The Utah War is a pivotal episode in the history of the American West. For those crossing the overland trails in 1857, it meant cold camps, political suspicion, and constant fear of attack. One of the most vivid firsthand accounts comes from a civilian teamster named William Clark, whose memoir captures the uncertainty and danger as Johnston’s Army advanced toward Salt Lake City under mounting tension and disrupted supply lines. In this interview, historians William P. MacKinnon and Kenneth L. Alford explore Clark’s remarkable journey—and what it reveals about the Utah War.
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William Clark and His Role in the Utah War
Who was William Clark, and how did he become involved in the Utah Expedition?
Kenneth L. Alford: William Clark was born in 1834 in Java, a small town in Wyoming County, New York. He was one of seven children—five of them boys. As the second son, he had little chance of inheritance and knew he’d have to make his own way in the world.
With the Mexican-American War and the California gold rush drawing national attention westward, Clark joined the movement. He traveled west, worked on a farm in Wisconsin where he met his future wife, and eventually made his way to St. Louis, where he reunited with old friends.
In St. Louis, Clark and his companions heard word of a massive government contract in Utah Territory. Here’s how Clark recorded it in his journal:
We learned that the government was going to establish three military posts in Utah Territory and that Majors, Russell & Waddell had a large contract to deliver their beef cattle and soldiers’ supplies to these posts. … Majors, Russell & Waddell’s contract would require twenty-six trains of twenty-six wagons each and require six yoke of cattle to each wagon.
On the Overland Trails with William Clark: A Teamster’s Utah War, 1857-1858, 20.
Majors, Russell & Waddell were the major freight shippers of the day—the Brown and Root of the Utah War, so to speak. It was a massive operation. Clark and his friends decided to sign on, with one condition: they didn’t want to work on Sundays. When they brought it up to William Russell—one of the company’s founders—he agreed.
That promise would become a recurring point of tension as they traveled across the plains.
Clark signed up—and fortunately for all of us, he kept a detailed record. He later wrote a reminiscence of his journey, and Bill MacKinnon and I used that manuscript as the foundation for this book.
William P. MacKinnon: William Clark was a farm kid from Java, Wyoming County, New York—just southeast of Buffalo—trying to shape his own destiny. As his manuscript reveals, he was a gold rusher headed to California, but he took his time, traveling west by working farm to farm.
He spent a winter in Paoli, Wisconsin—a newly settled town near the Iowa border—living with a farming family also named Clark, who had come from Vermont. During his stay, he fell in love with one of the daughters, Cora J. Clark—and she with him.
But Cora was twelve years younger, and her father told Clark she was too young. If Clark wanted a future with her, he’d have to leave, make his fortune, and return. So he kept heading west, one farm at a time, until he reached St. Louis. Meanwhile, whenever Cora’s family visited town, they checked for letters from the West. That long-distance connection continued for years.
Is William Clark the Same One from the Lewis and Clark Expedition?
William P. MacKinnon: As far as we can tell, there’s no relation. William Clark is a common name, and I imagine many readers initially assume he’s the Clark of the Lewis and Clark Expedition—but he’s not. This is a different William Clark entirely.
What were some of the experiences William Clark had on the trail before Fort Bridger?
Kenneth L. Alford: William Clark describes several memorable experiences on the plains, including buffalo hunts that are surprisingly fun to read and offer a vivid glimpse into a very different time.
I don’t know if you ever played the computer game Oregon Trail as a kid in elementary school, but I played it with my kids when they were growing up. The thing about that game was that every player died almost every time they played.
Clark was essentially living that frontier story. He fell seriously ill on the trail and wrote about how his companions cared for him and nursed him back to health. He also recorded his encounters with Native Americans. His memoir offers a vivid snapshot of life in the 1850s West—he experienced it all, took careful notes, and later expanded them into a compelling reminiscence.
Clark’s Capture and Detention by the Nauvoo Legion
Why did Clark choose to part ways with Johnston’s Army and travel through Utah alone?
William P. MacKinnon: Clark found himself in a classic catch-22. Majors, Russell & Waddell’s operations were shut down at Fort Bridger, and Albert Sidney Johnston refused to let discharged teamsters continue west. Determined to block all movement toward Salt Lake City, Johnston wasn’t about to help anyone—including Clark—reach the Latter-day Saints. That left Clark’s original plan to get to California in serious doubt. Like others in his position, he chose to defy orders.
Determined to press on toward California, Clark left Fort Bridger with at least one—possibly two—of his companions, defying the travel ban. Somewhere between Fort Bridger and Salt Lake City, they were intercepted and captured by the Nauvoo Legion.
He set out for California on his own terms.
Kenneth L. Alford: Some of the teamsters were given the opportunity to enlist with the army—and some did, for various lengths of service. But Clark turned that down.
William P. MacKinnon: That was the other side of the catch-22. The army didn’t need teamsters at Fort Bridger—unless you were among the few hired directly by military quartermasters. Most were cut loose by their employers, unable to head west and unsafe to head east.
Johnston offered discharged teamsters only ten days’ worth of food—nowhere near enough to survive a winter crossing of the Rockies and Great Plains. For many, attempting the journey under those conditions was a death sentence. Some felt they had no choice but to enlist in the army just to stay alive. Clark, however, refused. Determined to follow his original plan, he set out for California on his own terms.
Why was Clark’s route through Utah so dangerous?
Kenneth L. Alford: To understand what happened, you have to understand the times. It’s an understatement to say that Utah was on edge. The Latter-day Saints knew the U.S. Army was marching toward them. They had already been driven out of several states and had deliberately chosen to settle in a place no one else wanted. Now, once again, they saw a threat approaching. Tensions were sky-high. It was a very different world.
William Clark was, for lack of a better word, captured. But he remained jovial and good-natured. By all accounts, he was well-liked and eventually fell in with Wild Bill Hickman. Remarkably, Clark’s is the only account I’ve ever seen that describes Hickman as “jolly.”
William P. MacKinnon: The Nauvoo Legion was one of the biggest dangers. It was pretty clear they had a hit list—people they were actively hunting, literally dead or alive. The Legion was scouring the mountains, and word of their movements spread quickly. Even seasoned mountaineers—tough, self-reliant men—were frightened enough to flee. Some escaped as far as Montana just to avoid getting caught in the conflict between the Nauvoo Legion and their targets. In that environment, the Nauvoo Legion was what people feared most.
Then there was the weather. By December, conditions were brutal—another major threat to survival. That hardship comes through clearly in Clark’s account, especially in the way he and his companions struggled to stay warm and dry.
They were almost relieved when William Hickman’s detachment captured them.
Who was Bill Hickman, and what role did he play in Clark’s survival?
Kenneth L. Alford: Wild Bill Hickman was a hardened American frontiersman who openly admitted to killing several people. Being in his company gave Clark a kind of protective shield, if not exactly a halo. According to Clark’s account, the two developed a rapport, and he recorded a fascinating conversation they had while traveling to Salt Lake City.
Hickman was quite taken with Clark’s mount and made sure it was well cared for. Still, it was an unusual situation—because technically, Clark was his prisoner as they made their way south.
It was a strange, layered relationship—unlike anything else I’ve encountered.
William P. MacKinnon: Hickman appeared to be enjoying himself—especially around Bill Clark. On the other hand, Clark was scared witless. Still, he put on a brave face and tried to act like he was having a good time, even though he was clearly on edge.
As Ken mentioned, the two struck up an unlikely rapport. It didn’t erase Clark’s anxiety, but it seemed to ease it somewhat. The fact that they shared the same first name may have helped forge a small bond between them.
Ken is absolutely right—Clark’s account reveals a side of Bill Hickman that’s virtually unique. It’s one of the most compelling reasons to read Clark’s reminiscence, because this version of Hickman doesn’t appear anywhere else.
Hickman was a known killer, one of Brigham Young’s “b’hoys”—a henchman, agent, or enforcer, depending on how you frame it. He had a rough reputation. But in Clark’s narrative, a jolly, almost fun-loving side of Hickman comes through—something I’ve never seen in any other source.
Clark managed to keep his wits about him. Despite the danger, he seems to have kept Hickman in good spirits—possibly by plying him with alcohol from the store in Salt Lake City. There was definitely an element of managing his captor through drink.
It was a strange, layered relationship—unlike anything else I’ve encountered involving William Hickman.
How did Clark perceive the Nauvoo Legion and their guerrilla campaign during his journey?
Kenneth L. Alford: William Clark writes about Major Lot Smith’s exploits—especially the burning of supply wagons—with an up-close and personal perspective as a fellow teamster. As they approached Winter Quarters, they always had one eye open, watching for soldiers from the Nauvoo Legion.
William P. MacKinnon: Clark didn’t know what to make of the Nauvoo Legion. He and his companions had heard plenty of stories—and had seen the Legion descend unopposed on three wagon trains and burn them to the ground. It was rough stuff.
But remember that people like young Bill Clark—a civilian out there all by himself—faced uncertain treatment at the hands of men with reputations as certified killers (justified in some cases and not in others).
Take his wagon master, Chat Rennick. Based on the manuscript, you might dismiss him as cartoonish. But within a few years, Rennick would fall in with William C. Quantrill and ride with the most notorious guerrilla fighters of the Civil War. That’s the world Clark was caught up in.
Rennick’s boss, Frank McCarthy, is portrayed as a hero in the Buffalo Bill Cody books of the 1870s. But this same McCarthy once fought his way out of a Bridger gambling den, killing an infantryman in the process. That was Clark’s immediate boss—and his boss’s boss.
He was afraid most of the time.
One of the teamsters—a German fellow from a different train—shared what he saw in Salt Lake City. He was there around the same time as Clark and wrote a letter to his sister listing five of his buddies who’d fallen victim to gunplay—whether in bars, at gaming tables, or in disputes over waitresses. His own wagon master was dry-gulched in Echo Canyon.
This was the crowd William Clark was traveling with. He was probably as afraid of some of his fellow teamsters as he was of the Nauvoo Legion. In truth, he was afraid most of the time—except when he was with his close companions. They referred to each other as “chums,” a common 19th-century term for close companions, and stuck together. That’s how they survived.
Conditions in Utah Territory During the Utah War
Were there positives to William Clark’s experiences and encounters with Latter-day Saints?
Kenneth L. Alford: Yes. When Hickman introduced Clark to Brigham Young, he said, “Brigham, here are three Gentile prisoners.”
And then Hickman says this:
They are pretty good boys too, and are going to stay with us. They want a pass to travel around to find a good place to stop this winter.
On the Overland Trails with William Clark: A Teamster’s Utah War, 1857-1858, 80.
Brigham Young gave Clark a pass to leave Salt Lake City, and his party began heading south. As they departed, Clark wrote, “We started, but we were badly scared.”
That line captures the moment well. They were moving forward, but with mixed emotions. Being Hickman’s prisoner had offered a strange kind of protection. Now, with a pass and the freedom to travel, the tension remained. As Clark noted elsewhere, he was scared much of the time. He had his close companions—his “chums”—but Utah was full of wide-open, unpredictable spaces, and the road to California was still long and uncertain.
It’s a revealing glimpse into Utah Territory society.
William P. MacKinnon: Hickman dropped out of the picture as Clark headed south from Salt Lake City toward the Old Spanish Trail on his way to San Bernardino. Without his local protector, Clark had to build new relationships quickly. One of the people he met was a man he called Bishop Redfield (though he wasn’t actually a bishop), who ran a hotel in Provo with his wife. The Redfields, like several other Latter-day Saints along the way, looked out for Clark, treated him kindly, and helped him continue his journey.
What he encountered along the southern route was a mixed bag—terror rooted in war on one hand, and genuine kindness from Saints who offered care on the other. It’s a revealing glimpse into Utah Territory society at the time.
This wasn’t a scene of constant violence. The people Clark encountered were yeoman farmers, American citizens, and recent European immigrants. Most had no interest in harming travelers—just as some Latter-day Saints in southern Utah refused to take part in the Mountain Meadows massacre, even though they belonged to the local militia.
That kind of quiet moral resistance rarely drew attention, but it mattered. There were individuals who found the courage to say no—even when their bishop, who also served as their militia captain, gave the order. That took real guts.
What were the Aiken party killings—and how did they intersect with Clark’s travels?
William P. MacKinnon: The Aikens were a party of six men—some brothers, some not—all tagged with the family name. These Californians entered Utah Territory in the fall of 1857 and could best be described as high rollers. Their outfit—or rig, as they called it—was spectacular: California leather saddles decked out with silver studs. They carried a lot of cash and weren’t shy about flashing it around.
The Aikens’ mistake was assuming that the U.S. Army had already reached Salt Lake City. Historians speculate they intended to establish a gambling operation there. In reality, the army was still 113 miles away at Fort Bridger, Wyoming.
When the Aiken party entered Utah Territory, they were intercepted by a Nauvoo Legion detachment near present-day Brigham City and taken to Salt Lake City as prisoners. By that point, it was clear they were in serious trouble. Held under house arrest at a hotel, they were eventually released—on the condition that they return to California via the southern route later taken by William Clark and two of his companions.
What happened next was grim.
But the Aikens weren’t just told to head south—they were assigned an escort of Nauvoo Legion officers, including Porter Rockwell and a few of Brigham Young’s other “b’hoys.”
What happened next was grim. After traveling south of Salt Lake City, near Nephi, Utah, the Aikens were ambushed at their campsite during the night. A couple were killed on the spot. Others hobbled back toward town barefoot, begging for protection from assailants they didn’t recognize by name or face. Some were briefly taken in, but the next day they were disarmed and executed.
Two men initially escaped. One eventually reached California and told the story. The other was taken into the countryside by Porter Rockwell or Bill Hickman, shot in the face, and dumped in a ditch. That killing was later reported directly to Brigham Young.
By mid-November, the Aikens were gone. Clark passed through the area just a couple of weeks later, and by then, rumors of the killings were already circulating throughout Utah. People were seen wearing the Aikens’ distinctive gear—flashy rigs that stood out in the hardscrabble surroundings. Some even wore bloodstained jackets with visible bullet holes. Clark and his companions understood what had happened, and the sight only heightened the anxiety they were already feeling.
How did Clark experience the fallout of the Mountain Meadows massacre?
Kenneth L. Alford: William Clark didn’t write much about the Mountain Meadows massacre in his reminiscences. What makes his account notable, however, is that he passed through the area not long after the event. The massacre took place primarily on September 11; Clark came through in December, and the site had been largely left undisturbed.
As far as I know, his is one of the earliest surviving accounts from a traveler who passed through Mountain Meadows after the massacre.
William P. MacKinnon: A lot of historians have merchandized the idea that William Clark was the first person to pass through Mountain Meadows after the massacre. That just wasn’t the case. Others had been there earlier.
Jacob Hamblin, for example, was not one of the perpetrators, but his ranch bordered Mountain Meadows. At the time of the massacre, he was in Salt Lake City seeking authorization to seal an additional wife. He returned about a day after the killings and found his first wife, Rachel, sheltering a group of 10 to 17 young children—survivors, covered in blood from what they had endured. It was terrible.
Hamblin visited the killing field that same day, making him the first known person to witness the site in its immediate aftermath.
There were also Latter-day Saint freighters and their non-Mormon passengers traveling through the Salt Lake Valley toward San Bernardino. They were told to stay low in the wagon and not look around. A few such groups passed through before Clark during the period following the September massacre.
There were some unique things Clark had to say about what he saw, but his account wasn’t extensive. It was relatively brief.
Juanita Brooks was one of the first to note that Clark wasn’t there immediately after the massacre—which is true. She apparently read a copy of his manuscript as it was published once—and only once—in the Iowa Journal of History and Politics in 1922.
So, it wouldn’t be accurate to treat this book as a history of the Mountain Meadows massacre. It’s simply one—albeit spectacular—incident among many that Clark witnessed and recorded.
William Clark’s Life and Legacy After the Utah War
What do we know of Clark’s activities after leaving Utah?
Kenneth L. Alford: After William Clark left Mountain Meadows, he continued west and eventually reached California and the gold fields. But that’s the thinnest part of his reminiscence—he doesn’t offer many details.
However, we were able to locate his scales and weights in an Iowa museum, along with the pouch he would have used to carry any gold dust or nuggets. We asked the museum to test the bag. They turned it inside out and had it analyzed—and no trace of gold was found.
So, as far as we can tell, the reason he didn’t write about his gold days may be simple: it was a bust.
William P. MacKinnon: Clark made his way past Mountain Meadows, through Santa Clara Canyon, and into the Mojave Desert on his way to San Bernardino. He was scared—the only thing standing between him and potentially hostile tribes was his Mormon guides, who charged him a small king’s ransom for their services.
When he finally reached San Bernardino in January 1858, he ended his reminiscence with a short paragraph—about three sentences—describing how pleasant the climate was, how green the grass looked, and how relieved he felt to be out of Utah Territory.
He essentially said, “I don’t care what the guides charged me. It was worth it to be able to reach freedom again and be out of Utah.”
That’s how he closed his manuscript.
What was Clark doing during the missing years in his manuscript?
William P. MacKinnon: Ken and I spent a lot of time wrestling with one central question: What happened between the time Clark arrived in San Bernardino and when he reappeared at the Clark farm in Paoli, Wisconsin, looking for Cora? What was he doing during those missing years? Clark gives us no clues. And the professor who edited his manuscript in 1922 doesn’t help either.
So, we pieced it together the hard way—through extensive pick-and-shovel research. This included locating his scales, weights, and gold pouch in an Iowa museum, as well as tracking down several interviews Clark gave to Iowa newspapers in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Those accounts offer a shifting and sometimes contradictory picture of how he spent that decade.
Clark’s Role in Building a Living Fence for a California Vineyard
In one interview, for instance, Clark claimed that he had helped build a fence for the world’s largest vineyard. It was an intriguing detail—so we dug deeper. What we found was that the fence wasn’t made of wooden rails or barbed wire (which hadn’t yet been invented), but of eight-foot willow shoots planted in rows and grown into living barriers.
Along the Santa Ana River in what is now Anaheim, a colony of German immigrants—originally organized in San Francisco—set out to establish a large vineyard for winemaking. They secured a vast stretch of land, planted vineyards, and built a fence to keep out roaming cattle. But this wasn’t a typical fence—it was made of eight-foot willow shoots, planted in rows and grown into living barriers. They also dug 450 miles of irrigation ditches to bring water from the river.
We concluded that Clark could have spent years working on that project. So, when he told the interviewer he helped build a fence for the world’s largest vineyard, he was essentially telling the truth.
Clark’s Other Activities During the Missing Years
William Clark also stated that he did many other things. He claimed to have built log cabins, for example. And near the end of his manuscript, he casually mentioned being in Spanish Fork, Utah, in 1862.
What was he doing there? It’s unlikely he was headed back to Wisconsin—he wouldn’t return for another seven years. Maybe he was moving in and out of Utah during that time. Either way, he was clearly keeping busy.
Our goal was to piece together that backstory—what happened to this man after he left Utah and made his way to California, happy as a clam to be out of there. And that’s what we tried to do.
Why is William Clark’s perspective on the Utah War significant today?
William P. MacKinnon: I think it’s significant today because the account is nearly unique in what it reveals about people. It offers glimpses and vignettes you can’t find anywhere else.
Let me give you one example involving one of William Clark’s chums—a man named George B. Tuttle. George had a younger brother, Ira O. Tuttle, a teenager who had run away from home, lied about his age, and enlisted for five years with the Second U.S. Dragoons at Fort Leavenworth. That regiment headed west—on what became the longest winter march in American military history—to reach Fort Bridger, around the same time Clark arrived there.
At some point, George realized his underage brother was stationed nearby. By then, Ira regretted enlisting with the tough, swaggering frontier regiment. He wanted out. George, committed to getting him home, left Fort Bridger with him, heading east in a blinding snowstorm.
That one detail was enough to uncover the rest of the story.
They were soon picked up by a dragoon patrol, brought back, and arrested—George for aiding and abetting desertion, Ira for desertion, and both for theft of government property: the Sharps carbine issued to Ira when he enlisted.
In the meantime, George’s chums continued west, leaving him and Ira behind. Ira was caught up in legal proceedings. None of that would be known today if not for the Clark narrative, which mentioned that George wasn’t traveling with Bill Clark because he was trying to get his brother out of the army.
That one detail was enough to uncover the rest of the story. Again, the only clue to this little frontier episode is found in the Clark manuscript. It’s just one small vignette—but it speaks volumes about the people, places, and events it captures.
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About the Scholars
William P. MacKinnon is one of the foremost authorities on the Utah War and an independent historian and management consultant. MacKinnon is the author of At Sword’s Point, Part 1: A Documentary History of the Utah War to 1858 and At Sword’s Point, Part 2: A Documentary History of the Utah War, 1858–1859 in the Kingdom in the West: The Mormons and the American Frontier Series. He is a retired vice president of General Motors. In addition, he is also co-author of On the Overland Trails with William Clark: A Teamster’s Utah War, 1857–1858.
Kenneth L. Alford is a professor of Church history and doctrine at BYU and a Colonel, U.S. Army (Retired). He is also co-author of On the Overland Trails with William Clark: A Teamster’s Utah War, 1857–1858. He has published and presented on a wide variety of American and Church history, scriptural, pedagogical, computer science, information systems engineering, military science, organizational behavior, and strategic leadership subjects during his career.
Further Reading
- What Was the Utah War?
- Who Was the Ute Chief Wakara?
- Was John D. Lee a Scapegoat for the Mountain Meadows Massacre?
- Who Was Jacob Hamblin?
- What Happened to the Nauvoo Bell?
- Was Marcus Whitman Responsible for Frontier Killings?
Utah War
- On the Overland Trails with William Clark: A Teamster’s Utah War, 1857–1858 (University of Nebraska Press)
- A Review: On the Overland Trails with William Clark: A Teamster’s Utah War, 1857-1858 (Times and Seasons)
- Peace and Violence among 19th-Century Latter-day Saints (Gospel Topics Essays)
- The Nauvoo Legion and the Prevention of the Utah War (Utah Historical Quarterly)
- Across the Desert in 1858: Thomas L. Kane’s Mediating Mission and the Mormon Women who Made it Possible (Juanita Brooks Lecture [PDF])
One reply on “William Clark’s Firsthand Account of the Utah War”
The murder of Aikens was creepy.