interaction with wife, Camilla. Ed Kimball writes, “Then to Camilla, (Kimball said) “What will we do when they’re all gone?”

“She said, “We’ll go to bed.” She gave him a kiss. He responded, “Did you do that on purpose?” “Yes I did. Did you like it?” “Oh yes, I do.”

At one point, Kimball inquired as to whether he should be released as church president, but the consensus among church leaders was no. General authorities generally avoided providing specific answers as to how Spencer W. Kimball was doing the last years of his life.

This is what makes Ed Kimball’s draft book so fascinating. Most of it did not make the final published edition of “Lengthen Your Stride.”

Kimball’s body gave out in November 1985. There had long been instructions not to make strenuous efforts to keep him alive. He was more than a great prophet. He was a leader who moved the LDS Church in a positive way in how it was looked at by the rest of the world. There were few men his equal.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published on StandardBlogs

Is it DeMille, Spielberg or Jackson who wants to direct a movie on Alma?

A lifetime of activity in the LDS Church provides more than just an average knowledge with “The Pearl of Great Price.” You become very well versed in the urban legends of Mormonism. One of the favorite urban legends I heard growing up in Southern California LDS wards was that the late, great director Cecil B. DeMille (“The 10 Commandments”) wanted to make a movie about the Book of Alma in “The Book of Mormon.”

If you’ve never heard of Cecil B. DeMille, that’s OK. In the last decade or so, I’ve heard a variation on the DeMille/Alma story. It’s actually the great, living director Steven Spielberg who wants to make a movie based on the book of Alma. If you haven’t heard of Spielberg, maybe it will be director Peter Jackson who wants to Alma on the big screen?

The only big-screen film version of “The Book of Mormon” I’ve seen is the low-budget, mediocre “Book of Mormon Movie Part I,” which should have been subtitled “Beach Blanket Lehi” for all its depth. True confession: I own that film, and have watched it a few times. The dialogue is so bad that I have a hard time believing that my church would have wanted the production company to make the film. I guess that means that “The Book of Mormon” is in the public domain, like other classics such as Mary Shelly’s “Frankenstein” or George A. Romero’s film “Night of the Living Dead.” That must be the reason so many cheap cartoonish versions of Alma are available through Living Scriptures, Liken the Scriptures or the LDS Church Distribution Center.

Back to Mormon urban legends: There’s a fun website, holyfetch.com, that tries to decipher all the Mormon legends out there. It doesn’t get them all, since there is no listing for DeMille, Spielberg, Alma, etc., but the site claims an answer to the big “is Alice Cooper a Mormon” debate. I’ve been hearing this one since I was old enough to know who Alice Cooper was. The answer, according to holyfetch, is … a sort of yes. You see Cooper, whose real name is Vincent Furnier, has a dad named Ether Moroni. With a name like that, right … RIGHT. The Furniers belong to an obscure Mormon castoff sect called The Bickertonite Church, also known as The Church of Christ. The church claims The Book of Mormon as its own scripture.

There’s very few members of this “Mormon” church, and I doubt Cooper attends, but dad Ether Moroni was an elder in the Bickertonites and, get this, holyfetch says Cooper’s grandad was an apostle in The Bickertonite Church. Now that’s a religious pedigree to be proud of!

There are more questions answered on the site. You can “find out” if Elvis read “The Book of Mormon” or if the late LDS Church President Spencer W. Kimball was the model for “Star Wars’” Yoda.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published in 2010 on StandardBlogs.

Police, no-knock raid caught an LDS apostle in another woman’s bed

On Nov. 11, 1943, LDS apostles Joseph Fielding Smith and Harold B. Lee gathered with Salt Lake City police officers, including Chief Reed Vetterli, outside the small Center Street apartment of elderly Anna Sofie Jacobsen. The apostles and officers burst into the home, breaking the door according to some accounts, and discovered LDS Apostle, Richard R. Lyman, 74, in bed with Jacobsen, who was not his wife. After gathering evidence, the two apostles reported back to J. Reuben Clark, first counselor to LDS President Heber J. Grant. Clark, who handled most of the church’s duties because Grant was ill, had ordered the raid. A day later, Lyman was excommunicated “for violation of the Christian law of chastity.”

The case of Richard Lyman is recounted by historian Gary James Bergera in the Fall 2011 Journal of Mormon History. Unlike the case of Albert Carrington, a 19th century LDS apostle also excommunicated for adultery, Lyman’s case is more complex. Unlike Carrington — who seems to have used his power to satisfy his lechery — Lyman appears to have been a victim of his own personal compassion, sexual dysfunctions within his marriage to his wife, Amy, personal tragedy in his family, and a rationalizing that his affair with Jacobsen was part of a polygamous pact that he had made with his mistress. For years, Lyman was bitter over his excommunication and sporadically continued his relationship with Jacobsen, who was also excommunicated.

