Cannon Explosion Proves Disastrous
On September 1st. 1849, as Father and I returned from work, Lieutenant
Wm. Dayton called to me and asked if I would help him fire the cannon. It was
about sundown. I responded quickly to the call. He said he had waited for me
and that all was arranged for a cannon practice on the bastion. We ran up the
ladder to the cannon, loaded it and fired once, without much consideration.
Then, without swabbing the gun, Dayton jumped and caught up another cartridge
of old cotton cloth and 1 1/2 pounds of rifle power, inserted it in the muzzle and
we both began ramming the cartridge home, when it evidently caught fire, being
broken and torn, and the remnant of the former one still burning in the breech,
caused a disastrous explosion. It caused a deafening roar as to strike with
dread all within hearing, who testified to the shock which bore evidence of a
dreadful accident. Two large men ramming with a hickory ramrod might cause a
roar with both hands bearing heavily on the hickory. We were thrown thirty feet
away on the ground, Lieutenant Dayton was killed outright and I taken up as
dying, terribly mangled, but still breathing, with my left hand gone-picked up
in Celia Hunt's dooryard, who recognized George Bean's band ring on his little
finger. My clothes were partly burned off, eyes and face black with powder and
burned so badly that I could see nothing for twenty days thereafter; my right
arm and hand were - severely lacerated; also my right thigh, breast, neck and
face were filled with splinters and powder burn. Some of the two hundred
splinters remained in my body for twenty years, working to the surface at
different times.
My left arm had to be amputated to three and a half inches below the
elbow, which left a useful stub. Capt. Jefferson Hunt was the first to reach
our bodies. He discovered Lieutenant Dayton's jugular vein was severed by a
splinter and he was gone. Capt. Hunt lifted a piece of log railing from my body
and found me in a terrible condition, but still breathing. They carried me home
to a bed where I remained for forty days. They decided to patch me up, but how
was the question. It was learned that Capt. Stansbury who had just arrived in
Salt Lake City, had a Government Doctor in his company, so as I regained
consciousness somewhat, they hoped to save my life. Our good neighbor, Aaron
Houton Conover, was sent to Salt Lake City for a surgeon. Providentially, Capt.
Stansbury, the Topographical Engineer, having just arrived, gladly sent his Dr.
Blake, an army surgeon, back with Mr. Conover, post haste. A stretcher was
hastily made by placing a clean sheet on a quilt to convey my mutilated body
onto the bed Mother and her neighbors had arranged for me. The noise of the
explosion brought all who heard it rushing into the Fort for observation and
information, and it was difficult for the stretcher bearers to get through the
crowd.
My parents and friends sat during the night watching my every breath
as if it might be my last, yet praying for me and the Doctor's arrival. They
were relieved when daylight came and Dr. Blake walked in. Of course I had to
rely on Father's report on which was done first. Dr. Blake removed his cloak,
donned his medical gown, made hasty examinations of my black powder burned face
and neck, and then ordered all out of the room except his aids and Father. He
then proceeded to saw the bones of my left forearm, leaving a
three-and-a-half-inch stub below the elbow, which served me well all my life.
Of course in those days people had to endure pain in operations by the will
power of the injured, as mothers bore their children without an anesthetic. Dr.
Blake was an expert. He had to probe into my flesh for those 200 hickory ramrod
slivers, some of which seemed to go to the bones. The largest was taken from my
right thigh, being three inches long and the size of a lead pencil. How I ever
stood all that probing is a marvel to me yet, but all my friends were praying
for me, and miracles do happen at times, as the Lord designs.
Each day for a week or ten days, Dr. Blake dressed my wounds and
probed for more splinters-first from neck, chest and abdomen where hard wood
slivers might enter vital organs, until he had 200 splinters in my mother's
fruit jar. My heart tonic was sweetened hot water with brandy in it. Beef tea
was mv nourishment because I could not chew, and wondered if I ever could. With
my eyes scabbed over like my whole face, I wondered if I could ever see again.
