James Douglas Harvey

(1863-1912)

My father, James D. Harvey, had two wives and when Church leaders advised men living in plural marriage to go to Mexico, he was one of those who made that long journey south in 1890. He and my mother, Sarah Elizabeth Kellett, went to Colonia Diaz, leaving the other wife, Nancy Anderson, with her folks until they could get a place. They bought an adobe structure with a dirt floor.Father worked for John W. Young who was attempting to build a railroad through the country at that time. This required my mother to stay at home and care for the garden and similar chores by herself. The railroad project failed. Father came home but receive no pay for his work. Mother had worked so hard while he was gone getting the garden planted that she was sick and lost the baby.

In the autumn of 1890, they sold the place where they were living for a team and wagon and moved into a tin shop. In March 1891, they took the team and wagon and went to Deming to meet my father’s second wife, Nancy, and her little boy.  They succeeded in buying two lots on which all live together.  My mother inherited a home which she sold for sheep that she was able to also sell for enough money that she was able to buy a nice three-room house in which the entire family lived for some time.

Both my mother and Father’s wife Nancy gave birth to children 1892. There was a drought at the time and nearly all the cattle died from thirst. My parents’ only cow was one of the victims. Then it rained so much that the wheat grew in the bundles. They would pound it out on a canvas with sticks and grind it into flour.  Flour was so scarce that it was selling for $10 a hundred.  There were some fruit but no milk and no grease of any kind. They learn to make cake without grease.  The Church gave them some beef but it was so poor they just made soup out of it.  They raised garden vegetables and lots of cane and made lots of molasses. It was delicious. They made cornbread with vinegar and soda. Mother could not eat it. It gave her heartburn and took all the skin off her throat and tongue.  On one occasion, a family came from their hometown in Utah and stayed with them for a week. They had brought lots of flour with them and other groceries. They divided them with our family for which we were very grateful. Then the family went on up into the mountain colonies to settle.

The next summer our family raised grain, plenty of fruit and garden vegetables. They also made butter, cheese and had lots of eggs. My father took these things out to the mines in the mountains to sell. After a great deal of hardship and saving all we could, my father was also able to purchase a farm five miles west of town.

On this farm my parents raised two crops of potatoes every year, grain, corn, and came to make molasses. There was a two room house on the farm. My father’s wives took turns living there in the summertime.

I remember being told as a child how Apostle George Teasdale had dedicated a certain spot on which he wanted Colonia Diaz to be built. He named it Rock Joseph.

But the settlers were already starting their farms elsewhere and didn’t want to move. As it turned out, it was wise that they didn’t move because when the river flooded the area was so swamped that a levee had to be built.  They named the place where the settlers located Colonia Diaz.

During all this time father’s families were growing. Eventually each of his two wives had nine children, 18 in all.

In 1912, Frank Whiting arose at two o’clock in them morning with a crying baby and heard a commotion in the co-op store next door to his home.  He looked out the window and could see some Mexicans trying to pry open the doors of the store. He slipped out of the house rounded up some of the men of the town. When they arrived back at the store the Mexicans were leaving. Whiting and the men with him shouted for them to halt but they refused. Consequently, the men fired on them and killed one of the thieves. One of those running away was named Cesario. He didn’t have a horse but succeeded in making his way to his home on the edge of town. It was his brother who was killed. When he found out that his brother that was shot, he went out to his farm which bordered on the land we owned. He allowed his mother-in-law to live at the farm house and kept his own family at home in town. He knew how to get into the store because he was always hanging around and observing the Mormons who owned and operated it.

Once a Cesario reached his farm, he turned his horses in my father’s grain, which, at the time, was ripe and ready to harvest. On the morning of May 3, 1912, my father and my brother Will were in that part of his properties the horses were permitted to enter.  When they saw the horses, Father told Will to go over to the house until Cesario to please take care of his horses. Will said he was afraid to go over there because the family had such a mean dog. So Father said he would go, taking a shovel for protection against the dog. When he had almost arrived at the house, Cesario came out swearing, using foul language. His mother-in-law was crying, begging him not to be violent. But Cesario swore that he would get gringos to pay for the death of his brother.  He had a pistol and pointed at Father but his mother-in-law knocked his arm down forcing him to miss. This made him so angry that he knocked her to the ground.  Father raised his shovel and was going to hit Cesario, trying to escape him by running around the house. My brother Will was shouting at Father telling him which way to go but Cesario was able to get close enough to fire, and shot my Father through the heart. He shot him three times. He walked up after Father fell and shot him in the temple close eye.

Will ran to Mexican neighbors and told them what happened. They took him into their house and told him that if Cesario were to come after him, they would protect Will with their own guns. But rather than pursue Will, Cesario had taken a horse into the Mexican town of La Ascension.  Will then went to the house and told the rest the family what had happened, telling him to go cover Father’s body with the quilt and that he would go to town and get help. Everyone was terribly frightened. I was married at the time and Will had to pass by the home where I was living, and gave me the sad news. I then took my baby and went to comfort my mother as best I could.

The Bishop and others of the men from town took a wagon and went to the home of Cesario where my father still lay. Some other men went to La Ascension to get the authorities to conduct an inquest so that the body of my father could be brought home. It was late afternoon before the Mexican authorities came out to the place were my father’s body was. When they arrived, they arrested Brother Jim Jacobson and those with him rather than pursuing Cesario. Father’s body was placed in a wagon and brought home. It was drenched in blood and was a horrible sight. When Jim Jacobson and the boys got to the La Ascension they said it was like going into a den of hungry wolves. The Mexican population was so aroused they didn’t expect to get out of there alive. The next morning three Mexican officers came out and looked father’s body but never did anything about it. Cesario was allowed to go free.

Some of the Church brethren  went over to La Ascension to see if they couldn’t have Cesario restrained or put behind bars so he could not do any more killing. The Mexican sheriff just cried and said that if he tried to do anything more people would be killed and to please just go home and peace. They did allow Jacobson and the boys to leave jail and return to their homes. My father was buried on May 5, 1912.

His sons went to the farm, gathered the grain and planted a second crop of potatoes. They lived in fear all the time. We were told later that Cesario was killed by Poncho Villa. I and my husband, George Guile Hardy, then went with my mother and her four small children north across the border to visit her people in Utah and Idaho. While there, we heard that the leaders had directed the colonists to leave, taking only what they needed for they would be gone for only a few days.

Those in Colonia Diaz went to Hachita, just across the line where some American soldiers were stationed.  Some men and boys remained in the colony to watch and care for the people’s livestock and properties but word was sent for them to come out also and to join the rest in Hachita.  They never went back.  The Rebels that came through were so upset at not obtaining guns and ammunition that they burned and destroyed everything they could.

Sarah Agnes Hardy, daughter

Stalwarts South of the Border Nelle Spilsbury Hatch pg 235