GIANT JUMPING TOAD OF WHITEROCK SWAMP

Large Sonoran Desert Toad.

       You’d think if you were a toad, you wouldn’t pick a desolate place like the New Mexico badlands to set up residence. Nevertheless, there was a large community of these amphibians nestled near an artesian swamp close by the abandoned trading post the elders called home. Who knows, maybe Whiterock, New Mexico, was the Palm Springs of the toad kingdom.

Olympic Insignia 1952

      The toads didn’t seem to mind the sulfur water. In fact, they thrived on it. Evidently the extra minerals helped them become larger and stronger than normal. You might even say they were Olympians: "Higher, Stronger, Faster" was their motto. The muscular giants were not easy to catch. They could leap long distances in a single bound. But it wouldn’t be long before one of these athletic leapers would help us out with an important, upcoming event.

      Meanwhile, there was an item owned by a few Elders and coveted by the rest of us that was quickly rising on the “must have” list. The object of our affection was a small battery-powered, reel-to-reel tape recorder. Not only could it play missionary discussions in Navajo, but it could also capture the unique sounds of life on the reservation. Those listening at home could vicariously experience washboard roads, sheep bleating, dogs barking, and their own missionary speaking Navajo with the locals. We thought sending tapes home would be much more interesting than letters.

1960's GE Portable Reel-to-reel Tape recorder

      As it turned out a few weeks prior to being transferred from Whiterock to Crownpoint, a package arrived at the trading post. Wow! A package from home. That was unexpected! My excitement mounted as I cut through the strong tape. pulled back the cardboard flaps and hurriedly dug through the stuffing. Finally I withdrew a beautiful box displaying a picture of a reel-to-reel tape recorder. My, my, my – just what the doctor ordered! I couldn’t believe my parents would spring for such an expensive gift. Of course I kept the box.

        Elder Bruce Cameron, our District Leader, had expressed on many occasions his desire to have just such a devise, but as of yet his parents hadn’t given in. But now that he and I were companions we could share my recorder and both send interesting tapes home to our families. Being one of the best Navajo speakers in the mission, Elder Cameron took the time to record each of the missionary discussions on my small reels. What a guy! These tapes would be a valuable tool in teaching those who couldn’t speak English.

Post Office Box with Combination Dial

      Stopping at Crownpoint’s quaint little post office was always on our to-do-list. You never knew. There just might be a letter from family, friends, or the mission home. After carefully working the combination dial on the small mail box the door popped open revealing a single letter. “A letter from the Mission President,” Elder Cameron announced. This was followed by, “Mmm, I don't believe it!” as he read through the letter's contents. “We’re both being transferred! Shortly after I get back from teaching Navajo School, I’m off to the Mission Home in Holbrook for training as a Zone Leader, and you will be going to Borrego Pass with Elder Mike Stanley. While I’m away, the two of you will be covering both of your areas.” I’d enjoyed working with my old high school buddy for the past three months, but now he was moving on to greater responsibilities. Being appointed as a Zone Leader was definitely an honor.

Holbrook, Arizona, where Mission Home for the Southwest Indian Mission was located. 1960s.

      Early Monday morning Elder Cameron threw his gear into the back of Coyote Canyon’s truck, and he and Elder Stanley’s companion were off to Navajo School. I’d looked forward to working with Elder Stanley ever since I’d met him nine months earlier. He was a hardworking elder with limitless energy and a great sense of humor. We moved from assignment to assignment like busy beavers, hardy finishing one task before we were onto the next. Elder Stanley's fun personality kept me smiling and laughing as we worked our way through each day.

Elder Mike Stanley on horseback in front of the Crownpoint Elders trailer.

      The week was flying by quickly and it wouldn’t be long before Elder Cameron was back. There were plans to be made for his going-away party. We invited the Crownpoint Sisters to meet us at the chapel for a brainstorming session. Elder Cameron had led us to spiritual highs, but for this particular occasion we chose to focus on his playful nature and great sense of humor.

      The planning began in earnest. Those in our District would congregate thirty miles north of Crownpoint at the Elders’ trading post abode in Whiterock. There were some unusual rock formations in the area that would make for an exciting activity. The Sisters would prepare one of their delicious meals, and Elder Stanley and I would be in charge of parting gifts. Being a bit on the mischievous side, the Sisters confided in us their wicked little plot. They planned to make two small cakes, one with chocolate icing (Elder Cameron’s favorite) and another with white icing. They would load the chocolate iced cake with an abundance of X-lax (a chocolate-flavored fast acting laxative). The Sisters were giggling and laughing so hard they could hardly finish explaining their impish scheme. Whiterock was not the place to be if you had the runs! The toilet facilities were rather primitive.

Chocolate Cake with thick chocolate icing.

      The big day arrived. The Sisters had outdone themselves. The main course didn’t disappoint. Their Island cuisine was SOOOO delicious! The group could hardly wait to see what they had cooked up for dessert. Two cakes were unveiled and of course Elder Cameron was served a very large slice covered high in chocolate icing. Being on the Sisters’ good side we were served the cake with white icing. Of course we held back eating it until we saw the Sisters dig into their slices of cake, just in case they had a double-cross in mind!

      With dinner and desert out of the way it was time to surprise Elder Cameron with some parting gifts. Here the plot thickens. Remember the recorder box I saved and the big toads by the nearby swamp? Well, Elder Stanley and I caught the largest, most athletic toad we could find and carefully tucked it away in the recorder box. We then wrapped it beautifully with paper just transparent enough to make out the recorder image on the box. Then adding an attractive bow as a final touch we were ready.  Elder Cameron’s eyes grew large as he held up the package and strained to see through the thin paper. “Oh! You shouldn’t have! – I can’t believe you would –" were the sentiments being expressed as he tore off the wrapping paper revealing a box for a reel-to-reel tape recorder. With elevated excitement he lifted the lid exposing – not a recorder – but the largest Olympian toad ever seen in these parts! With a loud "ORK!" it leaped high and far, possibly setting a long-jump record. Everyone had a good laugh including Elder Cameron who took it all in good fun. We then showered him with other nice, but less expensive presents.

     

Valley of Dreams, Whiterock, New Mexico.

      Now it was time for our Super Activity – rock climbing, and leaping across chasms twenty to thirty feet deep. We couldn’t wait! Loading into our trucks we headed for the rock formations. As Elder Cameron squatted for launch, straining every muscle for takeoff, it wasn’t a loud ORK that sent him jetting over the chasm. Skidding to a sudden stop on the other side he exclaimed, “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I had diarrhea!”

Goodbye, Elder Cameron!

     Fifty years later I met up with Bruce Cameron and his family in Salt Lake City. His beautiful wife had just starred in a reunion performance of the well-known King Sisters Cousins. He introduced me to his wife and family saying, “This is the missionary companion I’ve told you about. You know, the present with the giant toad!”

     

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.