My patient mother did everything to ease my pain and give comfort, although
she. too, was wondering. Faith-friends came in to join Father in
administrations, but I could not see them. The days were long and the nights
longer, as I suffered in every inch of my body, and prayed so hard to die. The
future looked so dark to me. (Autobiography of George Washington Bean: A
Utah Pioneer of 1847 and His Family Records, comp. Flora Diana Bean Horne [Salt
Lake City: Utah Printing Co., n.d.], 57-59)
My Miraculous Healing
About three weeks after the accident, a miracle was performed by three
Prophets of the Lord who entered our humble home. They were President Brigham Young,
Heber C. Kimball and Willard Richards. Why did these three men, the Presidency of
the Church of Jesus Christ in these latter days, come to see and bless an
insignificant eighteen year old boy like me?
They visited with Mother a bit while Father shuffled off his farm
clothes to join them. Their presence brought calmness. They evidently saw my
condition, but I could not see them, but recognized their voices from hearing
them preach. Mother appealed to them-"Brother Brigham, do you think he can
live?" "Of course he can, and will", he answered. Then he came
to me, took my hand, the right hand, the only one I had-and asked:
"George, do you want to live?" His very handshake gave me strength,
and I answered: "Yes, if I can do any good," with my weak voice,
trembling. President Young then said: "Then you shall live." He
called his counselors to my bed, my Mother brought the consecrated oil, one of
them anointed my head and the other sealed that anointing. Then "Brother
Brigham" gave me a marvelous blessing. He rebuked the power of the
Destroyer from my body and from our home. It was like an electric current that
ran through me from head to foot and it took the severe pain with it. He plead
with the Lord to heal me from head to foot that all wounds might heal quickly,
and that faith may increase as the healing takes place and that I may ever
rejoice in God's blessings in performing the works He has for me to do, etc.
How I wish I had that blessing in writing. He made plain to me that the Holy
Ghost, bestowed upon me after baptism. would be my constant guide and educator,
and that the Lord's work assigned to me will be gloriously completed.
My parents were there to hear this consoling prayer, of greater
length, but this is sufficient. We were lifted above all earthly things in
rejoicing with the Prophets of the Lord in humility and sincere brotherly love.
God saved me through the Prophet’s prayers and power of the Priesthood, which God
has bestowed upon worthy men to represent Him on Earth.
My life of despair was changed by the visit of these three Prophets of
the Lord, to one of love, faith, gratitude and desire to do God's will. Next
day the scales fell from my eyes and I saw the glorious light. I now live. It
has been impossible to describe my feelings when the light first came to me
when the burn scabs dropped from my eyes after twenty days of blindness. Some
bits of bone were taken from my stub arm. My right ear was affected by deafness
and ulcerous tumor for several years but finally was cured by Dr. Sawtelle. A
film grew over the sight of the left eye which was later removed by the Doctor.
During my illness in bed so long, I had many visits from friendly
Indians who sympathized with my sufferings. especially Sanpitch, a brother of
Walker, the Chief, the little Doctor of the Timpanodes tribe at Provo, and many
others. I had learned some of the Indian language before and they took pride in
teaching me everything, and I gave them English, so we could converse very well
and do business with them later. It was a blessing in disguise to get this
training to clinch the Indian Language gift I had received.
There are many trials that come to us as mortals that are blessings in
disguise. Think it over and see.
Pioneering is hard at times, but every day some new lesson is learned.
The greater the task well done, the greater the blessing, and pleasure in your success.
I could be present. My search after knowledge keeps me progressive and
a sense of humor makes life worth living, and helps surmount obstacles that
most people encounter who really do things. Even the Savior met such
disagreeable things, and prophets both old and modern.
My dear family and friends. I am so grateful to my Heavenly Father for
his kind preservation of my life, that He saw fit to snatch me from death’s
door to fill my humble mission.
After the gold-seekers had passed on to California, the Indians became
very bold and troublesome, and were some¬ times aggravated by our people, so
that near Christmas time, open War seemed inevitable.
Our community contracted the measles and through some Indian prisoners
we held, the disease was carried to the tribe causing deaths of many. (Ibid.,
60-62)
