WELCOME TO "DINE BIKEYAH" (The Peoples' Land)

Window Rock, Arizona -- capital of the Navajo Nation.

Leaving on a Prop Plane

        As the plane's twin engines droned on towards Holbrook, Arizona, I made myself comfortable and thought back over the past week. With the Mountain Rescue, a Farewell talk, last minute shopping, and saying goodbye to friends and family, it had been a bit hectic.

        In those days Missionary Farewells were a big deal. Special Farewell announcements were printed, and the missionary’s family provided the whole Sacrament Meeting program. It was an honor to have my Grandpa Francis and my father speak, as well as my mother and brothers and sisters take part.  
       

Mission Farewell program cover

R Max Rogers and Howard Francis.

Howard and Jessie Francis with their grandchildren at Francis's farewell. November 15, 1964.

        Following the farewell I was off to the Salt Lake Mission Home. The few days I spent there were a spiritual feast. We had been taught by Apostles and other General Authorities, our Savior’s personal representatives here on earth.

        We spent time in the Salt Lake Temple learning more about our sacred covenants and gaining spiritual strength for the challenges that lay ahead. By the end of the week we were on fire, ready to take on the world, and change lives for the better. Having been called by a Prophet and set apart by an Apostle, I felt blessed to represent Jesus Christ and His gospel.

Salt Lake Temple and Temple Square in the 1960s.

        The flight from Salt Lake City to Holbrook, Arizona didn’t seem like a long way from home. But, it might as well have been a third world country half way across the globe.

Holbrook, Arizona. 1964.

      After a brief orientation with President and Sister Baird, I was on my way to White Rock, New Mexico with my new companion, Elder Steve Harward. He was from American Fork, Utah, and had been out for about six months.

President J. Edwin Baird and his wife. Holbrook AZ Mission Home.

White Rock, New Mexico

        White Rock was located in one of the most remote areas of the Navajo Nation. It was about forty miles south of Farmington, New Mexico. Forty miles of terrible dirt road winding its way through the Tsé badlands!

Tsé badlands south of Farmington, New Mexico. 1964.

        If you continued south another thirty miles past White Rock you would reach the small reservation community of Crownpoint.

Map of the Navajo Nation.

        It was like going back in time. Many of the people were still using wagons pulled by horses, firing up wood-burning stoves, and their homes had no electricity or running water. Most of the families raised sheep, goats, or cattle, on land allotted to them by the Navajo Tribe. They lived in small isolated camps comprised of two or three hogans, livestock enclosures, and a few outbuildings, including an outhouse. In general most camps were located three to five miles apart. 

The Blackie family in their horse pulled wagon.

       The missionaries drove bottom of the line Dodge pickup trucks with aluminum campers. Inside the campers were wooden benches used to transport riderless members to church meetings.

Dodge pickup truck with camper shell and heavy duty jack. These trucks were used by LDS Missionaries on the Navajo Reservation in the 1960s. 

        The White Rock Elders lived in a "badlands" setting right out of the Old West. Our home was an abandoned trading post tucked away in a small desert valley. It had rock walls and was surrounded by an old picket fence. I half expected to see John Wayne leaning up against a hitching post.

White Rock Trading Post. November 1964.

       There were outbuildings where our drinkable water and gas for our truck were stored in fifty gallon drums. Inside there was only one room in usable condition. A propane heater provided warmth and white gas lamps gave us light. Late at night you could hear the eerie sound of wild coyotes howling off in the distance.

       I found a bleached-out bull skull with sharp horns to help decorate the wall above my bed, along with a Mexican shawl to give the room a little color, and a picture of a beautiful Breck girl from a hair product ad to remind me of what might be waiting for me when I returned home in two years.

Artesian Well Shower at White Rock, New Mexico.

        About a mile away was an ancient stone block shower fed by an artesian well. It had a men’s side and a women’s side. Hot water poured from a section of fire hose suspended from the ceiling. It would feel great on freezing cold mornings. But it did have its downside. The well water had the smell of sulfur and if you happened to swallow it the result would be smelly, gassy burps. 

       

Elder Harward on top of an old coal shed showing off his climbing skills.

      Home sweet home! I could tell right off this was going to be one great adventure.