In the spring of 1926, English-born Samuel Martin left Ogden, Utah, with his wife, Clara Ann Ashford Martin, and several of their younger children (I do not know how many), on a train that took them to New York. There they boarded a ship that took them to Southampton, England. After three weeks visiting with family, the Martins boarded another ship for the long voyage to Capetown, South Africa. It was like coming home: All of the Martin children had been born in South Africa where Samuel had run a large bakery for 21 years, leaving for America only 10 years before.

But if the country was familiar, the mission office where Samuel would serve as president of the South African Mission was not. The outgoing mission president J. Wyley Sessions had left a month earlier, and the mission secretary was a brand new appointment called to the position, Samuel said, with “no further knowledge of his duties than that he was able to use the typewriter.”

It took the new president some months to feel adequate to his calling, which of course meant not only directing the elders in their proselyting work and counseling with local members, but also all the temporal business of the mission and the reporting requirements from Salt Lake. Nobody told him what he should report to whom, and when, and how. When the Presiding Bishop’s Office wrote to ask for delinquent information, it was the first Samuel knew he should have sent it. This repeated occurrence was “very displeasing to them and humiliating to myself.”

Samuel’s mission was cut a little short when conditions at home caused his urgent recall. He tried to wait for his successor, Don Mack Dalton, to arrive early in 1929, but as it turned out, the Daltons would be delayed beyond the early January sailing date of the Martin family.

Samuel did not want his successor to face the same void he had found in 1926. To begin with, he left an experienced secretary in the office. And he left a long, long letter of instructions and counsel and necessary information to brief the incoming president on his duties.

This letter included man-to-man advice on how closely to stay in touch with authorities in Salt Lake City – only as much as was “requisite.” Mission presidents were expected to make their own decisions, and not ask for advice or permission from general authorities except when something was entirely beyond their capacity. And, he wrote, send a copy of all reports and other communications with Salt Lake City to John A. Widtsoe, president of the European Mission, who technically supervised far-off South Africa.

To help the new president solve his own problems, Samuel had filed all letters of advice from Salt Lake in a special file, having written the subject of each set of instructions in red pencil in the upper margin.

He went through the list of reports – statistical, financial, and confidential reports concerning the abilities of released elders – indicating their due dates. He reminded the incoming man of the long mail delay in receiving the forms he would need to compile his reports, and suggested the dates by which he should write to Salt Lake to ask that forms be sent.

Samuel left notes on requirements made by the South African immigration authorities, and warned the new president that while the railroads gave fare discounts to missionaries, they were very strict in how they were used, far more strict than in the United States: When a newly arrived elder received his first assignment to some distant city, he must not – not – claim clergy fare because he had not yet entered upon the regular duties of a minister. Most specifically, his month of orientation and instruction at Capetown did not count as ministerial work. This concession, he stressed, “should not be used by an Elder, except purely on ministerial duties, and not before they arrive at the destination to which they are first assigned.” I wonder whether that lesson had been learned by Samuel in a manner “very displeasing to [officials] and humiliating to myself”?

The letter of instruction continued with detailed notes on where to find deeds and insurance policies, and where the Mission did its banking — all matters which Samuel had had to discover on his own. He went through a short list of South African members whom the mission was helping with private affairs – paying the burial insurance of an elderly member without family, holding the last will and testament of a sister whose only family had emigrated to the United States, and similar matters that the mission president would have to know about in order to fulfill obligations to such members.

Only after going through all of these administrative details did Samuel turn to proselyting affairs. The tone of his letter also changed at this point: Where before he had been instructing the incoming man on business about which there was little flexibility, Samuel clearly recognized that now he was entering on territory that would be entirely the prerogative of the new president: He explained what he had done about organizing branches under local leadership, and why he had left elders to direct certain other branches – not with the intent of telling President Dalton what he must do, but only to explain what had been done so President Dalton would have some ready basis for making his own decisions. Similarly, Samuel told what he had done in the way of cleaning up outdated membership records, his plan for distributing the Book of Mormon in 1929 (a necessary note to explain why the new president would find 1,000 copies of the Book of Mormon in an office closet). Samuel had also made out a tentative budget for the coming year, which of course President Dalton was free to alter before it was sent to Salt Lake, but at least President Dalton would have the benefit of Samuel’s experience.

He suggested the new president continue Samuel’s practice of writing letters to parents of eight-year-olds, reminding them of their responsibility to have their children baptized, and that the mission continue the practice of sending newspaper clippings referencing the Church to the historian’s office in Salt Lake. Every suggestion, he was careful to note, was only a suggestion, not an attempt to control the new man’s policy: “I would suggest that …” and “I would advise a review of …” It really does impress me how careful Samuel was not to presume to direct the work of his successor, but only to give him the benefit of his counsel so that the new man would not be left in the unhappy position of Samuel Martin upon starting his own work without such counsel.

Some matters were not covered in Samuel’s letter – “I have refrained from going into details of the Relief Society organization or household affairs, as Sister [Clara] Martin will endeavour to make such comments as she feels will be helpful to her successor.”

He closed his letter: “I humbly pray the Lord to guide and bless you in this great work, and that it will be conducive of great joy to you, and should there be anything I have omitted to make clear, and you honour me with an inquiry, I shall be pleased to do all I can to explain further.”

But even that was not quite enough to satisfy Samuel Martin that he had done all he could to assist the new president. In the same file with his helpful letter, I find a “to-do list” jotted in Martin’s hand, presumably of items he wanted his secretary to take care of when the Daltons arrived:

Take President to Bank
Sign fixed deposit receipt
Take President to Deposit Box and leave keys
Write for Railway Concession cards
Write for Immigration authorities

It would be almost 20 years before mission presidents would have counselors to advise them. Samuel Martin did his best to act as a counselor to a man he had never met, but who would now be responsible for the people and the work that Samuel had devoted himself to for more than two years.

photograph: Samuel and Clara Martin