A Few Stories from LeGrand Richards

In the days before I went on my first mission, the Saltair Dance Hall was thought to be the finest dance hall in all America. I was there one night, and a young lady came up and said, "LeGrand, we're having a wonderful banquet downstairs. Wouldn't you like to join us?"
You know the old saying that the way to a man's heart is through his tummy. I could not turn that invitation down. So we took hold of hands and went hop scotching down the steps into the north end of that pavilion. As we neared a long table spread, I noticed that by each plate was one of those tall beer bottles they used to have when I was a boy. When I saw that we were headed for that table, I stopped as though I had been shot. The girl I had by the hand looked at me and asked, "What's the matter? Are you too good to drink a little beer?"
I had to think awfully fast, so I said, "Well, Elsie, I guess I am. I thought you were. Good-bye." And I went up those steps a lot faster than I had come down.

I have asked myself time and time again if I would ever have become a Presiding Bishop of this Church, to preside over all the young boys of this Church--the Aaronic priesthood and the girls of the same age--if I had sat at that table that day. If one never takes the first beer he never needs to worry about the second one. If he never takes the first cigarette, he never needs to worry about the second one. And so I stand before you here today thanking God for the inspiration of the Holy Ghost that has been my companion through life, that has given me the power to make the decisions that I needed to make so that I can stand here in honor today and advise you to do the same.

First, you have already been told by President Oaks that I am the oldest living General Authority. I want to tell you that I have known all of the General Authorities of this Church since the days of Wilford Woodruff, and I think I have heard all these Brethren preach. That is a good many General Authorities when you count all the members of the Twelve that there have been, and all the presidents of the Church. My father raised us in the country, out in Tooele, and there never passed a conference after we were old enough to sit still when he did not bring his boys--three of us--in to attend the general conferences. Of course, we did not have automobiles in those days, nor paved roads; but with the old white-top and our team we would drive in. My father wanted his boys to know all of the General Authorities of the Church, so he wanted us to attend all the conferences so we could hear them speak.
I was in the Salt Lake Tabernacle when Wilford Woodruff delivered what I think was the last talk he gave before he died, that in which he told how marvelously the Spirit of the Lord had guided and directed him through the years of his life. It has been over eighty years ago, but I can remember to this day some of the things that he spoke in that conference. I am going to mention a couple of them; you have heard them, but I heard him give them.

While he was traveling with his wife in the South, once in the middle of the night the Spirit said, "Get up and move your team and wagon." He got up out of his wagon and moved his team from where it was tied to an oak--then along came a twister and picked that oak up and threw it right where his wagon had been standing. That oak had stood a hundred years, and yet while he was in his wagon that night a twister came and picked it up. And I can hear Brother Woodruff saying, "If I hadn't listened to the Spirit of the Lord, it might have cost us our lives." Then he told, in that same conference, about bringing a group of converts from Great Britain. They landed down in New Orleans and he was negotiating with a captain there to take them up the river to St. Louis, where they had arranged to cross the plains to these valleys of the mountains. And, he said, while he was negotiating, something said, "Don't go on that boat, neither you nor your people." So he thanked the captain and they did not embark. That boat had no more than sailed up the river when it caught fire and burned, and not a soul on it was saved. And I can hear President Woodruff as he stood there, all these eighty years ago, saying, "If I hadn't listened to the promptings of the spirit of the Lord, we wouldn't have had Brother So-and-so [naming one of the good Brethren] and Brother So-and-so"--another of the good Brethren who was with him in that group he brought from Europe.