There is some mirth in the idea of apostles in suits breaking in on the love nest of two senior citizens. However, by Bergera’s account, the affair shook the Quorum. In his diary, Spencer W. Kimball writes, “… To see great men such as the members of this quorum all in tears, some sobbing, all shocked, stunned by the impact was an unforgettable sight. …” In his memoirs, Kimball recounts the years that was spent getting Lyman ready for rebaptism and still lamented that the apostle eventually “… died a lay member of the church without Priesthood, without endowments, without sealings. …”

Bergera, in his article, has recounted trials in Lyman’s life that may have led to his rationalization that a sexual relationship with Jacobsen was not a violation of his church calling. His marriage to Amy Cassandra Brown ceased to have a sexual component after the birth of their second child. As Bergera relates in a footnote, “according to one family member, once Amy had brought forth two children, she informed Richard that their relationship from that point on would be celibate, living in amiable harmony …” Amy Brown’s biographer, David R. Hall, believes the pair’s gradual remoteness and lack of communication may have led to Richard’s adultery, writes Bergera.

In the 1920s, Lyman was assigned to assist Jacobsen in her efforts to return to the LDS Church. She was a Denmark native who had been excommunicated after being involved in a polygamous relationship after the church had banned the practice. In interviews just before he died (in 1963), Lyman recalls Jacobsen as “wonderfully unselfish and helpful.” As he prepared her for her rebaptism, the pair developed a close friendship and Lyman recalls that “she ‘was getting along in years with little or no hope of having a husband even in the great beyond,’” recounts Bergera. In 1925, after she was baptized, Lyman, suggested to Jacobsen, that the survivor among them get sealed to the other. Those preparations, which undoubtedly were a secret to Lyman’s sole wife, Amy, eventually progressed to sexual relations between the pair, who considered themselves “married.”

The death of the Lyman’s son, Wendell, 35, likely contributed to stress that Richard and Amy, with their emotional distance, probably didn’t handle well. Although Wendell’s death from carbon monoxide was reported in the press as an “accident,” it was most likely a suicide. Wendell had been depressed since the death of his young wife several years earlier and had recently clashed with his father over his drinking problems.

Given these trials, it’s not a surprise to consider that Lyman, in need of an emotional affair, allowed himself one that not surprisingly led to adultery. Bergera includes how Lyman rationalized his affair: “This woman had so many virtues and had done so much in an unselfish way for others that she and I agreed that while the present practice of the Church would not permit her to become my plural wife I began regarding her as my prospective plural wife with the mutual understanding that when by death or any other cause it would be possible for her to be my plural wife the ceremony would be performed.”

When Amy Brown Lyman was informed of her husband’s adultery and excommunication, her first words, according to Bergera’s article, were “I do not believe it. I do not believe it.” For Amy, the leader of the LDS Church’s women auxiliary The Relief Society, it was understandably a torturous blow. Bergera recounts that some advised Amy that she would be justified in leaving Richard. However, during this time of intense trial, as well as personal, public, and religious humiliation, Amy stayed with Richard. Frankly, it shows an admirable capacity for love, compassion and forgiveness by her. The pair went into seclusion for a while, in contact with family and close friends.

A comparison of the distinct strengths, temperament and even sensibility of the pair was demonstrated soon after the excommunication, recounts Bergera. Richard, soon after being expelled from his church, went to the LDS Church Office Building and asked to use his office. He was refused and told he had to leave. Amy, who also worked there, was greeted with warmth by future LDS Church President David O’McKay, who escorted her to her offices. Although Amy died four years before Richard, she enjoyed better health than him and nursed him through several age-related illnesses. Her explanation for her loyalty was simple: As Bergera notes in a footnote, Amy told “family members that ‘in every other way been an ideal husband and father ‘ and ‘she was not going to leave him now.’”

As mentioned, it took 11 years for Lyman to be rebaptized. He made many requests but they were defiant gestures, opportunities for him to criticize his former colleagues in the Quorum of the 12 Apostles who had kicked him out earlier. Finally, in the fall of 1956, Lyman’s repentance, couple with his wife’s assurances that she had forgiven him, resulted in his rebaptism. He died, as mentioned, a lay member without priesthood or temple recognitions. Those, Bergera recounts, were restored six years after his death.

As for Jacobsen, she lived the rest of her life in her Salt Lake City apartment. Bergera was unable to learn if she as ever rebaptized. Because the Lyman family, understandably, retreated into silence during crisis, it’s difficult to know why Lyman was defiant to former leaders, or the reasons for his sudden desire to repent and be baptized, or his late-in-life apathy that prevented priesthood blessings while he lived. 

His case is fascinating; it bridged the older church with its polygamy and preoccupation with making eternal plans while on earth, with the modern church and its more PR-friendly responses. Bergera notes that had Amy Lyman not left her husband in the 19th Century, she might have been excommunicated later for adultery as well, because 19th century church leaders considered adultery a dissolution of marital vows. There’s no doubt that the episode really shook up Lyman’s colleagues in the Quorum. Some speculate that the uncompromising message, considered harsh by some, of Kimball’s later, landmark LDS book, “The Miracle of Forgiveness,” is shaped by his experiences with Lyman’s sin and efforts to return to the church.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardBlogs.