Cult Insanity

by Irene Spencer

  Alma Dayer LeBaron Sr., who became my father-in-law, was the founder of Colonia LeBaron in Chihuahua, Mexico. After he died, two of his seven sons, Joel and Ervil, and their mother, Maud, plus a few others were baptized into the Allred group. A branch of that church was established in Colonia LeBaron, and Alma Dayer LeBaron Jr. became bishop under the supervision of Margarito Bautista.

  For a while, Ervil remained firm in the fundamentalist beliefs, but, oddly enough, two years later, in 1953, Joel asked to return to the Mormon LDS Church, from which he had been excommunicated. He was baptized by Bishop LaSelle Taylor, with Hector Spencer as the witness.

  EVERY FUNDAMENTALIST GROUP has its own particular rules and mode of dress, and the members blindly follow their leader. Though some of their practices differ concerning the act of procuring wives, every group is convinced that they are a “peculiar people.” (This idea comes from 1 Peter 2:9 in the Bible: “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”) Their sense of being persecuted emboldens them to believe they are God’s only righteous people, chosen because of their dedication and adherence to plural marriage.

  Though ostracized by the LDS Church, most fundamentalists believe the LDS Church is God’s true church, which will someday be put in order. All groups wait expectantly for the One Mighty and Strong. Many feel that it will be Joseph Smith himself who will return to finish his work, setting God’s house in order.

  Four of my sisters were members of the Short Creek group. I yearned for them, often writing letters. When no reply came, I heard that they had been forbidden to associate with me because I had followed Uncle Rulon, not their leader, LeRoy Johnson.

  I spent hours pondering the situation. I was in Mexico, separated from my twenty-nine siblings, my father, my mother, and my extended family. Loneliness overwhelmed me. My only comfort was my husband and half sister Charlotte. I longed to be a part of something, to have a social life, but mostly I wanted to have something to believe in.

  In 1953, when Verlan married me, he had received Uncle Rulon’s permission, who then appointed one of his members to perform our marriage. Uncle Rulon was pleased that we were loyal to him. He told me he had faith that Verlan would vindicate the LeBaron name.

  I’ve seen radical polygamists’ thirst for power. I’ve known several claiming to be the One Mighty and Strong. There were many fundamentalist splinter groups. Seeing men vying for power is like playing “Button-button, who’s got the button.” It amazed me how every leader seemed to use the same scriptures to prove his right to wield power over other people’s lives.

  THE LEBARONS CLAIMED that the highest priesthood office remained hidden from the LDS Mormons. They taught that Joseph Smith secretly passed this mantle on to his adopted son Benjamin F. Johnson, who in turn gave it to his grandson Alma Dayer LeBaron Sr., known as Dayer. He began his work as a loyal LDS Mormon, but after much study he became convinced that the LDS Church had given up the “saving principle” of plural marriage. He eventually married five women.

  Dayer and two of his wives, Maud Lucinda MacDonald and Onie Jones, were excommunicated from the church because they became polygamists after the manifesto.

  Maud gave birth to thirteen of Dayer’s children: Irene, Ben, Wesley, Lucinda, Alma, Jenny (died in childhood), Esther, Joel, Ervil, Floren, Verlan, and twins Mary and David (died at birth). All the LeBaron children were baptized into the Mormon LDS Church even though their parents were excommunicated. Joel and Ervil became Mormon missionaries in the Mexican mission. However, while there they were excommunicated, along with two brothers, Ben and Alma, for promoting the fundamentalists’ beliefs.

  For several years, they had lived in Colonia Juárez, one of the eight Mormon colonies in Mexico. Dayer worked a few months at a time in the States. His second wife, Onie, became unwilling to carry on without him. Unable to handle the poverty and loneliness, she divorced Dayer and returned to Laverkin, Utah, with her six children. Ervil and Verlan remembered Aunt Onie kindly and kept in touch with her six children throughout the years.

  We had been taught that the LDS Church was the only true church of God, but in 1890, when the church abandoned plural marriage, a great number of followers disagreed and felt the church was out of order. Section 85 of the Doctrine and Covenants spoke of the One Mighty and Strong who would appear in the last days to set the house of God in order.

  The LeBarons, embittered by the rejection from their neighboring Mormons, felt spiritually superior. Shortly before his death, Alma Dayer LeBaron Sr., who claimed to hold the priesthood mantle of Joseph Smith, proclaimed he had had a vision. In it, the Lord told him that through his sons the whole world would be blessed.

  Because of this prediction, Ben became the first son to make the claim to be the One Mighty and Strong. He tried to prove it before spectators in downtown Salt Lake City. Ben stopped his dilapidated black pickup at a red light. He wanted to impress a police officer whose car idled directly behind him. Ben despised authority. He had been at the mercy of every kind of authority all his life. He decided to prove to the smart-aleck cop behind him who had the most power. To the amazement of everyone stopped at the light, blond, six-foot-two, curly-haired Ben sprang from his truck, walked smack into the center of the intersection, lay down on the pavement, and then holding his long lean body stiff as an arrow, began doing push-ups. He counted, “One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .” The light changed to green. Impatient onlookers blared their horns as Ben continued, “Ten . . . eleven . . . twelve . . . thirteen . . .”

  The cop frowned as he got out of his car, asking his partner, “Do we have some kind of a nut here or something?” He stooped down close to Ben’s face. “What are you trying to prove?” the officer asked disgustedly, holding his billy club on Ben’s right shoulder.

  Red-faced, straining for air, Ben paid no attention to the policeman—and never broke rhythm. The pandemonium from the blaring horns and angry citizens didn’t faze him. He went right on counting, “Ninety-seven . . . ninety-eight . . . ninety-nine. . . . one hundred!”

  As he stood up, Ben’s big silly grin insulted the officer, who asked a second time, “What are you trying to prove?”

  “I did one hundred push-ups. That’s more than you can do,” Ben bragged. “So, that proves that I am the One Mighty and Strong.”

  Shortly thereafter, Ben was admitted to a mental institution. The following is an excerpt of a letter he wrote to my uncle Rulon from the Utah State Hospital.

  They don’t think I am sick mentally. They are holding me for believing in polygamy . . . you may think that I am kidding, but I always hear the voice of the Lord all the time. I never make any mistakes. I am as infallible and perfect in all my ways, as a little child is. I don’t think so. I know so. The Lord has told me.

  Strange as it may seem, he soon had two brothers following him, Ervil and Alma.

  Ervil traveled to Ciudad Juárez on a mission for Ben. Ervil had convinced his prophet brother that a pamphlet needed to be published. The truthfulness of Ben’s claims would be proven from the holy scriptures, then printed and distributed among the Mormons. Ervil had the smarts, so he declared himself the mouthpiece for Ben, just as Aaron had done in the Bible for his brother Moses. Ervil composed every page of the pamphlet. His only regret was that since he was the ghostwriter, Ben received all the honors.

  Ervil and his brother Alma then enthusiastically distributed the pamphlet to the Mormons, declaring their brother Ben as a prophet of God. “Let it be known to every nation, tongue, and people, unto whom these words come, that God, the Eternal Father, by the power of the Holy Ghost, has given us a sure knowledge that our brother Benjamin T. LeBaron is . . . the Prophet unto whom all the nations of the earth must listen to in order to establish world peace and that by his word the Kingdom of God will be established upon the earth. We declare this solemnly in the name of Jesus Christ, and do
not lie, God being our witness. This we prophesy by the power of the Holy Ghost and in the name of Jesus Christ.”

  Besides these two brothers, Ben’s first and only convert was Joe Marston from Utah. No sooner had Joe been converted than God informed Ben that Joe was to become the sole supporter of the cause, which meant it would be his obligation to support Alma’s and Ervil’s families also. Joe felt like he had been slapped in the face by Ben. No God in his right mind would ask him to make such a sacrifice, especially when he was told to leave his own family in Mexico and return to the States so he could support everyone else. He had been taught from the Bible that every man should sit under his own vine and fig tree, and any man who would not support his family was worse than an infidel.