A year ago last June, I was asked to accompany the presidency to Denver to hold a solemn assembly, and after that we went down to Farmington, New Mexico, to hold a solemn assembly there. As we were headed back to Denver to return from there, our plane landed at Alamosa with something wrong. The captain announced that we would not take off until some repair parts were shipped in from Denver, and we could either stay in the plane or go into the airport. We chose to stay. The First Presidency sat right in the front of the plane, I sat next to them, and Brother Neal Maxwell sat on the other side with one of the Regional Representatives of the Twelve, Brother Patterson. Then the captain came out of his cockpit, and since he knew we were all Mormons he said something about it. Brother Tanner of the First Presidency spoke up and said, "You better not let LeGrand start on him" (I'm LeGrand, you see.) That opened the door. And so I started on him.
"Captain, I can tell you two reasons why you could not be anything but a Latter-day Saint if you would just use your thinker and if you are willing to believe in the words of the holy prophets and the Savior of the world." So I told him what those two things were. They are in the fore part of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder that I wrote. The first was this: One of our broadcasters, Edmund C. Hill, was asked what message could be broadcast to the world that would be of greater importance than any other message, and after considering the matter he decided that to be able to say to the world that a man who had lived upon this earth had returned again with a message from God would be the greatest message that could be broadcast. I said, "The Latter-day Saints are the only ones that claim such a visit, not only of one man, but many of the holy prophets, and we built a monument back in New York to the honor of one of those men who returned again with a message from God. That was Moroni."
The other point was the statement of a Catholic prelate who visited in Salt Lake. Brother Orson F. Whitney told about his visit--he said he could speak a dozen different languages and knew all about science and religion. The prelate's comment was this:
You Mormons are all ignoramuses. You don't even know the strength of your own position. It is so strong that there is only one other tenable in the whole Christian world, and that is the position of the Catholic Church. . . . If we are right, you are wrong; if you are right, we are wrong; and that's all there is to it. The Protestants haven't a leg to stand on. For, if we are wrong, they are wrong with us, since they . . . went out from us; while if we are right, they are apostates whom we cut off long ago. [quoted in LeGrand Richards, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, p. 3]
That is a good statement--anybody who stops to analyze it would find it as fine a definite statement of fact as can be spoken. That is why I quoted it to that captain.
The prelate went on to say, "If we have the continuation of the gospel from the days of the Savior, there was no need of such a man as Joseph Smith; but if we have not that continuation then such a man as Joseph Smith is necessary." I always add that the Catholic church and the Bible cannot both be right because the Bible definitely declare an apostasy and a restoration in the later days; that leaves The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with the only right in the world to claim to be the true church of Jesus Christ.
Coming back to the pilot; our talk on the plane, instead of lasting just a few minutes, lasted for two hours. Our Captain had studied for the ministry and then decided to become a pilot instead of a minister. He asked, "What if I don't join your Church in this life?"
"Oh," I said, "that's all right. We'll just let you sleep in the dirt for five hundred years, a half of a thousand, and we'll come and preach it to you in the spirit world." And when I parted with him I told him I would send him a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, the missionary book, if he would promise to read it, and he said he would.
So he gave me his name and address, and I said, "The next time I meet you, you'll be an elder in the Mormon church."
The little stewardess was sitting right next to us, and I said, "How do you feel about spiritual things?"
"Well," she said, "I was raised a Catholic but I don't feel satisfied with my church."
I asked, "Would you like me to send you one of these books?" She said she would and wrote down her name and address.
Then one of the passengers sitting in the back of the compartment came up and asked, "Could I get one of those books?"
And I said, "You surely could." So he gave me his name and address.
Later, when we landed in Denver, another man came up, saw me hobbling with my cane, and inquired, "Where did you get that cane?"
I said, "I know where I got it, but I can't tell you the address or the name of the company. If you will give me your name and your address I'll write you from Salt Lake and tell you." Then, when he began to leave, I said, "Well, you don't get off that easy. I'm a Mormon elder, and I want to tell you what we believe. If you will just read the book I'm going to send you, you will want to join the Church."
Well, to make the story short, I sent the names to the mission president. He sent the missionaries to them, but the pilot would not let them give any lessons; he said, "All I need is this Marvelous Work and a Wonder and the Book of Mormon." So just before last June 1, he called me from over in Littleton, Colorado, where he lives, and told me he had set his baptismal date for the first day of June. Last week I received a letter from him, and in this letter--I am going to take time to read just one paragraph of it to show you what it means to call people out of darkness to the Lord's true light. Like Peter said of the Church of his day, "But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people." Why? "That you should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light" (1 Peter 2:9). This is the one paragraph:
The happiness I've experienced in my heart and soul since joining the Church is indescribable. I feel that meeting I had with you and President Kimball really set things into motion for me. Prior to that I had just been spinning my wheels and searching. Now I know that through the discovery of the restored truth of our Lord my life has meaning and direction. I want to work for him and do his will.  
Then he went on to tell me that he had just baptized one of his daughters, that four of his family are attending our Church with him--his wife and two older daughters have not yet capitulated, but he said he would get them--and then, in the last paragraph, he asked if I would ordain him an elder next May. I suppose he had talked with the stake president, and the stake president had indicated that by May he would be ready to be an elder; and, you know, these pilots can probably fly anywhere for nothing. He said he would come to Salt Lake. So I wrote him back and told him that if he would bring a letter of recommendation from his stake president I would be glad to ordain him.

All many people need is to have someone lay things out for them so that they can understand them.

A young man called me one day and he said, "Is this Bishop Richards?"
I said, "Yes sir."
And he said, "Well, I am in trouble."
I said, "What is your trouble?"
"Well," he said, "I have been keeping company with a girl for three years, and she heard you preach the other night and now she won't go out with me anymore."
I said, "Why won't she?"
He said, "Because I am not active in the Church."
And I said, "Good for her! I am glad to know that there is at least one girl in Israel who will listen to an old man like me. Now what are you going to do about it?"
He said, "What can I do?"
I said, "Get active in the Church, and then go back to her."
He said, "How can I?"
I said, "You go and talk to your bishop, and if he doesn't help you, I will be glad to help you."

Now, I think he must have talked to the bishop all right, because he never has been back.

When I had a heart attack up in Grace, Idaho, back in 1942, I was away from my work for six weeks. I was then the Presiding Bishop of the Church, and I tell you I almost sweat blood to think that I had to be on that bed and couldn't be out working. So the first meeting that we attended as a bishopric with the First Presidency after I returned, I said to the Presidency, "I found out what hell is."
President Clark said, "What is it, Bishop?"
I said, "To see the other fellow working when you can't work." I said, "If there's any truth to the words of the song that there's sweet, sweet rest in heaven,' I'm going to ask to be routed the other way."
My counselor, Bishop Ashton, was witty, as you might remember, and he said, "Well, Bishop, I wouldn't worry too much about that if I were you. You may not have to ask for it."

I said, "Yeah, I've thought of that too."