Fred Summerill, Jr., was a little young to be a missionary – four months past his 18th birthday, the native of Honeyville (near Ogden, Utah) was set apart in August, 1910, to serve in the Netherlands Mission. Even so, the black-haired, brown-eyed young man was already an experienced bookkeeper in his father’s hardware store, where in later years he would serve as manager.

Fred completed his mission honorably in March, 1913, and turned toward home. On his way, though, he decided to see a little more of Europe than tiny Holland – such touring by soon-to-be-released missionaries was entirely acceptable in those days.

High on his list of places to see was Paris. Alone, he prepared carefully for his day there. Most of his money – $150 in American bills – along with his steamship ticket, he placed in a fabric pouch which he tied around his body beneath his shirt and coat. His “walking money,” French francs for souvenirs and lunch, he placed in a small purse which he tucked into his breast pocket. He fastened his gold watch securely to his trousers – no pickpocket was going to take that without Fred’s knowledge, no sir! He put on his overcoat and set off to see the city.

Along his way, Fred stopped to make a small purchase – maybe a postcard? or a pastry? – and after paying for it he dropped his purse carelessly into the pocket of his overcoat, within easy reach of any pickpocket … tsk, tsk!

About 10:00 a.m., intent on reaching the Eiffel Tower, Fred strode through “rather a quiet section of the city,” according to later report, “although people were within hailing distance.” Fred noticed an elderly man walking ahead of him, and then saw a glove fall from the man’s pocket. Fred picked it up and called out.

“Did I drop my glove?” the older man said, gratefully accepting it. He and Fred chatted for a moment, the old man explaining that his gloves were new and a little tight. They had been so uncomfortable that he had taken them off and put them in his coat pocket. Fred listened politely.

Suddenly a younger man stepped up, whipped a revolver out of his pocket, and pointed it toward the startled missionary. “Hands up, or I’ll blow your head off.” Obediently Fred raised his hands above his head while the old man tore his shirt open and expertly cut the strings holding Fred’s money pouch to his body. He reached for Fred’s watch, and rather than taking the time to detach the chain from its secure fastening to Fred’s trousers, he detached the watch from the chain. The two thieves jumped into a waiting automobile and drove off, leaving a stunned Fred to take stock of his situation.

There he was, alone in a foreign country, without money, without a ticket home. He knew there were a very few missionaries somewhere in France – the French Mission had reopened in 1912 – but he didn’t know where to find them. He shivered, partly from shock and partly from the cool spring morning, and put his hands into his coat pockets.

There his fingers touched his purse – overlooked by the thieves, because who would carry valuables in such an easily reached place? Fred checked its contents – 23 francs – not much, but enough to settle his hotel bill and get him to Liverpool, England, where he reported to European Mission headquarters and found help.

“It’s rather an alarming incident,” President Rudger Clawson wrote in his next report to Salt Lake City.” “It leads to the conclusion that money belts under the clothes next the body are by no means a safe repository for one’s cash. It was the careless thing the Elder did that saved the day. The overcoat pocket is the last place in the world where thieves would look for money. They did not look there for it and consequently did not get it and inadvertently saved the Elder from being stranded.

“Elder Summerill said that when he left for a mission, he then carried a belt and some of the Elders gave him their money for safekeeping. Fortunately all went well but had he been unceremoniously relieved of it, the thieves would have secured at least $600.00.” President Clawson recommended that missionaries be cautioned against carrying cash, and instead carry travelers’ checks or deposit their money in hotel safes before venturing out in public.

Fred Summerill made it home safely. Within a few years he married, and he and wife Etta raised a son and daughter in Ogden. Fred passed away in 1984.