Lily Mabel Evans (1903-1968) emigrated to Utah and married Vern LeRoy Johnson.
When Mormonism Stirred a Welsh Village
The first time I heard the name “Mormon” was in July, 1921. I had, ever since they came to reside in our street, been very friendly with Mr. and Mrs. William Griffiths and their family. They were liked and respected by all who knew them. Mrs. Griffiths’ death in 1921 caused widespread sympathy for the family. The strangeness of the burial service aroused public curiosity and comment, and brother Griffiths was eventually asked what church they belonged to; and the neighbours were horrified to learn that they were Mormons.
Abercarn, Monmouthshire, being only a small place, the news spread rapidly, and the people began to “look them over” to see if they differed any from ordinary human beings. The comings and goings to the “Mormon house” were watched with special care, and then rumours went around of strange-looking men, who were called Elders, staying at the home for long week-ends. The minds and the tongues of the villagers ran riot. My parents liked the family quite well, but when they heard that they were Mormons I was ordered to break my friendship with them at once.
I did not go to any meetings, but I would go down to Brother Griffiths’ house, and there, hour after hour, evening after evening, he would tell me of the church and people called Mormons, and I never tired of hearing. I did not realize at that time that I was being taught the Gospel in its fullness, even as Christ Himself taught it.
My family were all members of the Presbyterian Church, and I became a member when I was fifteen, not because I believed it to be the true church – during the four years I attended I did not know what they believed. I had always wanted to be baptized, but when I stated my wishes I was told by the members that it was my duty to join the Presbyterian faith because I had been brought up there from childhood. There was a great deal of back-biting and petty jealousy at that time, and the new minister was not liked very much. I began to criticize and make comparisons to their disadvantage. After the service was over at the Presbyterian Chapel I used to hurry over to Brother Griffiths’ house to hear the end of the cottage meeting there.
The news spread that I was “mixed up with the Mormons,” and the people who professed Christianity commenced persecuting and reviling me whenever we met. Many friends completely washed their hands of me, and older friends predicted a bad end. Other than the Mormon family I had no one to turn to, and the various Christian sects commenced persecuting them. We seemed to be surrounded with hatred and malice – I, because I had dragged my name through the mire for attending those Mormon meetings; and Brother Griffiths and his family for luring me there.
The newspapers wrote vile slanders – I was within a couple of months of my twentieth birthday at the time. With all this publicity all the book shops suddenly displayed scores of fourpenny and sixpenny anti-Mormon novels, written principally by Winifred Graham. The sale, I should imagine, was rapid. I had no need to buy any myself; I was presented with them by friends, in the hope that by reading them I would be saved from destruction.
December, 1923, was almost the worst month we had known. Every branch, and street meetings in Newport and Cardiff, were overwhelmed with a hurricane of persecution; and to complete matters, the doctor of the district, who was a family friend, made a statement to the press that several girls had disappeared from a place called Machen, and further stated that the Mormon Elders were responsible.
The people at this time would believe anything but truth. The religious sects wrote paragraphs to the Weekly Argus, South Wales, against allowing these “terrible people” to hold meetings in a council house, and appealing to the council to support them in their opposition. It was at this time that President David O. McKay sent his indignant letter to the Abercarn Council. It caused a great sensation, as did the fact that the doctor who had made such a grave charge had to withdraw it, as he could not prove a word.
I was baptized into the Church at Deseret, London, on January 25th, 1925. I have never regretted becoming a Latter-day Saint; I am proud to be a member of Christ’s Church, and I thank God that I had the privilege of hearing the Gospel, and for the strength He gave me to hold firm when opposition was strong.
Thank you!
Is “Deseret, London” a meetinghouse?
Powerful testimony! It took courage for her to live with all this facing her. And David O. McMay’s letter! Awesome. She was baptized in 1925 in London — which brings up questions: had she moved there? Did she continue to live there until she moved to America? A brave and courageous testimony!
When I was stationed in England in the early 1980’s, we rented a house wedged in between two retired couples. When they asked about our religion, I smiled and told them that if they knew they’d think us to be Satan Incarnate. They looked at each other and grinned, and one of them told me: “We treat Mormons much better, now.” After that, we had several pleasant conversations about the church.
“We treat Mormons much better, now.” Ha! 😀
ji, Deseret was a huge building that served as headquarters for the entire London region. I’ll dig out a picture …
To be fair, by the 1980s, the English were treating the Mormons with relative indifference, so Bruce is absolutely right.
Ardis, in reply to your “HA!” above, I really do think members of the church are treated better in England today than in Lily Evan’s time. While I was stationed in Suffolk, north of London, my youngest brother was a missionary in the London South mission. We compared notes after his mission, as I was a somewhat active member-missionary while in England. We both agreed that the older a person was, the more wrong they believed about Latter-day Saints. The younger generation was more open to hearing a counter-viewpoint from what their parents had told them about us. My brother, who’s pretty gutsy, stocked up on batteries for his tape recorder and spent a whole day “secretly” recording their door-to-door tracting while he was stationed in Southhampton, and it is hilarious to listen to. There were those who still believe the wildest things, but the younger ones that he recorded on his tape were asking “how much of what I’ve been told is true?”, and telling them that he’d be glad to teach the truth was one of the ways they got appointments. But, we both agreed that the only way the Gospel was going to be successfully preached, and the old stories ended, was through the positive examples of the members. Neighbors realizing that “that wonderful family next-door” are Mormons actually generates questions today more than it generates the shock and horror of Lily Evan’s day. I’m not saying it’s all a bed of roses being a missionary there (that would be foolish), but I think attitudes are changing.
Oh, I’m certain we are better treated (even if, as Alison says, it rises to the level of indifference)! My “Ha!” was not expressing disagreement, but expressing glee that the neighbors recognized what Bruce was talking about and would say such a thing! That was delightful.
“fourpenny and sixpenny anti-Mormon novels,” OK, not “dime novels.” I still got my point across a few miles from Abercarn.
Who was Winifred Graham?
A prolific and very popular novelist, in the UK and as far away as Australia. She wrote multiple anti-Mormon novels about missionaries hypnotizing young girls and then shipping them by the boatload to join Utah harems. One of her novels was directly responsible for the investigation headed by Winston Churchill into whether or not the missionaries should be expelled from the UK.
But I love the question “Who is Winifred Graham?” None of her work has stood the test of time. She has been forgotten except by history nerds. Sic transit gloria mundi.
A delightful story, well-told.
(Ah, my own sixpenny novel proclivities were on full display when I thought, “Harry Potter’s mother???”)