  Joe had raised his eyebrows, questioning Ben when he’d claimed to hear the word of the Lord every ten minutes. In fact, the Lord revealed to Ben that his four young daughters should comb their hair according to the Lord’s wishes. One daughter’s hair would be parted down the middle, one parted on the left, one parted on the right, and one had her hair brushed straight back with no part at all. And, all girls had to have their hair braided.

  Shortly after hearing the revelation regarding his new responsibilities, Joe left quietly during the night, taking his wife and their two children back to the States.

  After Joe Marston abandoned Ben’s congregation of three, the LeBarons were left alone. Depressed over Joe’s rebellion, Ben suffered yet another mental breakdown.

  Having witnessed Ben’s ramblings, plus seeing firsthand that the devil had crowded God completely out of their new prophet, Alma and Ervil apostatized, but they held on to the Mormon revelation that the One Mighty and Strong would soon return. Their only hope was to live worthily, believing that someday in the near future this foretold prophet of God would return and set the house of God in order.

  Ervil was disillusioned with his bipolar brother. Ben’s weird ramblings became an embarrassment to him. Ervil had lost faith that his brother was the long-awaited foretold prophet who would set up God’s kingdom.

  After the fiery testimony that Ervil had distributed in Oaxaca, Mexico, he capitulated, severing all ties with his brother Ben.

  We lived in such poverty that toilet paper was a luxury we could not afford. Ervil willingly donated Ben’s now useless pamphlets to be used in the outhouse. The glossy printed pages were a bummer to use. For about a year, we tolerated the slick paper. I jokingly told all the brothers that when future publications were necessary to please use Charmin toilet paper.

  Ben’s claim marked the beginning of the LeBaron brothers’ struggle for power and authority. And as time passed, I began to wonder if my parents’ assessment of the LeBaron family was true after all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I first laid eyes on Ervil Morrel LeBaron on August 28, 1953, when I arrived in a dust-covered pickup at the isolated LeBaron ranch in Chihuahua, Mexico. We drove past the corrals where Ervil was milking cows with Verlan. When Verlan realized I’d arrived, he beelined ahead of Ervil to welcome me home. Ervil didn’t know I was his brother’s second wife; Verlan wanted to keep this secret from his family. However, two brothers, Floren and Joel, knew of our marriage because Verlan had sent them to El Paso, Texas, to meet me and Floren’s wife, Anna, and her two children at the bus station and bring us home.

  Ervil joined his brothers at the truck. He was strikingly good-looking. His chiseled chin, blue eyes, and dark hair often drew second looks from women. And most people looked up to him—literally; he was two inches taller than his blond-haired, blue-eyed, six-foot-two brother Verlan.

  American visitors were rare—maybe two or three a year—on the LeBaron ranch. I could sense Ervil’s hunger for social contact, but Verlan suggested he finish the milking and leave for home, and we could visit tomorrow. It was late and Verlan knew we needed to retire. Nevertheless, I felt Ervil’s disappointment.

  Charlotte, a beautiful brunette, was my half sister and Verlan’s first wife. She had moved from Provo, Utah, to Mexico to the isolated ranch with Verlan. I had married her husband on July 3, 1953.

  We walked down the dirt path to where Charlotte and Verlan lived. The small clearing was surrounded by mesquite bushes. Just northeast of the house were two large cottonwood trees that stood out in the stark, barren view, their branches providing the only shade in sight.

  I could not believe that the first two adobe buildings I saw near the corral were the “ranch.” I felt I’d been lied to. There was just no way anybody in his right mind could call this isolated barren land, surrounded by mesquites, a ranch. I bristled at the thought of having to accept this primitive farm as my home and refuge.

  The weather-worn adobe on the house was unplastered; the windows lacked glass in the wooden frames. A rickety, old wooden screen door sagged, partly hiding a homemade open door. Upon entering the house, I was shocked to see rough cement floors and bare, unadorned walls; there was no sink, no plumbing, only a table and four chairs, a cupboard, and wood cookstove in one corner near Charlotte’s bedroom door, from which she came out to welcome me.

  Verlan and I stepped back outside. He walked over to the only source of water I could see, beckoning me to follow, and began pumping the water from a cast-iron, long-handled pump that looked as though it had been borrowed from a John Wayne movie. I washed myself as best as I could in the cold gushing water, using a bar of soap, trying to rid myself of the dust that powdered my body. (The ride over the dirt roads had blown dust into the open cab, completely covering me from head to foot. My hair looked like a powdered wig. It wasn’t quite the impression I had hoped to make on my new family, but it was definitely dramatic!)

  Verlan could see my disappointment as I washed up, but he laughed, making light of the awkward situation. “We don’t have electricity, but, see, we do have running water.”

  I stiffened at the shock of the cold water as I held my unbraided hair under the pump, gasping. Nevertheless, I lathered my hair, making sure I rinsed out all the accumulated dirt. I wrapped a towel around my head, flipped it back, and resumed washing my bare legs and feet.

  Feeling at least somewhat refreshed, I followed Verlan back inside. By then night was falling, so he lit a coal oil lamp that sat on the wooden kitchen table. Then he led me into a small bedroom off the kitchen to the right. The only pieces of furniture in the room were a metal bed with woven springs and no mattress and a white painted kitchen chair beside the bed to be used for a nightstand. Verlan lit the wick on another lamp, then carefully replaced the glass chimney.

  “This will be your lamp and your room,” he told me. “And don’t worry about the bed. The springs are woven. When you throw a blanket over them, you won’t even miss the mattress.”

  My eyes scanned the bare adobe walls. There were no mirrors, pictures, or anything at all to beautify the rough adobe. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have a dresser; I owned just two changes of clothes, three bras, and a half dozen pairs of panties. I’d keep them in my small suitcase.

  Meanwhile, Anna had gone with Floren, and Charlotte had retired to her bedroom.

  It was such an awkward situation for me. I felt like an intruder in my husband’s home. I cried to him when we finally settled down, and we quarreled over the situation. I demanded he find me some quarters elsewhere so I could have privacy, but he informed me that my sister and I would be living in the same three-room adobe house permanently.

  He felt guilty about making love to me when he was in the same house with his other wife, so he refused—and preached to me instead. Verlan was only twenty-three, naive, and filled with dreams of grandeur. Attempting to make sure I understood his resolve, he said, “You’re the key to my salvation, Irene. I’m in plural marriage now, and with your help I hope to obtain at least seven wives. If I do, I could possibly have fifty children.” As his hopes rose, mine deflated. I asked myself if I was just a tool in furthering his quest for godhood. He gave me a peck good night, and, devastated to say the least, I quietly cried mysel
f to sleep.

  Humiliation flooded over me when I saw my sister the following morning at breakfast, especially when I knew she assumed I had made love to our husband in her house.

  Later that day, I happened to overhear Verlan and Ervil’s conversation from my bedroom off the kitchen. Ervil seemed to have a one-track mind. He quizzed Verlan for all the information he could get. “What’s Irene doing down here?”

  Verlan responded, “She’s here to keep her sister company so she won’t get too lonely.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Sixteen. Actually sixteen and a half,” he corrected himself, hoping it would later justify his marrying me at such an impressionable age.

  “Who’s responsible for her?” Ervil pried further.

  “I am. She’s under my jurisdiction.”

  Boy, was Ervil ever relieved. He thought he had found out all he needed to know. Euphoric, he leaned toward Verlan, who could see the excitement on Ervil’s face as he smiled broadly and announced, “Last night, God gave me a revelation. Irene is to be my second wife!”

  “Oh, no she’s not!” Verlan snapped. “She’s already mine.”

  Ervil flushed with embarrassment. “Aahh!” he sputtered, grasping for words. “I was just jokin’. Just jokin’, that’s all.”

  I always remembered that this was Ervil’s first false revelation.

  ANNA, A CONVERTED GERMAN GIRL from Utah, endured the craziness and hardships of Mexico just long enough to give birth to her third child, her second by Floren. She’d been married previously and brought a five-year-old son into the marriage. I envied Anna’s spunk and convictions. When she left, she told me that a year in a foreign country with poverty and constant threats of polygamy made her departure easier.